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thatringboy · 4 years

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The Way A Soul Lives - TWST

To write some Diasomnia angst has been a goal of mine for a while and seeing the new official book and the Diasomnia boys made me want to finish

I’ve only ever written angst a few times, so this was a nice practice. I hope I didn’t go too OOC here, but I think I’m good. I tried a new writing style here that I’m not that confident in, so feedback is very much appreciated!

Warnings: Magic, self inserted theories about Faes, fight scenes, blood, death and the angst associated with that

Word count: 1,615 (a new record I think!)

Sebek enjoyed the night shift. There was always something invigorating about walking around the Draconia castle when only dim torches and moonlight lit his path. A hand on his sword hilt, he quietly marched up and down halls, sometimes stopping in the Royal Library to glance at a book, and always passed by the rooms of the royal family.

However, his blood turned to ice when the Fae noticed a haphazardly opened window and mud tracked on the floor near it. He turned on his heels and ran back towards the room of his fellow guard, taking into account that the muddy footprints were not those of a humanoid.

~~~

Yuu sat down on the blanket and a frown tugged at their lips. “So why did you drag me all the way out here? It’s freezing!”

Cater laughed and pulled his coat on tighter. “Because there’s a Meteor shower tonight and there’s gonna be some fireworks to celebrate the end of Spring Break! Don’t worry, the others will be here soon and we can take some pics for Magicam.”

Principal Crowley had allowed Yuu Prefect to leave Night Raven College for the week of Spring Break and the magic-less human somehow got dragged to the mountains of Pyroxene where the snow had not yet melted. Yuu spent the week posing for cameras with Cater and Vil and learned how to snowboard thanks to Jack’s tutelage. Grim enjoyed the attention he was receiving during the trip and showed his gratitude by becoming a makeshift hot water bottle inside of Yuu’s thick coat.

Two figures approached the clearing. The shorter one talked with their hands in an annoyed voice. “All I’m saying is that you and the potato could really become a modeling duo! You two have the natural talent and certainly the looks.”

The taller figure grunted and sat down next to Yuu. “Not in a million years will you find me modeling sports clothing. Oh, hey Prefect.”

“Hey Jack.” Yuu sighed and looked up at the stars that were starting to appear. The constellations in Twisted Wonderland were different from those on Earth and they seemed to draw large coherent pictures across the sky. Vil sat down on his own blanket and opened his mouth to argue with Jack some more, but Cater closed his mouth.

“The show’s about to start!”

~~~

Sebek knocked on Silver’s door as quietly as he could. He could hear his fellow guard get out of bed and step to the door. Silver opened the door partially and opened his mouth to protest the rude awakening, but Sebek covered it before the human could make a sound.

“There’s an intruder.” Sebek whispered. “I can take the South stairwell to the young lord’s room if you take the West and go get Master Lilia.”

Silver nodded and grabbed his pen. The two men silently went in their directions, Silver to the west and Sebek to the south, and stepped into hidden passages. Sebek broke into a full sprint and exited the passage to see that Malleus’ door was open. A feeling of dread set into his stomach as he tip-toed near the door. What he saw sent a shiver of terror down his spine.

Standing over the sleeping figure of Malleus was a creature made of flickering and ever-changing shadows. From within itself, it produced an awful looking hand with claws the size of kitchen knives. Sebek moved without thinking and drew his sword as he ran to the side of the bed. He swung his sword in a graceful arc and removed the clawed appendage from the monster. It reeled back and shrieked horrifically, making Sebek cover his ears and making Malleus bolt awake.

The dragon Fae assessed the situation and dove out of bed for his staff, but the monster put itself between the two. The amputated limb shook violently in the air before it seemed to regrow itself. Sebek lunged with his sword and put himself in front of Malleus. “Go! Silver and Master Lilia are on their way! Get to the panic room!”

Malleus nodded and ran from the room. Sebek returned his focus on the monster. He had trained for this very scenario for a good portion of his life and he certainly wasn’t going to back down now.

~~~

The night grew colder, but the fireworks were worth it. Yuu clutched onto Grim’s warmth while Cater and Vil shared a blanket and watched the colorful lights explode in the air. Jack, having a naturally high body temperature, didn’t understand the discomfort of his companions, but thankfully didn’t tease them about it. He was sure that if he brought it up, his tail might receive a wicked pinch.

Cater had his phone up taking as many pictures as he could of the show while Vil had only taken a single selfie. Yuu sat in awe of the entire situation and was suddenly very grateful that the Principle had permitted this vacation.

Ew, was Yuu Prefect grateful for the actions of Crowley? The thought disgusted them and made them shiver more than the cold. Grim looked up at them “How cold are you, you weak human!”

Yuu frowned and hugged Grim tighter. “Very.”

Jack leaned forward from where he was sitting. “Here comes the finale! You’re in for a treat, you two.”

Grim and Yuu looked up to see a firework explode above them. A shower of gold sparks rained down as a second firework went off, sending red and blue streams everywhere.

“Truly beautiful.” Vil whispered. He got his phone out and snapped another picture. Yuu assumed that he would be sending it to Rook. Cater laughed and pointed to another firework that was about to explode. It went off and a brilliant lime green glow filled the night sky. Yuu agreed with Vil - the sight was the most beautiful thing they had ever seen.

When the lights faded, Yuu noticed that the stars were all out, blanketing the sky with billions of small lights. Jack laid down on his back and looked up at the sky. “What do you know, the Draconia Constellation can be seen this early in the year. That’s usually a Summer Constellation.”

Yuu looked up and sure enough, a large portion of the stars formed a dragon in the air. “Draconia, like Malleus’ family?”

Cater sat back as well, taking the shared blanket with him to the distress of Vil. “That’s the one. The longest Fae line in the world.”

Grim looked up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Vil raised his eyebrows. “I keep forgetting that you are not of this world. Let me explain this for you.”

~~~

Sebek could counter the physical attacks of the monster, but he hadn’t expected it to start hurling fireballs at him. He hissed and kicked himself a little bit whenever a fireball set something of Malleus’ ablaze, but he forced himself to keep his head in the fight.

Where is that lazy Silver? He should be here by now!

The monster jumped up and landed on the bed. Sebek pulled out his pen and fired a bolt of magic, but the mass of shadows absorbed the spell and made that horrible screech again. He grimaced and swung again, ducking under another fireball and was surprised that his sword made contact with something solid, but bounced off.

This creature, it’s changing to match my attacks! Come on, Sebek, think!

He grit his teeth and rolled across the bed, diving behind it to use as cover. If he kept the monster focused on him, it wouldn’t make a break for the door.

The door...

Sebek peaked his head up and noticed that the monster was loading another fireball. He ducked to avoid being hit and made a mad dash for the exit, throwing a rather large textbook that probably held ancient spells passed down from the Fairy Queen herself. Sebek hated to see such literature shredded before his eyes, but he decided that in the moment this would be acceptable behavior.

The monster recovered faster than he had anticipated. It’s claw lashed out as Sebek almost crossed the threshold and knocked him aside. His head hit the side of Malleus’ wardrobe and he felt a stinging pain in his right eye, but other than that was uninjured and got back on his feet. It slashed out again, but Sebek narrowly avoided the sharp talons. His energy was drained and even if he could raise his pen, he would possibly overblot from casting a single spell. He could run for the door again and risk impalement or stay in the corner and be burnt alive. Sebek’s mind, despite the chaos around him and his time running out, started to think of his friends at Night Raven College.

What would they do in his situation? Deuce and Jack would rush in head first, Ace would attempt to create a distraction, Grim would just made more fire and Yuu Prefect probably wouldn’t have even gotten themselves into this mess. Not to mention Epel would probably do any of those things based off of his slightly unpredictable personality. There was little doubt that Epel would also charge the monster, but there was no way of knowing for sure.

Sebek tuned back into reality as a fireball narrowly missed his face. The stinging in his eye and blood trickling down from his scalp made it hard to focus, but his adrenaline was still pumping. He was still standing. He was still fighting.

“Sebek!”

Someone called from the door. The guard - and the monster - turned to see a horrified Silver standing there, his pen clutched tightly. Sebek’s heart froze. He wanted to tell Silver to run, but Sebek’s voice became caught in his chest. The creature of shadows began to prepare another fireball, but Sebek’s body reacted quicker. He dropped his sword and tackled the monster. The two clashed until Sebek managed to force it out of Malleus’ window, but the monster held tight and Sebek felt gravity pull him down to the courtyard below.

~~~

“While most stars outside of constellations are celestial spheres of noble gases and other elements, the stars in constellations are actually souls.” Vil sat back on his hands and looked up at the dragon shaped image in the sky.

Cater sat back up, letting Vil snatch back the blanket. “Oh yeah! My mom explained this to me! Every time a fairy dies, they join their family constellation in the stars!”

“Unlike mortal souls that go to the Isles of Lamentation when we pass,” Vil continued. “The Fae’s immortal spirits are placed in the heavens to dance for all of eternity, or so the legend goes. Some stories say that the Fae came to Twisted Wonderland from the stars and so to the stars they return, but I for one just believe that this is a beautiful story.”

Yuu thought for a second. “So then what about shooting stars?”

Jack put his hands behind his head and got comfortable on the ground. “Nope, those are just regular comets or asteroids or whatever you call them.”

“Fascinating.” Yuu whispered. “Where I come from, stars are just flaming balls of gas in space. I shouldn’t be surprised that magic goes as far as constellations, but I am.”

Grim cleared his throat. “Wait, what about wishing stars?”

Vil put a hand to his chin to think. “You know, I’m not entirely sure. It could be that the magic of the fallen fairies could be the ones granting the wishes, but I don’t believe anyone is sure.”

“One of the universe’s many mysteries.” Cater’s voice dropped to be almost inaudible.

Yuu looked back up at the Draconia Line constellation. “There’s a hole in the dragon’s heart except for that one bright star, is that one Maleficent?”

Jack nodded, which was hard because he was on the ground. “The area around her is probably being reserved for her immediate family, so one day in a thousand years, Malleus and Lilia will join her and maybe even Sebek if he wasn’t too stubborn to die.”

Yuu laughed. “Yeah, that’s Sebek.”

~~~

Everything hurt.

Sebek was sure his arms and several ribs were broken, but other than that he landed from the seventh floor quite successfully. He attempted to sit up, but his body ached too much.

The shadow monster laid prone on the stone next to him. Sebek hoped it was finally dead. His inhuman vision let him see Silver and Lilia looking out the window he had tumbled from. Lilia vanished and reappeared next to Sebek, looking down at him with a sad face.

“Forgive my tardiness, young man.” Lilia knelt down next to Sebek and began to mutter a healing spell. A wave of warmth rushed over Sebek as the spell took hold over his body and he felt very tired.

“What is that thing?” Sebek looked at the monster. Lilia glanced back at it and shrugged. “I suppose a demon created to take the life of our young prince. You did well holding up against it for so long, I’m sure there’ll be a medal waiting for you when you wake up that you can show to all your companions at school.”

Sebek liked that idea. He imagined wearing a new medal proudly for a week to boast about to his friends.

“Oh Jack what did you do over the break?”

“I was just snowboarding at home.”

“Well I single-handedly fought off a demon and saved the young lord’s life!”

If it didn’t take so much energy, Sebek would have smiled from the thought.

Lilia finished his spell and offered a hand for Sebek to stand. It took effort, but the taller Fae got to his feet and leaned against his mentor. They began to walk away from the body of the monster, but out of the corner of his ever vigilant eyes, Sebek swore he saw it move.

Time seemed to slow down for Sebek. He shoved Lilia to the ground, earning an angry protest from the older Fae, and turned to face the monster as its claws sunk into his chest, tearing away his armor like it was paper.

The healing spell must have dulled his senses because Sebek didn’t feel any pain from the attack. Instead, he just looked up at the night sky and the Draconia Line constellation looked back down at him. The monster retracted its claw and Sebek slumped to the ground. He wasn’t aware of the pool of blood that was forming around his knees and he wasn’t aware of the blood curdling scream that came from Lilia’s lips, nor was he aware of the beam of magic that ripped the monster in two.

