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ilikemesometaetaes · 3 years

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Set Me Free (M)

Min Yoongi Oneshot

•••> Author: @ilikemesometaetaes

•••> Summary: You are just an ordinary woman with a strange aura about you that Yoongi can’t seem to resist- even past the compulsion of his mentor. The question is: why?

•••> Pairing(s): Yoongi/Reader

•••> Requested by @itsgottabeyoo-ngs : “Hi daddy, One shot request with vampire Yoongi x brat reader. Bonus points for adding in choking or spitting idk make it filthy k thanks love you byeeeee xoxoxoxox”

•••> Word Count: 10.95k

•••> Rating: 18+

•••> Warnings: smut, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex, murder, attempted murder, slight choking/strangulation, dirty talk, biting, blood drinking, spitting, violence, horror, vampire/human relationship, cursing, mental attachment, thirsty Yoongi, Yoongi thinks he’s scary, but he’s totally not

Thank you for the request, babe! This one is a bit to unpack, as you can see. I hope you enjoy :)

~#~

Yoongi never claimed to have his thirst under complete control.

He stands before his brothers once every week for the feed, snarling as he consumes his share of blood, while the others bear witness so as to provide him ceremonial protection- a vampire is very vulnerable while he consumes blood. The polydipsia made one lose all form of reason and sense of mind, driven to the brink of animalistic insanity when it was in the process of mildly quenching the eternal hunger.

Polydipsia, used to describe his level of thirst, was the word made just for him in his own little world.

It wasn’t normal thirst, like a human, but the savage-like impulse to drink and drown until he could swim in a river of blood and take deep lungfuls of the crimson fluid. The impossible desire to consume and be completely consumed by blood until he became it himself always loomed over his mind in his early days as a Deadblood- a vampire youngling- causing him to search for a word that could completely describe his affliction.

Then the Greeks begun transforming their language, perfecting the word that he could use to chronicle his need. He had mulled over the thought throughout the few centuries that the word came into existence, truly connecting with it on a level that was deprived of him when his soul was taken from his body.

But the word was not only used to describe normal thirst; it described the abnormal desire to drink as a symptom of disease- and a disease is what Min Yoongi had.

From the days he explored the lands of Goryeo as a young teenage boy, he knew that disease racked every inch of the world. Street beggars, riddled with sicknesses and incurable illnesses, asked him for coin, food, clothing, and any necessities that could potentially carry them through the night into another sunrise. But the one thing that they begged for the most was water.

Liquid life. Yoongi thinks back on the ironic turn of events and how, even as a privileged boy of nobles, he understood just how desperate a person got when they were deprived of the one, singular fluid that supported life as he knew it.

As Yoongi approached adulthood, he was promoted and bestowed larger honors in the name of the Min clan, allowing him to provide more for the beggars and lower-class individuals that he came across on the streets every day- not that his father would find out.

Until he did.

Yoongi recalls the moment he knew that his father figured out that his son was spoiling the family riches on the lower class. They weren’t sitting down for dinner and having a conversation nor taking a stroll along the river like the two of them normally would- it was quite surprising, really. Yoongi had to applaud his father for the creativity of the circumstance.

He knew that his father figured out his whereabouts when he found himself bleeding out in the middle of the woods with three arrows, adorned with the Min clan crest carved into the wood, sticking out of his chest. He was sent to look for his supposedly lost little sister under the direction that she was probably at a watering hole- which Yoongi had never heard about- about forty-five minutes from the edge of Goryeo’s walls.

Many people ventured outside of the city to fend for food and necessities, or to find civilization elsewhere, so it wasn’t surprising to him that his curious baby sister wanted to see for herself what life was like outside of the city’s limits.

As Yoongi lay dying on the soil of the earth, staring up at the greenery of the trees above while they lightly swayed in the breeze, he realized that everyone, regardless of social-class or physical health, was fighting the same, universal disease: death. No one could escape it and no one was safe. At least, that’s the epiphany he had in an effort to comfort himself while he felt his heart painfully struggle to beat with an arrowhead lodged into it. Copious amounts of blood spurt out with each pulse of his damaged organ.

And then the universe decided to set him free from death with a cure worse than the disease itself.

Yoongi doesn’t remember who his creator was. He doesn’t remember how long he spent on the forest floor with the arrows still in his chest. He doesn’t remember waking up.

His memory of his new life started from the moment his consciousness returned, in the exact second that he found a set of vocal cords clutched in the palm of his hand, dripping with crimson, after apparently ripping them out of a young boy who was actively collapsing in front of him. The boy, who Yoongi immediately recognized from the streets of Goryeo, was choking on his own gore as he clutched at his now nonexistent throat, staring up at his killer with a jumbled expression that silently begged for help yet withdrew from terror.

It took Yoongi five years of trekking everywhere and no where while attempting to control his thirst before he found new meaning. He mostly had a hold on the scorch in his throat by staying away from the city and surrounding villages before he met another and figured out what he became.

The woman- no, girl?- appeared young yet spoke as if she had seen countless winters, the wisdom of a million middays glowing behind her carmine eyes. She was the first person he had met who did not end up dead within the first two minutes of scenting them on the wind.

“You are a vampire. You survive purely on the life essence of others. You are still a young Deadblood. Judging by your age, you should become a Redblood soon.” She sat with her back to him, overlooking the valley below the then-unnamed Odaesan mountain that they sat perched upon. “Do you know who created you?”

“Created me?” He asked. “What do you mean? My parents?”

She turned, her vibrant red eyes continuing to shock him. Did his own orbs look like this?

“I mean, who turned you?” She seemed to look at him incredulously, shocked by his lack of knowledge. “Who gave you their venom- their shi?”

“I…” Yoongi tried very hard to remember anything before the burning sensation that scraped like rocks against the insides of his bones and flesh, but all he could see and feel was fire and agony- and then blood. He couldn’t help but think with a grain of salt, disbelieving of the method in which he was born into his new life. “I don’t know. I just remember from my first kill.”

“Strange.” The other vampire muttered, returning her gaze to the valley. “Strange, indeed.”

Yoongi was always the silent type, only interacting when he needed to as a habit formed to avoid the questioning glare of his father when he returned home late on certain occasions.

But he couldn’t help the burning desire of curiosity within him, a welcome distraction from the need to feed within him. He had so many questions.

“You may ask your questions, Min Yoongi.” The woman sighed, not even bothering to spare him a glance whilst she spoke. The man was shocked to find that she knew his name without him telling her.

“How do you know my name?” The new revelation took precedent in his mind, hoping that she was not an enemy of his clan.

“A valid question.” She mused. “Anticipated, but valid. I suppose I’ll answer your question to the best of my ability.”

Yoongi shifted his position in preparation, a new habit that he formed in his new life. He learned from the first time he moved to stretch that his body did not need to be stretched as it usually did. He never ached, never cramped, never tired, and never lost energy. Despite the lack of his emotions in their usual form, he knew that it should have been unsettling to find such a new change within him, so he did the sensible thing of pretending that he needed to.

He pretended he needed to breathe- after two hours at the bottom of a lake he stumbled upon in his aimless journey, he was amazed to find that he required no oxygen to continue existing- and that he didn’t need to sleep nor use the bathroom. He would practice taking breaths, trying to inhale and exhale evenly without becoming allured to the pungent yet undeniably attractive scent of animal blood so that he could finally smell the forest again. He pretended to go to sleep and wake up with the urge to relieve himself of the noneixstent pressure in his bladder despite not having any of the instincts he once had.

The woman spoke, answering his first question.

“I can hear your thoughts. They’re not necessarily specific, but I can hear when you are wistful- like you are now- or when you are curious or sad or angry. I can hear the causes of these emotions.” She paused. “It comes with the gift of my second life. A form of protection, if you will.”

“Why would I need protection when I am invincible? I’ve seen the things I can do and what my body can endure.” He briefly recalled repeatedly jumping from a cliff, automatically landing on his feet no matter how hard he tried not to. Before, he had a will to survive with a choice of dying, but now? There was no comprehensible choice. “There is nothing that can hurt me.”

Yoongi couldn’t help cocking his head to the side like a confused dog when the woman let out a breathless laugh.

“Because, young one,” She looked at him with her eyes again, a look of mock endearment filling them. “You are not invincible.”

For a moment, Yoongi did not believe her. He believed that the liquid running through his veins was pure ichor, an essence of the gods, but when he returned her look of sincere truth, he understood that dying was still very much possible.

Thanking the gods, Yoongi looked to the ground and began toying with his fingers at his revelation. He could stop murdering people, willing to die in order to do so.

The woman shook her head. “No, Min Yoongi. You do not have to die to stop killing humans. In fact, it is the reason I have not killed you yet. You are unaware of the possibilities.”

His head perked up at the comment, suddenly eager to learn.

“How? How can I live without killing?” All he could see was the young boy that he had murdered in cold blood; the boy’s warm brown eyes staring up at him as he watched the life drain from them burned into his memory- he didn’t even know the boy’s name. The boy could not have been older than his own sister.

“I never told you that you could continue to live without killing. Of course, you have to kill. But you do not have to kill people.” The woman nodded her head down the mount. “Do you smell that? Do you smell the life that lives throughout this mountain?”

Yoongi attempted to focus on his senses but could only feel the thirst once again tormenting his throat. As soon as the woman shifted his attention back to the aroma of life, he salivated. Of course, he smelled the animal’s scents, but he could also detect traces of human life upwind that completely took away his desire for anything but humans.

“Push the thirst aside to open your senses. Embrace them. Embrace your power and your abilities. Focus on those.”

Again, he tried to push the scorch in his throat to the side, only to find that it was an impossible feat seeing as he had not fed in several months. He wanted human blood so badly.

“Poor child. I did not realize how weak you were.” She let a grimace morph her features, the first true expression of genuine emotion that Yoongi had seen on her. “Come sit in front of me. I will help you.”

For a moment, Yoongi hesitated. Was she going to kill him? He was not sure, but after a few more thoughts to himself, he realized that he had nothing to lose. Following her direction obediently, he moved to sit with his legs crossed in front of the woman.

“Now, close your eyes and listen to my voice.” She raised her hands to his head, placing her fingertips on his temples, and began whispering while he let his eyes flutter closed.

He felt as if he was mentally hit by a charging bear.

The woman’s words echoed in his mind, seating themselves amongst every corner and crevice that they could touch before Yoongi could understand what was happening. Shocked by the feeling of being intruded upon, he tried to push back against the mind-numbing force of her words, uncomfortable and feeling violated by the sensation. Instead of stopping them, her voice just broke down his amateur attempt at a mental barrier and pushed its way further into his brain. He was helpless to her superior mental awareness and gift.

“You will not focus on the thirst. You will focus on your abilities. Focus on the blood of animals and the blood of those already dead.”

