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scarofthewind · 4 years ago

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Touch at Midnight || Vampire!Brahms x Reader

A/N: This took so long, I am sure half of you forgot about this mini series I did. I’m sorry this took forever, I was just trying to make it perfect as well as work on requests too. I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: NSFW, R18+, breast worship, blood kink, biting, oral (m receiving), dom!brahms, rough sex, no prep, reader is under mind control so consensual/non-consensual, mentions of masturbation, plenty foul/dirty talk, creampie

word count: 2.01k Tip Jar (every bit helps!)

Mini Series Masterlist

There was a time in your life that you thought you’d live past eighty and get to watch your children, grand-children and even great-grand-children, grow up. There was a time that you believed in the world being a decent place and that you would make your mark on it one day. Now, you realized just how delusional it all sounded. Now, you knelt before a man you thought you knew, thought you would grow old with, thought you would love forever, your life dangling before you with nothing to spare.

When you had met Brahms, you never thought anything of him; just that he was a strange man who liked to keep to himself. You’d applied for a job to work under him; to cook, clean and care for him, as though he couldn’t do it himself. During the first few months of your duties, things were tense with you being new and Brahms really trying to understand what kind of woman you were. However, as the months went on into years, you slowly became drawn to the man, often times thinking of him from dusk until dawn.

Your mistake really.

See, you had no clue that he was a monster; something only silly children believed in. He was soft and gentle before you’d found out- another mistake on your part. Now he stared down at you with dark eyes that were once directed towards you with such kindness and joy that you almost fell for it; you did fall for it the more you realize. You fell for a man with no remorse for taking a human life, a man that could kill you with just one movement, a man that you didn’t know. Those thoughts alone nearly killed you.

You’d been sitting on the floor in front of his chair he had in the corner of the library, the moon peeking through the window curtains and casting a small amount of light towards his feet. His eyes were the only thing you could see on his face here in the dark; red with an anger so hot you had to pray he’d have mercy on you. You don’t know how long you’d been like this, unable to move as he stared down at you without moving an inch. The hair on your skin rose when he finally spoke, slow but sharp, “You had to be nosey, didn’t you?” Your lips trembled as you contemplated speaking. “I truly had no intention of ever hurting you; you did your work around the house wonderfully. Dare I say that you were the best at it?”

Your heart hammered in your chest at the confirmation of other caretakers before you, all of which were most likely dead. They probably got too comfortable too and went looking around in places that were off limits for a reason. Like his bedroom; where you remember finding a trunk full of blood bags from the hospital down the road. “Please,” you whimpered, watching him blink before shaking his head, silencing you.

“I’ve spent years in that pretty little head of yours, listening to everything. I know all of your secrets, (Y/N).” You sucked in a breath as he leaned forward in his chair, hovering over your face with a look that only made you want to cower even more. “I’m honored to know how fond you were of me, truthfully I am. I’d grown fond of you as well, but,” he clicked his tongue, reaching out and grabbing your jaw roughly, ignoring your whimpers of pain. “You know too much.”

“Please, I won’t tell anyone I swear! Just let me go and I’ll leave tow-” you were cut off by a sharp laugh; Brahms’ eyes wild and manic.

“Leave? No, no, no, you’re never leaving me.” His eyes were intense, red as the flames of hell and staring into your own without so much as blinking. “Here are your options; be my personal blood bank until you die, which is usually a couple of weeks, or, prove to me that you’re worth keeping alive. Of course, both require you to stay here with me,” Brahms touched your cheek gently with his other hand, moving some hair from your eyes.

“You know I care about you, don’t you (Y/N)? Don’t you want to stay with me?” His words had an effect on your mind that made it hard to think. The world seemed to slow, as if you’d been drugged, but you knew that it was just the power he had, manipulating your mind to believe that whatever he said was true. You could feel tears fall from your eyes as you stared into his condemning ones, a soft hush falling from his lips as he wiped the tears away.

It was wrong for you to say yes, you knew it even though you couldn’t stop it. Yet, some dark part inside of you almost wished he would keep you this way; brain being manipulated by whatever he wanted for the rest of your days. At least that way, you could imagine everything being right; you could day dream on the thoughts he forced inside your head. One’s where you end up with him, one’s where your happy.

One’s where he loved you just as much as you loved him.

This isn’t love, you thought as you made yourself sit up enough to press your lips against his.

This isn’t what I wanted, you told yourself when he spread his legs in the chair and you unzipped his pants.

This wasn’t how I was supposed to live, you cried as his fingers moved through your hair, guiding your mouth up and down his cock.

All you could do was prove to him that your life meant more than just being used as food. The buck of his hips every time you swirled your tongue around the tip of his cock made your eyes sting, the length making it hard to take all of it in your mouth. “You look so pretty like this,” Brahms gasped as he felt you take more of his member in your mouth, his eyes scanning your face and his mind going a mile a minute. He knew everything you were thinking as he pushed more ideas into your head, his control on you something he wished he’d never have to do.

A lulling tug of tiredness waved in the back of his head, knowing that he hadn’t gotten to eat tonight because of the unfortunate incident of you finding his real food supply in his room. Of course, fresh blood always tasted so much better than the crap he had in bags. Brahms felt himself grow bored of watching you try to make him come, you jaw surely was hurting by now. Roughly grabbing your hair, he pulled you off his cock before standing up and pulling you up with him. You barely could get a word out as he turned you facing the front of the shiny, black piano, bending you down to where your front half was pressed against the cool surface.

He wasted no time in ripping your clothes off of you, throwing them around the room and spreading your legs for his wandering eyes to see. A low growl made your cunt clench as he watched your juices build at your entrance where he drug the tip of his cock across. Brahms gave you no warning before sinking inside you to the base, the air practically taken from your lungs as he began moving immediately, your tight walls getting him off perfectly. “Do you know how many nights I wanted to do this?” He asked as he thrusted his hips roughly, the tip of his cock ramming against your cervix with no signs of easing up. “I’ve watched you, my innocent, precious (Y/N). Your fingers stuffing this filthy whole of yours as you squirm in bed, trying to cum.”

You can feel your walls tighten around his length at his words, your hands trying to grip the flat surface of the piano from the force he was jostling you around with. Your breasts bounced wildly, his hands coming up from your hips to find purchase there. His fingers pinched your nipples, twisting them and pulling until you were soaking his cock in your juices. “Did you know I was watching you touch yourself? I bet you did; you liked it didn’t you? Having someone else watch you fuck yourself until your tired...hmm?”

“N-No,” you groan, trying to reason with yourself, but the impending orgasm you felt building making it all the harder to. Quickly, Brahms moved you to where you were facing him, your back fully pressed against the piano as he fucked into you at an in-human pace. You couldn’t help the sounds that were coming out of your mouth, urging him to continue.

“I know what’s in your mind, my love. I’ve seen you think of me while you squirt all over the sheets,” you tremble at his words as his thumb barely grazes your clit. His mouth moving to your breasts, taking one nipple into his mouth and nibbling on it before teasing it with his tongue. With one sharp sting, he sinks his teeth into your breast, a short cry coming from your lips as he eases his hip movements while lapping at the blood pooling from the wounds. “If only you could see in my mind too. Then you could see just how man nights I’ve fucked my fist to the thoughts of this.” He chuckled to himself, licking his lips that were stained crimson. Pulling his head back, he stared down at you with something you didn’t recognize.

The feeling was good though. Something positive out of the emotional negative you’d been put through. Brahms nearly stilled when you reached up and touched his face, his eyes watching yours for any signs of you trying to get away; all he found was sincerity. Running your fingers through his curly hair, you pressed his head down to yours where he kissed you without another word. From there, the sex was as beautiful as the day you first met him. Then, there had been sun, now there was the moon shining down on both of you. When he had first shaken your hand is was cold but now as he held yours, pinned above your head, it was all warm.

His teeth managed to find your neck, biting there and feeding a couple of times but other than there, his lips never left yours which were swollen from the heatedness of the kiss. You moaned into his mouth when his fingers circled your clit, your thighs shaking from the intensity of the orgasm that proceeded to wash through you. Brahms made sure to hold you close, swallowing your gasps and cries of pleasure as he eased you through your orgasm. His cock twitched inside you a few more times before he finally came, deep inside you with no regrets. Everything was quiet for a minute, your lips molding against his and the soft pants leaving them was the only sound left.

When he finally pulled away, you could see the glowing red of his eyes fade, returning to their normal hazel color and looking down at you with the kindness you had once known. His hands moved the hair out of your face and wiped away any tears that still fell, his fingers gentle against your skin. This may have been a different man to you now, but he was still the Brahms you’d fallen in love with years ago.

That was enough to make you stay.

#🏵.original work #😈.smut #horror imagines #horror x reader #au #Slashers #slasher x reader #slasher imagines #brahms the boy #brahms heelshire #brahms x reader #brahms: the boy 2 #brahms heelshire x reader

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jjungkooksthighs · 4 years ago

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Claws of Carnality | jjk (7)

Pairing: alpha jungkook x omega reader

Genre: smut, fluff and angst, abo/werewolf!au, soulmate!au, fantasy!au

Rating: 18+ / nsfw

Word Count: 7.4k

Summary: When you and your alpha rivetingly reunite for the Offering Ceremony, you are thoroughly twitterpated in his display of intent to you that colors your entire being with affection for him, but you will soon find that he isn’t the only one that has his sights set on you...

Warnings: alpha!jungkook, possessive!jungkook, jealous!jungkook, dom!jungkook, sub! reader, omega!reader, mentions of breeding/ruts/heats, mentions of blood, mentions of a mark, slick and pre-ejaculatory production, scenting, mating rituals and hunting

A/N: What a ride this chapter has been. From the many drafts I had of the original version that went through various reworks before I initially posted and then onto the deletion of that from Tumblr only for an alternate version to be made in my efforts to better guide understanding of the story, this chapter has started from one destination and landed somewhere across the other side of the world.

I hope that this version is easier to digest after the heaviness of the original and much work has been done to ensure that. All feedback that was given to me on the previous rendition of this chapter was greatly appreciated even if some of it hurt, so those who reached out, I thank you. I hope that you all will continue to let me know what your thoughts are as I thrive on comments and feedback that show to me what you guys really think about my work. Please make me a happy author and share your feedback with me on this revised version that I made just for you guys!

Also, you will notice the gif I used this time is different. That is because that look is what Jungkook has somewhere in this chapter (because lbr here I am a slut for Black Swan Jungkook). There might additionally be an insert that looks somewhat familiar to something we have all screamed over, so that will be interesting to see if anyone catches what it is.

For my readers that enjoy auditory stimulus while they read, I wrote this chapter entirely to Jungkook’s “My Time” and I implore you to listen to that while you read because it really sets the mood and perspective I had in the sentiments that I wanted to convey for this part (not to mention I fucking love that song like a child adores their favorite toy). You may find while listening that a certain part resonates especially deep with it. Bonus points to anyone that catches the special allusion!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 8 Part 9

Suffering in silence amid the agonizing absence of your alpha, every second spent without him is dragged on by cruel hands of time that languidly pass with lethargy in the wake of the sun’s slumber.

Despite the powerful paroxysms that wrack every fiber of your being, your heart paddles agog with anticipation while you wait anxiously for your alpha as your irises sweep like a whirlwind through the woodland in the distance in their frantic frenzy to find under their storm the bringer of the tempest of emotions that rain over you.

The knoll erected just before the greenwood is certainly an insolent impediment that blocks and bars your sights from penetrating pervasively into the forest’s opening as you whimper in the damned denial of your mate.

You hardly notice the profoundly proliferating mound of quarry in front of you that the same beta tugs and tows from the forest in an accumulating aggregation that far surpasses the small, sad excuses for the other piles of game that other betas pull from the forest in their lugging of the conquered prey of each alpha that they serve.

The name of this particular one drifts away from your comprehension in the turbulent gusts that your alpha spews over you even in your separation that cloud your mind of all but him.

By now, the sun has lain itself to sleep below the horizon and, in its place, the moon has awoken augustly from her own chamber to seat herself atop her throne at the sky’s crest. This night, she is tainted red with the crimson of the lifeblood within all creatures under her care in a rare occurrence that is otherwise known as the Blood Moon.

Occurring only twice a year among the winter and summer solstices, the striking shade is symbolic of the wild impulses that drive all living beings and even the stars pulse like veins through the sky’s soma in their own frenzied palpitations.

The moon’s subjects of omegas, alphas and betas all throng tightly together in clusters behind the garden of newly presented omegas that have blossomed with maturity, the cheerful chattering of all the wolves of your pack blooming around you in the warmth of excitement that spouts from them like water. You are rooted like a flower to the ground amidst the field of other omegas that have recently presented, your limbs planted there by the elder who had brought you from the woods.

It had been an onerous omission on your part to abstain from hissing at her when her bony, knuckled hands had grasped your arms in the utter dissatisfaction that had erupted like a volcano within you in the urge to tear her off of you in the lack of heat that her touch- which had been so definitively and determinately not your alpha’s- had been incapable of warming you with.

It had been so unlike what your alpha easily instilled upon you in his calefaction that rolled off of him in waves and, in wanting only your alpha’s hands on you, you’d had to bite down on your tongue to keep from releasing the noise of dismayed dissatisfaction and risk being begrudgingly berated for an unruly display.

Once she’d ambled away, it was your secret that you’d pulled the furs your alpha had given you closer around you to bask in his scintillating scent, the pelt closing comfortingly around you to offer you some much needed incalescence while some, but not all, of the tension pressing down on your shoulders had lifts away.

Niva, who stood behind you, had giggled as she asked, “Are you that gone for him, darling?”

Your cheeks had reddened in embarrassment before you’d looked back at her to quietly mumble, “I am. Irrevocably and unequivocally.”

You watch with bated breath as alphas begin to ascend from over the hilltop that stands to attention just before the woodland as you all but tremble in anticipation to find your own among them.

They are all cleaned of the blood, sweat and tears from the prey they slayed and most are dressed in exorbitantly expensive threads that have likely never before been worn before today.

They are donned under furs from which the alphas acquired in hunts years past in the aged, tanned colors of them all that are draped over each wolf’s shoulders as they come to stand in front of their designated deposit of game they have proudly procured in effort to offer it to their desired partner amidst the line of omegas that have been arranged opposite of them.

It is tradition that the sins of death be wiped away from them before an omega's virtues of life can fully cleanse the alpha that would receive them.

