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perseusjackson-jasongrace · 4 years

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His Blood Runs Gold IV

Percy is a God: Part IV

Here’s my masterlist for the next part and my other stuff

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we are products of war

and enemies of peace

we are universes finally standing still

ready, ready, ready

to destroy us all

this time

there is only power baby boy

and i will be brutal.

“Hey,” Jason said faintly, tapping the bubble.

Percy stood from his perch on the rock and waved goodbye to the school of fish he had been talking to. “You’re awake. How are you feeling?”

“Like I haven’t slept that well in months.”

Percy produced an immortal grin at that, “You hungry?”

“Starved, you got any of those cookies?”

“You sure you don’t want a proper meal first?”

“Where are we gonna get a proper meal from? My backpack has some lonely granola bars and possibly a fast over-ripening banana.” His eyes furrowed in confusion.

The God simply smiled, “What do you feel like?”

Jason gave him a look but said, “Breakfast burrito?”

He laughed, flicking his wrist and before the demigod could blink a foil-wrapped cylinder appeared in the bubble.

Mouth hanging open, Jason grabbed the burrito and unwrapped it before staring between the God and his breakfast like his head might explode.

“I promise it’s safe to eat.”

“You can just- you just?” The blonde was at a loss for words.

“Believe it or not, it isn’t really handy now. When I was a demigod, I would have loved to have that neat little trick but these days I don’t need to eat much.”

“Well if nothing else I’m keeping you around for that alone.” Jason mumbled around a mouthful of food.

“So you’re just gonna use me for your own selfish needs?”

“Mhmm it may be nice to use the gods for once, instead of the other way around.”

“Fair enough,” He shrugged, and wondered when he’d stop feeling the blow of that statement, uttered so many times by his friends and former camp-buddies alike.

He knew how they felt, hell he had felt like that once; but since becoming one of those gods it was hard not to feel hollowed out. He knew the half-bloods wouldn’t outright curse them, but Percy still heard all their bitter thoughts, He wasn’t sure if it was because he was the god for demigods that the whispers followed him around like a ringing in his head.

Jason’s voice pulled him back to the present.

“Anyway, thank you for the breakfast,”

“Uh yea no problem. So, I was thinking about the prophecy and the direction of the north star,”

“Yea what about it?”

“We’ve been heading south and if my coordinates are correct, we should reach the equator in a day or two”

“Are you saying we’re headed in the wrong direction?” Blue eyes widened.

“No, I think your direction is good, I do think, however, that the arrow isn’t on land. I think it’s in the ocean just before the equator.”

“Why there?”

“You can only see the north star in the northern hemisphere, after the equator it disappears. The further south you go the lower on the horizon it is, which means at some point it looks like it’s on the horizon or close enough.”

“So, you’re saying the arrow sits underneath the star at its lowest point?”

“That’s the idea.”

“Okay that’s good news.” Jason took a deep breath, raking a hand over his face. “I guess we just wait for night and keep following the star.”

‘Actually…” Percy grinned,

“You have a plan?”

“If we just have to get to the equator, I can take us there now.”

“How would you know when we’re there?”

“I know the coordinates at any time when I’m at sea. Son of Poseidon and all that.”

“Well I’m convinced.” Jason nodded, thoughts fluttering behind his eyes. “How are we doing this?”

“I think it’s time to call in a friend.”

With a low whistle, that defied the laws of nature, because how on earth do you whistle underwater, the God whipped a dazzling smile over his shoulder.

“Do I want to know what you’ve invited to the party?”

“You’ll see.”

Just then the water rushed around them. When the clouds of sand and swirling water disappeared a beautiful, iris-coloured beast revealed itself, along with a cyclops already barreling towards them.

“Brother!”

They slammed into each other and Percy was grateful for his godly bones, because he’s sure his mortal ones wouldn’t have survived that collision.

“Hello Tyson, how are you?” He laughed in relief, in comfort.

“I knew I’d see you. A school of firemouth-killfish passed by and said you were around.”

“Thank you for coming. I’m helping Jason and I need Rainbow’s speed.”

“Of course, brother. What are you doing?”

“Jason has a quest to find Eros’ arrows.”

Finally Tyson looked over Percy’s shoulder to see the demigod still wrapped in a bubble, bobbing behind them.

“Jason. I haven’t seen you in a long time.”

“Hello Tyson, how are you?”

“I am good. And you are good?”

“Yes thank you. How’s Ella?”

His brother flushed a red as bright as Corallium.

“She is nice, fine.”

Percy decided to put the poor cyclops out of his misery and focus their attention on the mission at hand.

“Rainbow, can you take us where we need to go?”

The hippocampus gave a noise of agreement and brushed its head along Percy’s arm.

“We must be off,” He said, turning to Tyson.

“When will you be back?” A brown eye blinked in question.

“As soon as Love finds us, I guess,” Percy winked.

It was Jason’s turn to blush the colour of coral, but the god was already looking away, turning to hug his brother.

“I will see you soon Tyson.”

“Goodbye Percy,” and with a wave to Jason the cyclops was gone.

“Alright Jas–“

Percy had felt the deepest senses of fear and love and sadness many times, but never in his twenty years of life had he felt such raging, storm-filled anger. For standing behind an oblivious Son of Jupiter, ready to pounce was a sea creature that probably spawned from the depths of Tartarus itself.

It hadn’t noticed the God, or it wouldn’t even have dared come close to this space.

With a light brush against Rainbow’s side, the hippocampus disappeared. He turned fully, focusing on the beast, hiding himself within the folds of the current. He watched as it slithered out it’s tongue in sickening excitement.

“Jackson you were in the middle of saying something?”

He didn’t bother replying as the creature looked up, finally taking notice of everything other than his prey.

“Hello, found something to enjoy?”

“What?” Jason said

“This fight it not with you Percy Jackson,” It gurgled

Before they could take their next breath, the monster swiped its tail through the bubble and slammed Jason to the ocean floor. Something cracked, the demigod did not rise again.

Percy’s smile was sharp and terrifying.

“That,” He laughed, “Was not very smart.”

With a single movement of his fingers he wrenched the water from the monster’s body.

It seized and gasped, flopping about in the air pocket it found itself in.

“The fight is always with me if it involves my friends,” Malice dripped from the God’s lips.

The monster tried to respond, try to splutter and roar but there was no water in its gills. It gasped and writhed, attempting to escape the air.

Percy simply smiled, darkness gleaming in his green eyes, and watched as the Ketos Troias suffocated.

“Jason slayed you when he was fourteen, just a young demigod, but you decided to come back and oh what a horrible mistake that was,” He wondered briefly if he sounded as manic as he felt, and then decided he didn’t care. “Because now, now you have to deal with me, and I will not make it pretty.”

“I will kill you Percy Jackson,” It rasped.

“You can try.” He laughed, and then spat, “And it’s Lord to you.”

Its eyes widened as Percy revealed his godly form, golden light basking him. With a final roar, the monster turned to dust.

He heard a gasp from below and saw Jason finally coming to it, pushing on the walls of the new bubble Percy had formed around him.

“Are you okay?”

“Feel like I’ve been smacked with a ten-ton sledgehammer and I may have a broken rib but otherwise dandy.”

“Oh good, here’s some ambrosia.” He handed a small square to the demigod who nodded in thanks and gobbled it down.

“Was that the Trojan Sea Monster?”

“Yes, seems it was feeling revengeful.”

“Did you send it back to whatever hole it came from?”

The grin that graced his face could kill mortals, “It’s scattered in the deepest depths of Tartarus. It shouldn’t bother you in this lifetime again.”

“Shall we go then?”

Jason stared at him, and grinned back.

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One of the strangest things I’ve ever googled was “type of fish off the Liberian coast” because i needed Tyson to be accurate when he told Percy fish had been talking to him. So yes firemouth-killfish do in fact exist and they do reside in the North Atlantic Ocean. Liberia is around where i pictured the two would be at this point. Anyway just some fun fic A/N’s for ya.

How are you guys finding it? Tell me your thoughts because i am inexplicably in love with Dark!Percy and i need to know if others are too????

Tags (if you want to be added to/ taken off the tag list just let me know, all my channels of communication are open):

@thepersonyourparentswishyouwere @lesbian-peanuts @thegirlwiththegoldenarm @thatis-americas-ass @whatevertakesmyfancy @lucyisblue @lrelikohll @tmifangirl24 @queenkivi @nishlicious-01 @whitelacepants @leydiangelo @urbanpineapplefarmer @queen-of-demons-and-hell

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mysteryartisticwriter · 4 years

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I Tried // Adam Milligan X Reader

A/N: I remember seeing Jake Abel in ‘Percy Jackson and the Lightning Theif’ and loving him. Then when I found out he was in Supernatural about a few years ago I flipped bro. He didn’t deserve all those years stuck in the cage, I feel so bad for him :(( bUT NOW HE’S BACKKK

TAKES PLACE DURING 15x08 (SPOILERS IF YOU HAVENT WATCHED IT YET)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN BTW

Requested: No

Warnings: Mild angst, some talk about death, cursing

Not my gif!! (Please tell me if you, the owner, would like me to take the gif down!)

Five years ago...

You sat at your computer in the bunker’s library. The library was dark, the only light being emitted from your screen. It was almost 6am and you weren’t getting anywhere with your research. You angrily closed a tab in your computer and rubbed your face, fighting sleep.

You took a deep breath and went back to your research. Just then, the lights of the library turned on, making you jump. You looked over to one of the entrances and saw both Winchester brothers standing in the doorway.

“(Y/n)?” Sam asked. “What are you doing up so early?”

You stammered, trying to look for an excuse or right words to say.

“I-I was looking for a case. We haven’t had one in at least a week so I-I figured I would do you guys a favor and search for one.”

Dean sighed, knowing you were lying.

“Hey,” The elder brother pulled up a chair next to yours. “What’s going on?”

“I already told you. I’m searching for a case-” You lied.

“Tell us the truth.” Sam pressured.

You sighed in defeat and pushed your laptop over to the men. They were able to see the many tabs you had pulled up about different types of spells for something.

“Do you remember what day it is?” You asked them.

Dean suddenly looked at you in panic. “Oh god, it’s not your birthday, is it? I could have sworn it wasn’t for a couple more months-”

“No, Dean. It’s not my birthday.” You interrupted him.

Sam, who was still looking through the tabs on your computers, looked back to you.

“Then what day is it?”

You gulped, forcing any upcoming tears or sobs that were trying to make its way out.

“It’s May 13th, the day that Adam was thrown into the pit with Michael.” You told them.

