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mearta · 4 years

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A Chevalier's Promise

A Chevalier x Bluhen Royal AU fic

Summary: To the outside world of Elrios, the Steel Queen and the newly appointed Grand Duke Ishmael have announced their engagement. Many speculate it was love at first sight; in reality, they have merely forged a political alliance to stabilize their respective reigns. Ciel, aside from his typical obligations as Her Majesty’s knight, must ensure things go smoothly with the alliance. Yet upon meeting a peculiar fellow, he soon realizes the troubles surrounding the Grand Duke are more than they appear.

Chapter 1: Encounter Amidst the Flowers

The party’s glitter and laughter was a dream in the distance. Ciel could never stomach the suffocating atmosphere. He stood outside with the warm embrace of moonlight near his shadow. The facades and faux kindness was no different than Lanox’s crime-tainted alleyways. Lu always noticed he was uncomfortable despite his best attempts to hide it. As a result, she allowed him to escape to the serenity of the palace’s garden whenever she hosted a ball. Ciel insisted he could tolerate parties, especially if it meant ensuring her safety. But the Queen was stubborn and reminded him she could defend herself. Ciel strolled past the fountain and into the hedge maze. He memorized the way out long ago. As Ciel turned the corner, a sea of flowers greeted him. In the center stood the largest flower, taller than even he; its purple petals reaching to touch the night.

In the Demon Realm, the palace’s garden had another name: the Garden of Haures. A maze teeming with flowers from the Demon Realm and Elrios was also home to the famous Haures flowers. Many visitors praised their beauty, but little did they know Ciel was responsible for clearing the pest problem that occurred when the Haures flowers bloom.

Ciel sighed, recalling the group of monsters that appeared the other day because of the Haures flowers’ scent. He shouldn’t be upset at that damn Annular for planting them; after all, Miss Iblis kept the poor man busy. In the rare chances he had a break, Annular would be here, tending to the garden.

Ciel approached a patch of iridescent, azure flowers. Under the moon, they looked straight out of an oil painting. Lu liked these flowers in particular because they matched Ciel’s hair color. He cared for this patch personally, and often she would ask for him to prepare bouquets of them to display around the palace.

“Oh my, shouldn’t a knight be accompanying his master?”

“Her Majesty is currently with the Grand Duke. Unless you are implying His Lordship cannot protect her,” Ciel said. He turned around and narrowed his eyes.

The owner of that sing-song voice wore a smirk. Ciel presumed the man in front of him was a noble. With a fur-lined, extravagant coat, he at the very least held some sort of title. However, Ciel did not recall green and black being fashionable colors in Elrios.

“I was merely trying to begin a conversation. Shall we start over by introducing ourselves?”

“I am Ciel, servant of Queen Luciela R. Sourcream.”

“Yes, I know. Nice to meet you, Sir Ciel.” The man‘s smile somehow became more irritating.

“And what is your name?”

“Sir Bluhen works just fine.”

“Well, Sir Bluhen, I do not believe we’ve met before.”

“Everyone knows of the demonic wench who picked up a half-demon stray.” Seeing Ciel’s hand move toward one of his shotguns, Bluhen giggled. “My apologies.”

“Your tongue certainly likes to flap.” Ciel relaxed ever so slightly.

“As long as Richter doesn’t mind-“

“Disrespecting Her Majesty’s fiancé is no different than disrespecting her.”

Bluhen waved his hand. “He and I are... what‘a the word... oh, friends. Please be at ease.”

“Is that so?” Ciel frowned.

The spies mentioned nothing of friends. The Grand Duchy of Elrianode’s sovereign was either found alone or with the clergy. In addition, Grand Duke Ishmael disliked humans. How could this one be any different? Regardless, no reports contained a description that matched Bluhen. While Ciel mulled over the possibilities, Bluhen moved closer. He squatted down and pointed at the patch of flowers.

“What are they called?”

“Lacrimosa Blossoms. Some of the older Demons refer to them as the Flowers of Requiem.”

“They’re quite nice. Reminds me of forget-me-nots.”

“Do you like forget-me-nots?”

After eyeing one of the flowers, Bluhen stood up. “You can say that. Richter is quite fond of them as well. It’s a shame we can’t grow flowers back home.”

“...Are you really friends with His Lordship?”

“All right, the truth is I’m his lover.”

“Excuse me?”

“Is there a problem?” Bluhen leaned closer to Ciel and whispered, “He can be quite aggressive, but I’m sure Her Majesty can make him submit to her whim.”

Ciel felt the warm breath against his neck. Bluhen took a step back. He chuckled at Ciel’s expression. “I’m kidding of course.”

“You...”

“It was fun talking to you, Sir Ciel. But I’m afraid I have to go. Send Her Majesty my regards.” Bluhen winked before walking away.

Lu and the Grand Duke were still together when Ciel entered the ballroom. The event had ended and the servants started to clean up. Leftover food was to be given away, decorations to be stored until next time, and any messes were to be eliminated. Ciel watched the maids and footmen to ensure they didn’t slack off. It would be a few weeks before the marble tiles saw another evening of dancing. Then his attention turned to the couple. To match Grand Duke Ishmael’s white clothes, she wore a white, backless dress. Embroidered patterns of gold lines the sleeves.