No, all Sebek was aware of were the beautiful stars inviting him to dance with them.

~~~

Yuu could see the stars from their bedroom in Jack’s house. After packing up for the night, Yuu, Grim and Jack said their goodbyes and returned to the log cabin. They had packed their things for their return to school in the morning, but while the cat-like monster slumbered peacefully on the bed they shared, Yuu found themself staring at the stars again.

They also found themself feeling a pit of dread well up in their stomach. It was cold like a clawed hand reaching up and tearing them apart from the inside. There was no reason that Yuu could think of to have this feeling, but it made them wonder if returning to Night Raven College would yield another overblotting upperclassman.

Yuu pushed the window open and a cool breeze ruffled their hair. They looked up at the dragon constellation and squinted before their eyes widened in confusion.

Yuu didn’t know how or why, but the bright star in the heart of the dragon was now joined by a smaller star that shone just as bright.

#this took me so long to write #i'm not that sure about the ending #but i like how the two scenes meshed together #TWST #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland writing #Sebek Zigvolt #Lilia Vanrouge #twisted wonderland Silver #Malleus Draconia #Cater Diamond #Jack Howl #vil schoenheit #Twisted Wonderland Yuu Prefect #Yuu Prefect #twisted wonderland Grim #ThatRingBoy Blue #ThatRingBoy Writing

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feverinfeveroutfic · 3 years

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chapter thirty: heart of glass

"in between, what i find is pleasing and i'm feeling fine. love is so confusing, there's no peace of mind. if i fear i'm losing you it's just no good, you teasing like you do." -”heart of glass”, blondie

With the continual wall of noise from the rain outside, Joey managed to drum for a solid hour all for Sam. He pounded upon the kick drums as if the pedals had grown right out from the soles of his feet. He gave his black curls a toss back with a flick of his head every so often, but Sam thought about fetching a piece of string just to tie them back from his face.

He was tight in his rhythms and his grooves, such that he hardly moved his arms about when he pounded on the big bass drum next to him and the little tom toms up top. All the while, she pictured Frank and Dan going forth on their respective bass and lead guitar positions before him.

A little power trio for the whole world to see as far as she could see them in the future.

At one point, right as the rain outside died down a bit, he slowed down his grooves to a single tap on his snare drum and a couple of beats on his kick drum. Every other one, Sam expected to hear a tap of the snare but there was nothing.

“Interesting little bounce here,” she remarked as she took her seat on the couch to take the pressure off of her knees and her feet.

“Called a 'ghost note',” he told her. “You expect to hear something—” He tapped the snare and kicked twice, and then nothing. “—but nah. Zelda does 'em a lot, I've noticed. Like during their more atmospheric, slower songs, she'll do the ghost notes so it has kind of a swirl to it.”

He then hit one of his splash cymbals, and he returned to her with a twinkle in his eye. Drumming solid for nearly a whole entire hour and he hadn't even broken out in a sweat: instead, he had a soft rosy blush to his cheekbones and his bangs fluttered about as if he walked about a stretch of sidewalk.

“By the way, what was that song that the girls did?” he asked her. “The one where Zelda just went crazy on the drums? You know, we were in Boston and she just went completely ape shit on the whole thing?”

“Oh, that was 'Dead Witches', I think?” she recalled. “Minerva just did a crazy, like five minute solo, too.”

“And Zelda was just going faster and faster with it, too! They actually got real thrashy and metallic there. I can see them going more in that direction at some point—Zelda's got the chops and Morgan does, too.”

He hit the splash again and the rain picked up outside once more.

“I'm hearin' a little riff in my head right now,” he confessed as he hit the splash twice more and then he held it still by the edge with two fingers while he still held the stick in his hand. He then gave his black curls a toss back with a flick of his head, and he stood to his feet, and he set the drum sticks down on the stool's head. She held still as he climbed out from behind the kit and made his way over to his record collection on the other side of the room.

“You got the—” he began with a little motion of his index finger. She hesitated for a few seconds, and then she remembered. She took out the box from her purse and handed it over to him. He took the leather strap out from its hiding place and he returned to the guitar.

She watched him slip the strap onto that white flying V; she then clasped her hands together and held them close to her as he slung it over his shoulder. He reached behind his head and slipped his hair out from underneath the strap.

The guitar stayed right up close to his stomach so he couldn't reach so low with his lanky drummer's arms. He held it high against his body, just how Alex had told her that one time.

“So high up,” he complained, “high up on my body. Feels like it's choking me.”

“Alex recommends holding it that high so it's easier on your wrists and your back,” she told him, to which Joey frowned. “Joey, listen—take his word for it.”

He then pressed his hands to his hips.

“Joey—he was in Aurora's wedding for god's sake,” she insisted. “He's a good kid!”

He chewed on his bottom lip and he glanced down at the guitar with a serious look on his face.

“Still a freak,” he stated in a cold tone of voice, and he turned to the side a bit so he could strum something.

The side of his face. The straight way in which his nose was shaped.

He warranted the work of stained glass. Something of so many colors, all the colors of the rainbow. The darkest shades of blue and purple all about the crown of his head; meanwhile his head and shoulders could be all those lovely shades of golden yellow and orange and even a bit of brown if she could find it for herself. She wished for Belinda's help right then, so he could in fact hold still for her.

But all she had was her journal and the art supplies she had on hand right there. Sam reached to her right for the journal in question and she opened it to a fresh page.

She kept her eye on his lush black curls and, quickly enough before he moved at all in comparison to her, she scribbled them down with the edge of the graphite. She kept her eye on the side of his face, right on that straight nose and those deep eyes. Not nearly as deep as Alex's eyes, but deep enough to warrant an extra bit of quick shading on the page.

Indeed, that in and of itself was a pose that she could challenge herself with: Joey standing to the side with his curls pushed back from his face and the white guitar cradled in his hands. She could even bring the slightly disgruntled expression on his face along with her.

Quick strokes of the pencil and she had the bare minimum of a sketch as he kicked a riff about as if he knocked a hockey puck about the room.

She took a glimpse down the sketch. Indeed, she found it to be the perfect way to translate it over to glass as well.

His fingers moved about at a slow pace along the fret board, which in turn caused him to grunt in his throat.

“You alright?” she asked him.

“I'm tryin' to go faster,” he confessed. “Like for the new album or sump'n. I wanna be able to play those real quick and melodic riffs the way Scott always does.” Indeed, he stopped and he flexed his fingers a bit.

“Well, if you keep working it, your muscles'll get stronger,” she promised him. “It's like when you're making art, you're not sure of yourself at first. But then after a while, you keep your head down and you faze out everything around you. And the next thing you know, you're making your first masterpiece.”

He gazed on at her with a thoughtful look on his face. He clutched at his wrist and that flat piece of silver around it with his other hand. Every so often, he flexed his fingers once more in order to better get the blood flowing in there.

Sam brought her attention up to his face and the way his eyes hooded at the very sound of that.

“You think so?” He brought the tone of his voice down to a husky one.

“I know so.” She stopped and she squinted her eyes at him. “What's on your mind right now?” she asked him.

“Well, that's just—that was just really kind of you to say that to me,” he admitted to her, still with his voice down low. He ran his tongue along his dark lips and he raised his eyebrows at her.

“What's on your mind right now?” she repeated.

“A certain something of sorts,” he confessed. “I'm just looking at how your mouth is shaped, the very same mouth that gave me those kind words just now. You're always willing to get to the bottom of things, like my behavior towards what's his name. You're always willin' to compromise, too.”

She held still in her spot on the couch and she wondered where exactly he was going with this.

“And so,” he continued, “—I wanna know if you have a little ace of spades up your sleeve that you're not telling me.”

“Who's to say it's an ace of spades?” she asked him as she straightened out her spine and rested her elbows on her knees.

“Well, I just think about the accident,” he began, and then he took off the guitar from his shoulder and he leaned it against the wall right next to him. He ran his fingers through his black curls and he turned to her, still with those hooded eyelids. “The accident—and Cliff drew out an ace of spades before hand and he spared Kirk his life. The ace of spades, the dead man's hand.”

“Where are you going with this,” she whispered to him.

“I've noticed something,” he continued, still in a husky voice, “the times in which the arts die off with someone like him. Things get a little darker and little more grim, all because of something so weird like the ace of spades. You know, in Native American lore, we believe that everything is made out from an eternal river bed of black mud, and we all crawled out from that mud. Somewhere along the sides of that river bed is some kind of plant that resembles to the ace of spades. The other side of my heritage, the Italians, believe in something a little similar with the same goal in mind. The goal that we all emerged from the darkness and we came forth into the world we all know today.”

“To the earth from whence we came,” she muttered, to which he nodded.

“And it just so happens that an ace—someone utterly excellent and not of this world like Cliff—returned to the darkness of the earth, the spade itself, and we lost someone who was more than a force to be reckoned with.”

She sighed through her nose. This was another side of Joey she hadn't seen before, the side in which she wondered if he really was the hick that he claimed to be, or if that had been recycled from a mere perspective of living in New York City for a time. This young man of mixed race had far more layers than she had originally uncovered before.

“You know what else resembles to the ace of spades?” he asked her right then.

“What's that?”

He lowered his gaze to his legs, much to her confusion.

“I'm guessing—aside from me of course—you've never really given a man a little blowing below the belt before?”

To which she slowly shook her head. It was something that never really crossed her mind in the past, such that when Joey mentioned it, it almost hit her like a dead weight to the head. She remembered that there were in fact people who thought about this sort of thing quite often.

“It's alright—I'm not very experienced myself,” he confessed to her with a little shrug of his shoulders and a raise of one eyebrow. “But I do know what that looks like, though. I think to the first time I felt it from you.” Indeed, she thought back to that evening in England, there in the hotel room where she had her mouth on him right before she had to board the red eye back home. He gestured for her to come on closer to him. She sighed through her nose and she gingerly stood up from the couch.

The only sound came from the rain outside and the pounding of her own heart inside of her chest.

She thought back to what her mother had said about the man she used to know, the man who resembled to Joey himself. He showed her the tip of his tongue and he glanced down at her breasts, and then her body.

“You know, a nice comment pleases me,” he told her, “but the only other thing that pleases me more than that is if I feel a certain something. A certain something that will in fact give me more life than anyone else can imagine.” Sam then shook her head at that.

“I dunno if I'm ready to understand you yet, Joey,” she confessed.

“A lot of people don't,” he assured, still with those hooded eyes; he then slipped his thumbs into the loopholes on his jeans to put more emphasis on his hips. “But then again—it's just you and me here right now.”

She peered over her shoulder to the couch. Belinda was back home down in New York City. She returned to him as he showed her his tongue once more.

“There's a lot that I think about, too,” he admitted to her. “A lot that—most people'd call 'backwards' or something that needs to be hidden from view. I don't think so.”

She swallowed and shifted her weight right there before him.

“There's a lot that—most people would confuse, too. Not necessarily with me, but with two people such as you and me as well.”

“Like what?”

He then nibbled on his bottom lip. “Lately—and when I say lately, I mean the past month and a half since you and I made it official between us—I've been thinking about just how attracted I am to you. How much I want you, too.”

“Isn't that the same thing?” To which he shook his head.

“Attraction and desire are not the same thing, Sam. You can be attracted to a bowl of potato chips but that doesn't mean you want them, though. I just think about how much I want you, and how much I've been wanting you, too. Y'know, I think back to when we on the hockey rink together—and I just think about how good your body looked while on the ice. I think about how much I want you next to me and how much I want you on me as well.”

She swallowed again, which caused him to raise his eyebrows at her. He then reached out for her and he gently held her by the shoulders.

“It's okay, there's nothing to be afraid of,” he assured her in a gentle voice. “It's just us here. We've got all night, too. Granted I have to go tomorrow night, but for the time being, it's just us. You're all about me feeling comfortable—I give you the same mantra.”