A harsh silence echoed throughtout the whole bunker. The three of you stared at each other while you waited for an answer from the two brothers. Sam could see memories flashing in his mind about the day that he threw himself, Lucifer, Michael and Adam into the pit. Guilt wallowed inside of him, remembering that he and Dean were forced to leave their half-brother in the cage.

They never really tried to get him back, thinking that they couldn’t bring him back or save him at all. It’s been five years now, and not a day didn’t go by when you didn’t think of the boy.

You had only known each other for a couple days before he said yes to the archangel. He was a sweet and funny guy even if he did have that Winchester attitude, the two of you got along very nicely since you were just a couple years younger than him. You weren’t together, but flirtations were exchanged, it was definitely one weird relationship.

When you were told by the brothers that they couldn’t save Adam too, you were crushed. It was strange, you barely knew Adam but your heart still ached knowing that you couldn’t save him.

A small tear slid down your cheek until you wiped it away as fast as you could, pretending as if nothing happened. You grabbed your laptop back from Sam and went through a couple tabs.

“It’s been five years now, and we haven’t brought him back yet. I’ve been up for the past few nights trying to search for another way to bring him back...”

“(Y/n)...”

“I know that I’m this close to finding the solution to getting him out of the cage, I swear it. I just need more time to find it and-”

“(Y/n)!” Dean called out to you, causing you to turn your head to him.

Dean had a guilty and bleak expression on his face, Sam looking at the floor, away from you.

“We can’t bring him back, you know that.” His words sympathic.

You shook your head. “No, no we found a way to bring Sammy back, didn’t we? If we brought Sam back then we can find another way to get Adam.”

“(Y/n), we were lucky to raise Sam out of Hell. You heard Cas, one person out and that’s it.” Dean insisted.

“We got Sam out! We can get Adam back out too! We have to get him out of there, he’s been there for five years now and...” You choked out, shielding your tears from the boys with your hands.

Sobs came from you and the two men slowly, but surely, wrapped their arms around you in a hug to comfort you. Tears cascaded down the two brother’s cheeks as well, a heavy pit in their stomachs from the constant guilt.

“He’s never coming back, is he, guys?” You whispered in between sobs.

Sam and Dean took glances between each other, sadly.

“No. No, he isn’t, sweetheart.” Sam admitted.

You felt like a failure. You were the one who was supposed to keep Adam away so he couldn’t say yes and now he was stuck in the cage for the rest of his life. He’d be totured for eternity all because you couldn’t save him.

The only sounds in the bunker were your cries.

Present time...

Somewhere inside a small diner, Jaci’s Red Wagon, a man sat at a booth waiting for his food. A waitree brought him his first order, a cheeseburger with fries. She sets the food onto the table and left the man to eat.

The man, Adam, grabbed his food and took a large bite into the burger, hungrily. He moaned in satifaction at the taste and happily chewed on his meal.

“You know that stuff will kill you, right?”

“Worth it.” He replied to the voice. “Michael, I haven’t seen a burger in 10 years.”

A hand from the other side of the booth grabbed a french fry from his plate and inspected it. Michael, inside of Adam’s mind, chuckled a bit and set the fry back on the plate.

“Go for it, kid.”

“You know, I know I don't need to eat. It just tastes so damn good.” Adam said as he picked up a fry and ate it.

“I wouldn’t know. I don’t know much about any of this. You'll be my guide.” Michael looked around the diner to all of the people eating and talking to people.

Adam saw the same waitress come back with a pan of pepperoni pizza, pushing his burger plate aside to make room for the pizza. The lady gently set the food onto the table in front of Adam, whose breath hitched at the sight of the delicious food.

He quickly thanked her and she responded with a smile and nod. Once she walked away, the blonde boy sniffed the amazing aroma of pizza and started to shake on some parmesan cheese and pepper.

“So, what about you? You gonna go back to heaven?” He asked the archangel.

The angel inside Adam’s head pursed his lips.

“I don't know. My brothers are dead. My father never returned. In so many ways, I'm alone.” He answered.

Adam thought about his own family. His mother and father were dead, and his half-brothers that didn’t even care about him.

“Yeah. Same here. It’s not like I have family waiting to see me.”

“You have the Winchesters, your brothers.” Michael added, a little confused on why he didn’t think of them first. “I met them once, and they let me rot in Hell.” Adam corrected him, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

“What about the girl? (Y/n) (L/n)?” The angel pondered.

Adam remembered the kind (h/c) hair colored girl who was a close family friend to the brothers. She was about his age, maybe a couple or few years younger, but he remembers liking her a lot. (Y/n) always made sure he was comfortable and occupied, and man did he feel guilty about disobeying her to say yes to the archangel inside him now.

“I...I don’t even know if she’s still them. Most likely she is since she was friends with them first but,” Adam thought carefully about his next words. “I doubt she even remembers me anymore. It’s been 10 years, anyway.”

Adam and Michael looked at each other knowingly. Both having similiar situations and because they had been left in the cage for so long, the two had become almost like friends. They’d created a sort of relationship within each other, neither completely taking over the other.

“Family.” Michael scoffed.

“Family sucks.”

A little while later after finishing all his meals and then ordering some cake for desert, Adam laid back in the comfy booth, looking around at all the people. He glanced over to some of the waitresses working, picking up plates and cleaning tables for their job.

“Maybe I should pick up some kinda little job.” He blurted out.

“A little job?” Michael asked, a little confused.

“Yeah. Yeah, I mean, these are the same clothes we went to hell in. We're gonna have expenses, right? And whatever change I had, I spent on food, so, it's not like I can go back to college,” Adam chuckled. “Not with an archangel inside of me.”

The man hadn’t noticed someone sneaking up behind him, and a hand rested onto his shoulder. Adam looked up to the person and saw a blonde haired woman smiling down at them.

“Hello, Michael.”

Adam’s eyes glowed a bright blue, signifying that he was no longer at the wheel, but instead the angel.

“Lilith.” He growled.

The woman let go of his shoulder and walked over to the other side of the booth.

“You’re dead.”

“Was. Now,” Lilith turned to him and swung her hips. “I’m back, baby.”

She sat down at the other seat, her face turning serious. “And I’ve been sent to fetch you.”

“I'm not accustomed to being fetched. Who sent you?” Michael questioned, his voice low.

“You have to ask? Your daddy. God. Yeah, he'd like a word.” Lilith answered him, Michael’s expression turning to mild shock and confusion.

“You're lying.”

“Really not.” The demon took a finger full of cake frosting into her mouth.

“Then why would he send you, a demon, a speck of infernal bile?” He spat at her.

Lilith’s face turned mockingly sad and offended. “One, ouch. Two, maybe because we worked together before. Remember? Setting off the Apocalypse?”

“To try and bring God back.” Michael corrected her.

“Right. Didn't work then, but then he came back on his own. So, win?”

Michael’s face grew closer to her but remained emotionless.

“If that's true if...he can come talk to me himself.”

The female demon just rolled her eyes.

“Yeah. Except, I'm not supposed to leave without you.” Lilith told him, staring into his eyes.

“Get out.” He threatened, voice dripping with venom.

“Michael,” Lilith reached over and grabbed his wrist firmly. “I can’t fail him.”

Michael stared hard at the hand at his wrist then turned to face Lilith, eyes glowing blue once more. The demon started to glow a bright yellow and bright light, enveloping the whole diner.

Once it had disappeared, all that was left in Lilith’s place was a piece of black clothing. Michael carefully looked around the resturaunt to see everyone staring at him in awe. People started to whisper about what had just happened and the archangel sighed.

“Remember nothing.”

With that, he snapped his fingers and all the customers and workers went back to doing what they had done before, as if nothing had even happened. Michael and Adam pushed away the plate of cake, no longer hungry.

Michael and Adam could hear Castiel praying to them, well mainly Michael but technically it was both since they shared a body. Michael felt himself get angry at Castiel’s words about his father. He believed that God, their father was their enemy? The archangel could only scoff at that.

Still, he sent a message to Castiel through the angel radio. He told him to meet them at a warehouse, someplace where they could talk alone and privately.

The trenchcoated angel was walking around the warehouse, waiting for his brother. He could sense that he was near, but not visible yet.

“Michael?” Castiel called out.

The sound of flapping wings came from behind him so he turned to find Michael, still inside Adam’s body, standing there.

“Thank you. Thank you for coming.” The archangel only stared at him. “Do you remember me?”

“You called me ‘ass-butt’ and set me on fire. And then you helped send me to Hell.” Michael replied, menacingly.

Castiel looked down awkwardly at the floor, remembering the moment. “I did.”

“And now what? You've come to tell me that God, my father, creator of all things, is my enemy?” Michael glared hard at the angel. “Or maybe you just came to beg for forgiveness.”

Castiel lightly smirked.

“Oh, I didn’t come to beg.”

A lighter flicking open in Cas’ hand caught the man’s attention. He dropped it onto the floor of the warehouse and a ring of fire began to burn around Michael, trapping him inside.

Michael looked around the fire in a slight panic before returning his gaze to Castiel, whose face showed slight regret. The sound of plastic curtains moving made him turn towards the entrance, three figures emerging from the dark.

Adam and Michael could see the figures turn into Sam and Dean Winchester, but what caught Adam’s eye inside of his own mind was the (h/c) short haired female standing beside them. (Y/n) had definitely aged, but not too much, still looking as beautiful as the day he met her. Her hair much short and a little taller than before.

Your breath hitched as you saw Adam, or Michael since that’s who was in control at the time. Ten years and he hadn’t changed that much. Older, yes but he still looked like the boy you left in Hell all those years ago. Keeping a straight face, you held up a pair of angel cuffs and showed it to him.

Knowing what was about to happen, Michael turned to his brother with a sneer.

“Castiel, what have you done?”

After capturing Michael and taking him back to the bunker in cuffs, you all stood in one of the interrogation rooms. You could feel the tension was so thick that even an angel blade couldn’t cut it. The four of you stood on the opposite side of the room, facing a powerless archangel as he stared back at you.

“Even for you, especially for you, this is stupid.” Michael commented.

“Good to see you, too Mike.” Said Dean, sarcastically.

Michael looked at each one of you, looking at Dean then to his brother.

“Sam. You look well. Last time I saw you in the Cage...”

“Yeah, it doesn’t matter.” Sam said in an almost whisper.

You could feel Michael’s eyes on you as he came closer to you all. There was a brief silence as you felt his eyes staring down at you. All you could do was just look away, wanting to see Adam, not Michael.

“We need your help. God-” Sam began to say until he was interrupted by the archangel.

“I’ve heard. Repeatedly.” Michael glanced over to where Cas stood as he sat down in the chair.

“Well then you’re aware-”

“I’m not aware of anything. You're asking me to trust you. You, who doomed me, you, who let Lucifer walk free while your own brother sat in hell.” He barked, feeling protective of the youngest Winchester he grew close to.