The couple looked good together albeit funny. Lu was the shorter one between her and the Grand Duke. Wearing high-heeled shoes helped to an extent. Ciel couldn’t imagine the Grand Duke acknowledging the obvious height difference. Neither could anyone else, yet the Grand Duke always leaned down to be within reach. Perhaps their alliance was too important to lose.

Lu touched the Grand Duke’s face.

“It’s okay to admit you’re tired.” Her voice was soft. She caressed his cheek until he caught her wrist.

“What about you, Luciela?”

“I’m used to faking smiles all the time.”

“You do not have to do so in front of me.”

Ciel was unaffected by their exchange of sweet words. He glanced at the servants. They continued to do their duties, but once the couple was away, they would start to gossip.

Ciel cleared his throat. “Your Majesty, please return to your room. Your Grace, I have also prepared a room for you to stay in.”

“Nonsense, Ciel. We’ll be sharing a room,” Lu said.

“Understood. Allow me to escort you back then.”

The two followed Ciel. He had a feeling the couple were holding hands while their footsteps echoed through the empty halls. The Palace of Abaddon was a wonder of architecture. Guests would often stop to marvel at the paintings, but Grand Duke Ishmael didn’t bat an eye. Ciel opened the door to Lu’s bedchambers. He was the last one to enter and closed the door behind him.

“You may stop pretending now,” Ciel stated.

Lu sighed in relief. She sat on the edge of bed. “Hey Ciel, what do you think?”

“Of what?”

She gestured to the Grand Duke who stood on the other side of the room. “I feel he needs to be more expressive.”

“I believe our performance is adequate enough for the public.” Any semblance of gentleness had been replaced with the cold, monotone, real authority belonging to the Grand Duke.

Ciel scratched his head. “The narrative we agreed to wasn’t violated as far as I could tell.”

The Steel Queen and the Grand Duke had a chance encounter, and multiple rendezvous were enough to break through the defenses around their hearts. Some nobles liked the idea of a love which transcended race, so the story spread throughout the Demon Realm. Of course, the people outside the Demon Realm were another story. A follower of Goddess Ishmael falling in love with not just a Demon, but the Steel Queen herself was unbelievable. That was another issue they needed to address. At the very least, there was time to change public opinion.

Ciel scrutinized the Grand Duke. The Grand Duchy of Elrianode was without a sovereign for centuries; according to various reports, the Lady of El and her El Masters were the government in the past. Then, the region and more was known merely as Elrianode. Yet one of the El Masters betrayed the Lady of El and his fellow Masters, leading to the explosion of the Giant El. The destruction ruined Elrianode and the land. Now the grand name of Elrianode was a shadow of its former splendor. Lu and Ciel speculated many times why the priestesses, the remains of Elrianode’s past, agreed to elect someone to take the mantle of Grand Duke. They thought of many reasons, but none of them held definitive weight.

“What is it, Mr. Half-Demon?” Grand Duke Ishmael glared at him.

The Grand Duke’s dislike of anything related to Demons was just as palpable as his distaste for humans. Ciel withheld his exasperation. “Do you know of Sir Bluhen?”

“Is he your knight?” Lu asked.

“Sir... Bluhen is often tasked with handling domestic affairs. Because he had spare time, he insisted on following me here.”

Lu nodded. “Does he know?”

“He is aware. Regardless, I would like to act upon the conditions we set before.”

“...I suspected as much.” Lu sighed. “Well then, Grand Duke Ishmael. What can I do to ease your burdens?”

“Give Sir Ciel to me.”

#elsword #cielain #elsword ain #elsword ciel #richter #chevalier #elsword luciel

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pretty-well-funded · 5 years

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question @ condition. Does Peter see Tony as a fatherfigure? Does Tony want it like that? Or is it just a kink for both of them?

this one took me a while because despite all the father...imagery is not the right word, but...vibes? that I’ve baked in, for some reason the term “father figure” made me go LOL NO.

I think maybe because people tend to use “father figure” to describe a more healthy substitute for an unhealthy or missing biological relationship? which is obviously Not This. but I also don’t want to get bogged down in semantics because I don’t think the term is really what you were specifically looking for.

so I think, in both of their minds, it’s...christ, it’s hard to wrap my own head around how I see this. the word “kink” also feels wrong because although obviously Tony is getting off on “Daddy” and wants Peter to call him that, I don’t think it’s quite a kink for them in the same way it is for normal people.

I think it’s really more about the archetype of control and authority, here. which is obviously a huge part of it for everyone, but I think (generally speaking) daddykink usually has a healthy helping of “warm, caring, and protective” layered over the control and authority, whereas that part is only useful to Tony insofar as it bonds Peter to him?

like, I think he enjoys playing at that sometimes - coddling Peter after he’s taken something too far, telling Peter that he’s safe because he’s going to take care of him - but it’s...fleeting. He doesn’t have the patience to make that a major part of their relationship. for him, the attraction really relies on total authority, complete dependence, harsh discipline, and withholding affection. like...the worst parts of the father template. the warmth and caring is a tool of control, more than a key feature of the dynamic.

and Peter, poor little bug - this is not long after he’s lost Ben. That’s what kicked this whole thing off: Ben was murdered, Peter blamed Tony (probably rightly, idk, I don’t particularly know what happened there), and started sabotaging his business in revenge. Peter was still mourning the loss of a second father figure, and probably (given most canon) the guilt of it somehow being his fault, so there was already a little self-loathing under the righteous anger. and Tony kind of snuck up on him with the father stuff - I mean, he literally withheld supper (and every other meal) when Peter was bad, not to mention “go to your room” getting a whole other meaning. but given the context, those weren’t OBVIOUSLY calling on the father thing. and at first the reading just seemed like a form of reward - one that had a very obvious brainwashing element since the reward was wrapped up in TONY. Tony’s voice, Tony’s...largesse. It’s not until Tony’s worked them around to being snuggled together during reading time that Peter initially thinks “father.” and then, you know, Tony immediately turns it to a molesty place, so Peter shoves that association aside. but even the way Tony initially approaches the sex is very...paternal? in the creepiest possible way, lol.