“How do we start?” she asked him with her head bowed.

“Well—like getting prepared for a round of hockey or anything physical, we gotta warm up. So—seeing as I'm the one who knows what it looks like—I suggest we start with me. We'll move over to you and find out what makes you tick next. Remember when we were in England and you blew me while we were on the bed?”

She nodded her head.

“Well, let's do it again. Except this time around, like I said, we actually have time so you can figure things out and I can, too. I will say this, I wanna try it out while I'm standing up.”

“So you want me to get down on my knees?” she asked him, to which he nodded. She sighed through her nose again and then she dropped down to her knees right before his hips and his thighs.

“So what do I do? Do I just sit here on my knees?”

“Well—let's see—” he began, “your head is close to my hips so yeah. Just follow my lead.”

“Follow my lead says the guy who isn't a lead guitarist,” she teased him, albeit out of nervousness.

“You're good,” he pointed out as he undid his jeans for her. He slid them down his sinewy brown legs and he showed himself to her. Sam was hesitant to do anything right there; instead, she glanced up at him with baited breath and a dry feeling on the back of her throat. She realized she hadn't had much to drink for herself right then.

“Do you remember what you did while we were in England?” he asked her.

“Put my lips around it?”

“Right! We'll just take it slow—just like that—yeah! Yeah, there you go. Here—lemme help—”

He buckled his knees so she could have a bit more flesh in her mouth. She looked up at his face as he lingered right above her.

“Just like that,” he gently encouraged her, “like you're sucking on a Popsicle!”

She giggled at that, and she moved her head up a bit more so she could have more in her mouth.

“Okay, move down—there you go—that's my girl—”

He then thrust hard into her mouth, such that it took her by surprise at first. But he kept on moving, kept on going forth with it. She held still underneath him as she let him move in closer to her. Salty and taut; but she could feel nothing on her end. But she kept it at. It was to please him, and she loved seeing the smile on his face all the while.

If he was happy, then she was happy herself.

She then took her mouth off of him, and he showed her an eager grin.

“Okay—let's go upstairs—I'm gonna give you your turn now.” He then dropped his pants all the way and he took her by the hand. He led her upstairs to the loft, and he almost jumped into bed for her.

Gingerly, she took off her top and her jeans for him.

“When you say it's my turn now,” she started as she climbed onto the bed next to him, “does it mean I'm on top?”

“Yes!” he said as he lay flat on his back underneath her. He spread out his arms from his body. “Yes! Gimme what for on top.”

“It's almost like you're my canvas,” she told him.

“Nah, I'm your paint brush,” he retorted. “Like when you take your brush or your pencil and just move it about in between your fingers to paint your next masterpiece. Climb on top—just like that—how's that feel?”

“Weird,” she confessed, “like it—it hurts—ow—ow!”

“Okay, c'mere—lemme touch ya—lemme touch ya—on your tits—how's that?”

“Tickles.”

“Okay—”

She giggled at the feeling of his fingers there.

“You like that, don't ya?” he teased her with a big goofy grin on his face.

“It tickles!”

“Well, y'know when it tickles, you get a li'l sump'n else goin',” he pointed out.

“Like what?”

“Between your legs. Don't ya feel it?”

“No,” she confessed. “I don't, no.”

“Wow,” he said, taken aback, “but that does feel good, doesn't it?”

“It does, yeah. But I just—what you're telling me is a little weird, though. I can just try it willy nilly here, though.”

“You don't wanna fake it,” he told her with a shake of his head. “Last thing you wanna do is fake it. How 'bout this?”

He pressed his lips to her skin and she gasped.

“Ooh, yeah, you like that, don't ya?” he teased her with that lopsided grin on his face.

“Yes! Do it again!”

He kissed her again. “Okay—we're doin' it in the face of the epidemic—it's alright, though—I trust you.”

“And I trust you,” she blurted out.

This was something else, something new, something that she never got the chance to do with Cliff when they were together. She swore Joey was nothing more than one of her best friends and the first man she met when she first moved to New York, the first man next to Frank of course, but she took things to the next level here in the bed. She stared right into his face, right into those dark eyes, those dark eyes of venom and deadly nightshade. He was her paint brush and her body served as the canvas. Together they painted their first masterpiece.

She gasped and she slid right off of him.

“Okay, that's enough,” he pleaded, “—that's enough!”

Sam climbed off of his body and she lay down there on her back next to him. Quick and concise, but more than worth it.

Joey let out a long low whistle at the feeling: she rolled her head over the pillow for a better look at his face and his neck. It felt so strange, to lay there next to him when she didn't feel the same thing that he felt for her. But he lay there with a smile on his face and a warm soft blush inside of his dark skin: his Adam's apple poked out from his soft throat and his black curls splayed out from all around his head. She had drank up his venom and he had drank up something from her as well, something sweet and nourishing to his liking.

“You okay?” she asked him as she lay still right next to him and with her hands rested upon her bare chest.

“More than okay,” he replied to her in a broken voice. “That was just—that was just everything I ever wanted. Right there. That hit the spot more than something to eat after a long day of not eating anything. Phew.”

He rolled his head over the top of the pillow and he gazed on at her with those hooded eyes once again.

“Yeah, that was—that was something,” she remarked.

“Yeah, I'll say,” he added in a broken voice. “I figured—you know. We've known each other for quite a while and everything. We might as well take things a step further.”

“Makes perfect sense, oh yeah.” And for that brief pocket of time, she had forgotten the rest of the world around them. She rolled her head to the right of the bed, where she was met by the little clock there. A brief pocket of time was enough for her to realize that they were in fact running out of time.

“Been meaning to tell you this,” she began, “but—next year, for my senior project, I'm gonna have to go with my counselor out to California. For how long, I dunno.”

“California!” he repeated as he rolled his head over the top of his pillow; through the darkness, she could make out the disheartened expression on his face. “You're leavin' me?”

“Well, not right now,” she assured him as she rested her hands upon her belly, as soft and delicate as the bedsheets underneath them. “Like I said, it's next year. Way after you get home.”

“Yeah, but we'll be workin' on our new album then,” he pointed out. “At least that's what Charlie said.”

“It's tentative, though,” she continued, “so who knows? Bill might have a change of heart.”

“I hope he does.” He then paused for a few seconds. “Besides, why California of all places?”

“He didn't say. And the thing that gets me about it is if I go out to California, I won't be around to see you.” She confessed that to him in a soft voice, to which Joey's face fell.

“Well—I mean, does it actually have to be out in California?” he asked her.

“Like I said, that's according to my counselor Bill,” she said, “he told me that it's going to be way out there, but that's as far as he went with it, though. For all I know, it could be something really huge, that it just—has to take place in another state.”

“Clear on the other side of the country, too,” he added.

“Right when I got settled into a new apartment, too,” she said. “You know, I've been thinking about getting away from the mundane for a bit. But—nothing like this, though.”

“You need to stretch your legs more,” he told her. “Like you gotta get yourself out of that apartment and into the streets more. At least that's how it was for me growing up in 'Swaygo. If I had cabin fever—which was often being a kid without a way of getting over to Syracuse or Rochester—I always picked up a hockey stick or my drum sticks and just went nuts with 'em.”

“I've been thinking of getting into more physical arts,” she confessed to him. “Like what Belinda does. Glass work and leather crafting. Making things with my hands.”

“You should,” he suggested to her, complete with a raise of his eyebrows. “I just think to when you and I were in the hockey rink together and skating in particular came to you so well. It's all within you, Sam I am. It's all within—this body—” He inched closer to her and he pressed his lips onto hers once more. She kept her hands upon her chest as he ran his hands down the curves of her body, down towards her hips and her thighs. He gave her the softest groan from the back of his throat all the while, and then he lay his head back down on the pillow next to her. Even in the darkness, she could make out the look of disappointment on his face.

“Look at it this way,” he told her again, that time in a soft faraway whisper, “if you go out to California, you'll actually be closer to Metallica and Exodus and everybody out there.”

“That's true.” When he said that, she thought about Testament. She would be closer to them, too. If nothing, wherever Bill planned on taking her out there, she knew that she would be within range of them, as well as the place where James and Lars scattered Cliff's ashes.

She sighed through her nose and she lay her head back down on the pillow underneath her head. She gazed up at the ceiling overhead. She thought of falling asleep but alas she couldn't. Their whole act back there had jarred her awake despite it being late at night. Joey however fetched up a yawn.

“I'm feelin' kinda in the mood for a bit of snugglin',” he confessed to her right then. “We had a little moment and now we deserve a round of snuggly snuggles.”

“Some snuggling and some cuddles?” she teased back at him.

“Yes, yes, yes—I'm in need of some cuddles. I've been a good boy after all.”

“If you say so,” she further teased him. She then rolled over onto her side so he could have a better look at the curvature of her body.

She cuddled up right next to Joey, complete with his arms around her. The warmth of his body cradled her like the warmest feeling, like the top of her bed back at her parents' house. She could still taste him on her tongue and she knew she would be sore come the morning light, but she had crossed a new threshold with him in the meantime.

Sam lay her head on his chest so she could better hear his heartbeat. In comparison to the rain on the rooftop, his rhythm was in fact much louder and steadier, and far more soothing to relish in as well. She focused on his heart and the steady ebb and flow of his breathing.

Her eyes shuttered closed at the warm feeling the enveloped the both of them. For a second, she thought that Cliff was still right next to her. And indeed, she even pictured him next to her.

That evening over his last Christmas break at her parents' house in Reno. They had had that argument: such a distant memory at that point, but it still haunted her even with the warm feeling around them. She shook her head a little bit as she realized that she and Joey were about to part once more, but that time around, he could go over to Europe on a high note with her.

As far as she knew, she could lose Joey exactly how she lost Cliff. She could lose any one of them exactly how she lost Cliff.

She awoke the next morning to the warmth of his deep chest and his slim waist, and the smile on his sleeping face. She couldn't help but smile herself, and she squeezed him a little bit before she woke him up with a kiss on the neck.

“'Morning, sleepy head,” she greeted him.

“Shall we fetch some coffee and a bite of breakfast?” he offered her.

“Please,” she insisted.

Within time, they had dressed and headed out the door all the way back to New York City. Given it was still way early, they both agreed on a cup of coffee and breakfast while down in the City together. At some point overnight, the torrential rain had turned into freezing rain, and thus all the roads were blanketed in a fine layer of slush and sleet. Sam nestled down in the passenger seat next to Joey as they began out of Camillus.

They reached the last stoplight before the onramp to the freeway and Joey rubbed his hands together to keep the warmth in. She glanced out the window and there on the sidewalk before one of those small book stores before the freeway, Sam recognized that little dark head once again with his parents: the last day they were there no less. Even in the midst of the clouds, she spotted that small plume of gray. He happened to turn around at that point.

While Joey rubbed his hands some more, Sam raised her hand and gave him a friendly little wave. Alex returned to the favor, complete with a sweet little crooked smile.

The light then turned green and they lunged forward to the freeway.

Four hours and the faintest trickle of heat from the vents before them, and that familiar skyline emerged from within the low hanging dark clouds over them. Where the lake effect had given them freezing rain, a full fledged snowfall had covered New York City in a couple of inches.

Joey took that bypass down to Hell's Kitchen once again, but instead of going to a cafe there, he kept on going to that apartment by the harbor.

“I saw a little coffee place down the block from you,” he told her. “Close by and we can give a li'l sump'n for Marla, too.”

“Good idea!”

He offered to buy them both cups of coffee, while Sam asked for a blueberry scone from the barista in there. It felt just like the first time, back when Cliff was alive: indeed, she expected to see him on the porch chatting with Alex. Joey held both cups of espresso, one for him and one for Marla, as he led Sam out of the coffee house. They then started back towards his car but Joey kept on walking up the cleared but damp sidewalk to the complex by the harbor. Sam followed him as she held her scone, which had been put inside of a little brown paper bag, in her pocket, that is until they reached the complex itself.

She pressed the buzzer outside of the door to grab Marla's attention and then she turned to Joey, who set his cup of coffee down on the post next to him.

“Happy birthday, Joey,” she told him as he put his arms around her. She rested her chin upon his shoulder, so he could press his lips to the side of her neck.