And Min Yoongi had no option but to obey for he was forced into a dieted life.

But as he stands, thousands of years later, in the middle of your kitchen whilst watching you silently with the inferno of the blazing sun in his esophagus, he couldn’t help the need that overcame him. He could not obey his mentor; miraculously and horrifyingly, the gift of his mentor did not work with you.

He was impelled by his mentor’s gift, effectively removing most of the bloodlust he had for humans. In his lifetime, after the unavoidable command was bestowed upon him, he had only killed a handful of humans when he was consumed by the thirst after living in self-induced exile for so long. But standing before you, he may have needed to add a finger to that handful depending on what you did next.

Yoongi first clocked you on his radar the moment you walked into the small coffee shop he was occupying for the later part of the morning.

Building a friendship with you was quite easy.

You were bright and warm and everything wonderful upon meeting him. Your smile was just shy of naive, yet he couldn’t help the alien tugs on his heart when watching you giggle.

“How old are you, Yoongi?” You asked while circling the straw in your caramel macchiato.

“Old enough.” He chuckled, looking down with what you perceived as shyness.

“Oh?” You laughed with him. “And how old is enough for you?”

“I could ask you the same question. How old do you think I am?” He met your eyes, once again shocking you with their beautifully vibrant shade of brown.

“Well…” You trailed off, studying his facial features closely- the hint of a permanent smile line, fresh haircut, and no wrinkles alluded that he couldn’t be over thirty. “I’m gonna say… twenty-five?”

The man across from you smiled. “Very close. I’m twenty-seven.”

So he wasn’t that much older than you. You could totally do him.

Yoongi noticed the flash of lust that ghosted through your pupils for a split second, recognizing the dilation of them as you glanced at him. He watched you stick your chest out a bit more, begin fiddling with your hair more often, and part your lips while you let the thoughts of sexual satisfaction run across your mind.

“Twenty-seven, huh? That’s not bad at all.” You smiled, letting your tongue lightly swipe along your bottom lip unconsciously.

Yoongi zeroed in on the action with a piercing gaze, watching as the muscle seemed to move in slow motion tauntingly, daring him to dig his fangs into it savagely before tearing it from your mouth to feel the blood pouring from your lips onto his face.

His body reacted sensibly, blood rushing like fake adrenaline to awaken his better instincts- rushing everywhere- and making his jeans become uncomfortably tight as they restrained his filling manhood.

Blood drinking was as exciting as it was satisfying for a vampire. An extremely personal and holy moment, consuming lifeblood was the most raw and sexual moment to experience. A vampire could not experience real sexual desire without it.

He dug his fingers into the faux leather of his side of the booth until they broke through the material to restrain himself from attempting to attack you in the middle of the day.

Quickly, gaining his sense of mind once again, he tore more holes into the leather to round out the punctures so that it could appear as if the holes were from wear and tear.

The scent of your blood transpierced by the hormones and adrenaline beginning to flow through your veins made it just that much more implausibly alluring. Yoongi admitted that you were a beautiful and kind woman from the conversation throughout the morning. He also knew that you had a deviant side due to the surprisingly quick appearance of your lust-filled gaze.

Yet he couldn’t help the urge to murder you on the spot.

He knew that he couldn’t touch you. The supernatural safety of the sun that shone on your body prevented him from laying a finger on your skin without his own lighting aflame. He learned the protection of sun rays on humans the hard way.

His fifth human victim, a monk who travelled the heights of Mount Odaesan- Yoongi’s sanctuary and home- for a religious trial, travelled early in the morning as the sun was rising. Yoongi smelt the sweat dripping from the man’s skin instantly. In the small cove he called home, he tried to resist the urge to kill the man for he hadn’t smelt human blood in several years.

His mentor’s words were ever present. ‘Focus on the blood of animals and the blood of those already dead.’

Despite having those words affecting his instincts, Yoongi had managed to convince himself that the monk was a dead man standing once he smelled remnants of a virus tainting his scent, effectively bypassing the impulsion of the woman’s mind control.

Yoongi found himself rushing at the man without a second thought, fangs bared and fingers curled in preparation to tear the man’s limbs from his body. However, before he could get within two feet of the vulnerable monk, he was thrown back by an invisible and boiling hot force that left him screaming in agony and flying through the air.

The monk quickly ran back down the mountain in terror, yet Yoongi could pay no mind as he lay on the forest floor, ready to die once again as his skin singed and fell from his flesh like swamp sludge.

As his throat tore itself raw from his wails of misery, his body writhed in and out on itself in complete and utter anguish. The smell of burnt flesh overwhelmed his nostrils, pungent and nauseating in every possible way. How he was able to focus on something other than the pain was beyond him.

Despite the burning, Yoongi could feel his aflame skin beginning to heal itself. Clawing through the dirt, he felt the blood stored in his stomach rushing through his veins to the broken and severed ones, rebuilding them and recreating the network of arteries necessary to begin restoring his expanse of skin.

Before long, the pain subsided and Yoongi was no longer screaming. The entire ordeal lasted approximately twenty minutes- long enough that Yoongi no longer heard the footsteps of the monk and long enough for him to process the events that had just happened.

He was thankful that he became a Redblood with the ability to use consumed blood throughout his body, unsure of what would have happened to him if he had been a Deadblood at the time. Deadbloods burned through consumed blood quicker than a spark from a flint could ignite kindling into a flame.

He definitely needed to ask the woman, Zizi, about it. And he definitely needed to track that monk until sundown so that he could get rid of any loose ends.

Yoongi grimaced slightly, remembering the occurrence like it was yesterday, as he sat across from you.

You were still looking down at your cup in blissful unawareness of his inner turmoil and life that he’s lived thus far. You definitely were not dense enough to not notice his gaze on your skin, but you were definitely ignorant of the fact that he was thinking about what would happen if he could just get you to move a few feet to the right to gain cover from the direct line of the sun. He just needed to get you into the shadows.

“Y/N,” He called your name. You instantly looked up in response. “How old are you?”

“Old enough.” You teased him back with his own words. He let a small smile thin his lips before he looked down to hide it. When you followed his gaze and noticed that he didn’t have a drink, you jumped to the opportunity.

“Can I buy you a drink, Min Yoongi?” You asked him.

“Oh, I’m not particularly craving coffee at the moment.” He paused and held his breath, as if trying to find the words to say. “I just like to sit here sometimes and enjoy watching the street.”

“Well,” Ask him! Ask him out! Yes! Do it! Your head screamed at you to be confident. You knew he was the shy type; you would be waiting all day for him to make a move and you just didn’t have the time nor patience for that. “Let me get you a drink at my bar?”

The man looked mildly impressed for a moment. “You own a bar?”

“A small one.” You swiftly added. “It’s not a big popular one or anything but I didn’t want a place too big. I like the smaller things.”

Yoongi couldn’t help but smile. You were a kind and beautiful woman living a simple life. He dreaded the moment that he was going to have to kill you.

“I take it you’re pretty well off then?” He asks. “And please don’t take this as me digging around. I’m just curious.”

“Don’t worry about it. Yeah, actually.” You laughed and sat back in your chair, looking out the window onto the street as people and cars passed by. “I’ve always been pretty lucky for some reason. The gods always seem to be in my favor and give me what I want.”

Yoongi smirked for a moment. If she wants me, she can have me. Then, I’ll have her.

When Yoongi found himself in the prime position to attack you in your kitchen, several weeks later, he knew. He finally had you where he wanted you.

A handful of dates that he found quite pleasant were all it took.

You turned out to be just what he thought- a strangely attractive and alluring woman, the scent of your blood aside. You exhumed an odd magnetism about you that Yoongi had never felt from a human. He regretted the decision of waiting so long to kill you seeing as he was considering letting you live. But he knew that he couldn’t do that.

With your back turned to him, busying yourself with dinner, he could easily snap your neck so that you wouldn’t scream and struggle- and you would be dead almost instantly. A quick and nearly painless death was what you deserved. He didn’t want you to suffer at all.

However, just as he crouched in preparation to lunge at you, you spoke.

“Are you ready for dinner, babe?” You asked him.

He smiled devilishly, venom filling his mouth as he salivated. “Yes, I am. I’m starving.”

You chuckled. “Okay.”

“Go and sit down at the table.”

It was the most simple of commands. Telling Yoongi to sit down wasn’t an order. You weren’t demanding him to do it. You never demanded anything of him. It was a mere suggestion in your eyes.

Yet Yoongi felt his body moving to the dinner table without a second thought, unable to resist obeying your words.

What in the everliving fuck.

He sat quickly, impotent to move from his spot while he waited for you to bring the food from the counter. His thirst obliterated his throat, causing it to seize up and restrict any air that he could previously breathe, but he sat in wonder as you seemed to hold power over him that he had never felt before.

You turned with both of your dinner plates in hand and he quickly smothered the panic on his face, wondering what in the world had just happened.

“I’m not at all a chef, but you better eat everything.” Yoongi tested your words, seeing if the inclination to finish your food was present, only to find a slight mental nudge- as he expected. You didn’t tell him to do anything; you merely made an ‘or else’ statement.

No longer desperate to kill you for the time being, Yoongi sat still and waited for your next words. Once you sat the plate in front of him, you uttered a joke.

“Dig in.”

And dig in Yoongi did. He picked up his fork and scooped into the pasta you made without any willingness to deny you.

The pasta wasn’t fantastic in any sort of the word- It was plain, although it could be due to the fact that it wasn’t at all what he truly craved and needed. It was like eating a piece of stale bread while he was offered a perfectly cooked and outright juicy steak on a silver platter. The food that he ate wouldn’t be consumed by his body and used for nutrients; the shi in his stomach would burn it to nothingness within the next few hours.

Uncontrollably, Yoongi shoved mouthful after mouthful into his mouth- he couldn’t stop. Once he finished chewing one bite, his hand was immediately bringing him another, and then another. Despite lacking the need to breathe, Yoongi felt himself suffocating with each bite as the realization that he could do nothing except eat his food settled in his mind.

“I see you were hungry.” You laughed, unaware of his predicament. Yoongi’s eyes shot up to yours and silently hoped you would give him another command so that he could stop the foolishness.

You, however, just sat there feeling sort of proud of yourself- not only for making an edible meal, but for making one Yoongi seemed to enjoy. Even though it was slightly shocking to see him out of his usually cool character, acting like a man suffering from hunger, you couldn’t help but find it undeniably cute.

Eating slowly while watching him, you let your feelings for him come to the surface.

Yoongi was utterly beautiful. His black hair that fell over his face while he was cleaning up the last bits of his plate was just long enough to cover his eyes, yet as he looked at you without reservation, you felt he had a clear line of sight straight into your soul.