Tony starts using fatherly terms for Peter almost immediately as a reward for Peter’s compliance. but it’s not an accident that the first few times Tony calls himself Daddy are when Peter is so aroused / distracted / close to coming that he doesn’t consciously notice. and he waits until their dynamic is firmly established and Peter desperately needs the warmth/comfort component to make Peter use the term. And whenever Peter does, he’s rewarded by a dose of that caring / doting behavior.

you know what? I’m betting Tony had as fucked up a relationship with Howard as he did in every other universe, and I’m betting Tony sees himself as a pretty good father figure here. sure, he hurts Peter, but then he comforts him. He, himself, never got the second part. he rewards Peter for compliance, whereas he only got punished for disobeying, and ignored, the rest of the time. so yeah, maybe Tony WOULD use “father figure.”

but for Peter’s it’s more subconscious. Tony deliberately wormed his way into a gaping, festering hole in Peter’s life, and his arousal for the dynamic is a perfectly natural response but he probably would have left it subconscious, if given the choice. He would have gotten off on the dynamic without anyone ever explicitly naming what was happening. making it manifest, naming it, that’s a tool for Peter, just like the warmth is for Tony. because Tony gives him some leeway when he appeals to him with that term. it’s the closest thing he has to a safeword.

(holy fuck, this is why I love getting asks, haha. IT’S THE CLOSEST THING HE HAS TO A SAFEWORD. that is not a connection I made before, but Peter uses it as such multiple times. when Tony is too rough while fucking him, when he’s uncomfortable during the “family meeting.” let this be a lesson to you, kids, 50% of what I put into the fic is an accident, lol)

#condition commentary #Anonymous

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a-writing-bear · 6 years

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[PruCan WEEK 2018] Day 3 - Spellbinding Souls & Ageless Allure

Ao3 Link:

Link to this fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16166468

Link to previous fic (Day 2): https://archiveofourown.org/works/16154843

Link to PruCan Week 2018 Collection: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1145768

Tumblr Link:

Link to Day 2 fic ( Previous)

This Has been cross-posted onto FF & Ao3 under Aliases: BearBooper

You can read this Fic on Tumblr under ‘Keep Reading’

Fandom: Hetalia Axis Powers

Main Pairing: Gilbert Beilschmidt & Matthew Williams (Prussia & Canada)

Prompt: Mystery / Curiosity for @prucanweek

Summary: Magic AU! Gilbert is an Old Spirit of Mischief and arcane magic - he reminisces the first time he fell in love with the demigod of the forest.

Word Count: 1,711

Age Rating/Mature: All Audiences :)

Author Note: I’m not gonna lie, I’ve been itching to write another magic fic... I had a blast on this one! :D

Wisps of the forest seemed to be in a jovial mood as the soft breeze of frigid wind wound and whipped around the tall timber of the ever-stretching woods; The beauty of the forest still felt captivating, even after traversing through it’s miles of old earth for many years. Oaken towers of bare bark wept and whistled, contrasting their full-dressed pine brethren who relished in the oncoming cold with prickles still unplucked, ready to bare the hushed chill. winter was arriving and autumn had embraced it’s end with such bountiful harvests; Gilbert smirked. If only the locals knew of Matthew’s hard work to conjure the glorious growth that befell them this term. There was some melancholic beauty in the shivering ground and although the ancient mage preferred the view in its vibrant green state or its amber tones, he withheld the urge to intervene in its natural order. No wallowing flora would deceive him, nor the crawling fauna which was crying out for a healing warmth would trick him into touching it- His beloved would berate him for messing with the work of Mother Nature and of the other olden Gods.

It was peculiar for him. To now have the discipline to not interfere with the natural order or to pester the environment, and for what? The icy pale magi was an ancient master of his craft if he wanted he could be the harbinger of fear, instil curses upon a prideful soul or charm the village beauty with a simple evocative spell… he could have ransacked the valley for himself and live in the silent retreat he once yearned for. And yet, he chooses to wander in the elegance of his lover’s eloquent craft. Matthew’s attention to detail when working on his land was impeccable, and while it’s autumn glory felt ephemeral, he found it timely that the season change now; of course Matthew made the transition as gradual and untroubled as possible. His sore feet had brought him to the small familiar cottage. A warm fire must have been blazing as he saw the ashy smoke climb up and out of the chimney with a slow but steady drag. Matthew had to be working on a new spell- the door had been left open and footsteps suggested the man had recently gone out to pick at the rosemary bush in the dirt nearby. With a grin he walked in, making sure to shake off any residing dirt and too warm up his cheeks that were marked in pink by the seasonal weather. Hunched over a book and telekinetically balancing multiple tools (namely a spoon and a mixture of woodland ingredients) within the air, His beloved had been enthusiastically humming as if to harmonise with the crackling fire just ahead of them.