You were close to crying. You had tried for years to get Adam back but failed. Eventually, the brothers had convinced you that there was no way of getting him out. Dean looked down at the floor in guilt.

“Doing what we do, we've had to get used to losing people.” Sam tried to tell him.

“Probably a little too used to it.” You added, speaking for the first time.

Cas glanced over to you in concern, but you just looked to him with your lips in a thin line then back to Michael. Adam, inside his own head, could feel himself getting a bit jumpy inside after hearing your voice after so long.

“With Adam, we said goodbye because we thought we had to. We were wrong.”

Michael stared down the man with hard eyes. He always wondered if the brothers ever tried to get Adam back, but apparently not. But if the Winchesters didn’t try, did (Y/n)?

“Well, don't tell me.” Michael said, shaking his head. “Tell him.”

You all stared at him, confused, not understanding what he meant by that. Suddenly, his eyes flashed a blue glow, his body straightening up. Adam glanced to Dean, to Sam, then finally you. He pulled his lips into a short smile.

“Hey, (Y/n),” He then looked to his brothers. “Sam, Dean.”

Your lips formed into a wide grin, happy to hear the real Adam’s voice. It was deeper than when you first met him but that didn’t matter. You just wanted to go up to him and give him the tighest hug ever then never let go.

“Adam.” You said in a small whisper.

You were just about to go run up to him when you were stopped by the arm of Castiel. His eyes telling you stand down and wait until they were done talking first. Hesitantly, you silently agreed. Adam felt a bit upset, he wanted to hold you more than anything as of right now.

“Adam?” Asked Sam, trying to confirm it was really him.

Adam jokingly raised his hands, pretending as if he was about to attack. You would have laughed if it weren’t for the current situation.

“Wait, Mic-Michael lets you talk? I mean, he lets you be?” Questioned Dean.

You were actually just as surprised as the boys, remembering when Dean said yes to Michael to kill Lucifer and he ended up being overriden by the angel for a while.

“Uh, yeah.” Adam nodded. “In the Cage, we came to an agreement. We only had each other.”

Needless to say, you were kind of impressed, actually. You’ve never seen an angel and a vessel come to an agreement or be at peace within each other. It was always the angel being the one at the wheel, never really the vessel.

But it also pained you as you heard Adam’s words. It was just the two of them for so many years, only them in the cage after Sam and Lucifer left. If you had tried harder, maybe they both could have gotten out earlier.

“Adam, look, I know we bailed on you, okay, and there is nothing that we can say to fix that.” Dean admitted to him.

The blonde just sighed.

“How about an ‘I'm sorry’?”

After being trapped in Hell for so many years, all he wanted was an apology from his family. Your heart broke, thinking of the toture he must have gone through and how much pain he felt about being abandoned. Adam was strong, a humble man for only wanting an ‘I’m sorry’.

Adam’s eyes glowed blue for a moment and he grunted, moving around in his cuffs and seat. Michael was back now.

“Enough. Why am I here?” Michael questioned.

Cas spoke up after being quiet for a while. “Michael, we needed to speak with you because God is back. You didn't think the Cage just opened on its own, did you?”

“If my father is back, he will usher in Paradise.”

“No, he won't.” Michael turned to you. “Because Paradise is boring, and your dad...he's just looking to be entertained.” You explained, recalling about when Chuck killed Jack.

“Which means we're his puppets. All of us, especially you.”

The archangel stood up furiously, his face brooding.

“I won't hear this. You're lying.” Michael pointed each and every one of you. “I don't know what your agenda is, but you're lying.” He swore, not wanting to back down on his loyalty to his father.

“Michael...” Cas began to say until Adam managed to switch back with the archangel.

“Hey. It's Adam.” He chuckled, you smiling softly at him.

“I'd give it a rest. He's not listening.”

You and the boys sighed in defeat. Michael was too loyal to his father, not wanting to believe anyone who questioned God’s orders. This was going to be tough.

Later, after the you and boys had left Adam and Michael, Adam, still in the angel cuffs, tried to convince the archangel about joining his brothers.

“So, I've been thinking. Maybe they're not lying.” Adam said as he sat down at the desk in the middle of the room.

Michael, standing on the side, scoffed at his words.

“H-Hear me out. Sam, Dean and...(Y/n) try to be on the right side of things. They actually do. They tried to talk me out of taking you on, for example, out of all of this.” Adam began.

“So, you forgive them?”

“Oh, hell no! No. But that's not what this is about.” Adam faced Michael. “It's...look, if they tell you something's off with God, it's because they believe it's true. And if they believe it, it probably is true.”

You were about to come into the room to talk to Adam with a couple beers, you could hear him talking to someone. But you knew no one else was in the room because no one was replying to him, it was just his voice. You paused before entering, waiting.

“You and I have been together for years. My father and I have been together for eternity. I exist because he willed it.” Michael exclaimed, though you couldn’t hear it.

“So he's having a mid-eternity crisis!” Adam turned to his friend. “Or!...Or, maybe you don't know your dad as well as you think you do.”

You snickered under your breath, now realzing he was probably talking to Michael in his mind. He made a point, Michael didn’t know his father all that well, just like how you and the Winchesters thought you knew him too.

In the room, Michael was about to go off on Adam but instead just turned to face the wall. He walked up the small pairs of steps up to the upper floor.

“The point is parents keep secrets, right? Does it hurt to ask the question?”

Gripping the railing tightly, Michael snapped.

“Yes! It would! It would mean that I doubt him. The good son, the favorite, doubts his father.”

Adam leaned in as close as he could to Michael.

“You still care about that? After he left you in the Cage?”

Adam knew he had truly set off something inside of Michael. He could see his nose flaring from anger and his neck began turning a slight red. Hearing no more talking, you took your chance to enter the room.

“Glad to know that at least one of you believes us.”

Adam looked away from Michael to see you entering the room, two beers in hand. He straightened himself up in his seat, smiling slightly.

“I brought some beers, hoping we could maybe talk.” You asked, setting the alcohol onto the table.

“Yeah, I guess I could use a beer after not having one for 10 years.” Adam teased you.

It wasn’t very funny to you, though. Ten years without Adam, ten years he had suffered. Five years ago when you officially gave up on trying to bring him back, you remembered Sam and Dean telling you how nothing could be done. You lived those next five years thinking you would never see him again. And now, here he is.

“Adam-”

“Did you ever try?” You looked up to him, his expression more serious. “Did you at least ever try to get me out?”

“Oh Adam, if you knew the amount of times I tried to make a deal, looked up a spell- hell anything that would even have the slightest chance to get you out of the Cage...” You stopped for a moment. “I didn’t give up until Sam and Dean had to get me out of my spunk. I spent so many nights of research for you that I still have the eyebags.”

Adam laughed at your joke, you joining him as it echoed throughout the room. When it died down, a comfortable silence replaced it. You and the blonde male just took a moment to stare at one another, taking in each other’s presence.

“I tried, Adam. I really did. But...it was never really enough. I was never enough to save you. I am so, so sorry.” You cried softly.

A tear escaped down your cheek and your controlled breathing was the only sound. Adam could see it in your eyes, you really did try. His brothers, the ones who didn’t even try, were the ones who convinced you otherwise. Out of the corner of his eye, Michael stood behind you, looking at the blonde. He lightly smiled and nodded.

“Well...you did try more than I think my brothers could,” You peeked at Adam through your tears. “I forgive you.”

You stared at him in shock, he just forgave you that quick? If that were you, it would have taken probably years to accept an apology from being left in the Hell. Adam was really something.

“Now, you gonna share a beer with me or are we just gonna sit here all day?”

You giggled. “You’re still in the angel cuffs. Am I gonna have to hold the beer for you?”

“Or you could just hold my hand and I hold the beer.”

The two of you laughed together, you blushed at his words.

“Then you wouldn’t be able to drink, idiot.” You countered.

“Any excuse to hold your hand is fine to me.” He winked.

“You’re so weird.”

“You love me, anyway.”

You smirked. “Of course I do. I didn’t wait for you for 10 years to end up not loving you.”

“You love me?”

You haulted in your tracks. Fuck, you really just outed yourself didn’t you?

“Yes.”

“Well then,” His mouth formed into a grin. “I guess I love you too.”

A/N: Tbh, I don’t really like how this ended but it’s the best I’ve got so deal with it lol. Stay safe, loves!

TAGGED:

@shortwinchester

@coltcas

@urlaslongasafalloutboysongtitle

@xsweetnsour

@irinazatyk

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callunavulgari · 4 years

Text

Year-In-Fic | 2019

How many fics did you write this year? What was your total wordcount?

This year I wrote 41 fics (technically 40 as the last was published today, but I wrote it in December so I’m counting it), for a total of 96,689 words. For even more interesting numbers, of that 96k, a little over 70k of them were written in the month of October alone, so I’m pretty proud of that.

Fic Roundup!

children of dust and ash | Bartimaeus | Bartimaeus/Kitty(/Nathaniel) | 1,801 words | Kitty summons Bartimaeus on a chilly fall day in her thirty-eighth year.

sweet music playing in the dark | DBH | 1,102 words | “I noticed some time ago that you seem to have an appreciation for jazz.”

Radio Ga Ga | Stranger Things | Harringrove | 1,143 words | There’s always another party in Hawkins, Indiana. It would be almost boring if it weren’t for Steve Harrington.

Sunlight | Marvel | Loki/Thor | 765 words | They aren’t quite out of the solar system when Loki appears at the arm of Thor’s chair, hair shorn short and a furious snarl on his face.

like the bough of a willow tree | Detroit Become Human | Hank/Connor | 1,214 words | There’s a human lost in his woods.

knocking on heaven’s door | Stranger Things | Harringrove | 1,748 words | “Just, get in the fucking car. I’ll drive you home.” Billy looked at him, very seriously, and said, “What if I don’t want to go home?”

no more dreaming like a ghost | KH | Axel/Roxas | 813 words | He is in the kitchen, the stove top still warm under his thighs, and everything smells of cherries. The pie is cooling on the windowsill, the sun slanting in warm and buttery, and it is like a dream. A memory. A wish.