“I'll see you at Christmas,” he said right into her ear. And without another word, he let her go, and she took Marla's cup along with her back up the steps and up to the apartment, where she and Genie both awaited her. But when she reached the top step, she stopped, and she turned around for a look down at him. His black curls were still disheveled all about the crown of his head and his dark skin seemed darker in comparison to the fresh blanket snow all around them.

“Drive safe,” she called out to him, and he showed her a little smirk.

“Will do,” he vowed, and he flashed her a wink and blew her a kiss. Without another word, she stepped inside of the front lobby and she headed upstairs, where Belinda greeted her with a big beaming smile on her face.

“There she is,” Marla called out from behind her.

“The lady of the hour!” Belinda declared. Sam shut the door behind her.

“What's going on?”

“Oh, my god, Sam—you gotta get into glass,” Belinda begged her. “You've got to!”

“Well, school's already long started, Bel.” She set her cup of coffee on the kitchen table and then she handed the other one to Marla. “—I don't think I can, to be honest.”

“I'll recommend you for the winter term,” Belinda said. “You've gotta be in glass. It's so much fun, you'll love it.”

“She really just wants you in there,” Marla pointed out as she brought the cup of espresso to her lips.

“But it's true, though!” Belinda insisted. “It'll be so good for you, Sam, especially with that daunting senior project before you.”

“Did you give that suggestion about leather crafting, by the way?” Sam asked her.

“Yeah, I gave a suggestion like three times to Bill and to Mrs. Robinson, too,” Belinda replied.

“Mrs. Robinson.”

“My counselor,” she answered.

“Oh, I see. Well, of course when I was hanging out with Joey yesterday, I got the idea to do glass work with his countenance, dare I say. I mean, I have had that idea for a long time now, but I'm really feeling it now.” Sam then set down her cup of coffee on the table before her, and she reached into her purse for her journal. She plunked it open to that bare sketch she had made the day before. Marla and Belinda both nodded at the sight of him.

“He was playing drums and guitar for me,” Sam told them.

“Flexing big time,” Marla remarked before she took another sip of coffee. “Charlie did that all the time with me.”

“Sometimes that's all you need is a simple little sketch,” Belinda told her.

“Sometimes it really is,” Sam agreed with her, “sometimes it's enough to give you all the layers to work with.”

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hereticpriest · 4 years

Text

Amplify Chapter 4

Keiko didn’t get to stay with Iida, Shouto and Midoriya. Endeavor took her home, after giving her a short speech about how proud he was of her for controlling herself and only using her quirk to save people despite the temptation to intervene. It wasn’t often that Endeavor said he was proud of anyone, and Keiko not-so-subtly reminded him that he could perhaps tell Shouto as well. The grunt she got in answer was exactly what she was expecting, but it didn’t dim her hopes.

After her best friend healed, he returned to them, and Keiko was subjected to him antagonizing his father relentlessly over the victory attributed to him. Sometimes she felt like a third wheel to their arguments, and she wished she could just go on patrol with Endeavor’s sidekicks. Instead, she was subjected to quirk training that made her body feel like it was hit by a train, constant quizzing about hero laws from Kido and Onima, and headache-inducing bickering between the father and son duo. Burnin rescued her one day for patrols, but she was a hothead, so Keiko ended up continuing her role as the mediating figure whenever anyone else was involved.

She had to admit, however, that she learned a lot. She also got a firm measurement on exactly how much thermal energy she could contain before a discharge was necessary. Endeavor even had his support team draw up some plans and fabric recommendations for a suit that would be better suited to protecting her from flames since she could absorb the energy, but could still be burned in the process if she wasn’t careful. Her favourite part of the entire internship, though, was that she got to spend the whole time living with the Todoroki family. Seeing Fuyumi and Natsuo was good for her soul, and she was willing to overlook Enji’s apparent fixation on eventually marrying her to his son whenever he was present. She even got to visit Rei with Shouto one day. Her polaroid camera came in handy that day, as the trio took a walk on the hospital grounds and had a picnic outside. Rei ended up with tons of photos for her room, and Shouto had plenty as well.

Going back to school after a week of working in the hero world was a bit of a bummer, especially since her internship went quite well. Most of the class seemed to feel the same, but she noticed when she spoke to Momo that her internship was a bit of a disappointment. Mineta seemed thrilled to be back from his internship with Mount Lady, where he was apparently used as a housekeeper. Served him right. Bakugo’s experience was a bit of a surprise, however. As was his lovely hairdo.

“It’s so straight! It looks so soft too.” Keiko teased, playfully brushing her fingers through the white-blond strands only to have her wrists grabbed to stop her. Keiko pouted, wiggling to try and get her hands free so she could get grabby again. Her pout only got worse when Kirishima and Kaminari teased the blond into puffing his hair out again.

“Awww, guys you ruined it!” Keiko whined, nearly collapsing into Mina’s open arms. That drew a laugh from the pink-skinned girl, who fanned the overdramatic girl while she feigned fainting. The girls giggled together, only growing louder when Katsuki shouted at them to shut up.

Homeroom dulled everyone’s spirits, as their final exam was coming up fast. Keiko, who had spent much of her free time training or studying, wasn’t really that worried. Obviously the practical exam posed a risk, but she knew she’d ace the written exam. She declined everyone’s offers to study, even Kirishima and Bakugo’s. Instead, she planned to get together at her place with Shouto. Giving him an out from his place was always a good thing, and it meant her house felt a little less lonely. That was only helped when he arrived at her door with two kittens in his arms. One was a long-haired ginger with three black paws, while the other was pure black with folded ears and medium length fur. Keiko melted on sight, taking them both into her arms and giving them each a kiss, then putting the sleepy things into the pocket on the front of her hoodie.

“Where did you get these guys?” Keiko asked, walking into her apartment to find a box and a blanket to make a bed for them. Shouto shrugged.

“Neighbour’s cat had kittens. I know you’ve been wanting to get cats. You can’t be alone all the time in this place.” The two-toned man replied, “I can help you pick stuff up for them.”

“Thank you Sho. You’re the best friend I could ever have.” Keiko hummed, scrunching up a blanket in one of the old boxes she’d kept from moving, then depositing the sleepy kittens into it. She put the box by the couch so they could get settled, then moved in to steal a hug. Shouto rolled his eyes but allowed it, a hand on her lower back while the other remained in his pocket. Two hours later, they had picked up toys, food, litter boxes, treats, a cat tree, and a couple of scratching posts. Keiko got the apartment set up while Shouto started studying, and once she was done, Keiko began to get dinner ready while Shouto quizzed her from the couch. Both of the kittens loved to lay on Shouto, specifically his fire side, absorbing that ever-present warmth. They ate dinner in the living room, sat under the kotatsu that Keiko had refused to live without. Like Shouto, she tended towards having a rather traditional style of decor, further evidenced by her tatami flooring, floor cushions and low style sofa and chairs. She even had shoji screens to separate rooms in the open floor plan of her apartment. It certainly made her apartment feel larger.

Keiko named the male ginger kitten Rin, and the female black kitten Suzu. Shouto ended up staying quite late, curled up on her couch together to watch movies while the kittens dozed. Keiko figured that the only reason Endeavor hadn’t called to complain about Shouto being away was that he wanted them to get married. Sometimes, she was fairly sure that Endeavor forgot that women weren’t just baby machines.

The day of their final exams, Keiko was admittedly stressed out. They learned that they would be fighting their teachers in their practical exam, and none of the teachers felt like a particularly fun fight to her. Sure, she would definitely have a quirk advantage against some of them, but she was paired up against Present Mic with Jirou and Koda, and she knew that it would be difficult. Mic’s quirk didn’t provide an energy type that she could absorb, and she was paired with two sound-quirk users who wouldn’t be able to use their quirks effectively either. In the beginning of the match, they needed to use their heads. Mic’s voice was ear-piercing even at a distance, and she knew they’d all be suffering big time in a short amount of time.

“I need you guys to hit me. Hard.” Keiko requested. Jirou immediately complied with a wild grin, slapping her across the face so hard that Keiko knew anyone else (except perhaps Kirishima) would have ringing in their ears. In her case, it was a fantastic boost to her energy.

“Good?”

“Hell yeah! Again!”

Another slap, followed by a gut punch and a kick to the side. Koda panicked as he watched them; Jirou hitting their classmate relentlessly while Keiko looked like she was getting high off of it. A wild grin on her face, Keiko bumped her fist against Jirou’s, then Koda’s.

“Alright guys. I can’t hit Mic from afar since he’s pretty fast, but I can distract the hell out of him. What have we got?” Keiko asked. Another burst from Mic had Keiko mashing her ears with both palms to try and block out the sound. Once he stopped, Jirou rattled off a pretty good explanation for why they couldn’t go right at him, but she came up with the plan to get Koda to use bugs. Koda wasn’t keen on the idea, but Keiko trusted he would overcome his fears. Another shriek made Keiko shrink down to the ground and contemplate shoving moss in her ears. By the time the screaming stopped, Jirou’s ears were bleeding and Keiko was sure hers were as well. She offered to run distraction, giving them time to get the bugs ready to go and also to avoid more damage to Jirou and Koda’s ears. He needed to speak to the bugs to get them to help, which was difficult with Present Mic screeching like a banshee.

“Hey, Mic! Have you ever heard the one about the stuttering DJ? He really likes to d-d-dddd-ddd-ddrop the bass!” Keiko shouted as she headed towards the gate. Mic’s answering laugh was another couple of seconds he wasn’t screeching.

“Good joke, Mochizuki, but did you really come out here with telling jokes as your plan?”

“Yeah, why not, right? Hey Mic, what do police officers and DJs have in common? They both tell drunk people to put their hands up!” Keiko giggled at her own joke, unable to help herself. Mic laughed along with her, but she knew he was smart and was analyzing the area around him. He sucked in a breath after a second to shout, and Keiko used an energized burst to run around the clearing so that he wasn’t aiming towards her classmates, then aimed at him and focused. Instead of her usual larger blast, she managed two concentrated shots that forced him to dodge.

“HEY LISTENERS! COME OUT!” Mic shouted, knocking Keiko on her ass rather easily. Keiko felt blood coating her neck just under her ears, but she saw the ground bend upwards next to Mic’s foot and relief flooded her. Bugs began to crawl up Mic’s leg, and he squealed like a wild animal, eyes rolling back in his head. She was fairly sure he fainted, even. Koda carried Jirou out of the forest at Keiko’s signal that Mic was down, and they all headed out through the gate. Unsurprisingly, Keiko got a lecture from Aizawa about using herself as cannon fodder, but was pleased with them for being able to work as a unit against a quirk ill-suited to them. A quick visit to Recovery Girl had them all fixed up, and they were able to watch the other battles again, but watching Izuku and Katsuki fight All Might was painful so Keiko decided to sit with Shouto to warm up against his fire side.

The news that even those who failed will be able to attend the summer training camp, though with extra lessons, cheered up those of the class that were bummed out about their failures. The class planned a shopping trip when Aizawa gave them free time before the end of class, since some of them needed to pick up necessities for the summer. That was interrupted when Nezu knocked and opened the door with All Might, both looking grim.

“Eraser, we need to speak with Miss Mochizuki and yourself, if you don’t mind.” Nezu hummed pleasantly, fooling no one. Keiko felt her stomach drop out, and her chest got tight.

“Fine. Class, you’re excused.” Aizawa waved the class off, and the three pro heroes watched the class disembark. Keiko stayed in her seat, looking decidedly unsure as she received worried stares from her classmates. Shouto shook his phone at her to indicate for her to call him, and Katsuki stared at her as he left the classroom, his hands clenched into fists. Once they were gone, All Might placed an overly gentle hand on her shoulder as Nezu sat on the desk in front of hers.

“Miss Mochizuki-”

“Please call me Keiko, Principal Nezu. I don’t like going by my last name.” Keiko murmured, unsure.

“Of course. Keiko, we just received word from the police. Geonosis prison had a breakout yesterday, and they just got the final headcount on escaped villains. Kikuchi Bassui was among the villains to escape.” Nezu explained quietly, watching as Keiko’s normally flush and healthy skin went white.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #bakugo has hearing loss fight me #bakugo katsuki x oc

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mrs-hollandstan · 5 years

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OK but imagine Sam dating somebody who is a wiccan, is really into astrology and tarot readings and a while into their relationship as she gets to know his siblings he finds her with paddy as he's convinced (begged) her to read his future with the tarot cards 💜

So this came with a lot of research, but I am NOT in any way saying I'm a wiccan or know how this works so if its inaccurate in some sense, my bad.

[[MORE]]