“A new breakthrough perhaps or have the ancient Lords given you a new project?” Gilbert mused, breaking the focus that the strawberry blonde had on his work, thus making the once floating objects clatter violently on the ground.

“Gil! You must see what Kiku had teleported to us! Wild ‘ Flammulina velutipes’ - Winter fungus!” Matthew had brought forth a handful of shrooms, ranging in shades of brown but all holding a distinct earthy smell. The pure amazement on the younger mage bewildered Gilbert; For the centuries Gilbert had moved along this existence, he had encountered this plant in the far east end of the world- what was so spectacular of this bunch that had excited his love? Obviously seeing this puzzlement, Matthew explained with great engagement over his research:

“It’s a rare brand of its own kind which can withstand winter! And I’ve grown these before but when cultivated it loses its colour for a milky white palette. It’s so difficult to find the wild versions but Kiku had many growing in his territory among the roots of his persimmon trees so he teleported a stock over to me!” Matthew’s grin growing ever so adoring and thankful, the gratitude evident in his soft eyes.

“I guess we’ll have to send him a gift then? Maybe another protectant charm for his people’s new harbours?” Gilbert supplied as he watched Matthew fiddle with putting away the sacred gift as well as picking up the dropped items and rummaging around to put them away. The pale man had picked up a few out of place belongings and stacked them neatly in order to assist in the cleaning.

“I thought so too, he’d been having trouble with the water spirits again. I just finished preparing one but I felt an owl would not be appropriate for a border-crossing journey and summoning Kuma to deliver it would be disrespectful to his spirit’s resting hour.”

“How about I send it over? I’m low on mana but I’m sure I’ve got enough stored for a simple token transport…” He trailed his busy bee lover as they made their way to the living room- Matthew helping Gilbert strip off his heavy cloak and grasp his hand to pull him closer.

“There is much mana to go around Gil, I’ve already finished my duty to the forest spirits, I won't be doing much anymore- just the simple casting. Go ahead to use my supply later. Rest first.” The two bundled up on a small raggedy couch, cuddling nearer in the glow of the fireplace and enjoying each other’s voices and strong grip.

He had fallen for Matthew centuries ago. Back when Matthew had been a mere mortal, born with the blessing of a forest deity. Gil had heard of his arrival and progression even from the far distance of his homeland, the story of an extraordinary soul being carried along by murmurs and rumours of wandering spirits. The waves of silky hair that had been sunkissed, and the eyes of a lavender in bloom, all finished with a face holding youth and a kindness that radiated tranquillity. Matthew was born to learn of the forest and to take care of its livelihood. Gilbert had been passing by, a simple detour in his travel to find a place to chaotically mess with- but as a young man whose face looked to naive to go against a power like him holding a staff pointing straight at him in defiance, the arcane magi knew this was no ordinary soul, tales of his prowess were faithful. The youth had approached him on a warm spring evening just as Gilbert had arrived to steal a thriving crop of flowers in a nearby field for some easy energy. Gilbert stopped his impulsive actions for a split second when he first gazed upon the enchanting soul. He had met many blessed magical folks, but like all blooming gifts, they would wither away within their short lifetimes. He had seen them come and go and he’d never expect to meet such a recent exception. Whereas many of the ancient gods were hesitant in keeping a chosen one alive for more than an average human lifetime, it became clear Matthew was much more devout and golden-hearted in his following and teachings - so much so Lady Terra had given him the prize of eternal youth and immortal breath. This did not corrupt him, and so a simple conjurer rose from the ranks of plain magic-bearing folk to becoming a preacher of the divine; Destined to also be the stealer of Gilbert’s affections and the banisher of his past cruelties.

He admired Matthew. Originally his lingering on this continent was excused by his curiosity over this new demigod, but that morphed into an infatuation over his brilliance and the bold felicity he displayed. His soul had an ineffable grace to it, tinged in an introverted humble magnificence which Gilbert was absolutely lured towards. To Matthew, Gilbert was a complete mystery; there was a distinct blurring of his past when he was questioned and in the beginning he only he knew Gilbert to be a product of much older times, times even before the great age they were currently in. Times when darkness was rampant and gods did not seek to comfort their people. At first, it was off-putting to have such a powerful being watch and follow him, but he supposed Gilbert was bored or that, like him, had discovered a while back how lonely immortality could be. They thrived off each other, like how their magic thrived off their surroundings, trust and beliefs.

It was very odd at first- when they had decided to work together. Arcane magic like Gilbert’s required intense amounts of energy, and most of the time finicky ceremonial practices must be conducted in order to tame said raw energy. Theurgy was a picky gimmick he supposed, the discipline was obnoxious and time-consuming. The complete opposite was to be said of Matthew’s….low magic (Which apparently was insulting to say)... as it focused on already present sources of energy instead of pulling it from other realms; It was practical magic that was practised on simpler spells and much simpler rituals. Tasks and objectives were clear with folk magic. The skills that bled into it were easy day-to-day kinesis and at the most complicated level, spells would involve spirit summoning like Matthew’s animal companion Kuma. Arcane magic was unpredictable in comparison to the intricately crafted logic-filled spellwork of the newer beings. Matthew’s spells fed off the rawer energy that Gilbert’s presence had provided and the other man’s feral sorcery was neutralised around the demigod’s aura. They were balanced and synced and it made them more than happy to use it as an excuse to bask in each other’s existence. It also helped of how fond they were of each other’s smiles and sweet serenities.