Incurring impatience is what has you whine out for your alpha that still evasively eludes your visage as you searchingly seek him while your wolf cries for the only one that could possibly quiet it as a familiar figure separates from the amalgamation of agglomerated elders that have accumulated along the west and east sides of the stage before she takes her place on the beamed boards that circularly coalesce into the timbered stage.

Amidst the jovial jabber that percolates through the air, the lead elder, who is also your grandmother, raises her hands over her head so that the moonlight drips down onto her upturned palms as she shouts, “Children! Tonight, we commemorate the adulthood that our blessed mother of the moon has acknowledged in these youth before you,” the lead elder lowers both arms to gesture to you as fondness showers over her before she softens, “And among them is my beloved grandchild, Y/N, who hails from the purest of bloodlines and who has been the sole caretaker of our pups and livestock in her dutiful and devout service to her pack since her very juvenility. Let us commend both her and those she was raised alongside in this momentous moment!”

There is a thunderous applause that bursts roaringly around you as exhilaration energizes you anew whilst every wolf in attendance animatedly hoots and claps with a delighted dynamism that has you smiling happily as the sounds bound through you with the liveliness of a sprite.

It leaps through you ceaselessly and when you breathe in to give it more room to prance around within you, that’s when your lips lift in gratified gaiety in the unmistakable undeniability of the scent of myrrh that skirrs insatiably forth until it has found and enveloped you in its mighty musk as you sigh with satisfaction at the realization as it wantonly wafts around you.

Jungkook, your precious mate, must be close by.

The knowledge has your heart skipping a beat as your wolf bays amidst the kindles of joy that light themselves within you in the rapid recognition of the presence of your other half somewhere in the distance.

In the cesspool of odors of all the other wolves that odiously stink and reek through winds around you, it is a taxing task to attempt to locate the origin of the aroma you have come to adore ardently.

All you can do is readily revel in the piquantly pungent incense that incites your baser being with inclination to rejoin with its mate and to find solace in the euphoric utopia of his waiting arms once more.

Some of the lead elder’s words are lost to you amongst your alpha’s essence that wraps willfully around you in a brume that brushes eagerly against you while the ovation that, somewhere along the way, has gradually quieted while the last of the alphas have found their allocated allotment next to their corresponding heaps of seized, slain prey.

They are organized according to rank with the first place that heads the row of alphas belonging to the wolf boasting the highest station amongst his dynamic as their chief in charge of them all through the title afforded to him through his strength, power and bloodline.

Such were no match for any other alpha that had been unwise and unfortunate enough to face and bear the brunt of his sharp claws in battle that ended in loss to any that opposed him as the rightful pack alpha.

It is Jungkook’s locus at the vertex of the line that is empty and while the sight should distill doubt’s inklings within you, your alpha’s reassuring redolence is there to caress you in the swathing surety that he’s near. In your endeavored expenditure to catch a glimpse of Jungkook, you fail to detect that there is not one desolate domain that is devoid of an alpha in front of you, but four.

Still, you’re hardly at the liberty to discern that within the olfactive haze of your alpha’s pheromones that effervescently enfold you in their pleasing particles.

When your irises chase the lingering trace of him that is everywhere and nowhere at once to no avail yet again, you pout and, in the distance, a pair of golden eyes glint with mirth at the spectacle of you that is so incredibly and charmingly cherubic to their beholder.

A knowing expression momentarily crossing the lead elder’s face, your grandmother steps back before smiling fondly at you before her eyes carry their focus across the line of omegas that have been bestrewn along the grasses to your right before returning to you as she proclaims, “My dear grandchild, I welcome you and your fellow omegeans to the maturity that the wolves within you have flourished so beautifully with. May the most worthy of alphas earn you this night under the approving nod of our maternal moon that shall watch us from above,” she gives a revering salute to the celestial body above as she crosses her fingers over her heart in a spherical motion before bowing and when she stands once more, she trumpets, “With that, let us begin the Offering Ceremony!”

Upon her final words, she hobbles haltingly back down the wooden stairs connected to one side of the stage with some aid from the other elders in the age that has stolen away the strength of her feeble, frail ligaments as another round of applause fiercely flies through the land on the wings of the air that carry it as good-natured gossip joins it.

The stage is emptied but for a moment before an alpha emerges from the arched lumbered and logged mouth opening onto the platform, the tongue of timbered planks spanning outward in a circlet as the wolf takes his starting position for his celebratory dance before a flurry of flutes cast their music from the forelimbs of the wooden body under the deft fingers of the pack’s musicians.

You do not recognize this wolf and it takes only a second for your attention to sway elsewhere as your alpha’s scent draws you back to him when its mists cling in their sedulous sumptuousness to you.

It is tradition that all ceremonies and events initiate with performances meant to embody the heart of the occasion. Through their artistically aesthetic displays, tangible forms are given to the impalpable sentiments that the pack amasses in its harnessing of sensibilities toward such a jovial jamboree in the dances that are done to reflect those avid attitudes of each wolf imbued innately with such enthusiasm.

Following this, alphas are the first to proffer a present to their desired partners in declaring and dedicating the winnings of their hunt to their chosen omega. In exchange for the bounty, the omega then gives something of their own to their alpha as a symbol of intent to be paired exclusively with each other.

If there are offerings that exceed those of a single alpha for one omega, challenges or duels can be instigated and thusly proctored in official matches in their efforts to win an omega.

Such battles end either through submission or when one wolf is left incapacitated in the incapability to rise from the ground through the wounds that always leave their bodies in tatters through the violent nature of the fight for a mate.

The losing combatant forfeits their rights to claim an omega if they are bested by their opponent and the omega is not given a choice to accept the victor even if the alpha that wins them is not the one they had hoped to have, for it is a rule that the superior wolf who dominates another and exhibits that they are the more capable provider to the entire compound is the worthier being in their ability to protect their omega.

Following this, an intended pair of wolves each bestow matching marks that they paint onto each other in the blood of the strongest, most fearsome prey that an alpha robbed of its life in the honor of their omega.

After that, they are free to depart to a den the alpha is to have carefully crafted in preparation of his mate where the two are then meant to consummate their bond that will seal them together forevermore, for the brand of tooth marks that the two leave on each other through the throes of rapturous ecstasy would bind them to one other until the end of their days in the ultimate deed of giving themselves to each other through such an intimate act.

Daedal devotion linked the delicate affairs of courtship that you had always thought was so romantic and you can’t help the thrilling sensation that cascades over you at the prospect of what is to come alongside a particular alpha that has captured your mind and soul in his very palm.

His scent swirls enticingly around you as your irises, once again, flick along the endless expanse of the forest beyond while you squint as if that would help you to better see into the greenhood that grasps him away from you. Try as you might, you still cannot glimpse the apple of your eye from the fanning ferns careening from the underbrush as you whine once more in his hedging of you.

As his tang drapes itself over you, it stirs in its insistence his voice that echoes through your mind to remind you, “I will return for you and when I do, I will make you mine forever.”

Your anxiety is quieted in his quintessence that settles like a blanket over you to warm you in his stead as you continue to scour scrupulously around you for any smidgen of him that might deliver you to the truth of his whereabouts, your focus narrowed now in the thin beam of light that luminates your mind only with the purpose of finding him.

Lost in your fossicking forage for him as you are, the first wolf that had arrived on the stage is replaced by another and after that, two more.

By the time that six have gone, you’re no closer to illuminating your vision with his candescent luster as you peer longingly at the vacant spot that parallels your own where your alpha should be standing as yearning pulls at your heartstrings in his devastating absenteeism as you tug his pelt tighter over you.

When the yakking and chatting of the wolves behind you is blown out like a candle in the current that sweeps them through in awed astonishment at the same instant that the pheromones lacing over you thicken in headiness in their willful wiles, that’s when your irises are whisked away, lured as they are to the baited source of it all.

Your breath hitches when golden eyes pierce your own, fiery fervor flashing in them amidst the ferocious flames that lick hungrily at him from all directions in their passionate parchedness to welcome him into their warmth.

His irises rove ravenously over you, heat coiling low within you as your wolf preens at the attention while you do the same.

Covered in the color of soot, Jungkook’s lower half is ashen with cindered linen that clutches with cohere to him in every slew of thew cording his legs. Adorning his middle is a blackened buckskin belt that bears a perfect hourglass shaped waist and already your salivary glands are fructuously fertile in their gushing of spittle within your jaw that drops when you drink in the overtly obscene shirt that is provocatively provoking in its transparency that elicits the subsequent swoons of omegas around you.

It leaves nothing to the imagination and, like a second skin, vaunts every delicious dip and ridge of his mouth-watering musculature.

It is decorated with patterned patches in the shapes of burned brambles that are woven across the material meant to inspire illicit impurities in all that are fortuitously fortunate enough to behold your alpha in how it sinfully sticks to him. Encircling his neck like a thick collar, the shirt bands around him and over it, a blazoned blazer engulfs him. Like it has been seared through by fire, it is open to reveal his clothed chest in its entirety.

Tendrils of dark hair fall over his face in dangerous, wild wisps that curl amidst the humidity that overtly obsess over them.

You can hardly contain your own ire of want that simmers through you at the sight all of that and, when you trail your visage back up to his eyes, they are brightened with amusement while he dares to flick a sculpted brow as if to tease, “Like what you see?”

You lick your lips as a whimper traitorously escapes you while a wolfish grin lifts at his own before the symphony of flutes and lutes harmonize in the opening notes of their song and they sing soulfully for a few meters.

When your alpha begins his damning dance to the thrumming tempo of the waiata whispering through his ears, you already know you’re going to fall even more for him in an impossibly irredeemable descent that you have no wish to ascend away from.

Your alpha sidles forward with purpose pervading his slow movement, his irises burning torridly into your own with the finer feeling that fully fulgurates them before he spins on one foot while the chords of both instruments twirl together with him as he whirls around to face you once more.

The melodic music is, like your alpha, insistent in its eagerness to call commandingly to you in the way that its trill lowers and soon deepens with the same tantalizing temptation into his darkness that captivates you to him in your pure light.

In his meticulous motion, his fingers close around the end of his jacket that he’d caught in an open palm upon completion of his turn only to strum his fingers through the air with the other hand as if he were stroking the strings of an invisible lute between his arms.

He draws his free hand backward before smoothly and flowingly sweeping it forward only to then arc it behind him in a circular kinesis, his chin following his hand like it is tied around his wrist by twine. He repeats this once more, his eyes never straying from yours in the heated intensity that warms your very being as he stares only at you the entire time.

Like a match being struck in various vertices over him, every movement sparks the flinted flicker of white that births from it the embers of an inferno amidst the small moonstones that have been adroitly added over his blazer.

When he steps forward to be bathed by the scarlet rays of the moon that color him in the passion that he dances with, that’s when he vocalizes the sentiments for you that move him in a lyrical lilt that is in sound synchronicity with the instrumental tune he’d written himself.

As he takes in the way that you melt under the smoldering charcoal of affection for him, he can’t help the words that fall freer than rain on a spring day as he allows his emotions for you to pour out of him while you thaw him with your own rays of radiance that glisten in your eyes and in the way that you fondly look on at him like he’s the only one that exists in your world.

His baser being demands that he show to you what you mean to him and so he does.

He sings how rapidly his life had gone by and how lonely with lorn he’d been in his wait for his mate in the incertitude of whether he’d been correct in his way of living without you while his arm lifts so his fingers point toward the sky that, through its unstopping hands, had turned the cogs of time.

“Oh, I think I was in yesterday ‘cause everybody walk too fast, don’t know what to do with, am I livin' this right?”

He chants to you about the time that had been stolen sufferingly away from you both in your childhood and adolescence that had barred you both from each other in the forbidding rules of the compound that outlawed with onus your unavoidable union.

“Why am I alone in a different time and space? Oh I can't call ya, I can't hol' ya, Oh I can't…”

He proclaims the struggling strife that had wracked him in being forced to remain apart from you for so unbearably long in his cover behind the trees while he’d watched over you as his soul had cried for the only one that could complete it in the days he’d spent following the orders of his father.

“Sometimes when I’m gasping for air, I wear my hat low and keep running, yeah, I don't know where I go, even if it's opposite of sun…”

He chronicles with vivid verve the verdict that he has brimmed blisteringly with in your brilliance that shines as bright as the stars above while he pumps his closed fist gently against the heart that thumps only for you as he continues, his hand dragging through the hair you’d pulled on in effort to induce his mercy in the wood before he runs his other palm along the thigh he’d watched you so beautifully pleasure yourself on while he’d been blessed with the view of your damned delight atop of him.

“One time for the present and two time for the past, I’m happy that we met each other now til' the very end…”

He declares to you that you are, after so long, the Eve that he will always escape into the verboten oasis to find as he jumps high in the sky, his spirits soaring for you as he watches you reach dotingly for him before he lands to extend a hand of his own to you before spinning in a circle like a clock to once more face you.

“Oh, I will call ya, I will hol' ya, oh I will and yes you know, oh yes you know that I will...”

Enraptured in ardency’s hold over you, Jungkook’s gleaming gold irises are streaked so profoundly with earnest elan that, as they sink into the riveting depths of your own, they scintillate with silver like the genial moon that you are to him as it washes over his eyes the farther that he descends into your deep devoutness that floods you for him.

In the irrefutable irrepressibility of your own sentiments for him, your own eyes dye themselves gold like the sun that is your alpha to you.

His dulcet words phosphoresce the burgeoning seedlings of affectionate attachment to him as he nears you along the lip of the stage that is speckled with candles that cast their light over him like sunbeams themselves that, through their heated kisses, leave him shimmering in an ethereal golden glow that radiates out into the night that has befallen you.

You do not know if a more mellifluous voice exists in the world than his own with the way the chords of your own heart are struck with each soulful solfege that is uniquely and undeniably him as his eyes seek nothing but you, who has brought so much lustrous light to his sky.

Neither of you pay any mind to the collective series of shocked gasps or astonished huffs that are emitted from the converged crowd behind you.

In the stuttered stupefaction that fastens itself to them like moss to a tree, all eyes are on you and your alpha that take notice only of only each other amidst the mutated metamorphosis that had transfigured the irises of both of you to match those of the other through the gift of sight that marks two soulmates in their belonging to one another.

Such an ocular occurrence had not been recorded for over seven thousand years in the rare paucity that the moon granted with the declining diminishment of purebreds descended from the lupi antiquis.