Cheers | DBH | Hankcon | 6,368 words | “Are you coming in or not?”Connor blinks, jerks his eyes up and away from those hands and-The bartender has blue eyes. They match the spinning LED at his temple perfectly.

bury a friend (try to wake up) | Stranger Things | Harringrove | 1,587 words | Steve digs up Billy’s body on a Tuesday.

won’t be too soon ‘til I say… goodnight moon | KH | Riku/Sora | 4,549 words | The house was built in the fall of 1882.

you’ll never know what hit you | Buzzfeed Unsolved | Ryan/Shane | 5,379 words | “C’mon, ghost,” Shane urges. “Make all my dreams come true. Fuck me up, fam.”

make this chaos count | EOS 10 | Ryan/Akmazian | 724 words | “You really should stop looking for me,” Akmazian tells him, fingers creeping across Ryan’s ribcage, mapping the architecture of his ribs.

eat you up whole | The Witcher | Geralt/Regis | 2,527 words | “How many mouthfuls do you think I could take from you before it had some effect?” Regis whispers, lips against his throat. Geralt can feel the pinprick of fangs. “Four? Six? Ten? More, even?”

forget the horror here | DBH | Hankcon | 4,390 words | “Hello,” the android says, it’s chest heaving, the gleam of its heart brighter, bluer than before.

summoning demons (and other bad first date ideas) | Buzzfeed Unsolved | Ryan/Shane | 3,868 words | “If I let you out of that circle,” Ryan says, slowly. “Are you going to eat me?”

Itch | The Magnus Archives | Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims | 1,440 words | The boneturner takes from him two ribs - one for him and one for Jon.

the salt water sting | Dishonored | Corvo/Outsider | 2,163 words | The ship wrecks several hundred miles off of the coast of Karnaca.

a skeleton of something more | SGA | Rodney/John | 3,072 words | “John?” he murmurs, still coasting on the pain. His head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton, if cotton were also made of glass.

in the woods somewhere | Teen Wolf | Derek/Stiles | 4,570 words | Stiles buys a house in Virginia.

Wake Up | The Magnus Archives | Martin/Jon | 550 words | “If you wake up,” Martin tells him, experimentally. “I won’t go through with it. You can tell me what a stupid idea it was, and we can laugh about it, and everything will be normal.”

Pas de Deux | KH | Axel/Roxas | 506 words | Roxas doesn’t remember what the sky looks like anymore.

try to wake up | Stranger Things | Harringrove | 1,226 words | They do not, in fact, bone down and praise Satan.

too late to come on home | LoZ | Gen | 1,391 words | “You look familiar,” the boy says in his strange, haunting voice. “Are you lost?”

patron saint of the lost causes | Harry Potter | Draco/Harry | 4,203 words | “Can’t you just, y’know,” he waves a hand and makes an obscene gesture, his cheeks flaring red. “Shag it out?”

wouldn’t you like to see something strange? | Teen Wolf | Sterek | 1,571 words | “I’d say you make my heart pound, but well…” Stiles nods meaningfully to his chest, where if you look hard enough between the slots of his ribs, you can see the lump of muscle that once was his heart, pointedly not beating. “You know.”

the night is softly, sweetly calling | Teen Wolf | Sterek | 2,938 words | Here’s the thing that Stiles never tells the Hales: his mother was strange too.

Haunt | Buzzfeed Unsolved | Ryan/Shane | 1,486 words | Ryan couldn’t remember a time when the world didn’t believe in ghosts.

bite my tongue, bide my time | PJO | Nico/Percy(/Annabeth) | 1,376 words | “What’s wrong with you?” Nico asks, cowering when Percy places a gentle kiss on his collarbone.

Bird Song | Raven Cycle | Ronan/Adam, Gen | 1,445 words | On a dreary Sunday in early January, Ronan dreams himself a pair of wings.

kiss me hard until you’re done | Star Wars | Reylo | 3,082 words | He looks up at her from under heavy lids, dark hair sweeping forward to frame his face. “May I have this dance?”

beauty in the dissonance | Marvel | Tony/Loki | 1,411 words | When Tony dies, it isn’t for forever.

like real people do | Stranger Things | Harringrove | 2,808 words | “I’ve got the sight, man,” he says with a small shrug. “And look, I feel for you. You’re dead and I’m not, and that sucks, but unless you’re planning on doing something about it, I’d really appreciate it if you could stop feeling me up and let me get back to sleep.”

i’d rather drown in your ocean | Naruto | Itachi/Shisui | 1,630 words | The Uchihas are an odd sort. Everyone says so.

catch your breath | The Bright Sessions | Mark/Damien/Sam | 2,588 words | Mark had never assumed in a million years that he would ever see Damien again. He hadn’t factored in zombies.

Nightmare | The Magnus Archives | Martin/Jonathan | 1,424 words | “All right,” he says, taking Jon’s still outstretched hand. “Let’s give the dream what it wants.”

dreaming of the crash | Gravity Falls | Mabel & Dipper | 484 words | When the end of the world comes, they’re under the bed.

don’t we love it now? | Kingdom Hearts | Sora/Riku/Kairi | 1,784 words | When Kairi is eleven years old, she gets lost in the woods.

all this, and love too, will ruin us | Star Wars | Reylo | 1,102 words | Rey is awake to watch the sunrise

open the walls, play with your dolls | Coraline | Coraline/Wybie | 2,886 words | Halloween at the Pink Palace is a lot like any other time of year.

in every golden trace | Queen’s Thief | Costis/Eugenides/Irene | 4,645 words | For as long as Costis can remember, he’s had two names scored across the skin atop his ribs, one on either side of his rib cage, nearly perfect mirrors to one another.

a different kind of danger in the daylight | Shades of Magic | Lila/Kell/Holland | 6,930 words | Sleeping with Holland was never part of the plan.

Best story I wrote this year: Probably the night is softly, sweetly calling. I wrote this for the 18th of October, and it’s the much awaited third part of a Teen Wolf/Addams Family fusion that I wrote back in 2014. A lot of people have asked me to continue this series over the years, but I never did because I felt my writing style had changed too much and then I fell out of the Teen Wolf fandom completely. But I’d written another Teen Wolf fic a few days before (more on this later) and I was just... very nostalgic all of a sudden. My style of writing had changed, but to offset the change of tone, I wrote the story from Stiles’s POV instead of Derek’s and it made all the difference. I was pretty pleased with the result, and hope that it made everyone happy.

What’s your favorite story this year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you the happiest. patron saint of the lost causes. There were a couple fics that I think I did a really good job writing this year, the one listed above and below included, but I think that this one was my favorite. Writing Drarry was a surreal experience, because even when I was in the Harry Potter fandom I didn’t really write for it (well, I didn’t publish what I’d written for it) and I was surprised by how easily it came to me. I tried to channel a lot of the feeling of men who had mothers when I was writing this one, because it seemed very right.

Okay, NOW your most popular story. All right, so technically my stats are all messed up this year because when I posted the third part of the Addams/Teen Wolf fusion, I also posted a chapter to Que Sera, Sera since so many people were subscribed to that story. So. From a purely stats standpoint, Que Sera, Sera was the most popular because it has a total of 25,790 hits, 2973 kudos, and 115 comments. BUT, I did not actually write anything new for that one so-

in the woods somewhere was the first fic I’d written for Teen Wolf since I wrote take me to church in August of 2017. It has over 900 kudos and some 5000+ hits. When I decided to do Dark Month this year, I knew that I wanted to revisit some of my old fandoms, so Teen Wolf was always going to be a given. I wrote take me to church as a cathartic goodbye to the show, the fandom, and of course, Stiles and Derek. It was my soft epilogue for the boys.

in the woods somewhere has a very similar feel to it. It’s post-canon, obviously, and features Stiles buying a house in Virginia and Derek slowly working his way back into his life. It is also very much in the ‘soft epilogue’ genre, leaning heavily into the magical Stiles Stilinski trope while maintaining the FBI agent direction canon was leading us in. Also it has a lot of comfort things for me - judicious descriptions of food, a packed witchy cabin in the woods, and warm shower kisses. Story of mine most underappreciated by the universe, in my opinion: Possibly either won't be too soon 'til I say... goodnight moon or all this, and love too, will ruin us. The first of these two fics is almost 5k of spooky season Riku/Sora that was strongly inspired by Uzumaki-sama’s old fic Goodnight Moon. It was the second day of October and my prompts for the day were moon cycles, nightmare, cage, lookalike, mirrors, and glowing eyes, which was just asking for fic exploring doppelgangers and old haunted houses. I loved writing it, and maybe I should have expected it since Kingdom Hearts is such a quiet fandom nowadays, but it honestly stung that it didn’t get more attention.

The second of those fics was a Reylo fic (yes, yes, I know, it’s an awful ship, etc. etc.) that was very much written to be slow and melancholy and kind of surreal. Sometimes my smallest fics are my favorite, and I really liked this one. But alas, some things were not meant to be.

Most fun story to write: I had a whole lot of fun writing summoning demons (and other bad first date ideas). A lot of the fics I wrote this year, particularly during October, were really fun and easy to write. I missed writing every day. This one in particular though was about 4k of Ryan accidentally summoning Shane (the demon) while Shane was standing right next to him in his human suit. It let me play with a lot of body horror tropes that I don’t explore usually, and Buzzfeed Unsolved is a very fun, fresh fandom to dig around in. This is the second of the three (I think it was three, at least) fics that I wrote for the fandom during October and I had so much fun with it.

Story that could have been better? I don’t know about better, but Sunlight and Bird Song were both supposed to be significantly longer. I wrote Sunlight shortly after watching Endgame, and it was always going to be me working my way through my issues with that movie (Loki not really coming back, weird wonky time travel, Thor leaving his people after his whole arc was him learning how to be a good king) but I got distracted and had to go somewhere that day and just never got back to it.

Bird Song is actually a fic I’ve been meaning to write for years. Ages ago (and we are truly talking ages ago, like September 2015 ages ago), @kaikamahine gave me a prompt for E, 17, and hymnal, which basically balanced out to Ronan, churches, and wings. So day 20 of October was going to be Raven Cycle (with such prompts as stacked deck, darkness, wings, and fight fire with fire, it was begging for it) and I was finally going to write Ronan wingfic. It was going to be great. There was going to be Calla and Ronan interaction and found family themes and there was going to be a church, because obviously, but then I wasn’t doing so well and ran out of time, SO. Definitely could have been better.

Story I wrote to fix things: beauty in the dissonance, the 24th fic of October, was a Tony/Loki flavored story where both Tony and Loki are, in fact, alive. Sunlight was written as a direct response to Endgame, even if it was never finished properly. make this chaos count was the 4th day of October, and written because I’m still not fucking over Ryan and Akmazian. And then knocking on heaven’s door was written just after viewing s3 of Stranger Things. It was uh, less of a fix it fic and more a wallow in your grief fic, but it still applies.

Oh, and a different kind of danger in the daylight was technically fix it fic? I’m generally okay with how Shades of Magic ended, despite my favorite character dying because it came off as a good death. However, the recipient of my Yuletide gift wanted no character death and I wanted to write something post-canon, so presto, fix it fic.