His fingers had been mindlessly twirling strands of his lover’s hair, catching and twisting in the movement as they bother lazed around. Pushed up against his chest, the blonde had somehow conjured a woven blanket and snuggled up pleasantly into Gilbert’s personal space. It had been centuries since he met Matthew and there was still no sense of foreboding desire to run away or to break loose, and he sincerely hoped he never has such awful thoughts. They cherished the company and with his lips pressing into his soulmate’s own, even in such cold weather did his heart grow cosy with love.

#prucanweek #prucan #hetalia #hetalia axis powers #Axis Powers Hetalia #Hetalia Fanfiction #prompts #prucanweek2018

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gabrielxreader · 7 years

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Wings: Molt

Request: I am absolutely in love with anything having to do with the reader’s ability to see Gabe’s wings (aka soulmate fics!) Would you maybe consider doing a Winchester!reader fic like that?

A/N: OMG. I’m floored. I was going to wait and queue this for Friday but the response to the first one after just an hour was stunning. Tagging @beccaamm and @fabmagines

Author: Holly

Warnings: I don’t think there are any?

Characters: Y/N, Gabriel, Castiel

Word Count: 2,148

Y/N = Your Name

Part Two: Molt

Soulmate. Âme sœur. Alma gemela. Línghún bànlǚ. Sōrumeito.

According to the legends, humans all had a soulmate, another half. They were one entity when together, with two hearts that beat as one. In a fit of jealousy, Zeus struck down all of the soulmates, forcibly separating them so that they would wander the world, eternally searching for their missing half. According to Castiel, that was a ridiculous notion; souls were rarely perfectly compatible, but it did happen, and it was always predestined because God would never make such a precise connection on accident.

So – in the months since finding out that yours was Gabriel – you couldn’t stop asking yourself why you were perfectly matched to someone who couldn’t be bothered to so much as say hello.

Life went on, as it always had. After losing your mother and brother, it wasn’t exactly hard to persevere after Gabriel disappeared, but it wasn’t easy, either. For a long time, it felt like you were just going through the motions. Then, one day, you woke up to Sam beating Dean with a pillow and shouting about how Dean gave his laptop a virus, and you realized that there were still normal things in the world, normal relationships to have in spite of the apocalypse, and so you smacked yourself upside the head and made yourself continue with life. You found little pleasures that made the days nice enough, even though you still missed the man (celestial, angel, whatever) who’d been your best friend.

Things still happened, though. It took you a while to see them from behind your selective ignorance and your bitterness. You would fall asleep freezing and wake up as warm as a toasted marshmallow, feeling all soft and fuzzy and content from a long, deep sleep. You would have the sniffles and take a nap, waking up refreshed and healthy enough to fight demons. The one time a demon managed to get you on your own and Castiel wasn’t available, you reached to the side for something, anything, to defend yourself with and your hand wrapped around the handle of a blade. You shoved it through the demon and watched it light up and die – but it wasn’t Ruby’s knife. You suspected it was an angel blade. Once you put it down, it was gone.

It all made you feel a little bit better to know that Gabriel hadn’t just abandoned you, but it still didn’t make up for that you hadn’t had the chance to talk to him. You were… well, you were lonely, and Sam and Dean were furious that your soulmate was an archangel. It took Castiel scolding them both for them to shut up about it.

You woke up one winter night in Missouri to find a coppery feather laying over your arm. It was light and tickled. Its ethereal, color-shifting, supernatural properties had faded. It looked like any other feather, but its gentle touch was soothing and heated, and you knew without a doubt that it had come from your soulmate.

It wasn’t much, but you were warm and you had proof of Gabriel’s presence for the first time since you learned exactly how close you were. It was like he was giving you an olive branch, or promising that he would try to come back.

You strung the feather on a necklace with some supplies from a craft store and began wearing the necklace regularly. Aside from the sentimentality, you’d found that demons and angels alike could tell that the feather belonged to an angel, and it made them think twice about attacking you.

Castiel had been on the hunt for something or another. It wasn’t God, and he wasn’t having luck finding it, so you couldn’t be bothered to care too much. You expressed your apologies that he was unsuccessful and then went back to thinking about the incredibly painful deaths of several pillars of a small college community.

“Where are Sam and Dean?” Castiel asked, looking around the hotel room and realizing that you were alone.

“They’re talking to the research assistant who was working with Mariano.” You answered, pointing to a note you’d made in your notebook. Mariano was the second of the string of supernatural-related incident. “I can relay your message, but you’re always welcome to hang out with me until they get back,” you offered.

Cas considered, seemed to reluctantly come to a decision, and sat down on the edge of the bed. “If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t.”

The angel was quieter than a shadow, sitting like a statue on the mattress. You kept trying to find a connection between the victims, but there was hardly anything overlapping between them. Without thinking about it, you lifted your hands to your necklace and started to play with the feather, stroking your fingers delicately down the vein. Hands still occupied, you turned around to Cas.

“Hey,” you said for his attention, “Is there any chance you could sneak me into the morgue?”

Castiel opened his mouth to answer, looking calm and placid but a little confused by your question. Before he could ask, his eyes raptly fixated on your necklace. “Where did you get that?” He asked, standing.

You paused and covered the feather in a loose fist protectively. Maybe it was silly to be so attached to it, but it was from Gabriel. It was the only tangible proof you had that he was still around.

