#bonded

[multifictional]

By Heaven's Design => Part 1: HEAVENSENT

-> gabriel (spn) x reader, other characters

Summary: «As it is in Heaven, so it shall been on earth.» When Gabriel said this, it was to give a warning. Yet, he never imagined those words would come back to bite at him as well. There was only one rule in Heaven that stood above all else. Even more than war and obedience: nothing stood between an angel and its mate. It was a celestial law, a duty, one of the most undeniable among his kind, something he hadn't thought about ever since he left Heaven, his brothers and everything he was created for. When he realized a common human girl could see his wings - mistaking them for cosplay, no less - he knew he was doomed. Mating wasn't romance. It was rare and sacred, it happened only once in the existence of every angel and it lasted for all eternity. But Gabriel found so much more than his mate. He found the center of a celestial design that was never just about Dean and Sam Winchester, but also about a girl that mirrored him too closely, whose soul fit his grace too perfectly and with a family that seemed normal, but was actually the key of a prophecy older than creation. And he would do what every angel would do for a mate: whatever it takes to make sure she remains unharmed, no matter the cost.

Warnings/content: Basically an introduction of the first part of the fic since it's divided in two. A bit of my take into the angelic mating lore. Might be confusing at first, but it will make sense, I promise!

Word count: 621

Even though it is said that every angel has a mate, finding them is an entirely different kind of matter. And when they do, everything changes. Mates are rare. That is why they are sacred. They are among the most treasured things in Heaven, and also the most feared. Bargained over by enemies and fiercely guarded like holy relics. Even when they're human, their value is impossible to be ignored. A mate becomes, and always would be, an angel's entire world, which makes them their greatest strength and their deepest vulnerability. Their only weakness. There is no middle ground. Angels will choose their mate over Heaven. They will choose them over everything else: over the Host, over war and duty, over any divine order ever given, even over their own existence. Because mates are not destiny. For angels, they are inevitability. Angels do not simply fall in love, they recognize what was always meant to be theirs: their soulmate, their charge, their... one and only. The moment a mate is found, the very purpose of an angel's creation reshapes itself around a single soul, the one they're bound to protect, mark and claim. The one they were always sworn to. A mate makes an angel unstoppable. Grace turning feral with territorial instincts, something ancient awaking beneath celestial obedience. Something powerful enough to make even the Father itself hesitate. Touching a mate means inviting the worst kind of Heaven's wrath upon your head. If harm comes to a mate, even the stars will tremble. An angel's grace can sense the pull of their mate's soul long before their voice is ever heard, before wings recognize them and before human eyes ever understand what they're looking at and why their souls respond so vividly. Angels were made to defend souls by design.  And a mate's soul, the one they wait for since the very first moment of creation, is untouchable. A human who binds their soul to an angel's grace and bears their name marked permanently on them does not remain entirely mortal. Time loosens its hold on them, aging falters, then stops altogether, until they remain standing beside their angel almost unchanged by years flowing upon them like wind. Immortality is not the gift. Forever together is, and sometimes it comes with a price. Blades, fire enemies or fate may still claim them. If a mate dies, an angel does not mourn. An angel breaks. Sanity dissolves, every rational thought disappears. Grace reacts violently, driven by a single instinct: vengeance. The world must burn first and then, only after the debt is paid in blood, does the angel follow their mate into Heaven permanently, abandoning the world they once served. History remembers wars. The Bible records them. The heavens remember the angels who started them. An angel who is mated will stop at nothing. And that alone should be a warning enough. Archangels themselves are not exempt from the laws of creation. The first four angels ever created, the only beings who saw the face of the Lord. Ancient and absolute, they are Heaven's most powerful and terrifying weapons: fierce and dangerous beyond measure. And even they were not immune to the call of the soul that belonged to them.

One of them, especially, absent from heaven's watchful gaze for millennias, had long stopped waiting. Had long stopped searching. Until the day he found his mate and discovered the world was already trying to kill her.

The Bible knew him for delivering messages.

The other angels knew him for running away.

Pagans knew him for tricking mischief.

His mate would know him as the only angel whose six golden wings she could always truly see.

And together, they would earn their forever.