His skin was nearly flawless save for the light and narrow scar that cut into his right eye. Others found the scar intimidating and ugly, but you found it rather attractive. Yoongi, with his uncanny physical allure, was undeniably the most beautiful man you had ever seen.

Your body was alight with joy and content. In the few weeks that you got to know him, liking him was incredibly easy and having him in your home, in a domestic setting, lit your heart on fire with the possibility of falling in love with him.

He was incredibly easy to love, you discovered. Everything about him begged you to fall for him. As if the universe created him just for you, Min Yoongi was the epitome of perfection- in your eyes, anyway.

Briefly, you had shown a photo of him to your mother. She became unsettled instantly by his appearance.

“He’s so pale. And a little scary-looking.” She squinted at the photo you took of him when he wasn’t looking. You never brought him up again to your mother, disliking the fact that she didn’t like your potential boyfriend and found him scary.

The picture just happened to be your favorite- being because he didn’t like pictures and it was the only one you had of him.

He kindly asked you to not take photos of him. When you prompted him as to why during one of your more intimate moments at your bar, he only answered playfully as he held you close to him, lips begging for you to kiss them.

“Because I don’t want to leave evidence.” He whispered, breath tickling your nose. His body was warm and sturdy, muscles rippling under your touch as you clung to his shoulders.

“Evidence from what?” You asked breathily. The heat in your panties had increased tenfold over the last few minutes as his eyes grew hungrier with want. Yoongi’s fingers dug into your waist painfully, pulling you so close that you barely had room to expand your lungs to breathe, yet you couldn’t help the edgy feeling of how rough he could be with you.

“From when I eat you up.”

Thinking back on the memory, you shivered involuntarily, hoping that tonight might be the night you actually get to have him. He’d made you wait for a little over a month and you had no idea why. You definitely felt him straining through his pants a few times. But no kisses or anything further than the pressing of your bodies was accomplished.

Yoongi finished his plate and sat upright briskly, pulling you from your wishful thinking with a jump.

“Y/N,” He nearly growled, shocking you. “What else do you want me to do?”

The fork you were holding clattered to your plate instantly. Wow. He’s sizzling hot.

“I-“ You stuttered a bit. “I- uh.”

“Spit it out.” He hissed. You jumped again, trying to find the words to say with the heat growing in your panties.

Quickly, you answered him. “I want you to take me to my bedroom.”

“Thank god.” He groaned, getting up slowly with a smirk on his face. “Is that just a request? Because I can walk out now if you don’t actually want this.”

“Take me to my bedroom, Yoongi.” You stood slowly, carefully, as if you were afraid to trigger him.

Yoongi pushed in his chair and moved towards you at a speed that was almost inhuman. You yelped in astonishment as Yoongi attempted to control himself- he couldn’t bring you to your bedroom at his natural speed or else he would have a very motion-sick human to worry about. Instead, he trembled with the effort to resist your command at full force, knowing that the only way it was possible was due to the fact that he was still, in fact, taking you to your bedroom.

Picking you up was easier than breathing. You weighed absolutely nothing in his arms because of his advanced strength, so when he felt you trying to assist him in carrying you by holding your body stiffly, he huffed out a laugh whilst he walked.

“Relax, woman. You are as light as a feather.”

You blushed under his words, leaning into his chest to hide your cheeks.

“Stop that.” He growled, entering your bedroom. You looked up at him and he couldn’t tear his eyes from the blood that rushed to your cheeks. “I can’t resist if you do that.”

“Then don’t.” You whispered. Your heart pounded in your chest, begging him to hear it. “Don’t resist.”

His fangs came forth immediately, for he could not resist your command while he flew to your bed to throw you down. Despite your unknowing of what you were telling him to do, he fostered no opposition to what he was about to do.

The roughness of his throw startled you for a moment as you looked up at his vastly approaching figure, only to grow terrified when you caught sight of his face.

The veins protruding out of his temples and cheeks pumped blood straight into the whites of his eyes, turning them completely bloodshot, as they framed the now-crimson irises. Long incisors protruded from his mouth as he opened it with a hiss, revealing the way his human teeth shifted apart to allow his inhuman ones to break through the gums. Instantly, you parted your lips to scream.

Yoongi was upon you instantly, hand covering your mouth and silencing your cry while he snarled menacingly, yet he couldn’t help but feel remorse for killing you.

“I’m sorry.” He whimpered through his animalistic demeanor. “I can’t stop.”

You were screaming below his hand and, instantaneously, he had an idea.

He was leaning forward slowly, able to slow himself in the process of not resisting you. “Y/N,” He strained, changing the frequency of his talent, and waited for you to silence yourself in order to listen to him. He took his hand off of your mouth slowly after he heard your heart calm itself past your weeping. “Tell me to stop.”

“Stop!” You sobbed whilst clawing at his chest and kicking at his legs. “Don’t kill me!”

Not a second passed before Yoongi flew off of you, throwing his back to your wall with a loud thud while he cursed lowly.

You scrambled to the headboard of your bed, pressing your back against it in an attempt to gain some distance between the two of you. Your eyes were wide, chest heaving with your breath short, as you looked at the man in front of you.

“I-“ Yoongi stuttered for the first time in decades. “I’m sorry.”

“Your eyes!” Your burst out. You were unable to contain your fear and shock, so you displaced it into your curiosity. “Y-your- Your face! Your teeth!”

Yoongi stood against the wall, breathing just as hard as you, with his eyes cast to the floor in the process of trying to control his facial features. He could no longer kill you. The thought revolted him- every time he considered drinking your blood, the idea was banished from his mind with a sense of nausea following. Good god. She is unaware of her ability yet I am completely at her mercy.

“I apologize. I couldn’t help myself.” He breathed. What Yoongi forgot to take into account was the fact that he began implementing the gift of his second life on you the moment he stepped foot through your threshold, so your mind was completely scrambled by this point.

It was nighttime now; he could not leave your house no matter how hard he tried. He knew of the fallacy that vampires needed to be invited in and he found himself giggling from time to time at how close humans got to the actual lore of his kind.

He could enter your house, uninvited, during the day. He could lurk every corner of your abode without a bother, yet when night fell and the sun finally set, he would be stuck inside until morning. He knew he would be staying the night in your house the moment he agreed to have dinner with you. If he attempted to enter through your door during the night, however, he would have no luck- the night’s protection would convince his brain to walk away from your home without any further reconsideration until he was a good distance from it.

He was in the first position now.

He wished that he could leave you and disappear from your life without a trace so that you could live a peaceful and happy life without him, but he was afraid that it was impossible now with sundown a mere two hours prior. Your powers were no match for the natural protection of the earth. The both of you had a long night ahead of yourselves.

So he used his ability. Yoongi gave you control- rational thought, rather. His gift allowed him to grant organization of the mind and precise focus to others, but he could also take it away.

Upon entering your home, he began the process of slowly but surely ebbing away your barriers and logical thought- he couldn’t do it too fast or else you would panic like you were now. With a presently impossible-to-kill human whose heart was beating out of her chest and a command to not kill you forcing him into submission, he was obligated to prevent you from having a heart attack that was caused by him.

With laser-like focus, he channeled his gift straight into your open mind. Yoongi rebuilt the walls he had previously broken down over the past few hours, restocked your jumbled thoughts into their proper spaces, and flowed his energy through each corridor of judicious conception so that you could continue to develop your focus into that of supernatural proportion. He hoped that you, with a new mind, would tell him to get away from you and to kill himself. Dying by the hands of such a robust ability wouldn’t be too bad of a way to go.

You, however, never had such a decisive mind. Your mind was never clearer and you had never felt such clarity in your thoughts before. It allowed you to feel the magnetism that he radiated.

You knew he was a vampire. You don’t remember how you knew or how you recognized it, but you knew that he was not the first of his kind you had come across. Maybe it was the obvious fangs that gave it away.

“Yoongi,” You whispered. “You’re a vampire.”

His eyes, now back to their normal gorgeously coffee-bean shade, flicked up to yours in surprise.

“You know what I am?” He spluttered, flabbergasted. “You don’t think I’m a demon? Or the devil?”

“I’m not stupid. I know a vampire when I see one.” Your tone did not waver nor shake despite being a potential victim to a vampire. Was it the adrenaline?

“Then you know that I am a danger to you.” He said lowly, shock still evident on his face, while he began gravitating towards your bedroom door to leave.

“No. Stay.” You found yourself pining for his presence while he froze up in his spot. You eyed the action analytically. “If you were a danger to me, I wouldn’t be alive right now. You had plenty opportunity to kill me.”

“That’s the thing,” His hands pressed to the wall and scratched into it with the effort to move further from you. “I don’t have much of a choice anymore.”

“And why is that?” You relaxed your body and slowly slid your way across the bed towards him.

“Because I can’t.” Yoongi actually gasped for air as you stood from your bed to slowly approach him. “Y/N. Don’t come near me.”

“Why don’t you have a choice?” You ignored his warning, fully aware of the risk you were taking yet uncaring of the consequences. You were too focused on the fact that you actually wanted him.

Yoongi could not move from his spot, a side effect of your command to stay, but he refused to meet your eyes. The irresistible scent of your blood clashing with the order to not kill you fucked with his mind in ways he never experienced, creating an excruciatingly splitting headache between his temples. He wanted to drink from you so bad yet he could not move a single muscle.

“You can tell me to do anything. You can tell me to stay away from you. You can tell me to leave you alone. Hell, you can tell me to kill myself and I’d do it.” He ground out, attempting to press his back further into the wall as he felt your body heat against his skin. You came too close. He could smell your hormones lacing through your blood, triggering a wash of his shi over his dry tongue and a yearning to tear you apart overriding his senses.

He wanted to sink his fangs into your flesh so badly that he was beginning to scare himself. Allowing his venom to seep into your system would undoubtedly send you into ecstasy; you would only feel a pinch of pain as his saliva instantly burned through your nerves and set them alight. He could kill you while you were in pleasure; you wouldn’t feel anything but bliss as he drained the life from you.

“And why do you, a powerful creature such as yourself, allow me to have this power over you?” You asked. Was he in love with you? You definitely could love the man with how much you felt drawn to him but, for crying out loud, it had only been a few weeks.

“I don’t allow it. You are a gifted human. You possess this power over me.” Although Yoongi enjoyed having a calm conversation with you, he couldn’t help but feel bad that he used his gift on you. It was almost an unfair playing card- a “get-out-of-jail” card.

Because you should be running, terrified and screaming, even with his ability active in your mind. Maybe he had used it too much? Yoongi recalled the one time he went overboard with his gift, driving a man to suicide as he focused too much on the meaning of life and the regretful things he had done. Immediately concerned, Yoongi reached out a mental tether- a rare talent amongst his kind- to gauge your stability.