“Gabriel left it with me a while ago,” you answered, suddenly kind of shy. “I know it’s not much, but – but I thought he wouldn’t come back, and this is like a promise that he will.” Cas’s expression darkened. “I mean, he can’t really give me presents, because I have to travel lightly at any moment, so this is like a small token of apology that he’s gone while he handles – whatever it is he has to be away from me to handle.”

Castiel stared at you, tilting his head for a long time. No, you realized, when his eyes stayed fixated on your throat. He’s staring at the feather.

Abruptly, he stated flatly, “I must leave. Please inform Dean of my progress.”

“What progress?” You asked, raising your eyebrows. There was no progress. All Castiel was doing was making himself more frustrating chasing after rumors, and although you were too nice to crush his spirit, you believed that he was wasting his time.

Castiel didn’t answer. He had vanished right out of thin air while you were still asking, and aside from how rude it was that he just left in the middle of your sentence, you were left deprived of any sort of angelic transportation services.

You huffed. “Who’s going to help me break into the morgue now?”

The answer to your question was no one. Dean and Sam took it upon themselves to go investigate and look for the evidence you hoped might be there. You took advantage of the relieved burden and went to bed early. Dean could survive on four hours a night, but you were two more nights away from snapping.

You only woke up when you felt two more people arrive in your room near your bed. The incensed, hissed whispers only roused you faster. “Damn it, let go of me, you stupid fledgling!” Gabriel’s voice growled at Castiel.

“Not until you help yourselves,” Castiel sternly maintained, disobeying orders from the one angel he would still take them from. You sat up, rubbing your eyes, and stared ahead. Even through the darkness, you could make out the shadows and outlines of their bodies. “You are acting like a cherub, Gabriel. You are my brother. Y/N is my friend. Your ill-advised avoidance is harming you both.”

Your hand fumbled for the lamp. Yellowy light made Gabriel’s hair and Castiel’s trench coat look like gold straw. “What the hell?” You complained. “The only one hurting right now is me. Can this wait until morning?”

Then you saw the state of Gabriel’s wings, and you barely withheld a gasp.

His beautiful, soft, strong wings looked like they’d been grabbed, tugged, and malnourished. The elegant arch along the top was pulled in close to his vessel’s body, and they looked a little smaller. The powerful muscle was thinner and the feathers themselves looked greasy, uneven, and dull. The feathers were less evenly layered, almost sparse in some spots. The sight of your powerful and healthy archangel looking so sick and hurt made you feel nauseous.

“What happened?” You whispered, feeling heartbroken. You pushed the blanket away and crawled to the edge of the bed towards them. Castiel had a vice-like grip on Gabriel’s wrist and a lighter, but still tight, hold of the top of his left wing. When Gabriel slumped forward defeatedly, avoiding your eyes, Castiel released him and stepped back.

“My brother failed to consider the ramifications of being removed from his soulmate.” Cas scolded. His eyes moved to meet yours. “And how it would impact you.”

“I considered,” Gabriel snapped, his face red and his arms crossed. “I just decided not to care.”

Castiel continued like Gabriel hadn’t spoken. “When you touched his Grace in the car, some of it stayed with you. You are one of two entities in the entire universe, Father exempt, compatible with his power. After Gabriel ran away, it had nowhere to go but to stay with you. Being removed from a fraction of his Grace has been taking its toll.”

You looked to Gabriel, asking silently if it was true. He refused to look at you, which was an answer on its own.

You felt part of your world crash. Your best friend, your soulmate, had chosen to hurt himself over forcing himself to stay and spend time with you. Maybe… maybe he didn’t care about you as much as you’d thought. Maybe he hated that you were his soulmate. Maybe he wanted you to be someone else.

Castiel saw no words pass and sighed, taking it upon himself to manage the reconciliation.

“What you can see now of his wings is the real representation of what this unnecessary separation has done to him. His vessel doesn’t portray his health accurately. He would have been fine, had he not recklessly and selfishly left you for such a long period of time, but that would have been asking a lot of someone who didn’t have the willingness to explain his absence, thus leaving his significant other to believe that they might not even hear from him for an extended period of time.” Cas sounded angrier than you had ever heard him. “The feather you assumed was left for you was an accidental result of his wings molting as his Grace withers.”

You felt doubly sick.

“What did I do?” You begged, crumpled at the foot of the bed, clasping your hands together. You looked up to Gabriel pleadingly, desperate for an answer. “What did I do so wrong that you would rather slowly kill yourself than come talk to me?”

Gabriel’s expression turned from cold and stubborn to hurt and surprised. “Sugar, you didn’t do anything,” he answered, reaching for your knee. He put his hand on your thigh. His wings started to unfurl, coming forward towards you as if he wanted to wrap you up in a huge embrace.

You sniffed involuntarily. “Then why would you do this?” The feelings of abandonment all came rushing back.

Gabriel lowered himself slowly into a kneel. He grimaced in the process, like it hurt to move too much. “Y/N, do you have any idea what will happen if Lucifer or Michael learns that we’re soulmates? They will never stop. There are no lines. They will hurt you.”

“And if they don’t know, they’ll leave me alone?” You scoffed. “They’ve both already tried to have me killed. It’s thanks to you and Cas that I’m even alive now. I know I’m not very strong, and I’m not a great fighter, but aren’t I safest with you? And you can’t even swoop in at the last minute if you’re letting yourself deteriorate. Please. Please, if nothing else, don’t let this happen for my sake. Be strong and healthy. You’re immortal. Don’t give up on yourself for someone who’s going to die in less than a century anyway.”