Longest completed fic this year: a different kind of danger in the daylight, followed by Cheers. Both are hovering between 6 and 7k, which isn’t technically long, but since about 90% of my fic this year was written over the course of a day each... I’ll take it.

Fandom you enjoyed writing for most this year: I had a lot of fun with Buzzfeed Unsolved and The Magnus Archives, but I also had fun dipping briefly back into Harry Potter and Teen Wolf.

Favorite character you wrote this year: I had way, way too much fun writing Geralt and Regis in eat you up whole. I have literally no idea if it translated into good fic, but it was fun and just shy of porny and I just really like Geralt. I also had a lot of fun writing Lila in the Shades of Magic fic.

Most memorable comment(s) this year: I got two comments from @kaikamahine about a week ago that honestly made my day. @faorism reread one of my older Stranger Things fics and left a comment, which made me reread it, which was just very good. Every single comment I got on the new Teen Wolf fics with some variation of ‘missed you’ or ‘so glad you’re back’ made me fucking melt. The two different comments where the reader wasn’t even familiar with the material, just read and enjoyed because I wrote it. The comment on one of my Stranger Things fics that just reads, “What the FUCK this SLAPPED.” The comment directly above that one that is from one of my favorite writers in the fandom. The several comments on the single PJO fic I wrote this year which were different variations of “oh my gosh it’s you” and “it’s been so long.”

And of course everyone losing their collective shit over some of the grosser October fics. Namely Itch.

Fics you wanted to write but didn’t: For the most part, the fics I wanted to write but didn’t are the same as last year- Sabriel AU, Enjolras/Grantaire fic, found family Dishonored fic, bodyswappying Reylo, Sterek Bioshock and Carmilla AUs which I am likely to post as is sometime next year.

I still want to finish the Castlevania OT3 fic, the giant canon-divergent Bright Sessions AU where years after the series ends, Mark ends up running into Damien again in a small town in the middle of nowhere only to realize that he has a daughter, a farm, a life, and is just so drawn to it that he keeps coming back. I have the Wolf 359 post-canon fic where everyone has feelings and found family is a general theme and maybe Eiffel smooches an AI. I also have the smuttier Wolf 359 fic that’s been lurking in the back of my head for months where Eiffel and Kepler er, basically eiffel tower Jacobi.

Oh, and I have the Reylo fic where Rey (and Ben, through the bond) sit through General Organa’s funeral and keep coming back to each other afterwards. And that Final Fantasy 15 fic where Dino and Noctis do the nasty. And the Hera & Jacobi fic from October. And uh, the post episode 9 fic that’s been lurking about in my brain.

Oddest story: Probably i’d rather drown in your ocean? It was pretty spot on aesthetically for me, but it was weird to write Itachi and Shisui again, especially in a strange modern day vampire context? Also Itch and Nightmare were both Magnus Archive fics that were super gross (Itch) and just plain spooky and bizarre (Nightmare) but they were so fun to write. Hardest story to do: Cheers gave me some trouble initially but got a lot easier as I went on. I hit writer’s block pretty bad with the Shades of Magic fic too, but that seems to be what happens when I come up on deadlines. Easiest story to write? Most of October’s fics were a blast to write and super easy besides. Basically all of the Kingdom Hearts, Stranger Things, and Teen Wolf fic. And the Buzzfeed Unsolved.

Most mining of your own history in one story: Probably either open the walls, play with your dolls or no more dreaming like a ghost. Not in any way that really matters, but there are a couple familiar details.

Themes, or absence thereof: Mostly either spooky scary things or fix it fics. Sometimes both.

Where did you publish/archive your stories? Ao3, as per usual. Story I haven’t yet written, but intend to: The only thing that I currently have planned is the post episode 9 fic and a couple things that I’ve had planned for a while that may or may not come out.

Sexiest moment (excerpt): “How many mouthfuls do you think I could take from you before it had some effect?” Regis whispers, lips against his throat. Geralt can feel the pinprick of fangs. “Four? Six? Ten? More, even?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Geralt murmurs, and Regis laughs.

“I would,” he agrees.

“So, why don’t you find out instead of boring me with all the details?”

Regis pulls away from his throat, far enough that Geralt can meet his eyes again. He swallows at what he finds there. Amusement, yes, but also hunger, brighter than the moonlight reflecting in his eyes.

“A taste, first, I think,” Regis says in a low, cool voice, and then closes the space between them.

Geralt had forgotten the blood on his lip, but he remembers it when Regis catches him in an open-mouthed kiss. It’s wet and bruising, and Geralt is responding before he remembers he shouldn’t, fighting back the only way he knows how with the rest of him indisposed. He claws at him, bites at him, and the vampire laughs when Geralt catches his plump lower lip between his teeth and bites down. Regis gives his mouth one last darting swipe of the tongue before he is pulling away.

There’s a flare of color high on Regis’s cheeks and his ears are distinctly more pointed than they were five minutes ago, the sclera of his eyes gone red.

“Can’t say I’ve ever been bitten by a human before,” Regis tells him, leaning close like he’s divulging a secret. “It’s a rather exhilarating experience.”

“I’m all for a repeat experience,” Geralt quips, eyes narrowed. “Lean in just a little and we can see if I can manage to tear off your lips before you rip out my throat.”

“Please,” she whispers, and feels herself quiver like a taut bowstring when he touches her mouth gently, with the very tips of his fingers.

He smiles and leads her away, through the demons and goblins and fae that she came here to kill.

They make it as far as the parking lot before he is hitching her up the side of a gleaming Mercedes, hooking her legs around his shoulders, and hiking her skirts up over her thighs so he can duck his head beneath them. His fingers linger for a moment on the silver of the knives strapped securely to her thigh, and then he is reaching in, guiding her underwear to the side and getting his mouth on her, right where she wants it.

She must make some kind of noise, because he chuckles, tongue circling her clit in a slow, languid way that makes her think that he is savoring her, that he likes the taste of her on his tongue.And he must, because she knows what he is. Knows that just as he’s savoring the taste of her, he is eating her, feeding off of her want like the things that she hunts in the dark feed off of blood and marrow and souls. She knows, but it isn’t enough to stop her from tilting her head back, gasping for him, the distant wink of streetlights and stars so far away.

He makes her come with his mouth on her, with his fingers inside her, and even as she’s shaking around him, she knows that it isn’t enough. She wants more, wants to feel the heavy press of him inside around, wants to kiss his lips and taste herself on his tongue.

“Please,” she says, her thighs shaking, and he laughs, pulling away and easing her down, until her legs are looped around his waist instead of her shoulders. He reaches between them, and she knows what’s happening beneath her skirts, knows that he’s getting his cock out of his pants and pressing it against her, can feel it as he sinks slowly into her, the tight fit of it so sweet, so perfect that it makes her ache.

“You’re lovely,” he whispers, kissing her shoulders and fucking into her slow, a teasing stretch that makes her mouth water, makes her twitch.

“Is this what you wanted?” Hank jeers, one finger circling the rim of Connor’s hole. There’s a flush of angry blue across his cheeks. His hair is coming loose from its usually immaculate tail, curling against his forehead. His eyes are blue. His LED is not. “To lay back and take it? From a fucking machine?”

Connor whines, back arching as Hank dips the tip of his thumb inside, just enough to hold him open.

“That is it, isn’t it?” Hanks says softly. There’s a touch of triumph to his gaze as he fucks Connor open on his thumb. Something mean, too. Disdain, slowly unfurling in the curve of his lips. He shakes his head. “All this time, coming to this bar. Talking to me like you thought I was some kind of human, and you just wanted something like me to hold you up and take you apart.”

“No,” Connor gasps, but can’t help the twist of his hips when Hank adds another finger.

“No?” Hank says with a laugh. “Look at you.”

Connor’s cock jerks against his belly as Hank drags his pants the rest of the way down his thighs. They make it as far as his knees before they tangle, stuck on his shoes. His cheeks feel hot, and he- god, he wants to protest. Wants to say that Hank’s got it all wrong, that this is more. That he’s more.

But then Hank is flipping him over, until the arm of the couch is digging firmly into his belly, his ass high in the air. Hank pulls his fingers out, then leans over and spits, the cool slippery slide of the saliva trailing down the curve of his ass.

“All right, Connor,” he says. “This what you want? I’ll give it to you.”

No, Connor should say. It isn’t like that.

Instead, he says, “Please.”

Crackiest moment (excerpt):

“Did you just sneak into my house?” Stiles breathes, absurdly charmed.

Derek’s in his human disguise, everything dangerous about him hidden away from view, lurking just under the surface. He gives Stiles a look, and says, “Don’t be weird about it.”

He shuts the door behind him.

“I’ve got a nice monster knocking on my door just before the witching hour,” Stiles tells him playfully, making room for Derek to take a seat next to him. “How am I not supposed to be weird about that?”

Derek does something akin to rolling his eyes, the flames doing a little shimmy around the circumference of his eye sockets. He leans back against Stiles’s headboard, seemingly unconcerned that their sides are pressed together. Derek’s skin is very warm, human warm, and Stiles is all bones. He sucks up the warmth greedily.

“I’d say you make my heart pound, but well…” Stiles nods meaningfully to his chest, where if you look hard enough between the slots of his ribs, you can see the lump of muscle that once was his heart, pointedly not beating. “You know.”

“What’s the local legend about this thing?” Shane asks, hopping up onto the throne easily and spreading out, eyes on the night sky. He looks good. He always looks good, but Ryan likes him best like this, out here with the moonlight shining down on them and the camera catching all his best angles.

As Ryan watches, he blinks, and turns to look at Ryan, puzzled. “Ryan?”

Ryan clears his throat. “The locals say that if you make a wish while sitting on her throne, the witch will grant it.”

Shane gives him a wicked smile and hums a few bars of Genie in a Bottle. Ryan chokes out a laugh, crossing the space between them until he’s leaning up against the side of the throne himself.

Shane closes his eyes. “I wish, I wish with all my might, please dear god, let there be ghosts here this night.”

Ryan holds his breath.

“C’mon, ghost,” Shane urges. “Make all my dreams come true. Fuck me up, fam.”

All around them, the world is still.

Shane cracks an eye open and squints at him. “Did it work?”

“Jon?” someone asks, and Jon blinks.

Martin is standing before him. He’s wearing something out of another time, a costume of silken breeches with a well-cut waistcoat of a rich, opalescent blue. There’s a puffy cravat hugging his neck, and polished buckled shoes on his feet. Jon almost expects him to be wearing a wig, but his hair is the one thing that’s been left untouched, hanging loose around his chin.

“Martin?” Jon asks.

Martin seems to take him in, his eyes running slowly down Jon’s body, lingering at his wrists, his waist, his thighs. It’s a bold sort of move, one that Martin would never be half so blatant about if he were awake.