Thus, in the episodical exceptions where the celestial body did bestow such an innately intimate connection between two wolves, it was said that their zealous zest for each other would guide them in their reigned rule over the other wolves that would bring prosperity and peace for generations to come under the moon’s favor.

Yet, under the music’s metrical melody, its sonorous spell casts a coddling cocoon over you and your mate until the silken thrum hums around only the two of you as its fibered filaments shield everything but the both of you from each other’s vision.

Your mate’s vociferous voice fades after the chanted crescendos ravel into decrescendos until the collection of euphonious sounds wrap wholly and completely around you as his body moves with the beat of the organ that pumps only for you within him.

He plants both feet to the floor before a hand trails down his body in a vinelike display while one leg is uprooted off the wood beneath him to swing in front and behind him as if he’s embedded into it and can’t bear to relinquish himself from the earth that grounds and supports him like you do.

Like the celestial bodies whose hands that turn time, he easily epitomizes this when he steps forward, his arms turning in a spherical motion akin to that of sun’s path through the realm above during the days it brings before the moon journey in her brother’s stead as the siblings of the sky steal away the lost moments that had been wracked away from you both amid their ceaseless passing.

His wrist then flicks outward as if he’s trying to halt the spindles of a chronometer from ticking precious time away from him as his irises flare frenetically into your own with the fervor that flecks them.

You whine for him as he moves, his fervent feeling made so precisely palpable with the way his shoulders roll in circles along with the crux of the heart sitting in his chest that hastens its already quickened pace as he glimpses the tender smile lifting along your lips.

It sets his very soul afire with contentedness before one and then the other hand pounds against each pectoral only to then sweep upward to tangle through his hair as his legs splay outward so that each thigh bulges boastfully against the fabric while his wolf howls when he hears you suck in a breath.

It is one that sputters with a stammer from your lips in the emotion he’s nurtured inside you and drawn forth from the deepest recesses of your body that wails needily for him, your wolf baying with want to be closer, nearer and together.

The sound you make lathers itself like honey over his ears and he’s sure he’ll never tire of that with how breathlessly bewildered you had seemed all because of him.

He’s swiftly besieged by his baser being to show to you how much you affect him and to display to you what you do to him in his deep-seated desire for you and, never one to bypass his urges, he does not cage it.

Once his hands have streamed through his luscious locks, he trickles them over his face, irises still settled along the substrate of your own as his fingers drag downward to collect the lapels of his blazer before, in one fluid motion, he sheds it from his shoulders as a loud whimper dribbles from you while you absorb attentively the salacious sight before you.

His hair has fallen crazedly over one eye in curved, thick tufts as an iridescent iris dappled in the chroma of the orbs that oscillate through the sky during the night and day. Through his continued movements, the mingled union of a silver and gold buries itself as deeply as it can within your depths as the offending piece of clothing trails lower until it pools at his wrists.

With a devastating grin, he puffs out his chest with proud pride, a sheen of sweat shining under the thin material amongst dark, dusky nipples that nip against it in protest of its tautness that chafes against them.

Instantly, your legs are rubbing against each other without your mind’s notice as he smirks when your essence that is spawned by your sex spumes over you before its titillating tinge rises in the air to collect under his nostrils.

Your rousing spice seasons every recess of his body in the relish that causes his pupils to dilate in craving, his member growing hard within his trousers for you as he pulls his lip between his teeth with a growl before gyrating around and when your irises meet once again, he pivots to the side at the same time his fist opens and closes while he outstretches a hand for you.

Your limbs are slowly sapped of their strength with each measured movement that he makes and when he runs toward you until he’s dangerously close to the edge of the stage, you think he might reduce you to a puddle on the ground beneath him when his hand returns to the corpulent collection of muscles cording the crus of his leg as he whisks one palm along his thigh while he rotates his ankle inward to have every tendon jump in a torturously teasing sight while his free fingers curl inward before him as he repeats it all with the other.

Saliva pools in your mouth as he sleekly and confidently moves with the impressively intricate series of footwork that he glides impossibly closer to you with and with one final twirl and fatal arch of a brow, he shirks the blazer off him entirely while his ligaments lower him down to one knee in sharp, quick movements that have his chest caving in and out while he descends, his head tipping back to bare a neck sluiced with sweat in a sight that has you drooling in want to touch and feel him against you once again.

Jungkook leers longingly at you when he slides forth onto his other leg with one bent underneath him while the other is jutted out like the perfect throne that you’d gladly fall to your knees for.

He looks like a god that you would readily worship and yet, he dances like a demon.

It is with a lethal dark flash of his eyes that he snaps the fingers of one hand to the final strum of the lute while the other trails damningly along his chiseled body until it settles over the swelling cock throbbing for you that you whine with the unyielding yearningness that has captured every inhibited iota within you under his command.

You are utterly enthralled as his lips move to mouth, “All of this was for you, my omega. Now that everyone knows what we are to each other, no one will dare to keep you from me,” he watches with interest the way that your lips part in his effect on you and curses in how far away you are from him as he utters, “Come to me once I’ve gone away from here, pretty. Your alpha requires your presence after being denied of you in the forest. I will be waiting anxiously for you.”

When he stands to sink into the shadows behind him that the light cannot permeate, your high-pitched warble still has not dissipated.

You only realize this when a spindly, bony hand is laid over your shoulder to pull you back and away from the pack of wolves around you while the familiar and oldened voice of your grandmother tries to break through to you in the stupor set by your alpha.

When you don’t respond to the many redundant repetitions of your name, she squeezes your shoulder to throatily call out, “My, my, my… you are besotted with that alpha that names himself Jeon Jungkook, my dearest granddaughter. I hadn’t the foggiest idea before on why he asked me to allow him to dance, but now I see that it was for you. I suppose that is to be expected, considering everything."

It is the mention of your alpha that grapples your attention away from where you’d last seen him as you tilt your head in question before you quietly squeak, “I am very taken with him, but what do you mean by that?”

She laughs, “Grandchild, these eyes may be old, but I saw within you and he the gift of sight that the moon mother above bestowed to you both that, by her blessed design, declares each of you as the other’s soulmate. Even the gift of olfaction was there, for this nose can still smell the taint of sex that he, along with you, produced during his performance.”

Your eyes widen and your cheeks burn in embarrassment while you stutter, “Grandma, h-he made me do it. I c-couldn’t help it.”

She only pats your head to say, “It is nothing to be ashamed of, grandchild. The moon chose him for you. It is only natural that you respond to him in such a way. Incidentally, what did he say to you at the end of his dance?”

Mortification has you worrying at your lip before as you fidget as you shyly whisper, “He asked that I go to him. I believe he wishes for us to have some time alone together before the offering.”

Your grandmother nods in understanding and instead of finding any trace of dissenting disapproval in her countenance, she encourages, “Then go and join him, my granddaughter. You must be swift, though,” she steps back to gesture to the row of alphas that stand before the stage, “There are only a few performances left before you and he must return for any challengers that may wish to win you from him, though I don’t see how that will be possible as smitten as you appear for that alpha that you call Jungkook.”

Gratification steeply swills over you as you embrace her, “Thank you, grandmother. We will be quick as the wind, you’ll see.”

She waves you off as you scurry with hurry beyond her toward the wooden dwelling that houses the elders, for it secondarily serves as the temporary domain of the dancers that begin the performances where they are allowed to change clothes and prepare in the spare rooms that are located along the first floor.

You do not notice the shift of silhouettes in the distance as you scamper along, your mind swimming in the waters of your alpha that have soused you so.

It is only when you are scuttling along the steps that lead up into the den that you hear the whistle behind you before it is followed in a voice saturated far too saccharinely with sweetness that has your tongue souring in its wake as it muses, “Damn, Taehyung. You weren’t lying. She really is such a divine little thing.”

In the hormones heaving through you, they insistently incur your instincts that are stirred with stimulation only for your alpha and in simultaneous sequence, the repellant revulsion of any wolf that is not him in your baser being’s acknowledged acceptance of Jungkook as your mate.

Your wolf kecks under the miasmatic fumes of malodors that are bitter and acetic as they burn your nostrils, the stench of alphas heavy in the air as you remain in your place with your back to them while you try to stifle the gag that sits low in your throat as you manage, “What do you want with me? Why are you here and who are you?”

You recognize one as Taehyung’s, but the other is unknown to you.

There’s a mawkish chortle that bellows, “You do not know of me? You will, omega. Soon enough, you will. All of you omegas eventually do.”

The words lift the hairs at the base of your neck in the cloying sugariness of them that clump heavily together in their mission to rot your insides as the swish of grass grows louder in the closing distance between you and the stranger that is an obstructing obstacle between you and your alpha.

The unabating advance does not terminate and when you furtively glance over your shoulder to see a hand inching toward you, you cringe with the trace of a hiss tinting your voice, “Do not touch me. My alpha is very protective of me and will not be merciful if you toy with what is his. Your friend over there,” you flick your chin back toward the source of the foul odor that you know to be Taehyung’s, “he was not so lucky when he felt it just to try to take me from my alpha.”

The stranger makes a sound of consideration, “Hm, a creature with some bark to her bite. I like that.”

It’s as though you’re being backed into a corner, your wolf yelping in protest as you try to rein in your emotions that beg you to beseech your alpha that is so close, yet so far away from you right now. If he does not come for you, it is only a matter of time before your claws will come out in defense.

Fingers stretch toward you and before they can make contact with your skin, you bare your teeth to sibilate, “It seems you do not understand. It was only I that could calm Jungkook- who is bound to me and I to him by the moon above- through the rage that overcame him when he was ready to maim Taehyung for foolish disobedience,” you turn to pierce your perpetrator with a cautionary glare as you forewarn, “The wounds that were left in Taehyung’s shoulder are but minor lesions of what my alpha will scar you with should you dare to incur the wrath of my mate.”

In a momentary lapse of an instant, you think that you derive in your detection the distinct aromatic attar of your alpha nearby, but it is fleeting as are the contours that are casted of a darkened outline that, so quickly you think it may have been a trick of your eye, briefly block the light filtering past the opaque aperture of aged glass next to the entrance of the den.

They disappearingly depart almost as soon as they arrive with only a sliver of a scent that remains and without a doubt, there is only one wolf it could belong to in its special singularity.

It had been Jungkook, your alpha.

You wish you could be with him and wonder if an elder had gotten to him before you could, but you’re not given long to ruminate on either of those despite the sudden stoutness that is spritzed over you in Jungkook’s oceanic presence that ebbs and flows faithfully alongside you.

In spite of it all, it is Jimin who stands before you when you look down on him. He is clad in bloodred silks that contrast clashingly with dark smudging around the sides of his eyes while pewter colored hair hangs loosely over his forehead with the oils that must have been used to carefully style it while he cheekily checks you out much to your discontented dismay.

“What you say is of little concern to me, Y/N. I always get what I want and you will be no different,” he says.

You have seen him only a few times before during his performances and had once thought him to be beautiful as a doll, but now you can see where his stitches have become loose in vainness that bursts at his seams.

You take a step back and away from him, your alpha’s presence pouring itself onto you through the remnants of his smell that douse his confidence over you as you cross your arms to chide, “It is a pity your looks have made you so conceited, Jimin. You have become spoiled and ruined by them, it seems,” you harden your gaze at him, “I am not like everyone else and I do not wish to have anything to do with you because I am already promised to Jungkook, who is your pack alpha that you must obey.”

One side of his lips lift up his irises hoggishly digest you from head to toe as he decides, “It’s precious that you believe any of that is enough to stop me,” he climbs one step slowly before ascending up the other until he is eye level with you, “Spend the limited time together that you can, little omega. It will be over soon enough when I reap you from him and harvest the most fruitful crop this fucking pack has ever had and plow you until you’re bursting with my seed instead of his.”

Your alpha has never spoken to you with such disregarding disrespect. It irks you with anger that reddens enflamed within you.

You grimace at that, disgust damningly withering your insides in its blight as you sneer, “Try it, Park Jimin. You will never win against him. When you lose to him like I already am assured that you will,” you lift your chin in defiance, “you’ll regret allowing that minuscule cock of yours to rule over your tiny, pygmy brain.”

That earns a titter from him as he replies, “What a little spitfire you are. No matter,” he gibs, “I will tame you soon enough.”

Obstinance consumes you in its angry wildfire as you scoff, “As if you ever could. Good luck with your attempts that shall only end in bitter failure, for I will never be yours. I belong to Jungkook and there is nothing you could do to change that.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Jimin smiles so wide it’s almost nauseating with how much his lips can twist as he backs away with a quip coming from between them, “When he loses to me-“

“He will not be defeated by the likes of you. This, I know to be true,” you narrow your eyes in certitude’s credence that your blood sings with.

“If I do not win you, then Taehyung will. Nonetheless, we shall see, little omega. We shall see,” his vexing voice dims in deliquesce as the moonlight regressively recedes while the two prowling wolves remit themselves into the shadows of utter umbra that swallow them from sight.

You stand for some moments counting contrived breaths hindered by your ire that had smoked and combusted within you to block your airway from effectively expelling the blazing emotion and it is only when your chest no longer aches with the stressed strain to contract that you set in motility once again to make your way into the elder’s den.

It doesn’t take you long to locate your alpha in the perceptible path of pheromones that lead you to him and there is no havering hesitation that stymies its stall of you from opening the oaken door before closing it as it groans in its senile senescence from the effort of such work.

Any negative sentiments that Jimin had left brewing immediately disintegrate within you as you ogle openly how, with his back to you, your alpha damningly divests from his body the shirt made of pure sin in its tempting taunt to you.

He pulls it from his middle slowly and torturously drags it up to reveal skin soaked by the sun and burned by the claws of combat, the serried slew of muscles lining his shoulders swelling savagely in his mannered motion and only when he lets it fall limply on the floor do his eyes find your own through the mirror he ostentatiously oxidizes you through.

Golden irises specked with silver sear into your own as one brow arches up only for him to rumble out, “Enjoy the show, pretty? I know I did.”

#werewolf!jungkook #werewolf jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #alpha omega bts #alpha jungkook x omega reader #alpha!jungkook #alpha jungkook #dom!jungkook #dom jungkook #bts abo #jungkook #bts #bangtanarmynet #btsbookclub

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oneunexpected · 4 years ago

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Gregor+friendship headcanon, and Hamnet+sad headcanon 👀😭💕

This got REEEEEALLY long.

Gregor + friendship headcanon:

-He doesn’t know what to do about Larry and Angelina when he gets back to the surface.