“But how can I stay and live with myself if you’re broken just to break me? Like Cassie said, Y/N, I’m selfish.” His eyes bored into yours like he was trying to tell you a secret. You were trying to understand. “I can’t lose what I have, so I can’t have anything.”

“Have me,” you urged. “Have me for now, and worry about the rest later, when you’ve selfishly ensured that you’ll still be alive later.” You gave him a forced, halfhearted smile. “Besides,” you chuckled anxiously. “Let me be a little selfish and have you, too.”

#hollykasakabe #holly kasakabe #holly writes #wings #molt #soulmate #angst #a little fluff #Gabriel x reader #Gabriel #castiel #gabrielxreader #series #request #reader insert

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queen-of-deans-booty · 7 years

Text

Hook Man- Part 1

Pairing: Eventual Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,965

Warnings: Typical Supernatural violence, angst, language, minor character death, blood, you know the usual

Summary: You never thought Bloody Mary would be a real legend. So when you were presented with the idea that the Hook Man could be real, you took no chances.

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Please, if you want to be tagged for this series, let me know and I’ll add you! If you want to be tagged for my other fics, I’ll add you! I want to hear what you guys think about this.

Read the backstory for this episode!

You go Camping with Dean

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The search for John was getting colder with each day that passed. You tried to give the boys hope but it wasn’t working too well. Sam was losing faith in this whole thing and Dean was shutting himself from everyone else to hide how he really felt.

But you knew.

You could hunt all you want but there is and always has been one goal: Be a family again. You couldn’t do that if John was missing. Just like the start of every case, either Sam or Dean was looking for one while you tried to aid and assist.

Sam was trying to call people that might know where John is and Dean was searching for a case on Sam’s laptop. You were in a rundown café, not really paying attention to what was going on around you.

“We’ll find John. He’s out there, somewhere and he may not want our help but he’s going to get it.” You said to Dean. The boys have been hoping and wondering where John was but no information was found. It was like John didn’t want to be found. It was all very weird to you.

“I know we’ll find him.” Dean said without looking up. You sipped your coffee and looked around you, hoping no one would recognize you from the police pictures from the last hunt. “Hey, your cheek is looking better.”

“Yeah, that shifter can hit. Wow, I’m more worried about being sent to jail than my cheek.” You joked. The bruise the shifter left was barely there but it took a while for it to go away.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.” Dean sighed.

“You did.” You smiled at him. He protected you from anything and everything. It was one of the reasons you were in love with him. You watched Sam hang up the payphone and make his way over to you.

“So, anything?” Dean sounded hopeful but it was more likely false hope than anything.

“No, there is nothing in the FBI’s Missing Persons Data Bank or any John Doe fitting his description. I even had them run his plates for traffic violations but nothing turned up.” Sam said with a sigh. The search for this man was wearing you out more than it should. Where could one man be?

“Sam, maybe your father doesn’t want to be found.” You looked at him to see his shoulders sag and you nodded to Dean to let him show Sam what he found.

“Check this out,” Dean said, showing Sam the laptop. “It’s a news item out of Planes Courier. Ankeny, Iowa. It’s only about a hundred miles from here.”

“The mutilated body was found near the victim’s car, parked on 9 Mile Road. Authorities are unable to provide a realistic description of the killer. The sole eyewitness, whose name has been withheld, is quoted as saying the attacker was invisible.” You explained, watching Sam’s reaction.

“This could be something.” Dean pointed it out.

“Or it could be nothing at all. One freaked out witness who didn’t see anything? Doesn’t mean it’s the Invisible Man.” Sam shrugged.

“Sam, what if it is? You know John would have checked it out.” You said to him.

“Fine.” Sam said, grabbing his coffee and walking towards the car. Dean huffed and shut the laptop, frustrated with his brother.

“He’ll come around, Dean.” You said, grabbing your coffee and heading to the car with him. You were on the road in no time, speeding towards the state you’ve never been to.

“So how am I going to explain why I’m at a fraternity house?” You asked, looking at the house in front of you.

“Sweetheart, I’m sure you’ll come up with something.” Dean said as he parked in front of the house. You saw about three men working on cars and you knew just how you would be let in. You have to use what you can use best: your sexuality.

You were thankful you wore shorts and a tight shirt as you got out of the car. You looked at the men who stared you down. You hated feeling like a piece of meat but you needed to get inside and that required a bunch of college boys to think with their dicks and not their heads.

“We’re your fraternity brothers from Ohio. We’re new in town and looking for a place to stay.” Dean smiled at the guys who looked at him strangely.

“Who’s she?” One of them said, eyeballing you.

“What? I came to drop my brothers off.” You pulled down your shirt a little and they smirked. You saw Dean take a glance at you and he rolled his eyes.

“My God…” He muttered, walking past the men as Sam went in front of him. You walked behind Sam and you could tell all eyes were not on you but your ass.

“Hey, eyes to yourself.” Dean snapped at them. You giggled and walked inside, looking around. You followed Dean up to a room with its door open and a man who was painting his body purple.

“Who are you?” The guy said, looking at you in the mirror he was in front of.

“We’re your new roommates.” Dean smiled and walked in with Sam.

“Who is she?” He smirked at you through the mirror.