A/N: here we are!! The way I’m excited for this fic, I can’t even explain. It will be divided in two, to each their own introduction. This is the one for the first part, and I hope it spiked your interest!! Let me know your thoughts/impressions, would LOVE to know them🥹

Also, if you wanna be tagged in next parts just comment below, I will gladly make a taglist!

[hamararakattirastas]

Stop it

[strangelittlestories]

The worst part of the Apostates’ Curse is that you have to do it to yourself.

Oh, the Coven of Covens won't make you go through it alone. They'll gather round, their eyes full of poisonous sadness and even more poisonous love. They'll murmur soft encouragement and funeral compassion.

But they'll still put the bowl of ashes in front of you and hand you a spoon and tell you to eat.

They'll take turns to hold your hand and squeeze it and tell you how brave you are, while your other hand shovels hearth-dust into your mouth.

They'll tell you how necessary this is, and how proud they are, and how this road is long and shadow-pocked… but they will walk it with you as far as they can.

All this they said to Niks. And all the while, the witch-turned-anathema felt the ashes coat their throat and curdle back into embers in their stomach.

And all the while, Niks' former coven-mates dipped needles into iron ink and made Niks’ skin a thread-work of nevers.

Never again to be part of their family.

Never again to stitch the torn edges of the world into something beautiful.

Never again to tend magic, except inside their own body.

Never again to be anything but a coven and a hearth of one.

Niks felt sick and not just from the meal of yesterday's fires.

The Apostates’ Coven was vital. Those solitary siblings guarded the farthest thresholds. They were a horseshoe over the lintel to Nowere. They gave those who had crossed the most sacred lines a way to still be of service to the patchwork of yesterdays and the pattern of tomorrow.

But in that moment, Niks could not shake the perversity of it. Was there not a better way – a kinder way – to gird siblings for that path? Was it not a horror to say “for your sins, we will take your joy and give you hardship, and we will call it grace”?

Niks’ vision blurred. The spoon fell from their grey-stained lips. Their mouth was so dry. They coughed and gasped, choking on what they had been assured was medicine.

A gentle hand stroked their face. A soft voice whispered solace. The other witches looked at each other with twisted grief. Not all survived the first steps down the Apostates' road. And when a witch did not make it, the departed’s coven-mates would whisper that to leave a hard road unwalked could sometimes be a blessing.

Niks saw the grief on the faces of the gathered covens, and saw it cut with relief.

Spite rose acidic in their throat, and spite had always been a great motivator for Niks. The fireplace of soot in their stomach began to splutter and burn.

Niks let the snarl spread across their face. They waved off the crowd of pre-emptive mourners. They picked up the spoon. They gobbled down the next mouthful. They gorged themselves on bitterness.

The internal hearth in their guts blazed. The needles scoured their skin. Niks was transformed in agony and they let themself stop pretending that it did not feel amazing.

The witch holding their hand tensed like she was holding a snake. Their former coven hurried about their needlework as if Niks’ blood was crude oil and they all held matches.

Niks laughed and did not care.

They only became faintly aware, once the bowl was empty and their throat was raw from cackling, that they were alone.

They took the night bus home, taking in nothing around them, trembling and chuckling the whole way home.

It was only as they got off the bus that they remembered a faint touch that had stayed slow and tender through the whole ordeal.

They sat on their sofa with the lights off. They held a cup of tea that they could not remember making. It was weak and had too much milk, but it was hot in their hands and smelled like something normal.

Niks stared down at their mug, and saw for the first time with almost-clear eyes the iron-stitched tattoos. They were surprised to find words there, running all the way from the elbow down to the fingertips. 

Usually, coven-mates would ink memory wards upon the Apostates. These were protective workings wound up in shared experience and expressed as an image or in abstract.

Niks moved to the bathroom and stood in front of the tall mirror. The ink on the rest of their body was what they expected; it was only their arms that were different.

They felt, again, the ghost of that one pair of hands that had stayed gentle throughout the whole working.

Curio. Curio (whose name had once been Precious) had not been the closest of Niks’ coven-mates, but he had always looked at them with clarity. Curio had always seen the broken glass in Niks’ history and had never worried it might cut him.

The two had almost gone to bed a couple of times, but had always found a reason to put it off to another day. Niks supposed that Curio would now remain always a “maybe one day”. But, well, there was a kind of power in potential (even unfulfilled).