-the lie his family settles on is Lyme disease: they say both Gregor and his dad contracted it while camping back when the “miscommunication” between his mom and dad occurred (read: the first time Gregor and Boots fell), and it’s had chronic implications for the both of them.

-it makes it easier to explain why they decide to move in with his uncle in Virginia, too.

-he wants so badly to tell the truth. SO badly. But he’s unwilling, because if they believed him... what then? What do you do when your 12-year-old friend disappears and comes back a war veteran? And even then, what if they got too curious and sought out to find the Underland? Gregor can’t risk it.

-even though he figures it’s for the best, he always regrets it a little.

-after Gregor moves, they play video games together online. It’s a good way to stay in touch. That way, they spend some time together virtually, and any discussion outside of game strategy is relegated to the simple catch-up stuff: what projects they’re up to in school, how their families are doing, wild rumors they’ve heard. It helps everything feel a little more normal for Gregor.

-when he met Larry and Angelina, it was back when he was young enough that kids just made friends with whoever. By the time he gets to Virginia, though, friendships are made a lot more through clubs and mutual interests. There are plenty of random people who reach out to him when he first moves, though, concerned about the new kid, wanting to make sure he felt welcome. They’re all nice. Some of the friendships stick, some don’t. He fits in well enough with the band kids, though band’s inherently clique-y format makes it hard to break in at first. By high school, the scars on his legs are flat enough that he joins the cross country and track teams. Sometimes people question why he always wears long sleeve t-shirts, even in the sweltering heat, but they never push him past his generic excuses. He also joins the school robotics team. Between the three, he has lots of friends across the school.

-he’s not particularly close with many, though. His closest friends are a clarinet player, one of his track relay teammates, and a kid who was always cracking jokes in biology when they were stressed about upcoming tests.

-everyone knows there’s something a little off, but none of his friends mind that much. He’s kind, he’s clever, he’s a great sax player, he’s fast, and once again, he’s really kind—so who cares if he’s mysterious as hell.

-that changes when he loses control of raging and breaks a guy’s nose in the hallway during his 8th grade year. His fairly large circle of somewhat shallow friendships shrinks significantly—but those he’s closest to stay loyal, and they do their part to make sure he’s not ostracized. “Honestly, man, he had it coming,” says his friend from bio.

-it all makes things a little easier for Gregor. There’s still so much he’s healing from. There’s still so much that limits him. There’s still so much he misses, both in New York and the Underland. And it can be so alienating. But when he’s playing in a jazz ensemble, or when he’s at someone’s birthday party, or when he’s crammed into a car with some cross country buddies headed to get some fast food after a particularly exhausting practice—it’s all a little easier.

-sometimes, though, even the good moments hurt when he remembers just how different their lives are from his.

-he visits Larry and Angelina the summer before his senior year, and even though their video game shenanigans are few and far between by then, he’s relieved by how easy it is to be around them. They cover lost ground fast, fueled by their excitement to see one another. Angelina’s working as a stagehand on Broadway for the summer. Larry’s mom just bought him a new drawing tablet and he shows Gregor what he’s been working on. They spend hours just catching up and laughing. They’ve grown apart, sure, but the affection remains.

Hamnet + sad headcanon

Nothing I could headcanon would be sadder than actual canon, so I hope it’s alright if I take an alternate approach here:

-When he disappears, nobody asks Susannah how she’s doing that much.

-Maybe they think she’s removed from it, sequestered away in the Fount. Maybe her physical distance just puts her out of sight, out of mind.

-Maybe they think she’s too immersed in Howard and Stellovet and the twins on their way to really feel it.

-Maybe it’s because Judith and Hamnet were just so close. For Judith, it’s like losing a part of herself. “He was a part of me, too,” she sobs to York one night.

-Maybe, just maybe, it’s because she’s the eldest: she’s supposed to be the strong one, the caretaker, the first to sacrifice.

-Judith knows she has to stay strong. She is a queen. Her weakness is her people’s weakness, and losing their best commander is a vulnerability enough in itself.

-but she’s so angry, angry at her husband and her mother for organizing the attack, angry at her father and herself for not doing anything about it, angry at Hamnet for leaving her, oh, she’s furious at him.

-it doesn’t take long to strip the anger back. When you do, there is only the grief.

-when the baby is sleeping, when her husband is sleeping, she slips down into the abandoned nursery where she and Hamnet and the others her age were once cared for and wails.

-after a few weeks, she visits Susannah. They cling to each other in Susannah’s drawing room until the early hours of the morning, at first in silence, until Judith finally says, “I think I was too passive.” Susannah wants to laugh—everyone always said she was the passive one of the three.

-after that, it’s like a dam has broken. (Ooh, poor choice of words.) Susannah tells stories of when the twins were really little. There’s the time when Susannah was trying to feed baby Judith mashed sweet potatoes and Judith bit her, which had their mother in stitches of laughter even as she tried to scold Judith, the time four-year-old Hamnet refused to leave Susannah’s side during a festival because he was afraid of the people in costumes roaming about... there are many stories. Judith chimes in with her own. They laugh and cry and laugh and cry.

-the elephant in the room is the injustice of the attack itself. Neither one of them knows how to navigate it, but it fuels their confusion and it fuels their grief.

-Their father doesn’t know how to navigate it, either.

-Vikus knows he is culpable. It’s his job to make sure Regalians stay true to their word. It’s his job to balance out Solovet’s tendencies. It’s his job to look out for his children’s well-being. He’s failed. He’s complicit. And his son is gone.

-he knows, on some level, that the part of him that’s in Hamnet is what drove his son to leave. It’s what drove him insane in the first place, and it’s the reason he tried to save the drowning gnawers that day, too. Vikus doesn’t know how to sit with that knowledge. If his son was more like Solovet, maybe he would have lived.

-it wasn’t an easy birth. Solovet lost way too much blood and the twins were just so small when they were born. Even then, when her mind was clouded by hypovolemic shock, she couldn’t stand to see the doctors whisking them away. When she came to, someone had laid the twins in her arms, where they slept peacefully. Vikus beamed at her from a corner of the room. She was so, so proud.

-she never knew fear quite like she did when Mareth brought Hamnet home and he couldn’t recognize any of them. Couldn’t even speak. She never let on how scared she was, of course, but she felt it nonetheless. She was disappointed, too.

-when they received word Hamnet was missing, Solovet was immediately giving orders. “Check every route out from the city. Locate and interrogate every guard on duty last night. Send word to the Fount and Troy.” Find him.

-she knew they wouldn’t. He was too clever for that. As she goes to sleep that night, there’s a cold weight pressing in on her sternum. He could have been great, she thinks. He was so close.

Thanks for the ask! Headcanon meme found here.

#mmmmmm I really wanna develop the Vikus/Solovet clan more but it’s SOOO hard. so little characterization for Susannah or Judith #gregor the overlander #the underland chronicles #headcanon #gregor #angelina #larry #hamnet #susannah #judith #vikus #solovet #answered

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thesilencebeforeastorm · 5 years ago

Text

Our Baby - Levi x Reader

A/n: Get ready for feelssssss

The scouts had heard a report about a recent titan attack in a nearby village and were instructed to find any survivors by Commander Erwin. Although everyone believed that there would be way anyone in a simple village could survive a titan attack, they still followed orders and went to investigate. Y/n was a part of Captain Levi’s squad and so they went to check a few houses on the right of the village while the 104th cadet corps went to check the rest. The village smelled of death as blood and some body parts were scattered everywhere. After some time searching, they believed they were empty handed.

“There’s no survivors here Captain”, Petra said to Levi.

“Keep looking. There has to be someone here”.

“Do you really believe that?”, she said to him.

“No but I’d like to hope so. Check that house again over there”, Levi pointed out.

“Yes sir!”

Y/n was checking out a house on her own, her nose becoming sensitive to the unpleasant smell of old blood and rotting flesh. The titans sure did a number on the villagers here and she was just as convinced that everyone was dead. A wave of sadness hit her as the realization came to her. Everyday people were dying, a never ending nightmare that she had to endure while being a member of the scouts. Just as she was going to leave, she heard a faint cry from somewhere in the house.

“Huh?” she asked herself. She was sure she checked every part of the house so there was no way someone was here. Hearing the cry again, she headed for the bedroom. There was no sight of anyone there but the sound was coming from… under the bed. As she crouched down, she was stunned by what she saw. It was a baby.

Slowly, she got the baby out from under the bed and examined it for any wounds and to see what gender the baby was. Turns out it was a baby boy, not much older than 3 months and he was unharmed. He had a lot of black hair and pale skin and was wrapped in a blanket to keep him warm. She had to admit that the baby features resembled a lot like Levi’s. She wondered how he even survived.

A few months ago Y/n was supposed to have a child of her own with Levi but lost it due to unfortunate circumstances. It sent her into a deep depression but after a while, she convinced herself that it was for the best since the baby wasn’t planned and they were soldiers. A baby wouldn’t be fit to be born into a chaotic world like this and so they disregarded the thought of having one until all this was over.

Her motherly instincts kicked in and seemed to help the baby calm down for now. She knew the baby was hungry and had to find him food. She found a bottle nearby that wasn’t so cold but wasn’t warm and spoiled either. She fed him all that was left and it got him to stop crying. She knew he would need more food but with the house in horrible shape and dead bodies lying around, she’d have to find food elsewhere. Looking at the baby again, a new problem arose in her head. Losing a child of her own only made her want to keep this one. If she took the baby to the Captain, he would be taken away to a refugee camp to find a new family. His family was gone, devoured by the titans. Who else better to take care of the baby than her. She had to hide him. Wrapping the baby up carefully, she hid him in her cape while holding him with her right arm. She didn’t know how she was going to make it back without being spotted but she had to give it a try.

“It’s okay”, she cooed to the baby. “I’ll be your mom now… I’ll keep you safe”.

Y/n walked out of the house cautiously, careful not to be seen or spotted by anyone. The plan seemed to be going well in her head until she heard a voice that slightly scared her.

“What are you doing?” Levi asked her.

Y/n jumped and turned around half way, trying not to show him what she was holding.

“Nothing, just heading back to regroup with the others”. Levi knew that to be half truth, she was walking suspiciously. He questioned further.

“Did you find anything in the house?”

“No I didn’t” she replied quickly, too quickly that she was sure it was a dead give away. She tried to walk away. She just had to make it to the horses.

Levi took notice of how weird she was acting but took more notice that she didn’t want to turn around and face him. Tilting his head to the side, he noticed how her right arm wasn’t resting at her side, meaning she was holding something.

“What are you holding in your hand?” he asked her.

Y/n froze. Shit, he noticed, she thought to herself. She then felt the baby wiggling in her arm. Please don’t cry, please don’t cry.

“Nothing!” Y/n replied quickly again and tried to walk away again before she was stopped by Levi’s hold on her left arm. Y/n looked at Levi, tears filling up her eyes before the baby started crying.

She froze as Levi looked down at her arm with a confused look. Slowly letting go of her arm, he pushed her cape to the side, revealing the baby she was holding. He took a deep breath, knowing exactly what she was doing and where this was gonna go. Y/n still didn’t move.

“You can’t keep that baby Y/n”, he finally said.

The pain that shot through her heart after hearing those words hurt like hell. She failed at keeping him hidden. To be fair, the plan didn’t have a 100% success rate but she knew the baby would be taken away.

“He has no family…the titans...” she replied, her voice shaky as she struggled to keep her tears from turning into sobs. She didn’t even want to look at Levi while she spoke.

Levi looked down at the baby, remembering his own pain that he felt when Y/n lost their child. He had to admit that while he never wanted kids, he was a bit excited about having one with her. Had they not been Scouts, he probably would have let her keep it but there were too many factors involved that wouldn’t let it be possible. He had to be realistic.

“There’s a family out there that can take care of him. We can’t -”

“Yes we can!” Y/n yelled out, her sobs coming out in full force. “We were going to have a child before, remember!? What difference does it make now!?”

Levi’s face remained nonchalant though he felt her pain. She was right except he didn’t know if this was healthy for her to do. Just as he was about to speak, he saw Petra from the corner of his eye.

“Captain, we-”, she was cut off by Levi holding his finger up, telling her to wait. Seeing that the baby was still crying, he knew he had to eat.

“The baby is hungry. We should get him something to eat for the meantime.”

Y/n looked down at the fussy baby. Levi was right.

“Petra”, Levi said as he motioned her to come over. “Take the baby to the wagon and find him some food”.

Y/n clutched the baby tighter. She felt like this was some kind of trick. Petra walked over slowly, being aware of the delicate state Y/n was in and slowly grabbed the baby.

“Please Levi, don’t do this… please don’t take him away…” she begged softly as she looked at him. She could’ve fought to keep the baby in her hold but her emotions drained her from every fight she had. Petra finally had a hold of the baby and took him away, leaving Y/n to drop to the ground and sob. Levi was there to console her, not with words but holding her. He fought to not shed a tear himself.

Some time had passed since they went to look for survivors at the village and Y/n had been quiet ever since then. Not wanting to eat or talk with anyone, she stood in her room wallowing in her pain. Levi had tried to console her the best he could but she was upset at him for taking the baby away. He knew it. He needed to do something, and after some thinking he made his move.

Levi had gone down to the refugee camp to look for the baby Y/n had saved. After asking around, he found the baby boy she wanted so bad. No family had come to claim him and so his caretaker had let Levi see him. With the two of them alone, Levi picked up the baby and admired his features. He took note of how much black hair he had and his pale skin just like his own. No wonder Y/n wanted him so bad.

“Ever thought of having kids of your own, Mr. Ackerman?” an old woman at the camp said to him. He looked at her and then back at the baby.

“No but my partner does. She was the one who found him the other day.”

“Then what is he doing here?” she replied. “Take him to her. It would sure make her day”.

After some thought about the old woman’s words finally gave in. If Y/n wanted to be a mom, then he would make her dream come true. If they wanted to have a kid of their own in the future, then the possibility was still on the table.

Y/n laid in bed, thinking about her baby boy. Well he wasn’t hers but she swore he was. She swore that she would never forgive Levi for taking him away from her, leaving her to deal with heartbreak twice. Lost in thought, she suddenly heard the door open. Knowing it was Levi, she didn’t bother to look.

“Y/n”, Levi said softly.

“Hmm” she replied.

“I have something to show you”

“I don’t care for it”, she said. She honestly didn’t.

“Oh, well I think you should”, he replied. Looking up finally, her eyes widened as she saw him holding the baby she found at the village. She jolted up from the bed to rush at his side, tears falling from her eyes once more as she admired her precious boy.