“You, er. Look nice,” Martin says, and Jon glances down at himself.

He’s sure that moments ago he’d been wearing the same thing he’d worn to the office, shabby coat, mostly clean shirt, a pair of nondescript trousers that didn’t have any stains. But now, he finds himself in a dress. The gown is long and brilliantly red, the skirts heavy around his thighs. There are embroidered patterns reminiscent of roses along the bodice and down the front of his petticoat.

“Well, shit,” he mutters, still staring. Experimentally, he moves his hips, and finds that the skirts swish obligingly with the movement.

“Yes, well,” Martin murmurs, cheeks flushing horribly. “You always did look rather good in red.”

“In red-” Jon repeats in horror. “Martin, I’m in a gown.”

Favorite dialogue (excerpt):

“Are you ever going to stop looking for me?” Akmazian asks him one night.

Ryan is tired. Akmazian is a shadowed figure in the dark that he tries not to look at too closely, because if he does, Akmazian will be gone.

“Maybe,” Ryan tells him, and turns over onto his side. Away from the shadow, the ghost.

The bed dips under the weight of a person who isn’t really there, and Ryan can feel Akmazian’s breath on the back of his neck, warm and damp.

“Don’t touch me,” Ryan says, and means, I don't want this to end yet.

“Wasn’t plannin’ on it, darlin',” Akmazian murmurs back, then drags his lips over the back of his neck anyway, just to be contrary. Ryan swallows, his throat dry, tongue thick in his mouth. He clenches his fingers in the sheets, eyes squeezed so tightly shut that his vision stains red behind his eyelids.

“Please,” Ryan says.

“You really should stop looking for me,” Akmazian tells him, fingers creeping across Ryan’s ribcage, mapping the architecture of his ribs.

“I know.”

“You’re never going to find me.”

Ryan laughs. “Never say never.”

There is silence behind him and then, “Ryan. Please. You’re hurting yourself.”

Ryan trembles a little when a hand lands on his hip, just this side of too solid.

“Don’t care.”

“You’re hurting the stars.”

Ryan is silent for a moment. Then, “I just miss you.”

A sigh.

“I know,” Akmazian murmurs, and leans over to place a kiss on Ryan’s forehead. “I miss you too.”

Ryan opens his eyes, turns to look, and like always, Akmazian is gone.

“Look,” Potter says, audibly slurring. “I’ve had an idea.”

Draco crosses his arms. “And what, pray tell, is this idea of yours, Potter?”

Potter leans forward, using a hand to prop himself up, until he’s well into Draco’s personal space. He smells like beer and whiskey, and his cheeks and jaw are more beard than stubble.

“Break your curse with me,” he breathes, a hand settling atop Draco’s blanket-clad knee.

Draco swallows. “I don’t think you know what you’re talking about.”

“No, look,” Potter says, leaning in even closer, eyes a bit wild. “We can just… you know.”

“No, Potter,” Draco tells him. “I don’t know.”

But he does. He really does.

“You know,” Potter says again. “Shag it out.”

“I think that you’re confusing things again,” Draco says tiredly. He sets the book on the nightstand next to him. “Remember the terms of the curse? Love, Potter. Not sex.”

Potter’s nose wrinkles. “But sex is part of love. Usually, anyway. It’ll work, I know it.”

“It won’t,” Draco insists, slapping Potter’s hand away when it begins to wander up his thigh. “Do you really think that I didn’t shag my wife before she left me? Because I did. We tried for years. Years, Potter. Trust me, if the curse were going to break because of a fuck, it would have happened well before now.”

Potter blinks at him, his eyes wide. There’s a ruddy flush on his cheeks, and Draco’s not sure if he likes it.

“We could at least try,” Potter says, almost gently. He doesn’t touch Draco again, but he looks like he wants to, hand trembling where it lays on the bedspread.

It feels like there’s glass in Draco’s throat. He is so, so tempted. Here is what he wanted - or at least part of it - Potter in his bed begging to fuck him, and he’s going to have to send him away.

“I think you should leave,” he tells him, and Potter’s mouth shuts with a click.

Favorite lines (excerpt):

“Relax,” he croons, stroking her fingers before he pulls away. “Your secret is safe with me. Most of this crowd knows that I’m not on speaking terms with that side of my family. They won’t suspect you because of me.”

Her face is flushed, either from rage or humiliation. Possibly both.

“So you-”

“Yes,” he says, fingers dropping to caress the fabric of her gown, swirling a thumb around the sweeping petals of an embroidered rose. His gaze is sly, a bit predatory when he glances back up at her. “I know what you have under this pretty skirt of yours.”

Rey’s breath catches, and she feels something- a slow trickle of heat seeping in to pool around her navel. She shifts, thighs sliding together, and hopes that he can’t smell her.

“Just as I know exactly what you’re doing right now,” she tells him in a hard whisper, jerking away from his grip on her elbow.

His eyes widen, affecting a look of innocence - a ‘who me?’ - that isn’t quite as effective when his lips are also curling up into a slow, pleased smirk.

“And what exactly am I doing?” he asks, his eyes laughing at her.

She glares at him. That seems to be enough of a reply, because he chuckles before taking possession of her arm again and pulling her smoothly towards the dance floor. Once they’ve reached the edge of it, he stops, dropping her elbow in favor of dipping into a low, courtly bow.

He looks up at her from under heavy lids, his hair sweeping forward to frame his face. “May I have this dance?”

The dance floor is crowded, full to the brim of masked people sweeping by in jewel-bright dresses and dark suits. She knows not to - knows that this place is a lot like fae courts of old. You don’t eat the food, you don’t drink the wine, and you definitely don’t dance.

But she’s already drank the wine, so she might as well dance.

The ship wrecks several hundred miles off of the coast of Karnaca. The storm that ends them is a rare sort, fiercer than most, a huge bank of dark clouds that seems to come from the void itself, blooming on the horizon like a warning. The lightning cracks the world asunder, thunder deafening, but it's the wind and waves that will always be a ship’s downfall.

Corvo watched the wave approach, saw its frothing white caps and the way it had stretched, higher and higher, until it loomed over the ship.

They never had a chance, and by the time the wave came crashing down, Corvo was already holding his breath.

Much of what he remembers after are mere snippets: the gulping suck of the water around him, broken pieces of the ship spinning by along with those of the crew who were unlucky enough to be caught by the ship’s pull, sucked down into the void, devoured by the whale god himself. He remembers his first gasp of air once he’d surfaced, the tang of brine and salt heavy on his tongue as wave after wave battered his body.

He doesn’t think that most of the crew survived the first few minutes much less the whole night, and he is certainly alone when the sun blossoms on the horizon hours later, clinging to a piece of ship the size of his torso and kicking relentlessly towards the dawn.

Corvo grew up on the coast, his hair stiff with salt from the ocean breeze. He grew up in and out of the water, hauling cargo or gutting fish on the docks. He’s familiar with the ocean - how the pull of the tides work, which days its best to avoid the dock, how to escape the sea’s wrath when a riptide or an undercurrent tries its damndest to drown you.

So he knows that his chances of making it to land are slim. But Corvo has always been stubborn, his legs have always been strong, and his story is far from finished.

Stiles buys a house in Virginia. It’s a modest thing close to Quantico, but not too close, tucked away into the heart of the wooded Appalachians. The bones of the house is all stonework and sturdy dark wood, a rickety wraparound porch bracketing the house on all sides. The first thing that he’d bought for it were two overpriced rocking chairs he’d gotten from the nearest Cracker Barrel.

Over the course of a year, he fills the house with things. A soft, dark gray sofa. Several solid end tables. A pair of emerald lamps he gets from an antique shop. A moss-green throw that is warm as a hug when it’s wrapped around his shoulders in the dead of winter. His living room is a bit too mountain man chic, but he likes the way that it looks when he’s coming home from a long day at the academy, warm and inviting.

He gets his bed set from a woodworker a couple dozen miles down the road, a man with a gruff bristled gray face and a warm smile, who trades Stiles the custom set for some warding and a couple bottles of what he calls, ‘miracle elixir.’ The set is sturdy mahogany, a pair of wolves carved across the top of the curving headboard, runes filling the gaps between them. The chest of drawers and dresser are just as solid, and Stiles has to hire movers to help him get everything back to the house.

The bulky rednecks decked out in worn flannel that help him with it carefully avoid looking at the runes of the headboard, their eyes skittering away from the carvings like frightened rabbits. They exchange apprehensive looks when they see the herbs drying over the sink in his kitchen, but to their credit, stay quiet and hightail it out of the place when he pays them. Here in the Appalachian backwoods, no one talks about magic, but everyone knows it exists.

Stiles has people over every once in a while - flies his dad and Scott in from California, has Lydia drive down from Boston, or Kira from North Carolina - but mostly, he’s alone. It’s a strange thing to get used to, the silence of the nights out here, where the night sky is bright and clear enough to see the stars above him, not a hint of light pollution to be seen, and the trees rustling in a quiet wind is almost louder than the hoots and hollers of the local wildlife.

He’d thought it would be lonely, and to be fair, sometimes it is.

Some nights he comes home and collapses back onto his sofa, and would do anything to be right down the road from Scott and Melissa and his dad again. He has days where he craves Melissa’s pozole or his dad’s meatloaf so badly that he can taste the heat of it on his tongue.

But mostly, the quiet is nice.

He cooks himself soups that simmer in the slow cooker while he’s at the academy and roasts that he makes on the weekends. He experiments with food the way he never used to back in Beacon Hills, where he had his dad’s heart to worry about if he made anything, and fast food which was easier to grab when he didn’t. He takes a world tour through his kitchen - homemade pierogi, hearty paella, steaming pirozhki, spicy-smelling curries, and hand rolled sushi. The first time that he makes his own bread in the ancient oven that came with the house, the smell of it coming fresh out of the oven is so good that he nearly cries.

It’s three winters into living there before he hears a scratching at his door in the middle of the night, and when he goes to investigate, finds a large black wolf on his doorstep.

It’s favoring one of its paws, dark fur matted on one side of its head where he can dimly make out a sluggishly bleeding gash. It blinks at him, eyes glowing a bright, familiar blue, and Stiles spends a minute watching it before he smiles and steps aside.

Fic goals: Hey Heather, it was only 800 words, but you did technically write something original. Now, let’s do something original that’s a little longer. And while we’re at it, let’s do something novel length.

#heather says what #heather writes #2019 #new year's memes

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dyde21 · 7 years

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Soulmates

@mooshie05 Had submitted a request to me that had been bouncing around my head! Basically everyone has a soulmate, and before you meet them you share their physial pain. I tweaked it slightly to fit better with what I had in my head, I hope that’s okay! (Also because the idea of someone just bleeding randomly terrified me and brought far too many logistical problems for my tired butt to deal with.) Anyway, a little short but I hope you enjoy!