What he found, instead, was a dark and curling line attaching to his, pulling it in as quickly as Yoongi offered it. Before he could reel back away from it, it was fully intertwined and pulling his line to attach to you, only to rear back and completely obliterate his senses when it entered his head.

No. No no no. It’s impossible.

Yoongi was moving forward and caging you against the bed at full speed before he could stop himself, nestling his body between your eagerly opening legs as a hiss escaped his lips. Immediately, he realized that he broke through your command unwavered. The thirst came back at full force when you moaned from the friction on your heat.

“You’re-“ He tested the sensation of true, sexual arousal with a slow grind of himself into you, gasping with a jerk of his dick when his action squeezed his member between his body and yours. “You’re my-“

You moaned again, sitting up slightly to try and capture his lips with your own, unable to control the desire that surmounted in your heart. When he resumed his look of shock, backing away from your advance so that he could look at where your bodies touched, you spoke through the heady emotion. “I’m your what?”

“It can’t be.” He whispered. After a single beat, he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours with a crushing pressure that split your lip instantly.

The pain seared across your bottom lip and distracted you for a moment, emitting a groan deep in your throat that he matched when the taste of your blood exploded onto his tastebuds. Instead of swallowing it like he wanted to, he brought a hand to your chin and opened your lips to spit your blood, along with his venom, back into your mouth so that it would take your pain away.

For a moment, you held the mix of liquids on your tongue, unsure of what to do as no one had ever spit in your mouth before. You looked up to him with confusion extremely evident in your arched brows.

“Swallow it.” He growled.

The taste of iron and an almost sugary sweet tang of saliva was too strong for you to keep sitting on your tongue, so you did as he told you to before he kissed you again to repeat the same action. Slowly, you got into the rhythm of swallowing what he gave you.

Before long, he simply gave you his tongue, allowing you to suck the saliva from his mouth greedily. You didn’t understand why, but the taste was addicting and adding to the pulsing feeling that radiated between your legs. Were you getting lightheaded? No. This sensation was much more blissful and exciting.

He pulled away after sucking on your wounded lip once more, spitting the mixture into your awaiting mouth for a final time before sitting up to look down at your body.

His venom was already taking effect. He could smell it on your skin as it flowed through your veins and filled your system just like a virus would. It would be simple to turn you at this point. You would be his for eternity, bonded to him in ways only the Fated One of a vampire would. Yoongi shook the thought from his head as he wasn’t even sure that you were, indeed, his.

“What am I to you?” You asked genuinely, swollen lip slightly obstructing your speech.

“Don’t worry about that right now, Y/N. Right now, I am going to fuck you, okay?” He met your gaze with his dark eyes filled with confidence, knowing that you would be unable to deny him if his belief was true.

“Yes. Yes, please Yoongi.” You breathed, begging him almost drunkenly. “Please. I’m yours.”

His mind was nudged forward by a different force this time, warranting unknown instincts to play into action.

He felt his center of gravity shift. His skin grew tight and uncomfortable around his body from the emotion that wished to burst through the surface. He breathed with you. Perfectly aligned were your rhythms; his heart soared alongside your own galloping one, desperate to match you in every aspect. The sensations in his body were difficult to ignore as he felt the ancient and sacred pull of a bond lacing itself through his limbs.

Instead of pondering over the reality of it any further, he slid his hand from your chin to your shirt and pinched the fabric between his fingers. You nodded in reassurance.

Your clothes tore form your body like paper. Wrapping his fingers around your arm to keep your body in place, Yoongi ripped your thin blouse from you easily. Your breasts, made plump by the bra you wore, caught his attention the moment they were revealed. Perfect.

Instead of looking like a moron seeing exquisite breasts for the first time, he moved his hand to your dress pants so that he could rid your body of them. In under ten seconds, Yoongi had you almost bare below him. Perfect.

Not even realizing it until you brought your thumb to his lips to swipe his shi from the corner of his mouth, Yoongi shook his head at the fact that the sight of you wriggling and bare-skinned beneath him made him literally drool, but his instincts went haywire when he watched you place your thumb in your mouth to suck his venom off yourself with a low moan of appreciation at the taste.

Yoongi’s hands couldn’t move faster as he tore the clothes from his body, stripping himself bare to reveal himself to you. He wanted to give you everything. To open his mind and spread everything out for you to see- he hoped you could handle it.

You, on the other hand, were laying below him with the desperate need to have him inside you.

You wanted him everywhere. You wanted him to sink himself into you- it seemed to be the only fathomable option. You wanted him to hold you and kiss you and surround you with everything him.

As you stared up at him with a needy look in your eyes, you couldn’t help but want him in every facet possible.

You saw yourself making love to him, holding him, kissing him- loving him. The new sensation brought on you by the psychic connection- that was all you could call it when you felt the mental attachment- brung passionate emotions through your body in an onslaught that you could barely handle. It was too much to deal with without him inside you to be with you through it yet you didn’t know if you could handle what would follow.

Yoongi could smell you through your panties; a delicious scent of the most raw tease he had ever allowed himself to indulge in. Unable to help himself, he moved down your body quickly, throwing your legs open- rather roughly- to give himself room to press his nose straight into your heat. Your aroma filled his nose as he expanded his lungs, triggering his natural instincts to push out his fangs and load his vision with blood to enhance it despite his eyes being closed. Fuck, he wanted to consume you.

You keened at the contact, closing your thighs around his head to trap him there. You felt his groan vibrate on you, driving you closer to the brink of insanity.

Without any further time wasted, he grabbed onto your panties and ripped them from you to expose your pulsating pussy to his mouth without moving his nose away from your intoxicating scent. Not a beat passed before he dug his tongue into you to scoop up your DNA-laced juices. Fuck.

Yoongi lost himself in you immediately. You whined out a small cry, unable to keep yourself from grabbing onto his hair and yanking when all you felt were his lips and tongue laving over your opening relentlessly. There was no skill nor technique in his movements; he was simply devouring you without a mind to pay attention to your bundle, yet you couldn’t stop the sensitivity from boggling your mind and driving you to an instant orgasm.

His hands squeezed your thighs around his head and, for a brief moment, he opened his eyes to look at you. The color of his eyes staring back at you was unexpected- a solid, snow white color filled his orbs and contrasted starkly with the red hue of his engorged veins and bloodshot scleras.

“Yoongi,” You whimpered from another swipe of his tongue and suck from his lips. “Y-Your eyes.”

He pulled away from you instantly at the comment, eyes widening and wet mouth hanging agape, while you let out a groan of relief- or sadness- at the lack of attention to your incredibly sensitive core.

“What color are they?” He asked.

“White.” You struggled to speak, voice cracking under the post-orgasm glow.

He took a moment to look down at your heaving body and messy pussy, jerking forward slightly at the sight of your delicious juice smeared all over your thighs. Once he had a handle on his thirst again, Yoongi met your eyes as the white faded from his irises. “Then you are her.”

“I’m who?” You reached for him, needing to hold him anywhere you could get your hands on. Yoongi caught this action immediately, the same desire to grasp you evident in his hand rushing to meet yours. It was natural to intertwine your fingers while he leaned over you to press his lips to yours in a short, uncharacteristically loving kiss.

“You are my Fated One- my mate. You hold my soul in the palm of your hand, as I do yours.” He murmured, feathering his lips over yours as he spoke.

Under normal circumstances, you don’t think you’d be able to comprehend his words with your current position with him. You were exposed to him and he was exposed to you, making you feel vulnerable and turned on beyond belief. Yoongi was reaching behind you to unclasp your bra while you took in what he had said. His thumb was brushing over your bare nipple before your bra even hit the floor.

“So-” You had to clear your throat again. “So you’re mine? Like, completely?”

He chuckled warmly at your question and you couldn’t stop yourself from reciprocating the smile.

“Yes, Y/N, I am yours.” He brought his hand down to grip your thigh and move it to the side. “I belong to you.”

Yoongi placed his dick against your folds and you watched him so do. You felt his tip capture onto your clit several times as he lathered it with your arousal languidly, preparing himself so that he could slide into you easier. “However,”

“However?” You looked up at him with a questioning look accentuated by your eyebrows.

“You are also mine.” Yoongi stopped his movement so that the head of his cock finally caught onto your opening, kickstarting your heart into a pace that you were afraid would kill you. “Do you understand that?”

He didn’t wait for you to answer.

Torturously, he began to push inside you. You widened your legs to accompany his approaching hips. As you warbled out a cry when he decided to drop his control and fill you completely in the next second, Yoongi began speaking again.

“Do you understand that everything about you,” He reared back and pushed inside you again, forcing your legs open to take him while he did so. “-is mine?”

You couldn’t respond. Your emotions were running rampant with your mind overflowing from too much stimuli while he fucked you. He spoke again without your reply and you could only pull him closer to you and take the feeling of his cock caressing your insides.

“Your lips,” Thrust. “your eyes,” Thrust. “your hair, your hands, your skin;” He punctuated each part of your body with a ram of his dick into you. “Everything, Y/N.”

Yoongi took a moment to look down at your joining bodies, smirking softly at the sight of how easily he slid inside. “-Especially this greedy little cunt of yours.”

You watched his smirk drop while he bit his lip and ground himself into you, lips parting again with a low moan whilst keeping his gaze transfixed on the sinful sight. You watched him in awe as his cock plunged so deep that it felt like it was in your throat.

He snapped his eyes to yours quickly, repeating his prior question. “Do you understand?”

Expecting to be interrupted by a thrust, you sucked your bottom lip in your mouth and braced yourself, only to be grabbed by the neck while he leaned down to bring you face-to-face. You could no longer breathe as he pulled his lips back to reveal his fangs. “I asked you if you understood, Y/N.”

With your airway restricted, you could only nod with your lip still stuck between your teeth. Did you taste blood? Promptly, you remembered that Yoongi busted your lip, yet you were confused as to why you hadn’t felt the pain of it since he first kissed you.

“And are you okay with that?” Yoongi began to nose his way down your neck once he turned your head to the side and slowed the rhythm of his hips. Right before you could answer, he released your neck to look at your face, allowing a large rush of air to enter your lungs just as you were attempting to give him an answer.

“Yes!” You released your lip to scream out at the welcome sensation of oxygen and the feel of his dick pushing it right back out of you. “I’m yours! Everything is yours!”

“Good, my love. Good.” He whispered, smiling down at you. His smile was wiped clean off his face in a heartbeat, his thrusts into you completely ceased, as he zeroed in on your lips. You licked them subconsciously, immediately tasting blood and internally cringing at the flavor of iron coating your tongue.