“Oh my god” she cried out, as she grabbed him from Levi’s hold. Levi gave her a soft smile.

“How did you..?” she questioned Levi, leaving kisses on the baby’s head.

“Nobody claimed him and I gave good thought about what you said. After speaking to the commander, you will now be an off duty soldier. We can keep him”.

Y/n’s eyes shined so bright from happiness. Her biggest dream was finally coming true.

“Thank you so much, Levi… my baby is here”, she said.

Levi smiled once more. “You mean our baby.”

Tagging: @humanitys-hottestsoldier @paopufruittt @final-fantasy-xv-nut

Masterlist

#levi x reader #levi ackerman #Levi aot #levi snk #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk x reader #aot x reader #levi fanfiction #attack on titan fanfiction #like #comment #reblog #jay writes #angst #sfw

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noxstellacaelum · 5 years ago

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No, it’s not just because the guy is hot ... and other BS about a female fan base (Looking at you Veronica Mars and Shadowhunters)

So, I suck at Tumblr. I changed my name and suddenly all of my links are broken. A friend asked me to repost this when she could not find it, so apologies for round 2.

I wrote recently about how filtering female characters through the male gaze can cause a project’s “center of gravity” to shift away from the agency and autonomy of female characters. This is how we end up w/ stories where women are there (narratively) to be pretty arm candy, or objects of sexual desire, or romantic partners (half a ship) vs characters who shape their own romantic and life choices. This is how we get female characters subjected to endless, pointless pain and trauma — usually sexual assault/ rape narratives (GoT, Veronica Mars). Or female characters who sacrifice endlessly and forgive every transgression, so that a man can be redeemed/ understood/ forgiven. (Why else would Buffy forgive Spike?) As I said, I don’t think every silly, guilty pleasure TV show or movie has to be a feminist icon story. Men can tell good stories about women. And give me flawed, complicated, nuanced characters and relationships any and every day of the week. I prefer truthful storytelling, not a kind of hagiography w/a side of feminism for my female characters.

Still, I had to just shake my head — after gagging on my coffee — when I saw the recent TV Line article quoting a senior executive at HULU as saying that the negative reaction to the ending of S4 Veronica Mars was A-O-K b/c it was a testament to how much people love the show. And, that the end was all part of RT’s super-well-thought-grand-plan to make VM into a noir detective show where Veronica solves random mysteries in random places and has no friends, no family, no relationships — having been an asshole to everyone in S4. Never mind S4 Veronica’s questionable detective skills, as evidenced by her failure to figure out who was behind the bombings until it was too late. Yeah. Whatever.

Of course, I didn’t stop at the article. I had to look at the comments. The official RT fanboy line appears to be that people who hated the ending are basically weak, stupid (heterosexual, I guess) girls who are upset that we won’t get to look at Jason D’s abs anymore. Apparently, we just don’t understand RT’s art and vision. Sad, really.

And so it goes. Once again, female fans are reduced to unthinking, stupid, crying hordes upset when we don’t get our happily-ever-after.

This is such complete and total bullshit. I hated all of S4 Veronica. VM in S4 is an unrecognizable asshole. She mocks Logan for seeking help for his PTSD. She misses or ignores her dad’s health crisis. She’s casually racist. She randomly uses drugs w/ strangers. She’s terrible to her friends (Weevil). And she’s the worst detective ever. Killing Logan off as some kind of suffer porn for VM was just one more piece of the shitty story telling that was S4. Especially since there was zero narrative explanation of how or why smart, gritty teenager Veronica fell into the abyss of self-loathing, self-absorption and cruelty that defines her in S4.

To my mind, though, the mansplaining from HULU, RT and crew is one of many examples of how Hollywood dismisses female fans along with female characters. In addition to Veronica Mars, I’ve written about how Shadowhunters TV betrayed both its female characters and many of its female fans. And, just as happened w/ Veronica Mars, when people objected, the show runners and their shills told us that we didn’t understand the showrunners’ art or storytelling; that we were upset bc not all of the couples got a wedding, that fan fiction could sort out the narrative mess left after the finale. As if completely sidelining the protagonist and her romantic partner, then tacking on a rom com meet cute at the end, made it all ok.

It wasn’t OK. It was BS. And, depressingly, not a surprise when one examines how the show treated its female characters and fan base all along.

- Cassie Clare, the author behind the six book series, has hinted on her Tumblr blog that from the very beginning, the male producers and show runners behind the TV adaption did not value her heavily female fan base. The show even added a lot of computers/ tech (explicitly NOT canon in the Shadowhunters universe), and made a character a police officer (not a bookstore owner) when it launched to attract an older male audience according to Clare. (Apart from the non-canon aspect of computers, stereotyping much on who likes tech?).

More importantly, the storytelling around female characters, and the treatment of their sexuality, showed the lack of regard the show had for female characters and their fans. Where to even start:

- The show aged-up the characters — which I am totally on board with — but then cast an actor who is only six years older than Matt D. (he played Alec) to play Mayrse, Alec’s (and Izzy and Jace’s adoptive) mother. 6 years!?! There are plenty of skilled, age appropriate performers one could have picked. Don’t tell me that casting decision was the product of anything other than the male gaze.

- Book Mayrse is a complicated and not always likeable character. Totally cool. Show Mayrse exists in S1 of SHTV for the sole purpose of being bigoted and homophobic re Alec (with a side of slut-shaming for her daughter Izzy). Then, in S3, she exists solely to punished (w/ a random de-rune-ing) and then redeemed for her homophobia by becoming “captain of the Malec ship.” S3 Mayrse seems to be entirely unaware that she has other children. Not Izzy. And not depressed, and suicidal Jace. A more richly observed character who is a mother would not act this way.

-Book Izzy is sexy and body positive. And a formidable warrior. Awesome. Show Izzy is often reduced to slutty eye candy in S1. She’s turned into a drug addict in S2. And, then, in S3 and the finale, she’s charged w caretaking duties for Jace (bc the show ignored the parabatai bond bw Alec and Jace and Mayrse was absent, as noted above). And, in the climactic fight scene, she’s disarmed by Clary (who had been training for a couple of months at that point) and needs to be saved by Simon, her non-Shadowhunter soon to be boyfriend. Simon is hugely heroic in the books, as is Clary, but their heroism is not at the expense of, or in place of, Izzy’s strength and heroism. (Or, maybe it’s that show Simon saves show Izzy from show Clary that’s the problem: book Izzy would not have been bested by Clary, book Clary never would have attacked her friends and chosen family, and the dark Clary made zero narrative/ emotional sense.

- Clary, the protagonist, is wholly sidelined in 3B and the finale. I won’t go down this rabbithole again, except to say that the show’s decision to strip Clary of her entire narrative arc — her mother, her father figure, her memories, her magic, her identity her chosen family, and her love — deeply, deeply betrayed the character and her fans.

- And, as I’ve written before, the dark Clary storyline seemed more about putting Kat M. In sexy clothes and having her act in a sexually aggressive way toward Jace (let’s call it what it was - the show hinted that she went down on Jace in a club while Jace was distraught over losing Clary and basically roofied) (bc sexually aggressive women are either slutty or evil on SHTV, I guess.). It made no sense.

-The whole Climon storyline was cringe worthy, and her weird shame-y commentary on Jace’s past sex life made no sense either.

- Maia hooking up w/ Jace behind a bar, and forgiving her attacker.

The list goes on and on.

I am sick and tired of Hollywood reducing female characters and female fans to unsophisticated, silly, shallow people looking only for the love of a (generally straight white) man. I am sick of shows sacrificing female characters and their fans to tell stories about other characters, even when those stories are worthy. (We shouldn’t have had to choose between, say, Magnus, Alec and Malec, and Clary, Jace and Clace.). I am sick of characters and fans serving as a mirror or vehicle for other characters’ stories.

Female fans watch TV. We buy movie tickets. We participate in fandoms. Stop telling us that we should be content w/ scraps from the storytelling table.

#SHTV #clary fairchild #veronica mars #veronica mars season 4 #mayrse #Jace Wayland #Clace #cassandra clare #tmi #shadowhunters

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kessielrg · 4 years ago

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[DA+KH] Bashful

Summary: Inspired by @chibi-mushroom‘s Dragon Age AU for the Kingdom Hearts series, in which Anora (OC/KHUX Player stand-in) meets a mysterious Orlesian merchant named Brain and the duo immediately hit it off. [established Ephemer/OC][hinted Brain/OC][pre Act 1 of Dragon Age 2]

Rating: K+

Word Count: 2,015 words

If you like this story, please reblog!

Walking alone in Lowtown gave Anora goosebumps. No small wonder, really, what with her being a woman, and a mage, and being about the right size to simply snatch up without a second glance. She had learned by now to keep her coin in a small burlap sack, wrapped tightly around her wrist and close to her body at all times. If worse came to worse, she could use it as a makeshift weapon.

Every hawker shouting to draw attention to their pop up shops made her flinch. It was almost too loud. It was never this noisy in the Circle, and it had been even quieter at the rehabilitation retreat Ephemer had been admitted to for awhile. At least she could still be fairly invisible in Lowtown- assuming no one tried to kidnap her first. Anora did her best to avoid most of the noise. She eventually found herself at a modest stall that held some basic supplies on offer.

The young woman bit her lower lip as she looked over the potions and wares for sale. She didn't notice that the seller of these items was arranging a few more expensive items in the back. She didn't hear the sound of an odd mewling from something inside the stall, drawing the attention of the stall's proprietor. Anora still barely registered when he came to the front of the stall, looking her over without a hint of bias.

“Is there anything I can interest you with, madam?”

Despite being a gentle, warm voice, Anora nearly jumped three feet in the air. She looked up at the merchant with wide, terrified eyes. She was greeted with gentle ones staring right back at her. No shame, no judgment, just a genuine curiosity.

“Oh, no, no.” the young woman stammered, backing a little away from the stall. Her face was starting to grow hot. Why was she blushing? She wasn't that embarrassed. Was she? “I was just looking to sell some excess healing potions I had. Nothing special.”

“Is that all?” the merchant mused with a teasing grin. He fingered the tip of his fedora and tipped it to her. “Well, I could take a look at them for you. I pay pretty fair coin for a good commodity.”

Anora shrunk a little. She did say she was looking to get rid of her excess health potions. This merchant also seemed to be rather nice. When was the last time anyone was that nice to her? Even Ephemer had to hide how much he cared when he was with the other Templars. Despite herself, Anora carefully placed her burlap sack on the counter, ready for him to inspect her potions and poultices.

“Before we do business,” the merchant spoke up, offering his hand to her, “Let's introduce ourselves proper. My name is Brain.”

“Brain?” Anora repeated in surprise.

To this, the merchant gave a light chuckle. “I have many other names, but I wanted to know how that one would sound on your tongue. Ferelden, right? Kirkwall's seeing more of them by the day.”

Still unsure on why she was so bashful, Anora quickly nodded her head in agreement. Her own arm extended to accept Brain's hand shake.

“I am Anora.” she carefully said.

“The pleasure is mine, Anora.” Brain smiled; his hand gently clasped in hers, and it gave it three shakes before breaking them apart. “Now, let's see what you have in that little rucksack of yours.”

There was a polite little nod from the young woman before opening her sack of healing items. Brain let out a low whistle at the sheer quantity of them. The vials that held the potions gave off a warm, comforting glow as the vial itself revealed the bright red liquid inside. The poultices were made with just as much care; each placed inside a steel tin and wrapped with colored cloth- a date written in black ink indicating when she had made that particular poultice.

As Brain looked over everything, a cold chill ran up Anora's spine that made her look over her shoulder. It almost felt like someone was watching her. Sure, many of the Templars at Kirkwall knew she was a mage, and some were sent to watch her while Ephemer trained or was attending to his duties. But she never actually felt them watching her. Some would go out of their way just to escort her from place to place. Perhaps not kindly, but they definitely didn't hide what they were doing. None of them would try to hide from her if they were sent to watch either, come to think of it. Would they?

“These are neatly made.” Brain noted- succeeding in scaring the young woman for the second time that day. “Not perfect, of course. But pure elfroot? That stuff's in hot commodity around here. It'll be potent, if nothing else.” He then set the potion down to look her over. “Almost too potent for a tiny little waif like you. Are you trying to cure a dragon or something?”

A nervous laugh escaped Anora's lips. In a small voice she admitted, “I am the caretaker to one of the new Templar recruits.”

“Ah.” Brain nodded. “May I ask how?”

The young woman shrank a little as she shook her head. “Long story.” she told him- her voice even smaller than before. Brain observed her, slightly tipping his hat upward.

“Very well then,” he decided with a shrug, “I'll be the last person to judge a person's past.”

Anora offered a faint smile in thanks. For a moment, the merchant simply admired her before turning his attention back to her wares. There was quite a bit of silence between the two as Brain looked over everything. Possibly several moments in, Anora started to hear an odd mewling sound from inside the stand, but Brain had ignored it. The mewls grew louder until something suddenly leaped onto the shop counter.

A shriek almost escaped the young woman's lips when all she saw was something gray with black spots. Brain was immediately at attention, but in finding what had jumped up, he laughed at her. Anora took a moment to regain her breath before realizing that the creature was a snow leopard. But… much smaller; possibly not much smaller than a standard cat. It didn't seem like a kitten, though, and it certainly looked like the pictures of adult leopards in the zoology books back in the Circle. Her demeanor easily went from surprised horror to complete bewilderment.

“Are you afraid of animals?” Brain teasingly asked her, petting the snow leopard.

“I... had a sheltered childhood.” Anora informed him with a wary voice. “But I don't remember leopards being so… tiny, though.”

Brain gave her a little smirk, giving the little leopard a rather absent stroke along its back.

“Ragnar's a special case.” he told her with a bemused voice. “All the fun protective natures of a snow leopard, scaled down to nothing more than the size of a house cat. If you'll believe it, he was the largest of his litter.”

Anora cocked an eyebrow at him, turning her attention back to the small creature. At the time, the snow leopard, Ragnar, turned its attention to her as well. The pygmy leopard left its master to better scope out the newcomer. It sniffed at Anora with interest- something that she tried rather hard not to recoil at. When Ragnar started to rub his head against Anora, the young woman very carefully started to pet him. Ragnar seemed to enjoy this; a small purring noise could be heard from the creature.