“My sister so back off.” Dean rolled his eyes.

“Do me a favor? Get my back. Big game today.” The frat boy smiled and held out a paint brush to Dean. He looked at you and smirked again. “Unless you would like to do it.”

“I’ll do it.” Sam said, grabbing the paintbrush and the paint bucket, getting to work.

“So, Murph, is it true?” Dean asked, looking at some magazines. You didn’t know how he knew his name but he did. You walked in further and looked around but went to Dean and stood next to him. Oh, the magazine had a name on it.

“Is what true?” Murph asked.

“We heard one of the guys around here got killed last week.”

“Yeah, he did.” Murph said sadly.

“What happened?” Sam asked him, continuing his work.

“They’re saying some psycho with a knife is around here. Maybe a drifter passing through. Rich was a good guy.” Murph said.

“Was he with someone?” Sam wondered

“Not just somebody, Lori Sorensen.” He said that like you were supposed to know who she was.

“Who’s that?” you asked.

“Lori is a freshman and a hot one at that. Plus, she’s the reverend’s daughter.” Murph smiled.

“You wouldn’t happen to know which church, would you?” You asked, sliding your hand sneakily into Dean’s jacket. Thankfully, he was busy pointing his eyes somewhere else to notice and you slipped his keys out, holding them in your hands.

“Yeah, the one that’s across from the college. They’re having service now and I bet Lori is there.” You smiled and nodded, clasping your hands together.

“Great, why don’t I check that out and you three can get acquainted better.” Dean and Sam both looked at you with wide eyes.

“You don’t have the keys.” Dean reached into his pocket but frowned when he didn’t find them.

“No, I think it would be great if you stayed. I mean, she’s not really supposed to be in here and we could use some extra help getting ready for the game.”

“I’ll pick you up later.” You grinned and held up the keys in front of Dean and if he was a cartoon, you would see smoke coming out of his ears at how pissed he was. Before you could get in trouble, you ran out of the place and to Dean’s car, getting in and starting it.

Dean chased after you but you drove off before he could get to you. You grinned and rolled the windows down. To hell with Dean if he says you couldn’t drive the car. You were a great driver and he would need to get over it.

You loved the feel of the Impala’s purr as you drove. She was really a work of art and you were damned if something bad happened to her. You reached the church in no time. You parked and got out, pocketing the keys. You hoped not to interrupt so you quietly opened the door and slipped inside, making sure not to slam the door.

“The loss of a young person is particularly tragic. A life unlived is the saddest of passings. So, please, let us pray. For peace, for guidance, and for the power to protect our children.” Some people must have heard you come in because a girl looked back as you slipped into one of the pews. You saw as everyone bowed their heads and you did the same, out of respect.

The service ended soon after that and you were still seated, waiting for everyone to pass by you. You gathered bits from here and there but when someone said Lori’s name, you perked up and saw a woman walk up to Lori. They both smiled and started talking, walking outside of the church. You got up, heading outside to see if you could talk to them.

You watched from the doors as the two women talked. The other woman seemed to be convincing Lori of something but when the other woman walked away, you took your chance.

“Are you Lori?” You smiled politely.

“Yeah.” She nodded.

“My name is Y/N and I just transferred to the University.”

“I saw you inside.” She nodded.

“I don’t want to bother you. I just heard about what happened and I wanted to say how sorry I am. I know what you’re going through. I saw someone die as well. It’s not something you just forget.” You said gently. You saw an older gentleman walk up to you and you knew he was the reverend by the way he was dressed.

“Dad, this is Y/N. She’s a new student.” You smiled and shook her dad’s hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you sir. I must say, that was an inspiring sermon.” You said with a smile.

“Thank you very much. It’s so nice to find young people who are open to the Lord’s message.” Her dad nodded.

“Listen, I’m new in town and I was wondering if there was a church group?” You needed him away so you could talk to the daughter.

“Yes, there is indeed, let me go get the information and I’ll find you when I do. “He smiled and walked off, leaving you and Lori alone.

“Tell me, what are the police saying?” You looked at her, walking with her. She seemed glad of the subject change for a bit.

“Well, they don’t have a lot to go on. I think they blame me for that.” She sighed.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s because of the story I told them. I was so scared and I guess I was just “seeing things”. But I know what I saw.”

“Just because you think it’s unbelievable, doesn’t mean it wasn’t real. What did you see, by the way?” You smiled nicely.

“Have you ever heard of the Hook Man?” She asked you. She told you all about what it was and what she saw. You just couldn’t wait to tell Dean and Sam.

“Thank you for your time, I appreciate it.” You smiled.

“Maybe you can find me at the university. I know what it’s like to be new and not know anyone.” You nodded and smiled, walking away from her and to Dean’s car. You got in and started her up, driving back to the frat house. You knew Dean would be pissed and he would never let you touch his car again but it was well worth it.

Part Two

Masterlist // Series Rewrite Masterlist // Buy me a Coffee?

Series Rewrite tags:

@helllonearth @amyisabellal @deanwnchstr @caseykitten6 @roxalya19 @quixoticcat

Forever tags:

@deans-shorter-squirrel @maddieburcham1 @ginamsmith @mogaruke @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @whit85-blog @inlovewithbja

Dean tags:

@akshi8278 @mega-mrs-dean-winchester @winchesterandpie

Other tags:

@jensen-jarpad @notnaturalanahi @deathtonormalcy56 @27bmm

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