XxXxXxXxX

Annabeth was pretty sure that if she wouldn't absolutely love her soul mate, she'd hate him. Clearly the whatever God there was must have had a sense of humor when designing their world. Yes, everyone in the world was born with a soulmate. Someone who'd be your other half, someone you'd live happily with as long as no accidents happened. Someone who could quiet your demons, and stoke your flames. Someone that would show you home wasn't a place, but a person. Sounds wonderful, right? The only problem was the first way you learned about them was through pain. Yes, before someone met their soulmate they had a connection. Unfortunately it wasn't some romantic longing or feeling. No, it was whenever your partner was bruised, cut, scarred or injured, you would feel a ghost of their pain.

Most of the time it wasn't that big of a deal. Occasionally there'd be some pain, enough to make you worry about them, and feel relieved when they healed knowing they were out there somewhere living their life.

Of course sometimes the worst happened. A soulmate died before you ever met them, or was in a horrible accident. It was an utterly tragic event, and physical pain aside, the emotional pain crippled a person. Years of therapy were often required to help the person cope with the loss of an unknown half of their being, and sometimes they never recovered. Luckily it wasn't as common as it could be thankfully.

It was something most people feared, but for some reason Annabeth didn't really fear that.

No, her soulmate seemed so determined to find ways to hurt himself, he was clearly to stubborn to die. She knew absolutely nothing about him, other than the fact he was clearly living some sort of fun life. It was a rare day that she woke up without some phantom ache or pain. Some reminder that “Hey! I'm your soulmate, I'm out here, and I'm a dumb ass!”

As annoying as it was, it was something Annabeth had learned to get kind of used to. She had also put a lot of thought into it, wondering if she could piece together what kind of person her soulmate was, so she could seek him out, meet him to end the dreaded pain sharing, then kick his butt for putting her through so much.

But despite all the time she spent thinking about it, the best guess she could come up with was some sort of sport. The injures were always the knees, elbows, ankles, and butt. Not the usual suspects for someone who got into a lot of fights, or someone seeking pain. No, those seemed like the normal signs of some athletic kid with no concern for his own safety, or seemingly hers.

Why couldn't he be like her? She very rarely was injured on her own. Never broken a bone, never been in a fight, never even really had a bad accident. Surely she was the perfect soulmate for someone.

Once she had complained to her dad about it, and he had just smiled and said “Bear with it. No one knows what to expect, but once you meet them you'll appreciate having known they were a part of your life the whole time. Plus it'll give you a conversation starter.” He had said with a laugh. So Annabeth didn't really talk to her dad about it again, deeming him a little too unhelpful.

In the end, she tried to listen to her family and friend's advice. Just try and bear with it, and look forward to the day her patience is rewarded. Though she had to admit it got more difficult as her friends all met theirs. Piper met a boy named Jason when they were 15. Her neighbor Will met a boy named Nico not long after. Hazel met Frank early, back when they were both 13. Her friend Leo had even found his partner in a girl named Calypso. That had cemented just how powerful the soulmate connection was in her mind. Leo had always been a bit eccentric, yet he had found a wonderful girlfriend and they seemed particularly happy together.

Even Annabeth was willing to admit that she might be a little jealous. Piper said it was cause she's always studying in libraries that “Of course you haven't met him. He's having fun, you should try it sometime.”. Annabeth just brushed that off though. Surely her soul mate in life would also love libraries right? Sure he got injured often, but he must spend a decent amount of time reading her like, right? That was what she told herself at least.

The one thing Annabeth never expected to feel was worry when the pain stopped. At first she shrugged it off, relieved that she had gone a month without dealing with some kind of pain.

Around a month and a half she began to feel a little nervous. Was everything okay with him? She had no way of knowing, and just chalked it up to the change. She was never particularly fond of change anyway. She liked permanent things.

At three months, she was downright terrified. Had something happened? It wasn't like the pain had completely stopped cold. There was still the odd pain in her foot from a stubbed toe, or the ghost of a small knick from something sharp. But the usual echoes of pain were gone. Did something major happened? It couldn't have. She'd have known if anything physical had happened. Was he okay? Was he depressed? Honestly, she felt a little silly worrying about the mental health of someone she never met and literally has only caused pain for her. Then again, he was her soul mate so it was to be expected.

At about five months without any of the usual pain, Annabeth was seriously trying to figure out a plan to find him. The tiny echoes of pain she had felt let her know she hadn't met him yet, but now both her curiosity and her concern were burning together in her, making a powerful combination.

When she felt pain flare up in her knees, elbows, butt, and shoulder she almost let out a few tears of relief. It was weird, she never thought she'd be relieved to feel pain. He was back at it. Doing whatever it was he did.

“Dude, are you okay? That was nasty.” A voice called out from somewhere nearby.

Annabeth froze in place. Surely that was just a coincidence.

“I'm fine!” A voice replied.

The sound sent a ripple through her body, it felt like a switch inside her had been turned on. Like gears that had been misaligned slipped into place. Her mind kicked into overdrive and her heart was pounding. That voice. She knew she had never heard it before, but it felt so natural. Like it was a voice she had heard her whole life. It was the only voice she wanted to hear. Dropping her backpack, she turned and took off in a dead sprint towards the source of that voice.

It was him.

IT WAS HIM.

IT WAS HIM!

She knew it. From the bottom of her soul, she knew it.

Shoving past a tall blonde she vaguely recognized at Piper's soul mate, she froze. Her eyes locked with a boy on the ground, rubbing the back of his head nervously.

The boy was tall and lean, decked out in jeans and a flannel, a skateboard overturned near him. Some small part of Annabeth's mind registered the fact a skater made perfect sense, and she was a little annoyed she hadn't pieced it together before. His eyes mesmerized her, and she instantly knew she could stare at them for hours.

“Hello?” She managed to choke out, still in shock from everything in her life sliding into place.

The boy visibly reacted to her voice as his jaw dropped as if he was feeling the same thing she was. He was feeling the same thing she was.

“What's your name?” Was all he said, slowly standing up.

“Annabeth Chase.” She replied automatically as she took in his standing form. Memorizing all the little details, the way he rested his weight heavily on one foot, had only one hand in a pocket, his hat on just a little too crooked to be intentional.

“I'm Percy Jackson.” He answered her unspoken question, still studying her.

“Have you met... your soul mate?” He asked, a clear nervousness in his voice.

Nodding, Annabeth felt tears annoyingly creeping up into the corner of her eyes. She had always told herself she wouldn't be one of those girls who cried when meeting their partner. But it was just such a relief. “I think I just did.”

Hesitantly Percy took a step forward, prompting her to as well. A second later and they rushed forward, wrapping each other in a tight hug.

“I'm so glad I found you.” He murmured into Annabeth's ear, sending shivers down her spine.

“Took you long enough.” She muttered in reply, hugging him just a little bit closer.

She was also vaguely aware of Jason talking on hurried only the phone, giving her a thumbs up.

By the time Piper had rushed over, Annabeth and Percy were sitting on the edge of a planter chatting happily. She felt the awkward tension between them quickly slipping away, as they found a comfortable pace between the two of them. It was still bumpy as they pushed and pulled, figuring out each other.

Piper had immediately introduced herself to Percy as Annabeth's best friend and future bridesmaid.

Annabeth really had never expected her soulmate to fit into her life as quickly as Percy did. The constantly small dates for coffee or lunch. The messages they woke up to each morning from each other. The little bickering and banter they both found they had a habit of starting.

Percy was also nothing like she had expected. He had recently moved to the city with his mom. He hated studying, and much preferred hanging out with friends. When pestered about the sudden change in pain, and the constant pain she felt he had immediately flushed red in embarrassment and shame. Like she had guessed, he was an avid skateboarder. However after a bad spill, a friend had mentioned that his soul mate must be miserable from all the scrapes cuts and bruises he got.

Sheepishly Percy had admitted he never considered that. Sure he had always daydreamed about Annabeth, but he had never connected the fact that his skateboarding would be bad for her. So he had just stopped. But missing it, he had taken to wearing more protection and trying to play it safe. That day had actually been the first time he had been convinced to do more of the dangerous tricks again.

Annabeth couldn't help but roll her eyes fondly at how absent minded he had been. How could he have not had realized. She was planning on complaining a little more, but he had fired back that he hated paper cuts and he had been dealing with them for years as well, which had shut her up. She hadn't really considered how many she got from all her reading either. Plus, he had tried to give up his favorite hobby for her. Not something she would have wanted to him to do of course, but the sentiment still made her heard soar.

Percy's mom had also been the coolest mom ever, it had been official. She had been downright terrified of meeting her, her mom having been a bit intimidating. But Sally had welcomed her with open arms, literally. Annabeth had been swept into a hug immediately upon the door opening.

She had also found out that he was on the swim team, that he had quickly become the top swimmer on his new team. When she had rushed out and hugged him after he had won swim meet she had gone to, it had dawned on her. Never in her life would she have imagined going to a swim meet. Not to mention standing in front of others as she shared a celebratory kiss with her soul mate, the rest of the world fading from focus. Never did she imagine passing on studying to go out and learn how to skateboard. Never did she imagine that instead of snuggling up alone to enjoy a movie that she would find another's presence much more relaxing next to her on the couch.

Standing there, staring at Percy as the water dripped from his hair, his unrestrained smile directed solely at her, as if he was happier to see her than win the meet, Annabeth realized everything had changed.

For once though, she didn't mind this change. This was the start of something permanent.

XxXxXxXxX

Thank you for reading! Please feel free to send me more percabeth fluff prompts anyone who is reading this! I still have a few in my inbox I will work through! I just write them as I’m inspired, no real order. The next thing I post will probably be chapter 4 of the Cafe!AU I’m working on. Till next time!

#pjo #percabeth #percy jackson #annabeth chase #HoO #Thank you for the prompt!#Please feel free to send me more folks!

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storiesbyaya · 7 years

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Story Of A Hero -8

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“Well. Shit.” Wesley cursed at the bathroom mirror or, more importantly, his reflection. “I really don’t think I’ll be able to cover that up.” Though his voice was calm, he was not; shaking so badly that he had to grip the edge of the sink so hard his knuckles were white. A stark contrast to the red slowly drying on his hands. Well, if one good thing could be taken from this, it was that burns this deep destroyed the nerves and, though he had initially felt pain, it was there no longer. No, the adrenaline and terror lingered, which in turn made him this tremoring mess. Tomorrow, he was supposed to go out for Halloween with Kat, taking her brother and his friends out trick or treating, followed by a special show at the circus… But there was no way that he could show his face like this.