“Huh.” the merchant wondered. He placed a hand at the back brim of his hat, tilting it upwards a bit. “He doesn't usually take to strangers that easily. Must really like you...”

“Is that bad?”

Brain looked up at her- a small twinkle shown in his eye as he said, “No. Not at all. It just means that you're destined for great things.”

Anora's eyes grew wide as she looked up at Brain. “Y-you're joking!” she stammered. It was a bit hard to tell, but there was a small blush placed on her cheeks from embarrassment. “You're just saying that!”

Brain let out a light chuckle, throwing up a hand in promise. “Swear on my life it's the truth.” he told her. “And on the official adoption certificate from the Black Emporium. Would you like to see it?”

“No thanks...”

“Suit yourself.” Brain teased with a shrug. “Now, where were we before getting so rudely interrupted...”

Brain continued to go through what Anora had brought with her. As he pulled out a piece of vellum, an inkwell, and a feathered pen to write out a receipt of sale, Ragnar gave a disinterested stretch before deciding to take a nap on the counter. Anora kept her attention more focused on the little snow leopard than to Brain- who was trying to tell her how much coin he was about to give her. He laughed when he caught her near grimace, and he didn't break her thoughts as he gently placed what he owed her into her sack.

“Well,” he finally announced as he tied off the sack for her, “I suppose we're done here. It was nice doing business with you, Anora.”

That finally got Anora out of her trance. Was it really time for them to depart so soon?

“How much longer are you going to be at Kirkwall?” she asked, almost a bit too quickly.

“I might be around for another week or two.” he said to her. “I've finally found good help with my main shop in Val Royeaux, so I'm not expected back immediately. If I give them a fair enough warning, I could linger behind for a bit longer.” Brain then tilted his head at her and gave her a sly smile. “Why?”

Anora immediately looked away. “I-I...” she started to stammer, “I was just curious. It gets rather boring waiting for E- my Templar to finish with his training or duties.”

“You can't wait by Templar Hall for him?”

“Another long story.” Anora bitterly informed him. Brain gave an understanding nod in agreement.

“Business in Lowtown is usually pretty slow.” he then informed her. “Perhaps I could put in a request to change locations to the Gallows for the rest of my stay. Those Templars are always buying potions and such- I might actually turn a profit for once.”

Anora's eyes widened in surprise. “You don't have to do that!” she said. But the merchant only laughed.

“Anora-bird, if the street walkers around here were half as pretty as you, I'd reconsider. But as it stands, I could use a change of location. Perhaps we'll meet up again soon. Who knows in a backwards town like this?”

Again feeling her face heat up in a humble bashfulness, Anora offered Brain a polite little nod. She once more wrapped her burlap sack tightly around her wrist -now a bit heavier from the coin he had given her- before starting to head back. The young woman barely looked up as she scurried to Lowtown's main entrance- and it was by accident that she bumped into someone on the way out. She looked up at who she had run into, and nearly staggered back in a horrified shock.

“Knight-Commander!” Anora gasped. “I-I didn't see you...”

The Knight-Commander did not answer her. Instead, he chose to glare at her with an unreadable expression. Anora let out a nervous laughter as she moved away from him, hurrying back to Templar Hall. With an arched eyebrow, Sephiroth watched her leave before turning his attention to Brain. The merchant, who had been observing Anora for a moment as she parted, had turned his attention to the poultices and potions she had given him. As he admired the slightly glowing mixtures in their bottles, he absently gave his pygmy snow leopard strokes along its back. At this, Sephiroth's eyebrows furrowed.

“Interesting.” he decided, in monotone, before also making his way back to Templar Hall. “Very interesting indeed.”

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uesugi-miu · 6 years ago

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For anyone who find this at first time.

Please look at my translation's note in Kageie MS #1

:: Kageie MS #8 ::

A troop carrying the banner, is now descending the mountain path which is all covered in white hazy fog.

Underneath radiance of the morning, a picture of such brave troop was dazzlingly burnt into the observers' eyes.

Kageie : 「......」

I wonder what kind of feeling Kageie-san has when seeing others depart for the front.

( The truth is...he may have wanted to depart with everyone. )

Soon after Kenshin-sama's figure is out of sight, Kageie-san turns around silently.

Yoshichi : 「Ah...Kakkii...Wait!」

Kageie : 「It's no use watching them forever.」

Yoshichi : 「Again! It's just because you don't have feelings.」

Kageie : 「Is there a place for feelings in war.」

Yoshichi : 「Ouch. So cold! Hey, aren't you cold, Yahiko?」

Miu : 「Haha...」

All I can do is laughing it out smoothly.

Seems like everytime when there's war, Yoshichi-san was left to be the one protecting the castle.

While running after Kageie-san, he nervously looks over his shoulder back to the marching troop once again.

Can't deny it here, Yoshichi-san is extremely contrast to Kageie-san who is awfully indifferent.

Many retainers were assigned out on the campaign so the castle has become deadly silent as if nobody is here.

This castle is always lively, I can normally hear activities going on everywhere......

Kageie : 「From today, you need to listen to no matter what I say, Yocchan.」

Yoshichi : 「Eh? Eh? Eh? What's the meaning of that!?」

...Here is also a lively exchange as ever.

Kageie-san slaps his hand on Yoshichi-san's shoulder, grinning widely.

Kageie : 「Because I am castle caretaker until Kenshin-sama will be back.」

Yoshichi : 「Ah. It's about that~」

Kageie : 「You understand what I mean now, right?」

Yoshichi : 「Yes...Understood! Kakkii is the most powerful person in the castle at this moment but it'd be good if you will not give me any strange order...」

From Kageie-san's ordinary action we've seen so far, it's very understandable to worry.

Kageie : 「What count as strange order you're talking about.」

Yoshichi : 「Ummm......What do you think, Yahiko?」

Miu : 「Eh? Umm...Like...do not disturb Kageie-san's afternoon nap maybe?...Ah...and eat food before getting poison test?」

Yoshichi : 「Wait...Yahiko, aren't all those things too cute!? Too adorable~」

Kageie : 「......Cute you say. We're talking about a man here, right?」

Kageie-san mutters sullenly.

Yoshichi : 「Whatever, he's adorable, isn't he?」

Kageie : 「.........」

Yoshichi : 「Kakki's thought is nothing cute like that.」

Kageie : 「Eh?」

Yoshichi : 「Yocchan, do all the government works...or...Yocchan, no meal if you don't finish works...you see, something like that...」

( Urgh...but that is also adorable. )

Kageie : 「I won't give out any order such that. It will actually be so even without me ordering it in the first place.」

Yoshichi : 「Uwaaa~......That evil look! So what on earth I would be commanded......」

Yoshichi-san covers his face with his two hands, striking with despair. Negotiation between the two going on for a while. Finally, Yoshichi-san breathe out a give up sigh.

Yoshichi : 「Well...I'll do my best whatever...By the way, Kakkii and Yahiko will come to live in the castle during this time, right?」

Miu : 「Yes, we decided to move into the room that we are now temporarily live.」

Since castle caretaker can't afford to leave the castle so Kanetsugu-sama has ordered us to live here instead and thus, for taking care of Kageie-san, I am also going to live here with him.

Miu : 「We still need to return once more to the mansion to collect our remaining luggage.」

Kageie : 「Right. Since I have to go too. I'll leave it here to Yocchan.」

Yoshichi : 「Understood. While waiting, is there anything you want me to do in advanced?」

Kageie : 「Nothing.」

Yoshichi : 「It can't be...」

Kageie : 「You should not complain when I have you do nothing.」

Yoshichi : 「It's because I wanna do something helpful.」

( Although their conversation went on like that, they're both having fun talking to each other though. )

Up until this battle, although Yoshichi-san was not assigned to be castle caretaker but this task was practically entrusted to him, however this time, it is Kageie-san's duty, so at first, I'm anxious about their private life relationship.

Nonetheless, when looking at them from their sides like this, there's no such thing to worry. They took in the situation and trying to fit into their own roles while casually concerned for one another.

( Eventhough Kageie-san said that relationship between people is what he did properly according to the situation...... )

Although it's difficult to understand but this mutual consideration towards each other I've now witnessed. This relationship is not appear to be just some kind of borrowed thing in my point of view.

I return to the mansion to settle my luggage and devoted myself for cleaning.

There's nothing much in this mansion to begin with so it's not that dirty.

( It's actually the polar opposite from Kenshin-sama. )

( 『No attachment to objects』 That is what has come to the show from the owner personality of a place such as this. )

( Come to think of it, I wonder why only Kageie-san lives separately in his own mansion? )

Miu : 「......Hmm?」

While wiping off the dust from the high shelf. My hand touch to something.

When I take a look at it, it's a neck hanging type amulet. There's a long cord attached.

It appears to be extremely old, both string and amulet itself was smudged with black spot here and there.

( What is this amulet, hmm? )

Miu : 「Kageie-san.」

I pick up the amulet altogether with my luggage, calling out to Kageie-san.

Kageie : 「What.」

Miu : 「There's an amulet here, perhaps you forget......」

My word was cut off half way. I'm stiffening with surprise. Hands stretch out from behind has cornered me to the wall.

I was locked up in his arms miserably. His low voice whispering to my ear.

Kageie : 「......Yahiko is bad huh. Nothing's good getting a hand on other people's belonging as you pleased.」

Miu : 「I thought it's something you forgot...」

Kageie : 「Is that an excuse? If you did something bad, just say sorry, can't you?」

Miu : 「......I'm really sorry......」

Kageie : 「......Anyway......That's not something I forgot......」

His sharp voice has become a little bit friendlier and trail off in the end.

Kageie-san place his head on my shoulder and then use one of his fingertip fishing out the amulet from my hand.

Kageie : 「This is my brother's.」

Miu : 「Eh? Brother? Brother whom you're talking about now is......」

Kageie : 「Dead.」

That one short word pierce through my heart sharply.

( Passed away...... )

I'm wordless. I didn't think it will hit on a sensitive spot.

Kageie : 「My dearest treasure.」

Few words come up one after another.

His voice is very clear.

I don't know since when this incident has happened. It maybe that he already went through all of it.

But why...why it also resounds extremely sad, my heart was clenched tensely.

( Is that perhaps what Kageie-san talked about before... )

『I don't know......Is it since when I was unable to protect what I treasured most...a very long time ago......』

( What he treasured most but can't be able to protect...is that...his brother? )

Kageie-san put the amulet back to the same place and murmur quietly as if talking to himself.

Kageie : 「He was sick but it was not the cause of his death. This amulet represents his gravestone so I can't bring it to the castle.」

Miu : 「......I see.」

I have faced very high urge to hear even more but that's enough for now...plenty enough.

I take a candy out of my pocket and offer it in front of the amulet.

A gentle laughter was heard from behind my back.

Kageie : 「Where's mine?」

Miu : 「Eh?」

Kageie : 「Me too.」

When I turn around, Kageie-san was there with his mischievous look, his mouth widely open waiting for a candy.

Miu : 「Y...Yes...」

I toss a candy into his mouth and so he made a giggle sound from his inner throat.

Kageie : 「Thanks.」

His voice is muffled, replying while chewing a candy.

Kageie : 「Tasty.」

Miu : 「...You really do love these candies.」

Kageie : 「It's because you always give it to me.」

I've just become conscious of how close we are, I can feel our body temperature and our breath come in contact.

Again and again, my wavering heart beats so so fast and it's become even worst when all I can see in front of me now is his smiling face which tickling my heart badly.

Not only our phisical bodies are now so close but I have a certain feeling that our hearts draw closer too...

( This feels entirely like......lovers...... )

I can feel my blood rush to my head all at once. My heart tightens painfully. I hurriedly escape from his strong arms.

#kageie ms #kageie ms spoiler #kageie route #kakizaki kageie #miu translation

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abitterlifethroughcinema · 5 years ago

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Three Summer Taquilla Behemoths in Cinemas! WOKE! Film Reviews...Halfway Through Summer by Lucas A Cavazos

It goes without saying that Disney is undoubtedly the strongest hand in all of cinema. They have proved that beyond any shadow of a doubt over many decades but definitely most recently, what with the takeover of Pixar and LucasFilms and Marvel Studios and and and… As I hinted at last time, growing up, whether in Texas or Brooklyn, my dorky bum always had that weekly subscription of Entertainment Weekly waiting for me come week’s end. And that meant I had all the box office data, top album sales, Nielsen TV ratings, book sales and such all there to satiate my stats-obsessed appetite. Now, I bring to you a summer run-down of what fare has been most successful throughout this first half of the summer. Believe it or not, we are only halfway through the summer cinema season and these last six or seven weeks mark the last summer fare that either got delayed from the early summer due to concern of being pulverised by these upcoming blockbusters, or they are merely getting rid of fodder too long on the shelf or in need of distribution.

I’d dare say in fact that it was a rather smart move on behalf of Guy Ritchie and the entire marketing team behind the live-action remake of Aladdin, to release it just before the summer season truly hit. It is now fast closing in on 25€M in Spain alone, and has surpassed 1.1€B globally…quite an accomplished feat and second in box office stealth only behind Endgame for 2019 so far.

But let’s please talk newer reviews first as Disney’s The Lion King ###-1/2 burst into Spanish cinemas with a loud roar two weeks ago, and the same can be said of its success worldwide. Now soon to pass 19€M in Spain in a matter of mere days and more than 1.0€B globally, we at Bitter Life are pleased to say that the film, much like the formerly mentioned live-action remake, is a thing of wonder. What director Jon Favreau, who so lovingly concocted the impeccable remake of The Jungle Book a few years ago, does so well is adapt a timeless, and much beloved, cartoon classic into a breathtaking adventure story of the animal kingdom. One thing is for certain, if you are a true lover of the cartoon, this film will merely be palatable. For those few of us who were none too keen on the cartoon and its cheese-tactic musical numbers nor its cornball last-attempts at Top 40 numbers by Elton John, this film is quite the spectacle to behold. Telling the story of a proud lineage of lions who preside over what could best be described more as a savannah than a jungle, this rendering gives us a lifelike portrayal of fathers and sons, duty and honour, and is easily a testament to whatever family means to any individual. Apart from the brilliant, yet almost frightening, way in which the creators have anthropomorphised the creatures into almost too-real perfection, there isn’t too much to tell that the viewer is not going to know already, and thereby lies a part of the challenge that I find intriguing. While Disney continues to take risks in revamping their classics into live-action newer ones, do they then run the risk of petering out of new ideas? I mean, now that they have Pixar and so many more studios to pick up the slack, will we slowly see the demise of the annual big, Disney cartoon classic? We already have Frozen 2 appearing soon enough in cinemas, but even that is not building anything new and original into the cartoon oeuvre…it’s a damn sequel. I say it’s fair enough that most all investments in Disney live-action prequels are bound to be successful in terms of box office. Still, few of them will boast the talent power of Beyonce and Donald Glover, along with original Mufasa James Earl Jones, plus John Oliver, Seth Rogen, Keegan-Michael Key, Alfre Woodard. Amy Sedaris and so many more. These artists breathe life into a fun, if tired, film that we’ve all seen before, just never in this way. Here’s to hoping the tots of today don’t scare too much from the frolicking if fierce, fun found in this film.