Paddy was most intruiged by your hobby, lifestyle. It was initially what drew Sam in, but Paddy, when he was told you were a wiccan, wanted to have his palm read or whatever you were into. He'd always been curious and now that you, someone who used the stars to read somewhat into a person's future, was in the house, he felt he could ask.

The first few times he'd asked, you'd told him no in a very respectful manner in fear that his parents would react negatively to the idea, but when Nikki posed the topic to see if you would, for her, you finally told him yes. So that's how Sam found you, sat at the dining room table with his younger brother, finding your tarot cards in your bag. He sat opposite Paddy, eyes flickering between you and his youngest brother as you ran him through how it worked,

"Alright," you sighed, spreading the black back cards out in the table, "so, using your left hand, choose three cards and set them in front of you, face down." You explained to Paddy. He did as he was told, pulling three cards from the stack and laying them before him. You flipped each of them over, you, Sam, and Paddy all looking them over,

"Does it matter if they're upside down?" Sam muttered. You nodded,

"Each card has a positive and negative side. Most times if its upside down, its negative but... not always." You explain further, winking at Paddy. He smiles nervously before watching you pull from the pile for all three rows. You lay each new line face down before flipping them over and choosing again four more times. An array of cards are laying, facing Paddy. You lick your lips,

"Okay love, ready?" You coo. He nods. You smile, pointing to the first line,

"Okay, so this first row, I see is in reference to a career path. This first one is called a ten of wands and because it is reversed, it means that you're stresses or burnt out. The hanged man here, is up, which means that you will sacrifice or release something. So that tells me that you'll be unhappy with a job you choose and you realize it's time to move on. This third one, the up, ace of swords, means breakthrough, the up ace of pentacles means prosperity or new ventures, and the up nine of pentacles means reward or luxury. So what I see, is that you'll be stressed in a job, you'll realize it's time for a change, and you'll sacrifice that of which you need to to get where you need in order to live a full life of luxury." You explain. Paddy nods, mesmerized by what you say. You smile down at him,

"Okay, this second line, is in reference to friendship and the loss of it. Now this, I see in the somewhat near future, maybe when you're the twins or Tom's age. So, this wheel of fortune here is positive, meaning change. The three of cups, when reversed means gossip, the revered king of swords means cruelty, the up of nine of swords means trauma, and the justice card here, because it is up, means truth or clarity. So I see here, that a little later down the road, you'll make a friend or a few friends that will play you. It'll hurt and you'll disband and feel as though you've been betrayed, but the truth will clear it up, and you'll move on without these lost friends." You explain again with a sympathetic smile. Life isn't easy and to tell Paddy a hardship he could face is difficult. He nods again, holding his hands together in his lap. You lick your lips and look over the last row,

"This one is a good one. This is an excellent example of not judging a book by its cover." You say with a smile. He smiles back, looking over the cards laid out as you run your finger down the line,

"Okay, so this first one right here, the positive knight of cups is romance. I can already tell that one's true. This second one here, is the queen of swords which, when flipped, means cruelty or bitterness. Now, that one I feel reacts to what has happened in the friendship thing. Maybe when, whatever happens, happens, you'll meet someone that is part of the fallout. This third one, the page of wands means excitement, which could come from a new found trust after your heartbreak. Then the lovers card, which obviously, means partnership or union, and then the empress which means fertility. So your love life us gonna flourish at the perfect time." You finish with a smile. Paddy returns it, looking over his cards. He nods,

"That's really cool. They can change right?" He quizzes. You nod,

"Of course. Depending on the choices you make in life and how you change them from how the course if your life is laid out, it can always change." You tell him. He nods,

"Thanks Y/N. I liked that. It was cool." You nod, leaning back into Sam,

"Of course Paddy. I like when people take me seriously and show an interest. I just hope that everything good that's set to happen to you, does." He nods in agreement before he looks before you and Sam,

"Have you read Sam's tarot cards?" He asks, cocking his head. You giggle before looking up at your boyfriend,

"He won't let me. He's scared of his future." Sam glances down at you before nodding,

"I don't wanna find out that this relationship's a waste of time." You gasp and lean back up to reach back and swat at his shoulder,

"Rude!" You squeal. He and Paddy laugh before Sam leans in to kiss you. He starts to stand, watching you gather your cards,

"There Paddy, can I have my girlfriend back?" He teases his little brother. Paddy nods, following you both into the kitchen, already thinking about how you'd explained his future. You could tell when you glanced back at him that he was nervous, but he was excited to see how well the future would play out with your tarot readings.

#sam holland imagine #sam holland smut #sam holland fanfic #sam holland #my writing #blurbs #paddy holland #sam holland blurbs

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smolfangirl · 7 years

Text

Where hitting a wall takes you

First and foremost, a huge Thank you to @ac-ars for kickstarting my inspiration and the dialogue and to @sky-girls for more shameless teasing ideas and just for being my first reader!

This was a lot of fun to write and also got a bit long with 4.5k words but oh well, who cares anyway? I hope you enjoy this!

Prompt: “I’m your roommate’s friend and I have an extra key but clearly my friend did not tell you about that so now I’m pinned against a wall because you think I’m a murderer and holy shit, where do you take martial arts?” (seen during Simbarficweek planned by @sky-girls)

Matteo expected a lot of things to happen. For example, serving as Gastón’s delivery boy at some point, because his best friend was in love and therefore not as accountable as he used to be. In return, there were things Matteo never expected. Like ending up against a wall, consumed by complete darkness in a situation that couldn’t be further from any romantic context.

He had no idea who his attacker was.

Their arms blocked his shoulders. His back was jammed into the cold wallpaper, supported by the weight of a body. Adrenaline rushed through his blood. The pressure on his chest made it hard to breathe. He wanted to get out, get away. Desperately. But he didn’t know how to do it, not even how to think clearer.

“Who are you and what do you want?”, a female voice cut through the silence, sharp and confident.

“I’m Gastón’s best friend, he wanted me to pick up some text books for him”, Matteo panted, already losing breath.

“How did you get in?” Yeah, that girl, woman, whatever, didn’t sound as if she would let him go anytime soon. Who was she?

Matteo tried to remember anything that helped him figure out who she was. And what she was doing here in a presumed empty flat.

The roommate! It took him a moment to remember that both Gastón and Nina had brought up another girl who lived here.

Great, he thought, was this how he’d meet Nina’s best friend? First impressions were important and of all things, he apparently had messed this one up. “Spare key”, he coughed.

Finally, her grip loosened. Oxygen flooded his lungs and he let out a relived sigh. “Ugh, that’s so much better”, he murmured. The lights flickered on with no warning, freezing him for the blink of a moment. Next thing, he saw her.

By the stars, she’s cute.

Big green eyes. They drew him in, deep, deeper, until he shook his head and broke away. Soft brown curls fell over her shoulder, framing her cheeks that were tinted with a notion of pink. And her lips. Her lips sparked an idea where he casually picked her up and found out how she liked being up against the wall.

Matteo undeniably liked what he saw, without even knowing her name, knowing anything.

However, what he said was something entirely different. “Wow, that must be the most embarrassing moment in my life, you are so tiny.” The girl raised her eyebrows. “Isn’t that a bit presumptuous for you to say?”

“Presumptuous? Isn’t that a big word coming from someone as small as you?” He had no idea what he was saying, or how his mouth worked faster than his brain.

“Already talking big again?”, the girl countered with both eyebrows raised, “Do you like being slammed against the wall or something?”

“Well, first of all, that really was kinda hot, and yeah, I do. Though under different circumstances if I’m being honest.” Okay, he should stop. Now. He didn’t need her to defy him a second time. Yet, something about her fried his thoughts and took away his self-control. Or was that just the left-over adrenaline?

She blushed. This time, he got to watch the color spreading out beneath her skin and all he wanted right then was to see it over and over again. Not long and he’d need a pinhole to look at… what was her name? How hadn’t he asked her yet but already teased her as if his life depended on it?

He searched for a memory of the few times Nina mentioned her. Nothing, not even a hint. By the time he decided to ask her straight away, she had recovered from her unease: “Do you always break into other people’s houses and then act like the biggest snob who ever walked on this earth without even introducing yourself? Or is that just for today?”

“I wasn’t breaking into your house, I had a key”, he protested. She grinned at his offended tone. “But if you are so keen on getting to know me, I’m Matteo. Matteo Balsano.”

“Okay, well, just to make this clear, Matteo” – he took in a deep breath when his name came across her lips. She gave it a new sound, one he never knew he was searching for.

He coughed.

How ridiculous. She shouldn’t have such an effect on him, especially when he met her, like what, not even five minutes ago. “I was not keen on getting to know you. I just don’t like rude people, and even less when they’re in my home.”

“Let me rephrase that: you tell me I’m rude for trying to do my best friend a favor but if I recall correctly, you’re the one who nearly strangled me and hasn’t apologized? Or told me her name yet? Again, I’m the rude one?”

Matteo leaned back against the wall, satisfied with himself. It was the perfect setup to ask for her name without seeming suspicious or worse, desperate. The growing intensity of her widened green eyes on him was a nice bonus.

“I’m Luna”, she stammered. Her fingers messed with her hair, tugging and fidgeting. His attention jumped from the strand falling in her face to her eyes, only to get caught up on her mouth. Luna. How beautiful.

“And I didn’t mean to strangle you, you just scared me. A lot. I didn’t want to hurt you, like, on purpose!”

“It’s okay, Luna. I guess at least now I know who Nina is living with.”

“Wait!”, Luna interrupted and by the grin on her face he already expected nothing good, “So, you said Gastón is your best friend?”

He felt like he should run away as fast as possible because she didn’t look cute anymore, but outright mischievous. “Oh no”, Matteo whispered in his realization, more afraid than when she had pushed him against the wall. “Don’t tell him, please, he’ll never let me live that down!” The corners of her mouth only curled up further. “I… I’ll do anything you want, anything, I’m begging you, just please, please don’t tell him!”

She laughed. Or giggled, in any way he wondered how someone so adorable could pose this much of a threat. Twice even, in barely a few minutes. How did she do that?

Her hands supported her chin and with her gaze wandering through the room, she pretended to consider his offer: “Anything, wow, that’s really generous, give me a minute, I have to think about this…” Then she turned to him. “Well, I haven’t had dinner yet and Gastón did mention your self-made-pizza is great.”

“I guarantee you it’s not the only great thing about me.”

As soon as the words were out in the air, Matteo wondered if his mouth would ever have mercy on him or if Luna kicked him out first. Maybe he should punch himself and see if that helped. He shouldn’t lose control like that, and surely not around a girl he just met.

“Right now, I just want pizza”, she replied with a wink. Damn, this girl is something else.

“Smart”, he heard himself say, “Saving the rest for later.”

First, her expression shifted. Not smiling anymore, not somewhat relaxed but focused. Serious. Her body tensioned up. She came closer, captured his attention. And yet, it took Matteo painfully long to realize she threatened to repeat the first minutes of their encounter. He stepped back, hands lifted in surrender. What if he had gone too far?

To his surprise, Luna immediately relaxed to let out another laugh. “Aww, you’re afraid of me!”

“I’m not!”, he argued. It was a losing battle, of course. “Well, eh, I could start with the pizza now? If you show me the kitchen?”

Luna stood on her toes, arm stretched all the way to her fingertips as she reached for the baking tray hidden on the upper shelf. The view fascinated Matteo, to say the least. Her top shifted, which gave him the perfect perspective on the soft curve of her waist. An image formed in his mind, of his arms wrapped around her, of his hand exploring her skin and of finding out how to awaken this beautiful smile of hers.

She seemed oblivious to all of it, not that it bothered him.

“You know, you could just ask for my help.” Now jumping up and down, she sounded a bit out of breath: “I’m good, nearly got it!” An amused snort slipped through his lips. “Yeah, I can see that. Hey, it’s okay, really, just say the word, even if you’re kind…”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence. With a blaring rattle, the tray found its way down the shelf – to the ground. “See?”, Luna exclaimed. “I told you I don’t need your help. You were saying?”

“Well before you decided to give me a heart attack with that move, I was about to say you look cute when you jump up and down like a yo-yo.”

She didn’t disappoint him when she picked up the tray with her cheeks heating up. “It’s not my fault you’re easily startled.”