Here are the words that Curio had written in shifting ferrous toxins across Niks’ body:

“Step by step. Sibling, this is how we go. Though I do not walk with you, know that the echo of my soles cries out to yours. Though you walk in the gloaming, know that there are photons lighting your way that have kissed my skin in days gone by.

“Step by step, sibling. This is how we go. Though your body is a gaol, know that there is a stitchwork to blood and bile and bone. Though you are illuminated by cold metal prison bars, know that others before you have unlocked the alchemy of biology. Though my becoming is not your transmogrification, know that our stories have in common both some language and some lessons.

“Step by step, sibling, this is how. We go forward knowing there is joy on the horizon. We go forwards and though some play leprechaun and move the rainbow goalposts beyond our reach, know that they cannot move the sunset. Though they bury the gold and lie and say it never did exist, know that it did and it does and the dusk is always gilded. Though you may ask me how to grasp it… how is this, sibling? Step by step.

“There are many things beyond our grasp, beyond our ken, beyond the doorway. Yet it is a lie to say that simply because you cannot touch a thing today that you must accept it cannot be changed. There is a distance between you and every thing in existence that can be measured in footsteps. A day will come, perhaps, when those things hear you coming and begin walking – in turn – towards you. As I will.

“Step by step. Sibling: this is how.

“We go.”

Niks read those words again and again and again. And they wept. And they cackled.

And they drank their tea.

---

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[witchthewriter]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐲𝐫𝐚𝐱 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

From this poll, this series is born!

a/n: this is changing the dragons from not just mount, but to being able to shift into a human-like form at will...

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・Syrax would be unwaveringly committed to you. Once the bond snaps in place, she only has eyes for you and expects the same devotion in return.

・In this relationship, you two possess the ability to communicate with each other in a way that goes beyond simple speech. Syrax can pick up on your emotions and feelings very quickly.

・All dragonshifter bonds have almost telepathic communication, but it is something both partners have to work on.

・In times of danger, Syrax would be a fierce protector, and you'd fight side by side.

・The bond would carry a lot of emotional depth, not just physical but also emotional and spiritual. You would be her confidante, her ally, and her anchor in times of uncertainty.

・Syrax's emotions run deep, and she would only ever bond with someone who can match her intensity.

・In this form, Syrax still possesses her keen senses, fiery temperament, and a deep connection to the skies and nature.

・Her human-like form has indications of her dragon self; her hair has an otherworldly shimmer, sharp fingernails, curled horns that protrude from her forehead, pointed ears and glowing eyes.

・Depending on her shift, she may retain scaled wings, allowing her to soar even in her human-like form.

・Whether she is looming over you as a dragon or standing beside you as a woman, Syrax is always your protector. If anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way, she bares her fangs in a silent warning.

・However, she does face challenges in adapting to human emotions, relationships, and societal norms.

・With her only able to dragonshift when she meets her soulmate/mate, it takes a while to understand the human way of life...

・So she asks you many, many questions about - everything.

"But I do not understand why!

"Well, I- I guess that's just the way it's been. Tradition. I think it's a tad stupid but ... that's why."

・Hence, you have to have a lot of patience with her

・Always wants to be near you; holding your hand, nuzzling into your shoulder, climbing ontop of you etc

・Likes to stare at you, you can often find her looking at you, no matter how close or far away she is.

"Oh! Sy, what are you staring at? Is there something on my face?"

"Yes," she says, leaning forward, "a kiss!"

・Bites you when she's bored...or just when you two are alone.

・Very jealous. Doesn't like it when someone looks at you too long.

・Loves sweet things; will eat an entire plate of honey lemons in 10 minutes flat

・Syrax would have such high energy; encouraging you to try new things and take risks. But reminding you that she'll always be there to catch you if you fall.

・She is so understanding. So empathetic toward you. Syrax only wants the best for you.

・There’s a strong, mutual desire to shield one another from harm.

・Nothing intimidates her. Any challenges that come up - she faces them head on. She's determined. A being who cannot be swayed.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

"You wear the pants in this relationship" (Syrax) x "oh I wish, I cannot control you at all" (You)

Wear Matching Necklaces

Primal & Possessive

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Unbreakable Bond/Bonded for Life

Mutual Growth

The Dragon’s Protector

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

The Sails of Charon by Scorpions

Say Yes To Heaven by Lana Del Rey

The Wolf by Fever Ray

𝑁𝑆𝐹𝑊 🔞 No one under the age of 18 past this point, makes me feel weird if you read it.