The next big movie that has blown up the taquillas here in Spain is also the best one of the lot…Toy Story 4 ####. If we have to wait nearly a decade between film sequels to have this type of wonderment thrown lovingly at our eyes, I’ll gladly take it and wait. So far, the film has taken in a nearly whopping 19€M in Spain alone, and it is also nearing 950€M worldwide, so far be it from me to deny that absolute scores of millions agree that this film marks itself in our hearts yet again. It is rather surreal that over the span of well over a generation, the creators have moved through the mid-90s to damn near 2020 with the same revolving door of a family, while carefully detailing the intricacies of our own nostalgia…and playing on that also forces us to love it. Again, I dare say that they have achieved that tremendously throughout the entirety of the series’ lifespan. The premise this time revolves around Andy, now all grown up and, I’d suppose well past grad school, has donated his toys to little sister Bonnie, who has her own taste on what she prefers to play with versus her older brother, and dear ol’ cowpoke Woody, sensing certain neglect under the ownership of Bonnie, sneaks himself into her rucksack one day y voila!…the new adventure commences. The others set off to search for Woody, outdone by no one less than Buzz Lightyear, who is allowing himself to be led by his inner voice, which fits wonderfully into the guffaws of this type of silly and campy humour. What I began to notice while the screening went on is that the film continues to come up with a specific theme that ties itself into the plot, the denouement and frankly, throughout the film. Simply put, that would be the fear of rejection or not being wanted/accepted. Herein is where story developers like John Lasseter, Andrew Stanton, Rashida Jones, Stephany Folsom, amongst others, and all under the directing tutelage of Josh Cooley, spring to life and steer the film into witty and on-fleek, au courant elements that should make excellent fodder for post-parental conversations! What more can be said? Steal away and grab a 10’er and retreat to the coolness of your local cineplex!

Lastly, the other big box office behemoth so far this summer in Spain’s movie houses is Spider Man: Far From Home ###-1/2, with just under 12€M reaped into the Spanish taquilla coffers. This time around finds us back in live-action mode and with our recurring Marvel characters picking up after the what can only be described as intense ending of Avengers:Endgame. Okay then, while I was not a fan of the new Peter Parker with Homecoming from a couple of years back, I can now see how Tom Holland has taken a stab at ye olde generic if endearing dork-that-could appeal, and he feels much more fluid now a few Marvel flicks in. Director Jon Watts and go-to writers McKenna and Sommers seem to strike a chord with their flow, though we really do have to wait until the last half of the film to see the ebb actually catch up with that flow. Here’s why…our Marvel superheroes have gone bye bye, you dig? Flashbacks of the fallen Marvel superheroes actually made me a tad sad to be honest, so when the injection of the last part kicks in with all its CGI glory, what I take the director and writers to be doing, this time around, is actually showing us how Parker is growing into his own belief within himself and his powers. Zendaya as his love interest, and I’ve monitored her from afar for quite some time, is fun as hell to watch, and she should seriously star in a film version of Sade’s life story, but it really does come down to the charm and vivid need for suspension of disbelief that envelops the characters towards the end of the film. This has a lot to do with the enter-stage-right presence of Quentin Beck, a.k.a. Mysterio, played with an enigmatic if smug awareness by Jake Gyllenhaal, and frankly, all of the myriad cast of characters do their thang to breathe a sense of renewal just when you think the film is getting a tad too slow and eager. From Sam Jackson to Marisa Tomei, though perhaps not Jon Favreau as Stark caretaker Happy Hogan…he’s best suited as a director of Disney re-boots these days, me thinks (see The Lion King review above). Apart from all that, I’d say the Marvel universe has quite rightly fixed another pathway into the continuance of the Spiderverse journey.

#abitterlifethroughcinema #SummerBoxOfficeReport #thelionking2019 #BEY #Disney #Pixar #ToyStory4 #woodyandbuzzforever #marvelATMarvel #spiderman far from home #jake gyllenhaal #tomholland #zendaya #jon favreau #EnglishRadioBCN

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druidkitty · 7 years ago

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A Fiery Mishap

This is my RSS for @alsywalsy! I’m so sorry it’s late, but I really hope you had a great holiday and will have an even better New Year! The prompt was castle, ink, and fire. Since you told me you enjoyed the little castle moments back before the end of skin deep, I thought I would write a cute fluffy scene that could have taken place during that time in the castle :) I hope you enjoy!

Cold, cold, cold. It was always so ridiculously cold in the Dark Castle and Belle could barely handle it. Maybe it was because her hometown was a much warmer climate or maybe it was just because the Dark One insisted on heating the enormous castle the old fashion way, with logs and fire.

And that is how she found herself toting freshly cut wood up the stairs of the tower that led to Rumple’s workroom. Luckily he didn’t require her to actually chop the wood, for that he did use magic, but she still couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t just use magic to complete the entire task. She wasn’t very good at this anyway and he knew that. Perhaps it was purely for his entertainment to give him a laugh or a cruel punishment for the times she defied him when he did immoral things she did not agree with such as letting his prisoner Robin Hood go. Or maybe it was just his way of trying to prove to her that he held the power, that at any moment he could just light every fireplace in the castle with the snap of his fingers, yet wouldn’t.

However, as she kicked the door to the lab open and stumbled up the stairs and into the tower, doing her best not to fall flat on her face or drop the bundle of logs in her hand, Rumplestiltskin barely paid any attention to her. He didn’t even glance up from whatever potion he was working on that day.

Belle huffed over to the fireplace as quick as she could and dropped the stack to the floor, taking a moment to catch her breath, shake out her aching arms, and brush herself off. Snow had clumped on the bottom of her boots and stuck to her thick brown cape.

Snow was something else that was foreign to her, something she had once only read about in her books, but now experienced almost every day. She didn’t necessarily hate the snow. Honestly as a little girl she had always dreamed of seeing it one day. And now that she had, well she just couldn’t help but feel disappointed.

It wasn’t that it wasn’t what she dreamt it would be. It was, although it was much colder than she had imagined. It was just there were all these things she read one could do in the snow such as build snowmen, have a snowball fight, or make snow angels. Yet, it wasn’t very fun to do those alone and she knew Rumplestiltksin would never agree to participate in such a thing, nor did she feel comfortable asking.

They had grown just a tad bit closer after he caught her from falling in the Main Hall, but that didn’t mean he would play with her like a child, nor did it prevent him from continuing to torture her like he was doing now with his insistence of building a fire from scratch.

She didn’t object either. Although he had seemed to grow softer around her and she could even feel comfortable calling him out when he tried to bluff, she had still agreed to be his caretaker to save her family. She wouldn’t try anything that she believed would jeopardize that deal.

“Are you going to stand there all day or build a fire?” Rumplestiltskin’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.

She glanced over at him. “I was only trying to warm up and brush the snow off,” she explained.

“Yes, well we both know that can be better achieved with a bright blazing fire.” He shot her a snarky smile.

She shot him one right back before turning away and going back to work.

Now,she just had to build and light the fire. She hated that last part. Despite how many times he had showed her how to do it, she still hadn’t gotten the hang of it. If only he would use magic. “Magic always comes with a price.” She could hear his shrill voice now as if he was actually reminding her. Yes, she had been with him long enough to understand that magic came with a price. Yet, he seemed to not mind paying it when it came to other mundane tasks. That was why she was sure he enjoyed watching her struggle.

After adding pine needles to the bottom of the fireplace, putting a few twigs on top of those, and then the logs, Belle picked up the piece of steel and flint stone. She set to trying to light the char cloth so that she could ignite the wood.

A few strikes of the flint stone caused a few sparks to fly up, but yet the cloth didn’t set fire despite it’s high flammability. But then, suddenly, as if the gods were looking down upon her, other strike of the stone and the edge of the cloth lit up! She couldn’t believe it. It was like some miracle. Never had she ever gotten it to light so quickly. It seemed almost impossible, almost as if…

She shot a look over at Rumple who seemingly was paying her no mind, busily writing on a fresh piece of parchment. She could see now he was not concocting a new potion, but testing out a gold colored ink. Actually, it could have been made of real gold given he could spin it from straw, but she did not truly know.

She stared him down for a moment, before he finally looked up giving her a look to show or at least to pretend he had no idea why she was eyeing him suspiciously. She gave him an all knowing smile and went back to finishing what had already been started, making sure the fire flared up nicely in the fireplace and showed no signs of going out.

Standing, she looked down at the blazing fire proudly, feeling like she had done a good job even though there was that unspoken possibility of magic. Either way, she had done most of the heavy work, collecting and bringing all the logs in through the snow. Brushing her hands off, she turned to leave so she could start on her other chores.

Yet, as she stepped forward, she didn’t realize there was a stray log that had rolled away from the others. As her foot came into contact with the wood she suddenly found herself slipping and falling backwards toward the fireplace.

A squeal erupted from her lips and she hit the floor with a loud thump, but all seemed to be well minus a bruised tailbone.

“Belle?” Rumple looked up concerned, but Belle brushed him away.

“I’m fine,” she told him as she once again climbed back to her feet.

“No, Belle!”

And then out of nowhere he was rushing toward her while Belle had absolutely no idea why. And then she felt it: something extremely hot on her leg.

She glanced over and gasped. She was on fire! Or more or less her cape was! When she had hit the floor the tail end of the garment had landed in the fireplace and set ablaze.

Instantly panicking, she began to scramble to her feet and away from the fire. Her hands fumbled, trying to undo the clasp around her neck, but her fingers didn’t seem to work.

Screaming for Rumple she began to fling around the room trying to somehow rip the cape from her neck, yet she continued to be unsuccessful. And then, as if all hope was lost she felt a pair of strong hands come at her from behind, freeing the clasp from her neck and tossing the cape across the room.

Belle in her fit and surprise knocked Rumple back on his bottom bringing her down with him as she tumbled down into his lap. She watched in horror as the cape flared up and burned until there was nothing left but a pile of black soot.

Her breathing was rapid and her heart racing. After a moment she was able to turn her head and look back to see that it was indeed Rumple who had saved her…again. And she was sitting in his lap, with his arms still around her. Yet, neither one of them attempted to move away from the other.

“Y…you saved me,” she stuttered.

He was once again staring at her as if she wasn’t real, just like that day in the Main Hall. He cleared his throat and then attempted to look aggravated, but she could see his relief. “Yes, well, it seems this is turning into an everyday occurrence. How can I ever expect you to get through all your chores without my constant supervision?”

Belle smiled bashfully. “I’m not doing it on purpose.”

“Yes, well, I suppose we’ll just have to limit your duties to less dangerous activities. No more starting fires, no more climbing ladders-just stick to dusting, laundry, and making tea.”

“You mean that?” Belle looked at him in disbelief. There was no way she was going to believe that would be all he’d have her do around the castle, but perhaps he was telling the truth about helping with the fires.

“Yes, yes, and let’s start with you climbing off of me and getting dinner started.” He waved his arms in a shooing motion.

“Oh!” Belle exclaimed having forgotten she was in his lap to begin with. She clambered to her feet ungracefully and straightened her skirts.

Rumple was on his feet just as fast and gave her one last look that Belle couldn’t help but wonder what it really meant. It was a softer and sweeter look, with a sparkle in his eyes. She had been seeing the look ever so increasingly and she just couldn’t help but think there was a man behind that monster and that perhaps he did care about her well being.

“I’ll have dinner ready within the hour,” she told him as she walked over to the stairs to leave, feeling her heart flutter for some strange reason.

She was almost out of sight when she heard him call: “Oh Belle…and please do be careful around the kitchen fires. I wouldn’t want to find any charred linens in my fresh vegetable stew.”

#rumbelle secret santa #alsywalsy #rss #rumbelle #rumbellesecretsanta #rumbelle fic

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revwinchester · 8 years ago

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Throughout Time

Summary: Gabriel finds himself drawn to the same soul as it is reborn across the world and throughout history. After falling in love with the woman housing the soul and losing her, Gabriel can’t allow himself to go down that road again. But when the soul belongs to the reader, a hunter working with the Winchesters, she pushes him to drop his guard and let her in.

Pairing: Gabriel x Reader, Gabriel x Kali

Word Count: 3385

Warnings: Implied smut (nothing explicit happens in the body of the story but it’s definitely implied heavily at times), reader character death/reincarnation, light language, some angst (ok, a good deal of angst), but it’s got a happy, fluffy ending!

A/N: This is for the @gabriel-monthly-challenge February Prompts. There was an art prompt that I used, as well as the statement/word prompt, Aliferous (meaning: having wings), and the dialogue prompt: “When I said I’d never fall in love, I think Aphrodite took it as a challenge.” This was a beast of a fic to write for some reason and I hope y’all enjoy what I came up with this month.

The art (which I’m pretty sure was made by @lacqueluster) and the fic are below the cut!

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Throughout Time -

Being a Trickster was fun. Gabriel had only really been at it for a century or so but leaving heaven and the incessant bickering behind had done wonders for his self confidence and roaming the earth dishing out amusing punishments to deserving humans was definitely a good time. The Nordic people had called him Loki, a name he still loved and intended to return to, in Greece he was known as Dolos, but here in Rome he was called Mendacius.

As Mendacius, he was invisibly strolling through the city, listening in on conversations and munching on a sweet cake as he looked for his next victim. He peered down a side street and froze in his place when he saw her.

She was the most beautiful woman Gabriel had ever seen and he was so intently drawn to her. He’d heart stories of angels having gracemates, some of whom were humans, but he’d always dismissed it as tales the caretakers would tell the fledgelings. Now, he wasn’t so sure as he gave up his quest for a new target for his trickery and, instead, followed the woman. Her flowing garments looked familiar, however he couldn’t put his finger on why since he hadn’t been in Rome long. It wasn’t until she reached her final destination that he recognized her garb - she was one of the priestesses of the temple of Vesta. She was a Vestal Virgin.