Yoongi attached his lips around your bottom one quickly and you felt him suck it into his mouth. Your walls squeezed tightly around his at the sensation of his tongue swiping over the spli in your engorged lip again and again. You knew that your lip would be swollen yet you couldn’t find yourself to care because it, surprisingly, didn’t hurt at all. The small bits of Yoongi’s saliva that slipped into your mouth were enough to keep you on edge, tasting like raw sugar at that point.

He began moving inside you again, starting a slow and steady pace. You whimpered into his mouth as he began taking his fill of your blood and you mirrored his thirst with the need to taste his mouth again. Your lips pressed closer to his in order to, hopefully, get a bit more of his spit.

You felt your orgasm building laggardly. It was creeping in at a speed that you were able to prepare yourself for your ascent towards ecstasy. You tightened your legs around his waist and dug your heels into the globes of his ass, pulling him in.

It wasn’t until you were bordering on your climax that Yoongi pulled away from your lip with your pop and sat up to focus on fucking you, his peace of mind obviously waning.

You saw it in his face; you saw the way he couldn’t control his veins from darkening his face; you saw the way his eyes burned white and the way he was attempting to hold himself back from attacking you.

So you did him a favor.

“Yoongi.” You mumbled past your swollen lip. “Bite me.”

Min Yoongi had no option but to obey your command.

He surged forward, pressing himself against your clit deliciously and bottoming out as he lunged for your neck with his fangs fully protruded and a warbled hiss scratching its way out of his throat. With barely enough time to prepare, you bared your neck to him once more and clutched onto his arms for dear life, hoping it wouldn’t hurt too bad.

What you weren’t expecting was for it to feel unreservedly good.

The sensation took you by surprise, warranting a loud moan to escape from your lips before you could stop it. Why did his fangs feel so good in your flesh? It should definitely be hurting. But all you could do was moan and whine like a madwoman as you felt his lips close over the puncture wounds and begin to drink your blood straight from your flesh. His tongue continuously swiped over the teeth marks in your neck, keeping them clear from your body’s natural ability to scar itself and begin blocking the escaping blood. Every lick he delivered sent a pulse straight to your clit and an automatic instinct to tighten yourself around him.

Your pussy quivered around him uncontrollably. You were so close to cumming that you could practically taste the release on your tongue. In the few moments that Yoongi took his sips from your body, his slow propulsions forward into you had become more rough and insistent- as if he was trying to split you in two. Even as you felt your life essence leave your body, you were being filled time and time again by his cock at a deep and passionate rhythm.

At the first sign of getting lightheaded from blood loss, you came- hard.

Your juices squirted around him every time he reared himself back and your eyes rolled to the back of your head while you craned your neck back into your very-bloody pillow. With no where to go, unable to still him with his supernatural strength, you were only able scream out his name.

His speed increased through your orgasm and your sweet exclamations of pure bliss drove Yoongi into a lunatic, freeing himself of control and using his uncanny speed to fuck into you. Your extremely drenched pussy, still convulsing around him was battered and raw, yet he could not find it in himself to care as he desperately surged into you over and over again so that he could fill you with the cum of several centuries. Picturing the image of your cunt spewing his release from it had him closing his jaws and pulling on your wounds harder to get more blood from you.

He knew that he couldn’t drain you. Hearing the pulse of your heart weaken slightly was enough to make him detach his teeth and lick over your wound so that his shi could assist it in healing- it would be completely sealed and unblemished in the next few hours. Instead of worrying too much about your neck, he reared back to look down at you again while he grabbed onto your hips with fervor.

You saw the drops of blood running down from Yoongi’s mouth and chin drip onto your breasts and stomach, creating an erotic and utterly unwholesome image of carnage and horror on your body, but you were unable to help yourself in feeling unsettlingly drawn to the wicked image. With a new flash of desire exploding through your body and reawakening your lust, you reached up and grabbed his neck, pulling him back down to trap him in your embrace.

The oversensitivity of your last orgasm was enough to send you hurtling to the edge of another orgasm- You just needed his fangs in you one more time. Silently begging for it, you kept your grip on his nape and softly nudged him back in the direction of your neck.

Yoongi was close. You could tell. But even past his stupor, he spoke.

“Y/N. I can’t. I took too much.” He almost whined with need, struggling to form words past his fangs.

“Just-“ Your body jolted wildly as he desperately tried to cum. “Just do it!”

Yoongi was able to deny your command, which he figured was due to not being a specific one, yet he couldn’t bring himself to leave it unanswered as his body built in preparation to release.

“I fucking can’t!” He was close to roaring at this point, gums aching to meet your flesh as he pressed his fangs into you and filled you with his essence. He wanted to so badly.

“Drink from me, dammit!” Your eyes were welling with tears of frustration, needing that small push from him to make you orgasm again- his dick hammering your cervix was too much to handle without that small bit of pain to ground you. And without hesitation nor the choice to deny you, he did.

Your orgasms were perfectly in sync as he placed his fangs back into your wounds, delicious blood spilling across his tongue once again. Liquid life. It was the perfect few words for how you tasted.

Your pussy ached with the force of how tight you squeezed around him and Yoongi groaned lowly against your neck as he pressed himself so tightly to you that you knew his hands would be leaving bruises on your hips and ass.

“Yoongi.” You sobbed as his cum filled you, pulsing spurt after warm spurt of the hot liquid onto your abused cervix. The thought of him taking your blood while he gave you his cum was too sinful for you to bear, an outburst of emotion causing you to chant his name over and over again. Never before in your life had you felt so complete and free.

You could feel your blood levels draining as you slowly came down from your climax, knowing that you would not be awake for much longer if he kept drinking.

“That’s enough.” You whispered tiredly, head becoming truly lightheaded. Yoongi, unable to rescind his teeth from your neck, kept drinking from you as the thirst and aggression of the first mating actuated his movements. “Yoongi.”

He tried to pull away- he really did- but the feeling of your blood coating his tastebuds was like finding a quarry in the middle of the Sahara Desert. He lacked the true thirst for humans for thousands of years- and now he was suffering the polydipsia for blood all over again.

“Yoongi, stop.” You commanded, testing your supposed ‘power.’

Yoongi ceased to drink from you yet his fangs were still embedded in your skin, vibrating with pleasure and need. As he stopped, he couldn’t help but whine and then growl savagely with want. The vibration of of his throaty sound in your flesh did things to your body. Unable to resist the temptation, your body clenched involuntarily around his softening cock.

Yoongi groaned again, retracting his fangs and face from your neck, and sat up once more to look at your body. With a slow hand, he stuck out his index and middle finger to smear the droplets of blood on your stomach in small circles aimlessly, picturing you as a canvas made just for him to ruin. “You’re quite the minx, aren’t you?”

“What do you mean?” You giggled deliriously, needing sleep as soon as possible.

“I mean,” Yoongi reached down to smear a droplet of blood across your hip before digging his thumb and fingers into the bone and the flesh of your ass harshly. “Your cunt is playing games with me right now.”

“How so?” You tilted your head to the side in mock confusion.

The vampire pressed his lips into a thin line and sighed almost disdainfully. You gasped as you felt his dick jerk within you, filling to stiffness once more and awakening a new cloud of lust despite the exhaustion you felt. “Well, if you want to play clueless, you can play clueless. We have eternity to teach you how to not play games with me, my mate.”

For eternity? You kind of liked the sound of that.

~#~

If you’d like to read more of my work, feel free to check out my Series Masterlist! If you’d like to read my first fic, check out the DHYB Masterlist!

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sweetteaanddragons · 3 years

Note

Here am I again bc apparently the Silmarillion™️ now lives in my head rent free and I like ur interpretation of the characters (some of ur fics also live in my head rent free) ... Do u think things would improve or go more horribly wrong if Feanor was the youngest Finwean? Like if Miriel was the second wife? Idk if everything is less or more of a disaster bc in one hand I think Fingolfin is a tiny bit more well adjusted than Feanor at least when his mother is the one living (Unless he like Feanor would feel a lil bit threatened by his lil brother genius? Is he being replaced here?) and there’s also the fact that I hope that Feanor would be a little less of a disaster If his mother lived (Unless he convinced himself that he has to be better than everyone if he wants her to stay or something like that) but on the other hand that family is a powder keg waiting to explode no matter what u change

Ps: Is Feanor still Finwe favorite child or does this change bc he’s not the only living reminder of the wife he loved and lost? Bc if he’s still the favorite I don’t think that would help with the feelings of “is dad replacing us?” That could possibly arise in his other children.

If Feanor is still the favorite I suppose there’s a little more protectiveness now that he’s the youngest...

Ps 2: Does Feanor being younger affect the age of his children by much 🤔

Thank you! This one took some thought.

Okay, so the initial change is easy enough. Finwe marries Indis, Indis dies in childbirth . . .

And that brings up the first question.

Which child?

Fingolfin? It’s certainly a possibility, but then we have to consider what’s going to happen without Finrod and Galadriel. (And his other sons, but they’re less impactful.)

Findis or Lalwen? Do they even exist in this AU?

Or Finarfin?

If it’s the last, then we also have to consider what the age gap between all these kids is in this AU and how their feelings about little baby Arafinwe are complicated by this.

We also have to consider how the political situation gets even trickier.

Because Indis wasn’t just the Queen of the Noldor.

She was also a princess of the Vanyar.

Which means that while the Vanyar may not get a direct say in what goes down with a potential remarriage, they are definitely going to have an Opinion on it.

I feel like there is probably at least one frosty offer to foster the children that Finwe immediately turns down.

For the sake of argument, let’s say that Findis is on the cusp of adulthood. She is politely present at the marriage ceremony and stays a very precise, very respectable length of time afterward before going to visit her relatives indefinitely.

Nolofinwe, as the crown prince, stays. He has a lot of feelings about the collapse of his once happy feeling, but he’s well into his adolescence and used to hiding things at court. He mostly reacts by emotionally shutting down and very politely refusing to talk to his father about it. He daydreams about storming the gates of Mandos and demanding his mother back.

Lalwen is just on the verge of adolescence and would prefer to spend as much time in the trees in the gardens as possible. She is torn between wanting to play with her baby brother and wanting to avoid him.

Arafinwe is old enough that he is aware that Miriel is not his mother but young enough that most of what’s going on is flying over his head. He warms up to Miriel almost immediately and then spends a few weeks avoiding her out of a vague idea that if he’s around her too much, she’ll die.

That eventually gets more or less cleared up.

So then Miriel has Feanaro! And Miriel - what?

Is fine?

Dies? (Finwe is pretty sure he’s cursed. Arafinwe figures baby Feanaro is like him and they should stick together. The gossips are going wild.)

Survives but is unwell?

Let’s go with that one.

So the thing is, Feanaro is not Feanaro if he does not have something to throw himself against. In canon, it’s his determination to not be replaced in his father’s affections. Here, it’s his determination that he be considered worth it. Worth all the gossip about marred marriages and what comes of them; worth all the trouble with the Vanyar; worth the fractures between his half-siblings and his father; worth his mother’s illness and pain.