“Me, easily startled?”, he laughed, “You wish. I’m just saying you were the one who freaked out and slammed me against a wall.” He checked the ingredients Luna had gathered on the table, so when her eyes found her again, the phone in her hand surprised him. The spark in her eyes too. “Just so you know, I could call Gastón right now…”

Matteo gave up. “Okay, okay, I got it, I will shut up.” Unfortunately for him Luna saw how his lips moved as he started to prepare the dough. “What did you say?”, she demanded.

He lifted his head, discovering her directly next to him. It should make him uncomfortable, at least a bit, no? Instead he felt like he’d been making his pizza while teasing her to no end for all his life. Like this was where he was meant to be.

He cleared his throat. He obviously lost his mind. “Nothing.” However, one look at the determination in Luna’s eyes, her raised eyebrow and her unlocked phone changed his mind. “Fine, I said you’re like an angry puppy.” She nodded. “Good. Because I am. And remember: angry puppies bite.”

“Would be my pleasure.”

Silence.

“You know, I liked you better against the wall”, she rolled her eyes. “Trust me, I’m certain I’d like you more against the wall too.”

Matteo stole a quick glance at Luna. Her eyes twitched, but the corners of her mouth did too. If he had to guess he’d say that she realized no matter what she replied now, it would inevitably give him another opportunity to tease her. Have some mercy on her, Balsano.

“How come you know martial arts?”, he changed the topic, holding back the smirk that tried to get a hold on him. With a sigh of relief, Luna hopped on the counter, soon with her legs dangling back and forth.

“You said it yourself, I’m small. I need to know how to defend myself.” A little break in which she followed his every move. “And how come you know how to make pizza from the scratch?”

“I’m Italian, it was kinda inevitable. Do you want me to show you?”

Midway through he realized his mistake. It was a family recipe, not meant to be shared with anyone else. Not even with Gastón, who begged Matteo every single time, for years and years, never successfully. Yet here he stood, about to tell this girl every little detail. This girl, Luna. What happened with him?

Luna brought him back to reality when she clapped her hands: “Yes, please!” But within a few seconds her face fell, the smile disappeared and she got back on her feet. “Wait, no, actually I can’t.”

“Why, what’s wrong?”

“I forgot I have this assignment I still need to finish, so I’m gonna let you and your pizza alone. My pizza? Ours? Whatever, I’m in the living room.” Just like that, she stormed out, leaving a baffled Matteo behind.

He decided that he needed to calm down. Get back to normal, clear his mind from the weird effect Luna had on him. During the last half an hour he discovered a side of him he neither knew nor could control. And the routine of focusing on the pizza – taking care of the dough, handling the tomato sauce, cutting all the ingredients spread out in front of him – helped him.

Slowly, his heartbeat turned back to normal. Now, that’s better.

A groan ripped through the silence. Out of nowhere, followed by a second one, even more loaded with frustration. Matteo let the knife in his hands fall on the chopping board. “Luna, are you okay?”, he yelled, already washing his hands to go check on her. A half-heartedly “Yes” followed, which didn’t convince him.

He found her on the couch, multiple textbooks and notebooks in front of her. She had tied up her hair into a messy ponytail, while she chewed mercilessly on a pencil. Somehow, the pout on her face made her look even more adorable.

“What’s the matter, munchkin?” He cowered down, trying to figure out what she was reading.

“Why do you call me that?” Matteo shrugged. “Well, because I’m still not over how small you are.”

He smirked at her annoyed look, although he was wise enough to cover it up before she noticed.

“I was tall enough to fix you against the wall”, Luna clarified, “So if I were you, I’d watch that attitude.”

Before he could answer – That reminds me, one day you need to show me these moves – her stomach growled. Loud. And a second, longer time. “Okay, message received loud and clear”, he laughed, “You said you had to do an assignment? Give me five minutes to put the pizza in the oven and then I’ll help you, okay?”

When he walked back into the living room, her eyes stuck on him like glue.

“Did you set the timer?”, Luna wanted to know. He snorted in response, as if it was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. “I don’t need a timer. I feel it. And I never burned a single pizza in my life. So, why don’t you tell me what you need help with?”

There was a first time for everything, right?

“Matteo…”, Luna softly tapped him. He leaned against the couch, focused on the notes she’d handed him, not fully aware of their knees slightly touching. “Hm?”

Her fingers on his arm again, wandering over his skin. Promptly, all his attention shifted to her. When he looked up, he found the green sea in front of him.

“Am I wrong or does something smell burned to you?”

One second, two, three. Matteo blinked, confused. Then it clicked. “Oh no, no no!” He jumped up and sprinted to the kitchen, nearly tripping over his own two feet.

It was too late. What he got out of the oven wasn’t a perfectly baked pizza but a pathetic, crusted shadow. A disgrace.

Footsteps followed him. Next, he felt Luna lurking over his shoulder while he stared at his failure. “An Italian burning pizza, can you believe it? This is definitely not my day.”

“Oh, Matteíto, if it makes you feel better, I won’t mock you for that. Or tell Gastón”, she comforted him, “However, there is a question I need to ask before your grief won’t let you think straight.” He turned his head, still somewhat in shock, only to find her face, her lips, unexpectedly close. She nearly hugged him, that’s how close she stood. Her perfume lingered in his nose, adding to the incoherent mess in his head.

He snapped back. He needed to concentrate on the matter at hand. “What question?”

“What about our deal? You promised me pizza?” Matteo sighed, taking one more look at the burned pizza. “Looks like delivery pizza has to be enough for today… but next time I’ll make you as much as you can eat, I promise.”

“How do you feel about pineapple on pizza?”

They were back on the couch, the menu of Luna’s preferred delivery service in front of them and Matteo wondered how this girl managed to continuously surprise him. Just not for good this time. “I don’t care what you eat when I’m not around, but under my watch no one abuses pizza like this. Fruit on pizza, tzz.”

“Tomato is a fruit too.”

He shot her a glare. “I take that as a No”, Luna smiled, making it hard for Matteo to be seriously mad about her question. Instead, he fought the impulse to stick out his tongue at her. “What kind of pizza was yours supposed to be? So I can order that one.”

“They won’t have this one”, he explained, pride resonating in his tone, “It’s a special family recipe. Pizza Balsano, so to speak.” For some moments, Luna simply looked at him, this cute smile on her lips and Matteo wondered how he ended up being so fond of it so soon.

In a swift movement, Luna sat up, causing her ponytail to loosen until some strands fell back into her face. “Oh, they have a Pizza Mexico!”

“Isn’t that a bit too hot for you?”, Matteo snitched the menu out of her hands. “I’m Mexican, we love hot things. Also, I dealt with you too so far.” As soon as Luna realized what she had said, she clasped her hands over her mouth. The subtle pink reappeared on her cheeks.

Forgotten was the piece of paper in his hands. Matteo leaned closer, making sure she returned his look. Then he winked, “Fair point, munchkin”, and increased the space between them again when her cheeks turned into the color of ripe tomatoes. Satisfied, he studied the menu.

Lights. Flashing spots in front of his eyes that blinded him, pulling him out of his sleep. Then, just brightness, constant and harsh and impossible to ignore. With a groan, Matteo blinked. The view to which he opened his eyes confused him, didn’t make sense. Two pizza boxes on a table, a DVD cover next to them and when he turned his head to his left, there was a small body curled up against his shoulder.

Luna.

With her name, his memory came back. They had been watching a movie while they ate their pizzas. They had talked too, a lot, about everything. At some point after that, they must have fallen asleep. But why were the lights turned on now?

An “Aww” from the other side of the room interrupted his thoughts and this time, he recognized that voice. Nina. Or, as he found out, Gastón and Nina. Crap.

His best friend held a phone in his hand, a big grin on his lips as he took yet another photo. Nina simply stood next to him and sent a fond smile in their direction. “Look at them, it’s so cute”, she whispered.

“What are you doing here?”, Matteo asked, immediately softening his voice when he felt Luna moving.

“Oh, look, Sleeping Beauty is awake”, Gastón commented, “That’s why you didn’t answer your phone. Also, quick question for you” – his grin got even bigger and Matteo knew his best friend, he knew he was about to get dragged – “Where are my textbooks you wanted to get?”

The textbooks. Right, he had entered the apartment for a reason. Matteo felt his cheeks heating up, how did he forget about it completely? (The answer to this question laid next to him, of course.) “Eh, your textbooks…”

“Well, they weren’t on my desk at home roughly twenty minutes ago, so let me guess, they’re still in Nina’s room?”

“Gastón, be easy on him! And by the way, I believe you owe me 10 bucks now”, Nina interrupted to Matteo’s relief. But also… “Why does he owe you 10 bucks?”

“Uh, nothing”, they stuttered in sync, unable to look at Matteo anymore. He raised an eyebrow. “Okay, what is going on?”

No answer, only more fidgeting and awkward silence. “Nina, why does Gastón owe you money?”, he gave it another shot, hoping his instinct was right and she’d cave in. Indeed, said girl glanced at her boyfriend, sighed but in the end murmured: “Gastón said you two wouldn’t get along, or at least not right away, but apparently, you do, so well, yeah…”

Gastón cut her off, and his flushed cheeks didn’t go unnoticed by Matteo. “Yeah, Nina, I am super tired, I think we should go to bed now and leave these two alone. Have fun on the couch, good night!”, he babbled and before both Nina and Matteo got the chance to say a single word, he pulled his girlfriend out of the room.

After Gastón and Nina disappeared into her room, Matteo carefully shifted around, until he got a better look at the sleeping girl next to him. If it was for him, he’d let her lay like this forever. But sooner or later Luna would wake up and go to her room, even when she seemed comfortable for the moment.

Matteo exhaled. Maybe he should go home, allow them both to get some rest. Gently, he reached out to her arm and patted it. “Hey, Luna, wake up.”

“Ugh, just five more minutes”, she grumbled, crawling even closer to him.

Why did she make it harder than it already was? “If you go to bed now, you can sleep as much as you want, munchkin.”

“Wait, what?” Luna shrieked up, eyes wide open. “Oh my, did I…? I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to, well, eh…” She blushed often, he thought, before he decided to jump in: “Hey, it’s all good, but really, you should go to bed.”

She rubbed her eyes and when she yawned, that’s how he knew he had made the right decision. “So, uh, are you leaving?” She turned her head away from him, yet disappointment tinted her voice, causing him to smile. “Well, it’s already past midnight.”

“Why don’t you sleep on the couch?”, Luna offered, staring at the mess on the table, “I mean, it’s not your bed, but it’s so late and… wait, Gastón keeps stuff here, you could borrow something of that!” How could he possibly have the heart to say No to that?

The next time he woke up, darkness surrounded him. No sound reached his ears but the endless ticking of the clock and his breath.

No, he heard someone else breathing too. “Matteo? Are you awake?”

“Luna? What’s… why aren’t you in your bed?” Without the lights, he found it hard to tell where she stood, not that it stopped him from trying. “Did something happen?”

“No”, she replied, “I just got some water and then I heard you say something.” He felt the couch sinking where she sat down. “Don’t worry, I tend to talk a lot in my sleep, apparently.”

“Oh, okay, well then. Is it comfortable enough?” Matteo hesitated. Then he slightly nodded: “Yeah…”

“Doesn’t sound like it, actually. You know, we never had anyone over who slept on the couch, because Gastón always sleeps in Nina’s bed, so I have no idea if it’s comfy.”

Slowly, his eyes got used to the darkness, so he indeed spotted her silhouette next to him. “Well, it could be better, I can’t lay on my back, my shoulders are a bit sore.” “Why?”, she asked, to which he didn’t answer.

“Oh”, Luna stammered, probably blushing again, “I’m really sorry.” Matteo grinned. “It’s okay, we all want to make a lasting first impression, don’t we?” He expected her to laugh, to shoot back with a witty remark or at least shake her head. Anything really. Instead, Luna started shifting around and only stopped when the sofa creaked. “Okay, you know what, follow me.”

“What?”

“I said follow me, and now get up before I change my mind.” She laughed, but it sounded nervous and he didn’t need any lights to imagine her playing with her hair.

He met Luna a few hours ago. A few hours, which was nowhere near enough to build any meaningful relationship and still, the moment he walked into her room he thought how well it captured her. Warm and bright colors, pictures on every wall, and her skates she had mentioned next to her desk. And right in the middle, Luna, arms crossed, tapping her feet in a distressed rhythm.

Matteo turned to her. “You don’t have to do this just because you want to be nice, I’ll be fine, really.” Her hair whipped up and down when she shook her head, “No, you’re the guest and anyway, I owe you.”

“Are you sure you are okay with this?” It wasn’t like Matteo didn’t want to share this bed with her. In fact, right now, he couldn’t think of anything better to happen to him. After all, Luna was incredibly cute and funny and he liked how she stood up to him and he knew he had to get to know her better. But she still looked nervous and he hated to think he was the reason for this.

“Yes, sure, just lay down already, I’m tired.”

She crawled under the blanket after him. “Please don’t strangle me in my sleep”, Matteo commented before she turned off the lights and in return, finally again, received a laugh. Why was it such a pure sound that filled his chest with a tingling sensation?