“Crap,” he muttered under his breath. Of course he would find himself so intrigued by not only a mortal, but one who had taken a 30 year vow of chastity. By the look of things, she couldn’t be more than a third of the way through that vow. Perhaps if he spoke with Vesta… he didn’t know the goddess well but it was worth a shot. Gabriel tore his eyes away from the woman and made his way to the seat of the goddess to plead his case, hopefully without giving away his secret identity.

“What have you to offer me, little godling?” Vesta asked, her voice full of condescension toward the trickster god. “There is nothing you could give me in return that would be worth one of my priestesses. Though,” she mused, “I do enjoy watching you squirm. Perhaps I’m due for a new priestess anyway. Perhaps I should plant an idea in the mind of her colleagues, an idea that she’s been unfaithful to her vows.”

Gabriel tried to reason with Vesta but there was no use in it. Before nightfall, the woman he’d so quickly and thoroughly fallen in love with was being led from the temple and thrown into a pit where she was buried alive and left to suffocate.

Gabriel fled again, just like he had done when he left heaven. He returned to Greece and found solace with an old friend.

“Do not weep, Dolos,” Aphrodite offered, “for she will live on, even after her death, and you shall love again.”

“You’re too good to me, Aphie, but you’re wrong. I’ll never fall in love, not again. It only ends in pain.” Gabriel wasn’t solely thinking of the woman who he’d gotten killed but he couldn’t explain that to Aphrodite, not without giving up his secret and his cover. Between the love he’d had for his brothers, who would never stop fighting, his father, who had abandoned them all, and this woman, who had died because of him, Gabriel had learned the truth: to love was to be filled with pain.

Gabriel made his way East, exploring parts of his father’s creation that he had not yet encountered.

----

Things had been good for Loki. Early in his eastern exploration, about two decades in, he had met Kali and fallen into an easy (and rather physical) relationship. Neither was in any danger of developing feelings beyond sentimentality and Loki found it was nice to be surrounded by a thriving religion that wasn’t centered around his father. Even in his final days with the Greeks and Romans, Christianity had begun sneaking in.

After about eight centuries with Kali, a blink of an eye, really, for immortal beings like them, Gabriel decided to see more of the continent. Though he became known by many titles and names throughout the continent - huli jing, kitsune, kumiho, Sri Thanonchai - he never kept good track of where he was. Rather, he had more of a general idea of his location while he dished out justice to deserving humans. So he couldn’t say where in Asia he was when he saw her. Sure, her skin was a different tone, the color and texture of her hair had changed, and even the shape of her eyes was different from those of the Vestal Virgin but the soul that shone through them couldn’t be dismissed. She was here and, once again, Gabriel found himself drawn to her.

She loved the sky, he learned. Her father was an astronomer and had passed his knowledge to both her and her brother. Her brother continued the family business while her culture dictated that she care for her aging parents. She fulfilled her duty with a heart full of love and her eyes turned toward the sky.

Gabriel carefully used some of his powers to ease some of her burdens so that he could spend more time with her, hearing the stories that her father had told her about the stars and their places in the heavens and sharing some of what he knew. After sharing a tale about Yì Xiù, or Wings, one of the twenty-eight mansions and her father’s favorite constellation, she asked him, “Would you… May I present you to my father and brother?”

Gabriel knew the courage the question took and the even greater amount of gumption it would take to introduce him, in the vessel he’d taken from a Western man, to her family. He spent one final night gazing at the heavens with her before he stole away, making his way back to the West.

----

No one really believed in the old gods anymore now that Christianity had become pervasive, but Gabriel slipped back into his Loki persona anyway. With a few notable exceptions, the Norse pantheon had always been his favorite. As Loki, the most powerful of the trickster gods, he could use some of his archangel powers while still staying under the radar of his angelic brethren. As Loki, he could indulge in the earthly sweets he’d come to love. As Loki, he encountered her.

He had stood by the statement he’d made to Aphrodite centuries ago and he didn’t intend to go back on that now, yet he found himself drawn to the woman. She had the same eyes as the Roman priestess he had loved.

She was a sculptor, an odd thing for a woman in this time period. Her physical features reminded him more of the Roman woman but her spirit, it seemed, remained unchanged in each of her iterations. Gabriel was happy to serve as her muse and model for a time and, inevitably, they began to share a life and a bed. It all caught up with Gabriel when she showed him her most recent piece; though he had never shared his celestial ancestry with her, she had depicted him with wings.

“You are my angel,” she confessed.

That night, Gabriel left. He didn’t wake her, just slipped out into the night, retreating once again to Asia, to Kali, intent on a good time. He’d won, he told himself as he cheekily suggested that he and Kali memorize and perfect the Kama Sutra.

----

Throughout the 1800s, Gabriel decided to travel around Africa. It was a huge place and Gabriel was fascinated by the diversity in the people and the terrains throughout the land. He crossed the Sahara Desert on foot, simply because he could, before snapping himself onto some of the tallest dunes in the Namib Desert. Gabriel also explored the savannah, observing the wildlife, watching lions hunt and nearly getting caught in a stampede, all the while humming a tune that wouldn’t be written for more than 150 years.

Gabriel didn’t purposely avoid human contact while he explored some of the various parts of the continent but he found that he had a clearer vision of the natural order of his father’s creation if he stayed clear of the routes the humans would generally take and the areas that they tended to gather and dwell. So his surprise was understandable when he encountered a small community well off of the beaten path. Gabriel approached the people with care and he put up no resistance when they surrounded him and herded him toward where their leader was dwelling. Though he had never heard their language before, he could understand their words. The people had been driven from their land by force and now feared he was a spy.

When he was presented to their leader, a young woman, he knew immediately that everything would be fine. It was her. By now he'd know the soul that glowed within her anywhere, no matter what face she wore. He spoke with her and promised to help her people regain their home.

Gabriel assisted her in planning during the day and in the evenings, he shared stories with the people who gathered around the fire, earning himself a name among the tribe: Anansi. He told them tales of some of his better tricks as well as stories of a woman whose soul was reborn over and over again as searched to bond with its true partner. As he weaved that particular tale over the course of many nights, the leader began to grow sad and quiet.

The night before they were to retake their home, Anansi asked her about it.

“The woman in your tale,” she replied, “she lives time and time again, greeting her love in each life only to find herself dismissed. Before your arrival, I had not loved and, yet, I cannot help but find myself within her story.”

Anansi stayed the night with her, resolving that perhaps this time, he could stay. She was created to be with him, and he with her, he reasoned.

The next morning, the people reclaimed their land. Anansi had assured her that he could take care of it on his own but she had insisted that they all take part. She lead the bulk of the people while he and a much smaller group worked in tricks and traps. The people were somber upon their success and Anansi couldn't fathom why until he drew near enough to see the pyre they were preparing. She lay there, honored among the dead. Upon the pyre’s completion, Gabriel in his rage called down fire from heaven to consume the bodies before he disappeared.

----

After finding her and losing her in a place that he thought would be deserted, Gabriel decided he would do best somewhere where he was surrounded by people and he made his way to London. However, his plan quickly backfired and only about two decades after he’d lost her, the glow of her soul found its way into his life again. He’d never met her so soon after losing her before and he buried his grief in her ample breasts, still swearing to himself and to any god that would hear him that he would be the ruler of his emotions.

She was an author now and their exploits worked their way into her fiction. However, after being told that her writing was “too unladylike,” she chose to publish under a masculine pseudonym. Only one of her pieces was published under her own name but Gabriel was sure that all of her works would survive the test of time.

Maybe it was the residual emotions from the last time he had found her but, for the first time, Gabriel felt compelled to reveal his true self to her. However, he knew that if he went through with it, there would be no going back from that moment. If he stayed beyond the revelation, he would stay forever. Rather than explain it all to her, Gabriel called his wings into her plane of vision. He held back enough of the grace that would normally come with the vision so as not to harm her.

Instead of being repulsed, like Gabriel had feared she might be, she was intrigued. She had always loved to watch the birds as she wrote and, she confessed, had longed to for the freedom of flight. That night, after the streets had cleared, Gabriel pulled her into his arms and took to the skies. He brought her back to her home exhilarated and exhausted and watched her fall asleep, a smile on her face and a story brewing in her mind, before he disappeared once again.

Feelings are dangerous; to love is to court pain, he assured himself. Those words were his mantra as he took off and created a pocket dimension to hide in.

----

“Why do you hate me?” Y/N asked.

Gabriel had just wandered into the library and the question caught him off guard. Dad, did those hurt. “What?” he asked through a mouthful of sugary, heart shaped candies.

“You tease and prank Sam and Dean, you have a deep, brotherly affection for Cas, and you even seem to respect Crowley,” she explained, “but you rarely ever look at me, let alone speak with me. And I don’t know why it bothers me, but it does. A lot. Way more than I’d care to admit.”

Gabriel swallowed the candy and looked into her eyes, past her body and stared deep into her soul. “I don’t hate you,” he sighed. “I could never hate you.”

“Then…” she began, her voice trailing off as she considered whether or not she wanted to keep pressing.

Gabriel couldn’t blame her for her hesitation, he hadn’t said more than a sentence or two to her at a time since he’d arrived at the bunker about a month ago. He smiled at her, maybe for the first time in this incarnation, in the hopes of encouraging her words.

“Then why don’t you ever want to be around me? Why don’t you ever talk to me?” Her voice sounded hurt and Gabriel hated himself for doing this to her.

“Because I… we… I, I can’t let it win. If I’ve learned anything in my existence, it’s that love only leads to pain and I can’t do that to myself. I can’t lose you. Not again.” Gabriel knew that, while he was laying all of his cards on the table, he wasn’t explaining the situation well but it was the best he could do in the moment but he had a feeling he was going to need to do better.

“What do you mean you can’t lose me again?” Y/N’s was curious; she wanted to understand him, like she always had.

Gabriel took a deep, unnecessary breath and, for the first time, told her everything. Tales of her soul, of the Vestal Virgin, the astronomer, the sculptor, the village leader, and the author all poured out of his mouth. Once Gabriel began speaking, it was like he couldn’t stop. “We belong to one another; you’re my gracemate or, I guess, humans call it soulmates. I’ve been drawn to your soul throughout my entire existence,” Gabriel explained. “Because we haven’t bonded, your soul has been reborn over and over and each time I find you.” Gabriel shifted his gaze from her face to his hands, unable to look directly at the beautiful soul that blazed within her. “But I’ve lost you enough that I stopped allowing myself to love you. Every time I let my guard down, you died. So whenever I felt us getting too close, I’d run. It’s what I’m good at.”

After a pause that felt like an eternity but, in actuality, probably only lasted a few seconds, Gabriel moved to stand. He felt the itch to escape again, he needed to leave the bunker. Y/N would explain to Sam and Dean and he could pop out, tell Cas, and disappear.

However, Y’N’s hand shot out and stopped him. “Don’t run, Gabriel, not this time,” she asked, her all too familiar eyes searching out his as her voice caressed his name. “Please.”

Gabriel sat beside her at the table and she laced her fingers through his. He looked down at their joined hands and had to laugh a little. “You know, when I said I’d never fall in love, I think Aphrodite took it as a challenge.”

“Aphrodite? Like the actual Aphrodite?” Y/N asked him but she brushed the question off and spoke again before he could answer. “Look, I’ve got an idea but I need you to promise me something.”

“Anything,” Gabriel replied, his voice quiet.

“Don’t go anywhere. I want to talk more - we need to talk more and, preferably, before Sam and Dean get back from their trip into town - but I need to go to the kitchen first. Promise me you’ll wait here for me.”

Her voice was so sincere and Gabriel knew he was a goner this time. He agreed to stay in his spot until she returned and he watched as she disappeared into the bunker’s kitchen and listened while she began opening the cabinets and moving around the space.

While he waited for Y/N to return, Gabriel took stock of everything that had happened that afternoon. He had told her everything and she hadn’t run. Surprisingly, neither had he, and it seemed like Y/N might care for him in return. While Gabriel was lost in thought, Y/N reentered the library and pulled his attention back to her presence by setting down a crazy looking milkshake. The glass was topped with whipped cream and candy and cake, all covered with sprinkles and cherries. Gabriel looked up at her inquisitively as she pushed the milkshake closer to him and then held out a hand with her intention of leading him to a different room clear on her face.

“I was planning on trying to win you over with one of these but I accidentally let my mouth jump ahead of the plan,” Y/N explained as Gabriel took her hand.

Y/N had her own milkshake, not quite as elaborate but still quite fanciful in one hand and Gabriel allowed himself to be led through the bunker. There was a smaller secondary library deeper in the space and that’s where Y/N took him but she didn’t stop at the tiny table in the room. In fact, she marched them right up to one of the bookshelves in the back before she dropped his hand and handed him her milkshake.

Gabriel stood confused as she began tugging at one of the bookshelves, watching as it gave way, revealing a small, secret room. “I found this place a few months ago when Sam and Dean left me behind after I had sprained my wrist on a hunt. It’s become my haven and I haven’t wanted to share it with anyone else before tonight,” Y/N told the angel as she took her milkshake back from him and ushered him into the room.

They sat across from one another at the small table in the room and she leaned in, placing a hand on top of one of his. “So, how many times have we fallen in love?”

“Five. This is the sixth time I’ve met you,” Gabriel answered carefully as her fingers played over the top of his hand.

“So, sixth time’s the charm, then, I guess.” Gabriel could tell Y/N was working to keep her voice light. She was afraid that he was going to run and, yet, she was still speaking her mind, ��Stop looking at me like I’m going to break, Gabriel. I’m an archangel’s soulmate, not a damsel in distress.”

Gabriel huffed a laugh at that. “I’m just not used to you living much beyond me making the decision to stick around.”

“Well, something tells me I’ve never been quite as stubborn as I am now,” Y/N replied, “and I have no intention to die any time soon. Especially not before you tell me more about this whole gracemate thing.”

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SPN Pond Gabe (and, to be safe, + angst, + smut) tags: @manawhaat @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @whispersandwhiskerburn @roxy-davenport @for-the-love-of-dean @jelly-beans-and-gstrings @deansleather @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname @mrswhozeewhatsis @imadeangirl-butimsamcurious @jpadjackles @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki @deanwinchesterforpromqueen @chaos-and-the-calm67 @fandommaniacx @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell @castieltrash1 @deals-with-demons @clueless-gold

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