What he has going for him, though, is that his mother is still alive and supporting him. He still loves language and still has Opinions on the language shift, but he’s not as ride-or-die about it as in canon; his mother is still alive, queen, and perfectly capable of insisting on whatever pronunciation of her name that she likes, even weakened.

The thing about his relationship with his siblings is that in this AU, they get to set the tone. They’re the ones establishing that tone when he’s still too young to have an opinion on it.

He has almost no relationship with Findis. She sends very polite notes and very respectable gifts on all appropriate occasions; his mother reciprocates on his behalf until he’s old enough to do it, at which point the gifts get a little half-hearted or pointed, depending on the year.

Nolofinwe is . . . fine, but distant. Feanaro doesn’t understand him at all and doesn’t really care to try.

Nolofinwe is also established as the crown prince, and it doesn’t occur to Feanaro to try to take it from him. Politics are boring, court is infuriating, and his projects are much more interesting. Sure, Feanaro is convinced he’s the smartest person in the room, and he wants to be listened to, but in his father’s court, he mostly is already. He’ll poke at Nolo, sometimes, but he has no interest in trying to usurp him. Of course, if something ever does happen to Atar and Nolo does become king, then the distance between “not willing to fight you for the throne” and “actually willing to treat you as an authority figure I should obey” is going to become apparent very quickly.

As long as Nolo doesn’t tell him to do anything he wasn’t going to do anyway, they’ll be just fine.

Lalwen is fun, but, due to the age gap, is more of an impromptu babysitter than a playmate. As they get older, they’re genuinely affectionate, but it’s complicated by the family mess and made more so by the political one; Lalwen always takes Nolo’s side, and Feanaro has no patience for it.

Arafinwe . . . Arafinwe is a different story.

Arafinwe is a lonely little kid who latches onto his new little half-brother and takes him everywhere and shows him everything in the early days when everyone is still really unsure whether or not Miriel is actually going to die. This closeness remains even after those concerns mostly pass.

What happens from there is . . . I have no idea. Probably not worse of a disaster, but maybe not notably better either.

#long post #headcanon #silmarillion #au

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testudoaubrei-blog · 3 years

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TL/DR - Catra is a uniquely complex and compelling character who has -so much going on- compared with most characters in any medium. Her character arc is psychologically astute, morally powerful and dramatically compelling, and it pushes the boundaries of the audiences sympathies in ways that are really groundbreaking for a kids show, and her arcs conclusion celebrates love, growth, and the power to change in a way that is all too rare in TV for grown ups.

Content note for mentions of suicidal ideation and self harm.

Well, now that the summary is out of the way, here’s a massive fucking dissertation on why Catra is such a great character.

This is the first of a series of posts outlining things that make She Ra a truly great show, one that stands out even 15 years into a golden age of TV animation for kids. This isn’t going to be a comprehensive account for why the show is great - the real answer is that this show has so many arcs and so many fully realized characters and they are all growing and changing in ways that interact with each other and complement each other so well. But I’m going to highlight some particular standouts, things that this show does better than anything else, things that made me step back and say ‘holy shit they did this in a show pitched at 10 year olds?!’

And so the first of these posts is about Catra. I’ve never seen a character in a kids TV show like Catra before. Depending on the season, she’s an anti-villain, an outright villain and an anti-hero and then, in the end, a hero. Being glib, I describe her in villain mode as a Saturday morning cartoon Supervillain as written by like, Dostoevsky. She’s got the trappings of classic villain camp - long speeches, sneering, over-complicated plans, she’s oddly ineffectual at times etc/ Yet all of this is underlaid and justified by something much deeper - her feelings of rejection, her desire to lash out at everyone around her, at her self-hatred and hatred of everyone and everything else (at least by Season 4. Good God.) And her actions are as dark as her motivations - she nearly destroys reality out of spite, betrays literally everyone who cares about her (often multiple times) and isolates herself so completely that in the season 4 finale she is a solitary, suicidal wreck of a person. Hell, in her last fight with Hordak, I was definitely rooting for Hordak (to say nothing of Glimmer, who is a pretty impressive antiheroine, like if Sparkles had just blasted her into glittery oblivion would we have held it against her?).

Let's start by discussing trauma. It comes up a lot with Catra for obvious and good reasons. But I almost feel like that word is insufficient for what's going on with Catra, or at least, we shouldn't stop with it (I know there are terms like complex trauma, but rather than simply using those I want to explain the difference between Catra’s consistent abuse and a single traumatic event). To use another example from a different show, Korra was also traumatized in season 4. But she was traumatized by a series of an events when she was a young adult. She had something horrible happen to her, and it fucked her up, and then she had exposure therapy with Zaheer and at least starts to get better. Catra...Catra is much more consistently abused. It's not just that shadow weaver traumatized her with the various acts of torture, but that Shadow Weaver taught Catra both an explicit worldview and a series of coping mechanisms that she struggles with through young adulthood. First, Shadow Weaver trained Catra to seek her approval. This is something she is particularly vulnerable to with Shadow Weaver, but also what she does with Hordak and to a extent Double Trouble. Catra's instinct when people mistreat her or show that they aren't trustworthy is to invest further in the relationship, until the breaking point. By contrast, when people treat her well Catra lashes out or takes them for granted. This is uh…a dymamic I am acquainted with among people who have been abused as kids, people whom I love. It is pretty rough.

She also developed a desire to prove herself. This starts off being tied to her drive for approval, but combined with her competitive streak (which is expressed in both healthy and unhealthy ways with Adora) it turns into a desire to beat Shadow Weaver and then Hordak at their own game.

At the same time, Catra learned by always being blamed for everything to evade and deny responsibility, no matter what. I think this form of self reassurance is tied to her self doubt (I think at some level she does think she is worthless) and her self hatred. It is also enabled by Adora’s martyr complex and willingness even act as Catra’s punching bag (as we see in the flashback in Corridors). This is a dynamic that actually repeats in an even worse fashion with Scorpia. Far from being arrogant, her constant evasions, put downs against others and preening speeches sound like the words of a woman who is trying to convince herself most of all. This tendency borders on narcissistic self delusion by season 3-4, which she begins recounting her version of events and possibly believing it even when it is obviously false, and everyone knows it.

When it comes to worldviews, Shadow Weaver taught Catra that love is about control and manipulation. We see this in seasons 1-3 where she congratulates herself for manipulating Adora when all she has done is take advantage of Adora's lingering love for her. Meanwhile, she’s learned that power is her only protection, and that the only way to stay on top is to abuse those beneath her.

The final kind of static tendency in Catra is her identity in the horde and her view of herself as one of the bad guys. This is something she rarely articulates but underlies much of her her decision to stay and not join Adora (at least at first). I think one thing to consider is that even if Catra never believed horde propaganda, it may have made her cynical and unwilling to imagine something better for herself or the world. Another factor is having struggled to belong in the horde for so long, she isn't going to give up now. At first this ties into her desire to win the approval of shadow weaver and Hordak, then it comes from her desire to prove herself better than them. Another factor is her self hatred. She sees herself as someone who hurts people, perhaps as a monster. She sees herself as a bad guy and so team evil is her side.

So yeah, our girl is kinda fucked up.

And yet Catra is never reduced to the sum of her traumas and bad habits. At every step of the way she is shown as a moral agent. She is shaped by shadow Weaver's abuse but she remains aware of and responsible for her actions. This is a double edged sword. She is fully responsible for her actions, but also she is never shown as broken by abuse or mental illness. She’s fully responsible, but by the same token is also redeemable, because she still has a choice.

So with that our of the way, let's go to Catra's arc.

I’m not going to recite everything terrible Catra does because I’m still on my first complete rewatch and I honestly find it hard to list it all. It’s a lot. So let’s talk about her shifting motivations. Early on, we see her desire for approval and recognition motivating her in ways that are so easy to sympathize with - she’s been told she’s worthless for years, and she wants to be worth something. We see how much she’s been scarred by Shadow Weavers abuse and by the ruthlessness and callousness of the Horde, and can sympathize with her desire to survive and advance since her own position is so untenable. We also see how, at first, she wants to be reunited with Adora. Her first huge turn into much darker territory is Promises, when she tries to kill Adora in order to permanently sever her connection with her own life and eliminate a possible rival for advancement (should Adora ever return). She’s told herself that she doesn’t want Adora back, and at least partly means it. Yet we still show her care for Scorpia and Entrapta and even Shadow Weaver in Season 2. It’s when Catra realizes that Shadow Weaver has chosen Adora over her once again that she takes her darkest turn. It’s not just that she destroys reality out of spite, it’s that she rejects her chance for a better and happier life, betrays every friend she has and focuses single-mindedly on hurting Adora (and arguably herself) and then on surviving when her attempt fails. Then Catra spends an entire season both fully inhabiting her role as a villain (and not a sympathetic one - really only our history with her leaves us sympathetic) and being utterly self-destructive and miserable. At the end, as mentioned, she’s a broken, suicidal wreck who has destroyed everything she’s strived for. If this was an HBO drama, we’d roll credits here and she’d go down as another self-destructive antihero. It would perhaps be too much to call her ‘Walter White as a catgirl’, but still. Of course, her story doesn’t end there.

Something that is incredibly dark that is happening in step with this is Catra’s hardening of herself, indeed, her dehumanization of herself. We see her struggle with her natural compassion, her kindness, her need for connection, her desire for happiness, and we see her ignore it all, stamp it down and nearly snuff it out. This is a huge factor in her descent into becoming a real villain (no ‘anti’ qualifiers needed). Every step of her descent is a struggle for Catra - not going with Adora in the second part of ‘The Sword’, trying to kill Adora in ‘Promise’, going back to the Horde, betraying Entrapta, lying about Entrapta, threatening Scorpia, destroying the world - but she always chooses evil. And with every step she becomes more isolated, more callous, and more cruel. Her default reaction becomes not just bravado and mockery and insolence, but threats, bullying and intimidation, until her management style is identical to Hordak’s, and indeed, is quite a bit worse. Catra starts off fighting for Hordak and Shadow Weaver’s approval and struggling to survive, and ends up cackling maniacally at her brutal and murderous conquests. She has very deliberately turned herself into a cruel conqueror, and a tyrant. This self-dehumanization is a huge part of evil in the world, I think, and it’s really powerful to see it so clearly in a kids show.