His mother had been drinking. Of course she was. It was raining out, and he had come a little late. That was not what had bothered her. It was the fact that he was dry despite the rain that really bothered her, and that was when the screaming commenced. “What did I tell you about using your disgusting demon magic?” she yelled at him. “What?” he asked, and she gestured to him, and to the rain. Wesley still didn’t understand. “It’s raining, but little Mister monstrosity here walks in all dry?” “I had an umbrella, mom,” Wesley countered, gesturing towards where it hung, dripping water. It had escalated from there. She’d pressed the hot iron down onto his face, screaming about burning the monster out of him… It smelled so bad of burnt flesh in the house that she’d stumbled out, but Wesley had stayed in the bathroom to tend to the damage, like always. Apparently umbrellas were witchcraft now. That was good to know, he thought bitterly to himself. If Katherine saw this, she would freak.. But if he didn’t show up, she’d likely freak, too. He could not think of a good enough excuse to tell her. If he said he was sick, she’d show up at his door with a heating pad and soup made by Bayesh, she always did. And to not go to the final showing of her show would be a shitty thing to do. As he put bandages on to keep the burn from getting infected, he wondered if maybe he could wear a costume that would cover it… Katherine wouldn’t mind him changing his mind about his costume…. Right?

---

“Wow, that looks amazing, Wes!” Katherine commented when she saw his costume. He grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, I was going to wear the other costume…. But I wound up watching a movie about mummies and decided ‘hey, that’s cool!’ and wore this instead. Hope you don’t mind,” he lied, but she did not seem to notice. When Katherine was excited about something, it was much easier to lie to her. It was, in fact, probably the only time one could; she was otherwise very observant and empathetic. Wesley considered himself lucky that she liked his plan, and it incorporated the bandages he had to wear over the side of his face in a non-suspicious way. “It’s all good. Now we have a witch, a werewolf, a robot, an undead bride and… Whatever Sora is,” Katherine said, pointing to the children and finally to herself. Wesley looked around, even poking his head into the kitchen and living room, until he heard footsteps above him. “She’s still putting it on. Wouldn’t tell me what it was, and you know how fussy she is with clothes.” “She started getting ready an hour ago,” William said, shaking his head. “Did she make it by hand?” Wesley asked, even though it was more than likely that she had. Kat nodded, grimacing. He could just imagine, if it was a surprise, Sora had likely kicked her out of the room or even the apartment anytime she was working on it, judging by Kat’s expression. Bayesh offered Wesley a slice of pizza as he passed, and ruffled William’s hair. “Take care of them tonight,” he told his daughter. “We’re fourteen, dad. We could have gone alone,” William pointed out, but Bayesh’s angry look made him shrink back. “I told you. You can only go with an adult, I don’t care how old you are,” he added. “Although, gotta be honest, three adults is a bit overkill,” Kat said, chuckling as she nudged Wesley. “A little. Good thing they’re cool adults,” Lily agreed. Kat winked at her, but she figured that the younger girl was just buttering her up. For what, who knew. Maybe Lily didn’t even know, yet.

Sora came down the stairs with little fanfare. So much so that Kat didn’t even notice her until she exclaimed “Oh no, one of us must change,” from behind her. Kat jumped and turned around. Sora was also an undead bride, but her outfit was twelve times more elaborate than Kat’s. “Oh wow, babe. That looks beautiful,” she replied, smiling at her. “Boo-tiful, even,” Wesley said. The children groaned, but could finally go out. They hurried off excitedly while the adults trailed behind, watching with fondness.

“He was getting old, I was so worried I’d never get to see this,” Kat said after about the tenth house. Her two friends looked over to her and nodded solemnly. “I thought he’d outgrow trick or treating before I ever got to see him go. When it was just me and him, he never wanted to. I guess he was scared people would like- not give him candy or throw stuff at him or something,” she continued. There was no throwing of anything, no slamming of doors. Just three excited kids running door to door, with ever growing bags of sweets to eat at the show tonight. Some adults complimented their costumes. Some children said hello to them, and asked them what they had gotten. It was the most social Kat had ever seen her little brother be, and she was happy to be able to share something like this not only with him, but with the two people that mattered the most to her. They were equally as happy to see him so gleeful. “They remind me of us sometimes. When we were younger,” she said softly. Sora and Wesley also nodded. “Remember when we all went to your house to carve those pumpkins? And we all wound up just throwing the guts at each other?” Wesley asked. “No, you two were throwing guts at each other. Do not drag me into that,” Sora said, shaking her head at them. “I was behaving.” “Which is why you carved a dick into my pumpkin when I wasn’t looking?” Kat asked. “That was not me.” “Yeah, it was. I watched you do it!” Wesley said, and they all broke out into laughter. Until it was cut short by a scream. Instinctively, Kat looked up. Yes, this was Halloween. There were spooky things all over the place, and some haunted houses on this street, so it was typical of screams to echo into the night. The other two, knowing this, did not really seem to care, but Katherine was entirely instinctual. And the moment she looked up, she saw it. A dark shadow looming down the street from the park. “Guys. The kids,” Kat said, and they both looked up as well. “Is that-” “It’s a Meir.”

The word echoed in screams, warning everyone. Suddenly, the holiday fun stopped, giving way to panic as children and parents ran from the thing. Katherine did not run from it. She ran towards it. Though not many, there were a few people frozen in fear of the monster, including some children. She stumbled, snapping the heel of her shoe, and tossed it angrily at the Meir as it squirmed towards a crying child. “Hey, stupid! Leave that kid alone!” she yelled at it, and it turned, twelve sets of eyes in various halloween masks now giving her their full attention. “Katherine, what are you doing?!” Sora shouted at her, struggling as well to get over to her in her costume. It was made for scaring, not for running. “Soso, grab the kids and go get my dad. I’ll- keep this thing from hurting anyone until he gets here,” she said, but all of a sudden a pumpkin went flying, hitting one of the masks. A large mouth opened, roaring, and Kat turned to see her little brother standing in a nearby yard, with another pumpkin ready to throw at it. Wesley passed her by and picked up the crying child while the creature was looking at the Kray siblings, then handed him off to Sora. She shook her head at Kat, mumbled something about her being a reckless little brat, and hurried off, gesturing for the Wrights to follow. But they shook their heads and stayed. “We’re fourteen, we can help!” Percy said. Kat sighed. “I really wish you’d go home,” she grumbled, just as a large mass reached down towards her. She jumped back, once again stumbling because of the other shoe, and let out an annoyed grunt before the shadows around her moved. They surrounded her momentarily, and when they vanished, her outfit was entirely different. Rather than her costume’s dress, now she wore pants, split down the middle with one side striped and the other plain black. The jacket she wore bore the same design, simply inverted, and seemed to have a red lining inside. Little embroidered spades, hearts, diamonds and clovers adorned it as well, but the biggest difference was on her face, where a black mask now sat and her blonde hair was now blackened like the rest,tied into a ponytail by a white ribbon. All this in a blink of an eye. The children did a double take. “How did you-” “No talk, just Meir fighting!” Kat called out, and when it struck out again, she blocked it with a black stick and hit it back. Another arm shot out at Lily, and she stumbled backwards onto the ground. It, however, only enveloped the bag of candy that she dropped, and retracted. Lily watched in horror and confusion. “It- It just wants our candy?” Lily asked, looking over to the two boys. They, at that point, threw two more pumpkins, one each, but all they did was melt into the mass of inky darkness. From Wesley’s side, he tried spraying it with water, but it also did nothing. Lily struggled to get up and ran over to her brother. “Throw the pumpkins at the masks,” she suggested. He nodded, and flung another one at yet another mask. It was not absorbed, rather it splattered across the material. “Block all the eyes so it can’t see,” William mumbled, nodding to Lily. Together, the three threw pumpkins at the monster, until all twelve eyes were covered and it was swiping blindly at them and screeching.

As it opened its mouth, a bright arrow came screaming past the children and into it. They jumped, and turned to look behind them as yet another passed by from down the street. They came from a man dressed in black and orange with a bow in his hand. A third and final arrow struck the creature, and it hissed and screamed before bubbling away, leaving a very confused child on the ground, surrounded by bags of candy. The man walked past William, his friends and even Katherine herself, to stand near the young boy on the ground. He walked with confidence and power, but when he knelt next to the child, he seemed gentle and almost sweet. “What happened?” he asked. The Wright twin’s eyes widened. They knew that voice. They also knew that costume. An undersuit of black with orange flames that looked as if they were moving despite being fabric, high orange boots, and a short jacket with full sleeves and a high collar. “Blaze,” Lily said to her brother, in a whisper. “Bayesh?” he replied, looking confused. William heard them and nodded. “My dad,” he confirmed, looking almost proud.

“I wanted to go out for Halloween. But my parents were too busy drinking to bring me out. I was upset and then… Poof. Now I’m here,” the little boy explained. “I just wanted some candy. I made myself a costume and everything out of stuff I found!” Bayesh nodded softly, and patted the kid on the head. “I understand. You did not mean to scare everyone. You just wanted to be a part of the celebrations.” Percy, overhearing the conversation, ran to pick up his fallen bag, and then handed it to the kid. “Here! You can have this,” he said, grinning, “I know it doesn’t fix anything, but… Hey, candy, right?” “Are you sure?” the boy asked. Noticing what he had done, William grabbed his, too, and handed it over. “Yeah! It’s no big deal to us,” he said. The boy looked teary eyed once more, but these were happy tears this time. Bayesh grabbed his hand and escorted him home, and they helped him carry the candy. As they walked, Wesley looked back to see if they had missed anything and noticed a boy standing near the spot they had encountered the Meir. He could see nothing but piercing golden eyes… But when he turned to look again, they, and the boy, were gone.

The parents were relieved to see their son back home and hugged him tightly. When he was sure the little one was safe, Bayesh left, and the rest followed him. “I am very proud of you for what you did, boys. It was very sweet of you to give him your candy,” he said. Embers fell from him as his outfit faded away, back to the sweater and jeans he had been wearing when they had left. Katherine also let hers fall in shadows, back to wearing her costume. “However-” he added harshly, turning on his heel, “ Your sister said that you should leave and, while I will admit your quick thinking was helpful, you are young and untrained. You should leave Meirs to those capable of handling them. That also goes for you, miss Katherine.” “I was trying to keep my brother safe,” she said, crossing her arms. “No. You wanted to fight. Do I look like a fool? Were you still living in my house, I would ground you. We are all going home. Immediately, do I make myself clear?” A chorus of “yes” rang out into the fall air.

#story of a hero #SOAH #SOAH8 #original story

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