“I won’t”, Luna giggled, “I promise. Good night, Matteo.”

“Good night, munchkin.”

When his eyes fluttered open the next morning, he faced her.

A strand of her open hair tickled his nose until he carefully brushed it away. As he took in the view of Luna sleeping, he was unable to stop the smile on his lips.

Had he ever seen something more beautiful? Sunshine fell directly on her face, painting it in shades of gold. Her brown curls shimmered in the soft morning light and she was close enough for him to smell the last hints of her perfume.

All he wanted was to pull her closer, into his arms where he could feel her warmth. When he recalled the last evening, it felt like an explosion of color in a same old grey sky. How was he supposed to go back to the routine of his days after this? After grasping the concept of being drawn to someone, right at first sight? Not that he had been unhappy before, not at all, but Luna reached to his senses, woke them up to a new reality. No way could Matteo allow this to be a one-time experience.

He would totally ask her out before he left this apartment.

“So, what do you think about Nina’s roommate?”, Gastón inquired the second the door to the apartment closed behind them. “Because to me it looks like you are over the moon for her. Also, you need to tell me what happened last night! I mean, you nearly gave me a heart attack when I didn’t find you at home. Where have you been? Landing on the moon?”

Matteo glanced over his shoulder to find his best friend with an impossibly big smirk on his face. “Very funny, Gastón, really.” He rolled his eyes, already aware his best friend would never let this go. Gastón loved puns way too much for that. But when Matteo thought of Luna, that she had said yes, that he’d see her again, the jokes were almost bearable.

#soy luna #lutteo #my sl fanfiction #writing lutteo banter was so much fun especially when it was missing on the show while i worked on this #and ofc gastón had to make a pun i mean he loves them and i'm still shocked the writers took that away from him #smh writers #now we need an au where matteo pins luna against a wall hehe #and girls (you know who you are) thanks for motivating me to post this in the first place and I hope it's what you expected and you like it #I believe this is still pg and the teasing gets less during the os so...

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impala-dreamer · 8 years

Text

Back In Black

SPN FanFic

~ The Winchesters travel to Louisiana to help out an old friend and Dean gets a moment of happiness before the walls come crashing back down.~

Dean x Reader, Sam

4,803 Words

Warnings: Possible tiny spoiler for 12x12. Blood. Angst. Pain. Sad. Also happiness, romance, implications of activities sexual in nature. Everything but the kitchen sink.

A/N: This is for my dear buddy Meg, @megansescape for her 300 followers celebration. My song prompt was “Back in Black” by AC/DC. I didn’t use it how you might think ;) Huge thank you to my poodle @idreamofhazel for reading this over and for helping save the entire thing from being tossed into the shredder. Hope you enjoy! Let me know whatcha think!

Blood. There was so much blood. Her blood. It poured from her mouth, her sides, the cuts on her arms, the hole in her chest. It coated Dean’s hands and dripped down his shirt as he cradled her in his arms. She was gone.

“Dean!” Sam’s voice boomed throughout the room but Dean could barely hear him. It was muted and distant; nothing could break through the cloud of pain and grief that surrounded Dean as he lay on the cold ground rocking her to his chest. Sam knelt down, falling to his knees next to Y/N’s limp form, tears filling his eyes. “Dean, what did you do?”

They were back on the road where they belonged. Witches, demons, it didn’t much matter what lie ahead; Dean was happy to put the Big Bad aside for a while and focus on the small stuff. Mary had disappeared again after the crap with Ramiel, and frankly he was glad to see her go. She’d put them all in danger, hell, Cas had almost died, and he couldn’t stand to look her in the eye after.

When Y/N had called, asking for help on a case, he’d been more than happy to load up the car and take the thirteen hour drive to Louisiana. The wind and the road helped clear his head, helped him push away the questions and distrust that bloomed in his gut.

Sam tried to get him to talk about it, to verbally work through the issue, but each time he opened his mouth, Dean turned the radio up a little higher until Sam got the message. AC/DC blasted from the speakers and filled the car. Dean sang along, tapping his hands against the wheel, letting the song sweep him away. It was his theme song today, his entrance music into the next story. He was back in action; back in black, back to the old days before things got complicated and everything was shades of gray. Back when bad guys were bad guys, people were good, and Dean could tell the difference.

They pulled into the Sunrise Motel and Dean cut the engine. Before Sam could ask which room was hers, a door a few rooms down swung open and Y/N stepped out into the sunshine. She leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed casually across her chest, but her smile betrayed her excitement. It’d been at least three years since she’d see the boys, and her heart raced with anticipation.

The doors creaked loudly as the Winchesters exited the Impala, and Y/N started towards them, meeting Dean halfway and jumping into his outstretched arms. Her legs wrapped around his waist as his hands gripped her back and thighs and they fell into a kiss as if no time had ever passed. Sam stood by, rolling his eyes, but secretly enjoying the smile that filled his brother’s face. Dean was do for some unadulterated attention, and he knew how much Y/N cared for him.

They broke away after a long minute and she climbed down, adjusting her tight green shirt and turning towards Sam. She smiled broadly and opened her arms. “Sam! I missed you so much,” she said as her hands locked around his shoulders and forced him down to her level.

He hugged her tightly and laughed, “It’s good to see you too Y/N.”

“So, what’s got you stumped Princess?” Dean wiped at the corners of his mouth with one hand as he watched her attack his brother.

Y/N stepped away and took a deep breath. “Demons, dude.” She shrugged, “at least I’m pretty sure.” She shoved her hands into the back pockets of her jeans and rocked on her heels, looking back and forth between the two hunters. “Man, it’s good to see you guys. Ya’ll wanna get a drink or just get down to it?”

They replied in tandem but with different answers, Sam opting to get down to business while Dean took the leisurely approach.

Y/N laughed, “Lucky for you, we can do both.”

The bar was just down the street and mostly empty since it was two o’clock on a Tuesday. The trio piled into a booth, Y/N sliding in next to Dean, his arm falling around her shoulder naturally. They looked good together, Sam thought. She was good for him: tough, charming, smart and caring. But she was also fiercely independent and stubborn, which worried Sam and made him nervous about the case. If she was asking for help, she really needed it. She would never use something like this as an excuse just to cozy up to his brother.

Two rounds of beer and three years worth of catch up stories later, they finally got down to business.

“I know it sounds stupid, but I’m really stuck. I’ve never seen demons work like this. I was almost sure for a while it was witches, but the evidence is pushing me away from all that.” Y/N leaned her elbows on the table, picking at the label on her empty bottle as she spoke. “It presents as murder/suicides. married couples literally ripping each other apart. They’re found beaten and bloody, seemingly by each other’s hands. One of them kills the other, then offs themselves right after. Three couples in the last two weeks. I’ve checked for everything, hex bags, cursed objects, ties to any suspicious people; nothing pans out.”

“So you think they’re being possessed?” Sam asked, leaning forward in his seat.

Y/N shook her head, “No. That’s the other thing; no sulfur. No strange behavior leading up to it. No witnesses. No nothing.”

“What makes you think it’s a demon then?” Dean turned, leaning on the table to get a better look at Y/N. He rested his cheek on his hand and drew his bottom lip through his teeth as he stared at her.

Y/N took a deep breath, her shoulders falling as she exhaled, looking worn and defeated. “Honestly, I don’t know. What else could it be?”

Sam’s eyes raised towards the dim ceiling, his lips turning down at the corners as he thought. “Maybe some pissed off god, or a rogue cupid?”

Y/N laughed solemnly, “Cupid?”

“Don’t laugh, those guys are…” Dean shivered, remembering the naked hugger from years ago. “Anyway, don’t worry Y/N. We’ll figure this out and get you back on the road in no time.” He smiled, flashing his pearly whites at her.

She turned, adopting his pose, her head resting on her hand as she returned the smile. “Hopefully not too soon,” she said, placing her free hand on his thigh and squeezing gently. “We have some more catching up to do, don’tcha think?”

Dean’s eyes grew wide and he licked his lip, his body reacting quickly to her flirtatious touch. Across the table, Sam coughed in annoyance, attempting to break apart their foreplay. Dean looked away, clearing his throat and raising a hand towards the bar, “Check please!”

The motel was thankfully empty and Sam snagged a room across the parking lot from Y/N’s. He set to work right away, pouring over the Men of Letter’s files on his tablet, trying to keep his mind off the debauchery surely taking place across the way.

By sunrise, he had narrowed his search down to two possibilities, and he shut his eyes, allowing himself a few moments to recharge before the day truly began. Kicking off his shoes, he collapsed onto the closest bed and stretched out, hanging his long limbs off the sides, letting his fingers rest midair. Just as sleep tugged at his eyes, a fist began pounding upon his door.

“Go away!” he mumbled and turned his face away, retracting his arms and gathering up the pillow beneath his head. He buried his face in the synthetic down and curled into it, hoping the disturbance outside would leave him be.

“Sammy! Move your ass!” Dean bellowed from beyond the door, his fist connecting with the thin barrier once again.

With a heavy groan, Sam lifted himself from the mattress and unlocked the door, returning almost immediately to his pillow. Dean walked in, a tray of coffee cups in his hand and Y/N bouncing behind him.

They were wide awake, relaxed and happy; sappy smiles filling their faces as they took seats across from each other at the little round table by the door. Dean pulled a cup from the paper tray and held it out towards Sam. “Drink up Sleeping Beauty, we’ve got work to do.”

Y/N laughed quietly at the sneer Sam threw at Dean as he sat up at took the coffee. “Thanks.”

“You look exhausted sweetie,” Y/N teased, taking as sip of her own brew.

“I was up all night doing research while you two were…” Sam paused, waving a hand in their direction. “Whatever.”

“Oh it was a little more than ‘whatever’,” she said with a wink. Dean’s hand fell to the table, brushing against hers and she lifted it up, lacing their fingers together. Dean sighed and they fell into staring again, quite content to let their eyes do the talking. Dean’s thumb traced her lifeline, running gently across the crease in her palm. She held his gaze, her cheeks taking on a rosy glow under his inspection.

“Anyone want to know what I found out?” Sam’s hands and brows were raised in question, annoyed that they had woken him up just to ignore him.

Dean mumbled in response, a barely audible “Sure” passing his lips.

Y/N blushed and looked away, finally turning her attention to Sam, “What’dja find Big Guy?”

“Arawyn of Llangollen,” he said, wiping a hand down his tired face.

“A what of a who?” Dean asked, dropping Y/N’s hand as he turned towards Sam.

“Actually a who of a where,” Sam corrected. “Just, read it, it’s right there.” he put his coffee on the nightstand and laid back down, covering his eyes with one arm slung over his face.

Y/N shrugged and picked up the tablet, scrolling through Sam’s notes, getting the gist of the information.

“Arawyn of Llangollen was a powerful witch who terrorized the Welsh village back in the 1100s,” she spoke quickly and without emotion as she read, almost robotically absorbing the information. “She cursed happy couples to incite discourse, often ending in…ah.”

“Ah?” Dean lifted his eyes up from her lips where they had been stationed, watching with unabashed hunger as she spoke.

“The couples fought until they killed each other. Like, gruesomely killed each other. Eww, there’s sketches…” Y/N tilted the screen so Dean could see a rather crude drawing of a man ripping his wife’s head off of her shoulders.

Dean’s eyebrows raised and he frowned, “Hmm. So this is good, how do we kill her?”

Sam piped up from the bed, “There’s nothing to kill. She’s been dead for almost a century; the files are very clear that the case is closed. She was dealt with. Permanently.”

“So why are we talking about her?”

“Copycat or something?” Y/N put the computer down and looked over at sleepy Sam, waiting for an answer.

He huffed and sat up, pushing his pillow away. “Or something I guess. Haven’t quite worked that out yet.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Dean stood up and moved around his chair, leaning his hands on the back, “Let’s get moving!”

“There’s nowhere to go Dean, dead end.” Sam was up, rocking on his feet, his frustration evident on throughout his features. He ran a hand through his long chestnut hair and sighed as it came to rest on the back of his neck. “We just have to… wait and see what happens.”

“I told ya I was stuck,” Y/N sat back, slapping her hands on her denim clad thighs. “What’d you think I called you for?”

Dean laughed, the relaxed smile pulling at his face, lifting his lips and crinkling the delicate skin around his eyes. “I just figured you missed me,” Dean winked.

Y/N pursed her lips and blew him a kiss, “You know it baby.”

Sam growled and threw himself back down on the bed. “Could you two take your flirting someplace else so I can take take a nap please?”

They left Sam alone and went out for a walk. It wasn’t a very Dean thing to do, and actually wasn’t a very Y/N thing either. Still, they spent the rest of the morning walking hand in hand through the town, occasionally stopping to linger near a shop window or settle on a bench, content to sit in the warm sunshine and watch the townsfolk shuffle about their day.