Meanwhile her insistence on evading all responsibility finally results in a self-serving, self-protective narrative that insulates her from responsibility or self-examination but also cuts her off from reality and other people. It’s always a bit unclear to what extent her various untruths (about Adora leaving her, about Shadow Weaver’s escape and her concealment of it not being her fault, about Entrapta betraying Hordak) are things she believes, lies she is telling to have power over others (mostly Scorpia) or things that she doesn’t quite believe but is trying to convince herself of. It’s probably all of these at various times, and in different degrees for each lie. The end result is that Catra is even more alone, because only she inhabits the safe cocoon of lies she’s built around herself. It also is the key to her and the Horde’s downfall - Catra is so isolated and in such denial that she can’t see how thin her forces are spread, and this crack shows up even in episode 1 of Season 4, with her insistence that the Princess Alliance is in shambles (when, in fact, it’s already rebounding, and proves more resilient than she allows herself to believe, and is led by a woman as ruthless and determined as herself). This part of Catra’s arc brilliantly shows how deception (of yourself and others) can feel protective by keeping shame at bay, but ultimately is destructive and strips someone of so much of the intellectual and moral qualities that we call ‘human.’ It’s also chilling to see since we’ve seen the end game of this mentality play out in US national politics, at the highest level.

I said at the opening that we’ve never seen a sympathetic character like Catra in a kids show. What about Zuko? I would argue that Zuko is never a cruel, or as callous, or as self-destructive as Catra is at her worst. Zuko is motivated by a desire for recognition from his abusive father (much like Catra is initially motivated by desire for recognition from Hordak and Shadow Weaver, and indeed Adora), and perhaps a desire to belong in the Fire Nation. All of this gets wrapped together in his ‘Honor’. He’s a young man with a very weak sense of what he truly believes, instead relying on external guides to what he should do. He’s also incredibly self-involved, and initially indifferent to anyone’s pain but his own and anyone’s needs but his own need to restore his honor. Uncle Iroh is there throughout to push Zuko both to see the needs of others and to become his own person. Zuko’s redemption arc, then, is a twofold quest to recognize other people and to find his own moral center and act from it. This is a pretty powerful coming of age story in that it is about him becoming his own person and throwing off the shackles of his upbringing. Politically, it’s a powerful story of a young man taking responsibility for his own actions in an authoritarian regime and refusing to participate in its imperialism any more and to embrace a new way forward both for himself and his nation. At the same time, in some ways it is easy to sympathize with Zuko because his greatest crimes are those of weakness - he’s not strong enough to stand up to his nation and his family until midway through the last season. Catra though...Catra does what she does, eventually, because she wants to hurt people. She’s cruel, and spiteful, and destructive in ways that are truly scary and which prevent any excuse or mitigation.

Which brings up the other comparison - Azula. But while Azula is (somewhat inconsistently) shown either as a monstrous child sociopath or a traumatized and broken child who can’t help it (and thus, perversely, as not a moral agent but something like a monster), Catra is consistently shown as a moral agent. Catra chooses her own path, every step of the way. She has so many chances to do something else - Adora’s offers to leave together in the two-part series opener, Promises, Scorpia’s suggestion that they dessert the Horde and become desert gang leaders, etc - and until season 5, she turns them all down. While Azula seems destined for evil and madness, with Catra we see a young woman very deliberately walk down the path into unmitigated evil with both eyes open. And then we see it destroy her.

And after she is basically destroyed, we see her build herself back. This process actually starts in Season 4 with the creeping realization that even when she is winning she is miserable and alone. She doesn’t even notice Scorpia is gone for several episodes, then she completely loses it. She spends the entire time when she is at her most triumphant isolated and raging and borderline incoherent, as ineffectual as she accuses Hordak of being. She’s won, and she’s alone, and she’s the most unhappy she has ever been, and I think for the first time she realizes that. And that’s the worst blow to her, even before all the external things come crashing down. She’s already miserable before Double Trouble and Glimmer deal her a triple coup de grace of destroying all her armies*, turning her and Hordak against each other and then Double Trouble’s epic evisceration. By the time Glimmer shows up, Catra is, as mentioned, literally suicidal. But she’s also already begun the process of changing in that she knows that she has a problem (her, and her self/other-destructive tendencies). Moreover, she knows, at some level, that what she really wants isn’t conquest, or to prove herself as the baddest leader of the Horde, but love - and she’s seen how she’s squandered that at every opportunity.

Let’s just pause for a moment to observe how much better Glimmer is at villainous machinations than Catra. In a couple episodes she makes a faustian bargain for unlimited power, kills all her enemies armies, sets her two chief foes at each other’s throats and literally cripples one while rendering the other helpless. And given her ironic non-answer about hurting Catra (‘we’re the good guys, remember?’ and the fact that she’d tried to kill Catra twice before**, she walked into Hordak’s sanctum fully intending to end Catra’s life, one way or another. She does all this through ruthlessness, recklessness and treachery, and she could give like, a TED talk on villainy. Of course it also blows up in her face and is actually way worse than the portal did in Catra’s, endangering the whole universe (I always assumed that the portal only threatened Despondos), dooming Etheria to invasion and all that. Of course, Catra pulled that switch and then fought Adora knowing that the world was ending, while Glimmer was just ignoring warnings from...just about everyone, including Shadow Weaver. So yeah, Glimmer, best kids show antihero since Princess Bubblegum***(unless we’re counting Catra as an antihero, which works for the first half of season 5).

Anyway, at the beginning of Season 5 Catra is adrift. Though some interpretations, like TV tropes, see her as immediately falling back into old habits and casting her lot in with Prime, I see her actions from the end of Season 4 onwards as more ambivalent. She seems to be kind of...going through the motions. She doesn’t have any of the drive or passion in her plotting that she once did, she seems to be maneuvering into Prime’s good graces out of habit. At best she’s back in the survival mode of early season 1, but without the ambition and desire to prove herself that motivated her. Some interpretations put a lot of stock in Prime being someone that can’t be bargained with or appeased, but...I don’t buy it. I take him, to an extent, at his word when he says that he was ‘exalt’ Catra (I am sure it is something awful). Catra actually gets what she wants halfway through “Corridors.” Only it’s not what she wants. She’s done jockeying for advantage, especially in a world where she truly would be alone because all she has is this psychopathic narcissist and his clones for company. She wants connection. She wants to do what is right. She’s suppressed all her humanity (felinitity? Anyway) for years and it’s made her miserable, and now she’s ready to embrace it. At the same time she confronts her own culpability, seeing just how much harm she’s done and admitting it for the first time. Her first lifeline is Glimmer, the only person she can actually talk to, the only other Etherian, the woman whose mother she doomed and who has nearly killed her three times. But Glimmer is also going through her own dark night of the soul - Glimmer and Catra’s character arcs were converging at the same time that Catra’s and Adoras and Glimmer’s and Adora’s were diverging. And they come together on either side of that forcefield, just talking and being people in an environment that is designed to be as dehumanizing as possible. Even this barest lifeline is enough for Catra to hold on to for dear life, and enough to inspire her to not just feel bad about the bad things she’s done, but do something good.

But the first way she does this is a cop out. Her plan, like Shadow Weaver’s in the finale, is to sacrifice/kill herself doing ‘one good thing.’ That way she doesn’t have to figure out how to live with the consequences of her actions, face the possible rejection of the people she loves whom she’s wronged, and do the hard work of building herself back up as a better person. She gets to die a hero rather than live as a villain. That said, unlike Shadow Weaver she does at least get off one apology, and it makes all the difference.

Then Adora fucks Catra’s sacrifice up, in glorious, space operatic, gay AF pulp fiction fashion, by saving the cat. Catra is mind controlled or unconscious for most of this episode, but what she does do is so crucial. When Adora comes for her, she reaches out to her, as soon as she is able. She doesn’t push her away, she takes Adora’s help, and her love, and Adora does the rest in badass fashion. The next few episodes plus the so perfect its canon Don’t Go are my favorite part of Catra’s entire arc.

She nearly falls back into her old habits, at least partly. Now that she has to live with what she’s done rather than just dying for it she just wants to run away again. But when she has to choose between losing Adora all over again and confronting herself and her past, she chooses Adora, and asks her to stay.

Catra then spends the rest of Season 5 slowly easing herself into the very human world of the Princess Alliance - the comaradery, the dedication to others and a cause, the goofiness. I’m going to talk a lot more about her relationship with Adora in my Catradora post, but I do want to highlight three moments.

The first is Catra running away again. This is actually a big change from what she’s done before - she’s not leaving because she’s angry, or bitter, or spiteful, she’s leaving because she doesn’t want to see the woman she loves sacrifice herself yet again (maybe this time for good) after being manipulated by the woman who had abused them both. But then she comes back. And then she confronts her abuser in a way that she has never done before - for the first time in the series, she not only calls Shadow Weaver out but calls her to do the right thing, and doesn’t give up until she does (this is after Adora also calls SW out and cuts her off forever, meaning that her two charges have finally called her on her bullshit and chosen each other over her, more in my Shadow Weaver Rant...and I guess my Catradora rant).

Then, at the end, Catra both stays with Adora through her potentially fatal harnessing of the Heart of Etheria and then her comes in and rescues her by challenging her to do something for Catra and for herself. Not to be with Catra, or to kiss her, or love her, but just stay for her. Needless to say, Adora responds far more enthusiastically than Catra had dared hope. (more on this in my Catradora rant).

Catra starts the show convinced she doesn’t need anyone except Adora, and she’s willing to even push Adora away if she can’t have Adora on her own terms. She goes down that path - ambition, manipulation, treachery, cruelty and isolation - until she has nothing left. She then slowly, painfully, turns around and reaches out and begins to heal the pain in Etheria and the universe rather than causing more. This is a psychological journey in many ways, but even more than that it is a profoundly moral one. It is a story of her accepting responsibility for her actions, facing reality, reaching out to others and making amends. It is in every sense a redemption. And while it works perfectly with Adora’s own development into her own, fuller, happier, healthier person, it works not because of Adora or the power of love, but because of Catra herself. Adora’s companionship, Adora’s rescuing of her and holding her to account, all of these are necessary for Catra to change for the better. But in the end it is Catra herself who chooses the right path, maybe for the first time in her life. And that’s what makes the romance work in turn - Catra is motivated to change not simply by a desire to impress her girlfriend or by Adora’s shining goodness (to the contrary, Adora’s a healthier and less self-sacrificing person at least in the finale...she comes around later than Catra) but by her desire to be true to herself and seek out what she really needs and wants - which is love, and connection, and to do good rather than evil. It’s a gorgeous story that takes an antihero all the way down to hell and then back again, and this makes it a truly unique redemption arc in all of kids TV - not just because of how far Catra falls, but how far she travels overall.

*(I know a lot of fanficcers talk about there being a lot of Horde Soldiers left but like...in the show...they’re nearly all dead, guys. Glimmer and company...okay mostly Mermista... just about killed them all in an afternoon. The cadet Triad survives because they deserted and weren’t there to get drowned/frozen/suffocated by plants when the grand invasion of Brightmoon went sideways)

**Okay, once she was only an accessory to Shadow Weaver’s attempted murder of Catra, the other time she leaves Catra for dead in ‘Pulse’

***I stan PB so hard guys. So hard. Machiavellian genius, mad scientist, god figure, possible Nietzschean Ubermensch? She’s so great. So great.