・First of all, Syrax is incredibly possessive of you. She has a primal instinct to make everyone know that you are hers and she is yours.

・She is incredibly strong, even if she doesn't look it...and gods does she love using her strength against you

・Her favourite thing to do is hold you against a wall, or! pin you on the bed.

・Her teeth raking down your cheek, neck, chest and stomach...

・Syrax loves to mark you. Bites, bruises, deep scratches. She expects to see them the next day. If she notices them fading too quickly...she’ll remedy that immediately.

・Needs to have her scent on you. Many know you are together, but with her scent Syrax is letting every other magical being that you are bonded

・When her instincts are particularly strong, she burns for you - literally. Her body runs hotter than a human's and when she's aroused, her body is warm to the touch.

・She does have a Heat.

・And it can last for upto a week. During that time, no matter what has to be done, Syrax is not letting you leave her side. She needs to be near you at all times.

・During this time, she is constantly wet, constantly needing you.

・She ruts against you, sometimes slowly, just to relieve some part of her. Other times, she pins you down and humps you until she's reached her peak.

・If it was any other time, she would want to be the dominant one. But during her Heat, she wants to be used; wants her hair pulled, her nipples swollen from constant biting and pulling.

・Even when she cums, she makes different noises. She sounds more needy - whining and crying out.

[kvotheunkvothe]

just a couple a guys bein dudes

[ystrike1]

Bonded - By Hodge (8.5/10)

A depressed immortal elf and his supporter in battle. A mere human Duke, who dares to covet him. There is no cute flirting. There is ritualistic sacrifice, lots of jealousy, and a really dangerous class difference. This is not light on the horror. No guts no glory.

I hate to say it but this one is all about the vibe. The writing ain't perfect.

The Duke, Cedar, feels very tied down by his loyalty to Katrus. He's been in denial about his lust for a long time. He goes on adventures(?) with the immortal elf, and none of them are fun. Master Katrus is an immortal being that can repel dangerous giant monsters. Without him the country would be a feeding ground.

He's kind of one of the most important living beings around.

He's also, of course, heartbreakingly gorgeous and depressed. The monsters at the border love to eat life force. Katrus is life. A true immortal by blood. His meat, blood, and fluids can placate the monsters. His power can destroy them, sure, but the depression thing....yeah...

Um...

He has started letting the monsters eat and violate him, because he no longer cares about his life. He is also aware of the Duke's feelings, and he uses freeze spells to force him to watch.

Yeah...um.....being Duke Cedar sucks....

He's so far gone that it does turn him on. He's pretty obsessed. Katrus is an untouchable being that has become vulnerable due to his mental state.

He used to be distant, professional and vicious. Duke Cedar kept his wandering eyes on the ground in those days, but war has a way of breaking people.

The King immediately notices something is wrong with the pair, but he is a good leader. He isn't paranoid or overly cruel. Katrus is making a sacrifice as a soldier. He doesn't expect it to be pretty. He expects the elf to keep defending the country. The method doesn't matter. He seems hopeful about Duke Cedar. Perhaps affection from a human will keep the elf in action longer...

Katrus is not a good lover. He constantly makes fun of Duke Cedar for daring to be attracted to him. He doesn't even treat the Duke like a servant.

Just like an animal.

Just like the beasts that eat him.

[taintedsoul-if]

Probably huge spoiler but, bonded cannot betray in any way each other, so how did Atticus was responsables for some of MC's soul shards to go to the eight/Ada?

This is honestly a spoiler minefield… In-game, readers will experience flashbacks from a few timelines. But just to give a little tidbit away: Atticus might—or might not—have had memories of his bonded in those timelines. He was also being manipulated by something or someone.

In the first timeline, there were actually two MCs. That’s why, the first time he betrayed MC, his body started burning from the inside out, like his soul was on fire. When MC died and he successfully got the soul shard, the moment he handed it over to Ada/Celestyn, his body combusted into nothingness.

Atticus died thinking the fake MC was the real one. Tragic 💀.