It was strange, taking time like this in the middle of a case, but truly there was nothing to be done but wait. Y/N had done all the legwork the week before, visited all the victim’s families, interviewed every witness, examined every crime scene. All they could do was wait.

While it was unusual, Dean kind of liked it. He liked how easy it was to relax with Y/N, how naturally their footfalls fell into sync, how warm and peaceful it felt when her head rested on his shoulder. He found it so relaxing Dean had to remind himself not to get used to it. In the end they’d wrap the case and take off down different highways once again.

They enjoyed a late lunch at Mabel’s Diner when Dean’s stomach growled a bit more than could be ignored. Bacon cheeseburgers and milkshakes; solidifying the day as one for a 1950’s dating manual.

When they ran out of Main Street, they kept on walking, soon finding themselves in a grove of pecan trees. Golden and orange light filtered through the pale green leaves, reminding the couple just how long they’d been out. Even with sunset approaching, neither was quite ready to get back to the real world. The day had been too perfect, too lovely, too free of monsters and blood. A little vacation of the mind where they could allow themselves to dream of something better.

“We should probably get back,” Y/N said sadly, pausing in the aisle of trees, looking over her shoulder at the town they’d left behind. “Sam might need us.”

“Sam would have called.” Dean tugged her hand, pulling her close with the swift motion. She fell against his chest, her hands caught between them, fingers sliding under his shirt to dance over his collarbone. Very slowly Dean dipped his head, capturing her lips in a sweet kiss. His hand found her face, his thumb tracing the hollow of her cheek while they breathed into each other, the fading sunlight bathing them in a fiery glow.

Dean’s arm wrapped around her, his left hand pressing into the curve of her lower back. He walked her slowly backwards, their lips still locked together, his tongue sweeping lovingly over hers. Y/N let out a tiny moan when her back hit the tree trunk, and another as Dean covered her with his body, inch for inch pressing his weight on top of her. She melted against him, giving herself over to his whim, the flames of desire growing hotter inside of her.

Lips moved, hands roamed, hearts pounded; their actions making them both dizzy with passion. Too engrossed in the moment, neither heard the snap of the tree branch in the distance, nor felt the torrent of wind swirl around them; it wasn’t until it was too late that either hunter noticed a shift in the air.

Sam woke around noon, rested and ready to go. He returned to his notes, looking over everything with a fresh eye. As he downed the last dregs of his cold coffee, his vision passed over the crime scene photos once more, this time pulling out the similarity that he and Y/N had overlooked before. In every photo, lying next to the butchered woman, was a small wooden coin; easily passed over if you looked too quickly. Sam recognized it now and his heart stopped. He knew what they were dealing with, and it was no witch from the past.

Dean opened his eyes, squinting as a harsh light burned in the darkness. A single bulb hung from the ceiling above him, and he shielded his eyes, trying to take stock of his surroundings.

His head was swimming as he sat up, a deep ringing filling his ears. He was alone, it seemed, in a damp basement, the smell of mold and ancient dirt drifting through the air. “Y/N?” He climbed to his feet as he called to her, still disoriented from the attack. One moment they were going at it in an orchard, and the next he was waking up concussed in a windowless pit.

“Dean.”

He spun around, turning towards the sweet voice that spoke his name. Y/N stood calmly at the far end of the room, the dim light barely touching her face. She smiled and stepped forward, her lips pulled back into a malicious grin.

“What happened, where are we?” Dean moved towards her, his legs weak and unsteady. He stumbled forward, his head knocking into the low light, sending it swinging back and forth, casting eerie rays around the muddy walls.

“I got tired of the game Dean, figured it was time to end it.”

Dean shook his head, trying to focus on her face, but his eyes were blurry, almost shaking in his skull. Something was very wrong but he couldn’t pinpoint the source. “What game? What are you-” He froze, looking up at Y/N as she blinked slowly, her eyes opening to reveal total darkness. “No.”

“Oh yes Dean,” she laughed, her voice taking on a dark edge he’d never heard before. “You call yourself a hunter but you had no idea your little girlfriend was a demon, did you?”

He swallowed hard, his head still spinning. “This isn’t real. There’s no way.”

“You’re an idiot Dean. Always have been.” Y/N walked around him slowly, keeping him at arm’s length. “Even Y/N knew that, but she didn’t care. You were just an easy lay when she was bored. That’s not to say she didn’t enjoy herself. God knows I did last night.”

Dean balled his fists, his jaw clenching tightly as the demon taunted him. He shut his eyes tight and took a deep breath, summoning up his courage and pushing away the shock. “Exorcizamus te,” Dean began, speaking low and determined, but his words were cut short as Y/N’s hand gripped his short hair, pulling his head back painfully.

“Don’t you dare,” she hissed, her lips grazing his ear.

“Oh yeah, why not?” Dean scoffed, his attitude surfacing partially beneath the fear and worry flooding through his system.

Y/N released her grip on his head and walked around to face him. She tilted her head and smirked as she lifted her shirt, revealing a gaping wound in her stomach. It oozed fresh blood, dripping down slowly onto her her pants. “If I go, your girl goes. I made sure of that.”

Dean’s heart sank, his shoulders fell and he dropped his head; this was impossible, an insane nightmare made real. He gritted his teeth and looked up, staring hard into black eyes. “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus-” Dean gasped as Y/N’s fist connected with his jaw, snapping his head back and causing the loud ringing to return to his ears.

“I said,” She struck him again, another fist to his face, this one landing under his left eye. “Don’t,” she clawed at his shirt, pulling him up and striking him a third time. “Do that!” A headbutt sent him flying backwards, the edges of his vision darkening as he collapsed to the ground.

He crawled to his knees, his knuckles pressing into the cold concrete as he panted, trying to catch his breath.

“You should just stay down Dean. Stay down and die like a good boy.” She hovered above, her lips spewing venom down upon him. Dean’s muscles tensed and he shot up, knocking into her with all his strength, sending her backwards into the hard wall. She landed with a huff, all of the air expelling from her lungs.

She laughed. Dean sneered as Y/N’s beautiful face was contorted with the demon’s hateful cackle. He lunged forward, fist aloft, prepared to put an end to the nightmare.

“Dean, it’s not a demon. Where are you?” Sam spoke into his phone as he sped away from the motel; the Impala’s tires screeching and leaving thick black marks on the pavement. He hung up and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat. Neither Dean nor Y/N were answering and he’d left enough voicemails. He’d just have to take care of this himself.

Once he’d figured out what they were after, he’d been able to link everything back to a coven of witches living out by Bell’s Pecan Orchard. If he’d identified the coin correctly, and he was sure he had, they were a coven of Arawyn’s followers; proteges who followed in the witch’s footsteps, passing down her spells through the generations. The coin was their calling card, a talisman left behind as proof of their works. Well, today it would be their undoing.

Dean’s fist drove into Y/N’s face again and again, pushing blood up from the cuts his knuckles left on her cheekbones and around her eyes. Her nose flowed freely, coating her mouth and neck in the crimson mess. No matter what he did to her, she laughed; black eyes mocking him, making him long for Y/E/C.

“Give it up Dean. You can’t win this. If you kill me, Y/N dies. Then where will you be? All sad and depressed and guilty as always.” She smiled as a glimmer of joy passed over her face. “Oh, you should kill yourself. That would end all that silly little pain. Death would be a blessing to you Dean. Can you picture it?”

“Shut up!” Dean screamed, his hand closing around Y/N’s throat, fingers digging into the soft flesh of her neck. She gasped and clawed at his hand, but the evil smile never left her lips. The black eyes remained fixed on his face.

Sam burst through the house, his gun held high, witch killing bullets loaded and ready. He stalked through the rooms until he found the trio of witches sitting around an altar in the dark. They chanted over candles, an ancient cloth spread over their table, it’s archaic lettering worn and faded with time.

Y/N’s lips were turning blue; her nails scratched at Dean’s arm, desperate to pull him away. He held on, squeezing tighter, feeling her windpipe buckle under his grasp. Suddenly her smile faded away, the clipped laughter ceased, and her eyes returned to their usual sparkling color. Dean gasped and released her, stepping back in shock as Y/N was seemingly returned to him.

“Oh my god, Y/N!” he yelled, his hands falling to her shoulders in an attempt to steady her. She coughed, rubbing at her neck with shaking hands as she caught her breath. “Are you OK? Jesus!”

Y/N brought her hands up quickly, knocking his hands off of her shoulders. She cracked her neck, tipping her head to each side before looking up at Dean, the blackness returning to her eyes. “You really are an idiot, aren’t you? I mean, come on!” She laughed and struck him, hitting the bridge of his nose with her forearm. He doubled over, clutching his face as the blood poured out. “Let’s just finish this.”

Dean bent down and pulled his knife from his boot, gripping the handle tightly as he stood up and drove the blade into Y/N’s chest, piercing her heart.

Gunshots rang out above Dean’s head followed by the thuds of solid masses hitting the floor. He held Y/N, one hand clutching her shoulder, holding her still as he twisted the knife in her chest. He expected to slow her down, to hold her still so he could continue the exorcism, but something was wrong. The darkness faded from her eyes and she gasped, sucking in a desperate breath of air. The smile fell away and her mouth dropped open in shock. “Dean…”

The fog clouding his mind lifted and Dean blinked furiously, his eyes darting about her face as he realized what was happening. She was no demon, no hellish force was keeping her alive; she was real, she was his, and now…

Y/N’s head fell back and her knees buckled as her body went limp; the blood pumping organ halted forever, stopped mid beat. Her last breath escaped slowly as Dean fell to the ground with her; it passed her lips as a whimper before her voice was no more.

Dean shook, his hands trembling as he ran his fingers down her face, passing over the deep bruises and cuts made by his fists. The blood caked on her skin, standing out in stark contrast as the color left her cheeks and lips, turning her a ghastly gray.

“No. No, no, no.” Quivering lips pleading with no one, begging to the empty air for help. “Y/N please…” He shut his eyes tight, willing himself to wake up, to find this just another one of his horrid dreams, but the feel of her warm blood soaking into his shirt, running down his arm, told him his wish would remain unfulfilled.

Slowly he pulled the blade from her chest, tears spilling freely as a bubble of blood followed the stained metal. He lost it then, raising his face to the rotting ceiling and screaming into the darkness; the vocal manifestation of his pain and guilt filling the dank space.

Sam was checking for a pulse on the body of the last witch when he heard it: his brother’s voice wailing from below. He froze, his muscles tensing as he realized what it could mean. He hadn’t known they were there, hadn’t even thought to look for them.

He flew through the house, finding a stairwell behind a pantry door in the kitchen towards the rear of the house. His long legs carried him quickly down the steep stairs; the moldy wood bowing and creeking under his weight.

Sam found them on the floor against a far wall, the single lightbulb offering a meager beam of illumination. Still, Sam could see clearly the terrible scene before him: Y/N bloody and gone, cradled to Dean’s chest, the knife still clutched in his hand.

“Dean, what did you do?”

They were back on the road again, Sam driving while Dean slept. He’d passed out not long ago, dehydration and exhaustion from his tears getting the best of him. He hadn’t stopped, hadn’t spoken or eaten since they’d burned her body, scattering her ashes amidst the pecan trees.

Curse or no, Sam knew Dean had been broken by this. He had killed the only girl he’d ever really loved; the only woman who could bring him peace in their crazy life. Whether he’d admit it to Sam or even to himself, Dean would be forever haunted by his actions, scarred by the witch’s curse, hating himself for the life he’d taken.

Dean’s eyes fluttered open as the setting sun hit his face; another day gone, another mile driven. He sat up and rubbed a hand down his face, wiping the lingering grains of sleep from his eyes.

“You OK Dean?”

“I’m fine, Sam.” His voice was low and quiet as he turned his attention out the window, not wanting to submit to questioning just yet.

Sam ignored his answer and pressed on, “Dean, you know it wasn’t your fault. The witches… it was a curse; an illusion. It wasn’t-”

“I said I’m fine, Sam,” he snapped, the muscles in his jaw flexing as he grit his teeth.

“You’re not fine, Dean. You need to-”

Dean turned the dial on the radio, drowning Sam’s words under Angus Young’s guitar riff as his song filled the car once again. Dean sighed and pressed his head back against the seat, staring up at the roof, praying the tears would stay down where he put them.

The joy of the song failed to touch him this time; there was no go get ‘em attitude anymore. Just the color that washed over his heart. He was back, back in black. Back in the darkness that never seemed to truly leave him. He didn’t know why he even tried anymore; as soon as he saw the sun, the black would inevitably return.

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