#she ra #she ra adora #she ra catra #spop catra #redemption arcs

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morgana-ren · 4 years

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Come Down to the Black Sea

Summary: The sea seems to call to you, but it’s not the tumultuous clash of the waves you should fear. Something lurks deep beneath the black waters, something sinister with a piqued interest and ill intent.

Rating: Teen, unless I chose to post the later chapters. Then things get all dirty and stuff.

Warnings: Siren!Shigaraki. So, there’s that. Foul language, as always. Slight struggle.

Hello, please take my garbage. This was originally a discord exclusive ficlet that ended up too fucking long. I meant to post it a while back but got distracted. I’ve read over it and I hate it a lot more than I did originally, more than I can really convey, but I feel bad for not posting anything story related for a while and maybe some folks will enjoy this. I promise I edited, I swear. Never thought I’d write something like this. Ever. and by ‘like this’, I mean no filth less than 500 words in. Either way, here it is.

“What would an ocean be without a monster lurking in the dark? It would be like sleep without dreams.”

The sea is as much a constant to you as the gentle breeze that blankets your little port town. Every action you take daily in some small way reminds you that not so far away, the unforgiving tides are lapping hungrily at the shore and the restless ocean waters stir miles from the coast. Every breath you take is somewhat tinged with the briny smell of sea salt and slight sulfur. Seafood stalls and restaurants dot the coastal region, making up a large portion of the diets and employ of the folks who make their homes here.

Yet, for as big of a part of their lives as it is, there is so little known about it.

The ocean’s mysteries are as vast as her expanse and as deep as the trenches that lurk within her depths.

Children are raised on cautionary tales, made acutely aware of the ever-present dangers of life near the open water. Rip currents and drowning, sailors lost at sea and boats that never make it to harbor. Hostile creatures that make their nests within the darkened deep beyond the pale of human experience. These things are often as mysterious as they are tragic and leave behind loved ones mourning not only the loss of lives, but the answers they’ll never have.

Sometimes, you can’t help but wonder if your kind has gotten just a bit too comfortable near the seaside.

You’re not the only one that thinks so.

It’s not by any stretch of the imagination to consider humans a loud and overwhelming presence. They dominate any space they come across, often having little to no regard for any other living creature and imposing their will on anything unfortunate enough to cross their path. Once tranquil steads are trampled, native creatures baited and hunted, and soon there’s no semblance of the beauty that once existed. Humanity leaves behind an impossibly large footprint that destroys whatever is caught beneath its crushing boot.

The ocean is no exception.

Sailors, whalers, and fishermen blot the waters, disrupting the natural cycles of the creatures that make their homes beneath them. Garbage, rot, and other various forms of filth are callously dumped and left to drift. Human hubris has seen the death of the coral reefs, the extinction of entire species, and even radiation left to leak and poison everything in its path.

The only place safe from the fecund shadow of destruction that looms wherever humans may roam are places far too treacherous to facilitate their survival.

You’ve come to believe that maybe beings that are forced to breed in that darkness grow to harbor a grudge against that which pushed them there.

Your little seaport city has always been relatively calm. It attracts enough tourists to keep it economically stable, but not so many as to make it a cultural hub. The signature beaches are only mildly clogged with tourist trap giftshops, and while the sands are busy, there’s not so much foot traffic as to make it unpleasant to visit.

Things have run relatively smoothly for your hometown, at least for the majority of your life. There’s the one-off oddity every now and again, but for the most part, it’s a fine place to live. The native folk are kind enough, and there’s decent opportunity for growth. Still, life always left something to be desired; some greater need that tugs at you and calls you toward the ocean.

Watching the fishing vessels come to and from the bay can be calming. What started as a time wasting hobby as a child has turned into a nightly practice. The marine layer makes it difficult to see early mornings, and the incessant chatter of tourists and their screeching younglings make it difficult to think during the daylight hours. It didn’t take long before the boats mattered little, and it was the time alone you valued. You’d curl up in the still-warm sand, gazing out into the horizon and watching the moon rise high above the waves, listening to the sound of the ocean and losing yourself in its subtle song.

Even as adulthood inevitably sought you out, you found time for your solitary moments that existed between no one but you and the horizon.

It brought you a sense of peace. No matter how much time passed, a part of you stayed anchored to the beach.

Yet, nothing stays peaceful forever, especially near the rocky shoreline.

It started with a missing boat.

It was the talk of the town. A small schooner had gone missing just off the coast and never returned. A band of brothers had set out for a weekend voyage and by Tuesday, no word of them had returned to shore. It had made the local news, pictures of the men aboard flashed across the screen, all smiling faces and sunburned skin. They were experienced sailors, raised on the waves and having spent more time in a boat than they did on land.

Surely, they were fine. Everyone hoped for the best.

At least until pieces of the boat washed ashore a week later, no sign of brothers anywhere.

That incident was the first of many.

Early morning swimmers began to disappear without a trace, divers vanishing without warning. More and more boats failed to make it to harbor despite calm conditions, and soon some people rejected the water all together. The missing persons board was filled with more macabre grinning faces that served as reminders than ever before, and inevitably, people became paranoid.

Superstition gained favor over logic, and tales spread of a malevolent being plaguing the coast began to spread. Children were warned against playing in the tides and tourists begin to shy away from the port. Locals and witnesses talk amongst each other, claiming to see a pair of vicious, glowing red eyes from deep within the water after dark.

Those who denied the possibility shunned those who fell into the myth, claiming that it was clearly boat lights and that folks were too finicky. There was no mysterious sea monster, only misfortune and the loose lips of idle handed fools.

Still, that didn’t account for the sudden surge in disappearances nor did it explain why no remains were ever found.

The mysteries intrigued you, but you worry little for the danger. While you weren’t entirely sure what to think, you never stepped far into the ocean on your nightly visits, mostly only skirting around the water’s edges and observing. Superstition be damned, this was the one place you felt a sense of utter calm and peace. You’re not disturbing the sea or her inhabitants; only sitting by her and admiring her beauty.

You mind your business along the beach and you think that keeps you safe, but that doesn’t spare you his wrath.

A lonely night walker, you loiter along the sands and drag your feet through the wetness. You never let the water flood past your ankles, opting to squish the damp muck beneath your toes instead. He watches you, just out of his reach and still so close. Rage simmers in his chest and his fingers twitch, longing to rip you apart, feel your heartbeat as it slows and ceases beneath his fingertips. He doesn’t dare try his luck against the surface, but you infuriate him.

Time and time again, he’s tried to lure you out.

You never fall for it, though he can tell by the way your eyes linger on the ocean a tad too long that you're curious. If he cared enough to place it, he'd say you look sad, maybe a little forlorn. After all, who comes to a deserted beach alone at night that isn't?

Always the same section of sand, always the same look on your face. You kick at the particles stuck to your grimy feet like it'll sooth whatever repressed emotion you're stewing in, and he can't help but scoff.

Humans are completely ridiculous.

Still, he watches, determined to see you inhale deep the waters around you while what little light you have left in your eyes leaves, same as the rest of your kind that has fallen prey to his deadly actions.

Night after night he waits, and night after night you resist. You don't fall for his tricks, even the ones that beguile the seasoned sailors. It's curious, he'll admit. No matter how longingly you look at the ocean like it could offer you something you need desperately, you never give into the temptation to wade just a little deeper, just take a few fucking steps forward. Perhaps you come from a sea fairing family who had elders that warned against the seduction of the low night tides, or maybe your primal human brain still holds an inkling as to what dwells deep beneath your world, but either way, it agitates him more than he'd like.

He's always had a wanderlust and never sticks around the same sections for long, but the fact that you've been evading the watery grave he dug just for you grates at him. He finds himself waiting moonrise after moonrise to see your form emerge, wracking his brain for ways to trick your feeble human mind into his waters. He's better than you, in every sense of the word. This shouldn't be this difficult.

If he didn't know better, he would say that you know. You never quite look directly at him, but your head is always turned in his direction, as if you have some sixth sense of his location. He doesn't like it. Even though you're the one in the sights of a predator, it makes him feel like a goldfish trapped in a tank. You piss him off.

But eventually, one night, his patience finally pays off.

Warily, you perch yourself on some rocks that stray into the ocean. You don't even dip your feet in, which, while not ideal, would have been enough for him to work with. Instead, you sit with your arms crossed over your knees, same distant grimace on your face that you sport every night. You seem hypnotized by the reflection of the moon on his waters, hardly blinking or even really breathing except for the occasional despondent sigh.

The thing that stirs you from your daze is a flash of silver just under the water beneath where you're sitting. At first you think it's a fish, since it's not uncommon to see them around when all the beachgoers retreat for the day, but the eerie luminescent glow is unlike any fish you've ever seen before in a life almost wholly occupied by the sea. You watch intently for a moment, hoping to see it again, but give up when all that greets you is the deep, murky blue of sunsetted waters.

Still, once you pull your eyes from the gently splashing waves, it catches your attention once more. You're curious if you're just seeing strange broken reflections of the moon, but that wouldn't explain why once you offer it your attention, it disappears.

You keep your eyes down and stare long into the water, and eventually it appears again. Long and stringy, it’s definitely unlike any fish fin you've ever seen. It's incandescent almost, reflecting the silvery light of the moon with an oddly hypnotizing pearlescent glow. You’ll admit, it’s strange, but what alarms you the most are the two crimson eyes staring up at you from beneath the tangle of silvered webbing.

You almost recoil, but you're anchored in place by some hybrid mix of fear and curiosity. The urge to scream becomes paralyzed somewhere deep in your throat when a thin, gangly arm reaches up and grasps at the craggy surface of the rock before your feet. It looks… human... or at least it would, if it wasn't for the slight iridescent sheen of the skin- if you look closely, you can almost make out what appears to be scales and a thin fin that runs the expanse of the forearm. Thick, slimy webbing coats the inside of each finger, becoming more apparent as long claws stretch and crawl toward your retracted legs.

Those maliciously alluring eyes draw closer and closer to the surface and soon enough, you can make out what appears to be a face somewhere just under the waves staring right back up you.

Another hand joins the one currently clinging to the rock and the figure hoists itself up partway from the water, and soon you're face to face with...

Well, you can't really say what.

You were right, it's human. He's human. At least… half human?

Drenched white hair slicks back just below his shoulders and clings to the sides of his face, beadlets of water sliding down from the wintery strands down to what appears to be a pair of gills that encircle the rounds of his neck. There's something akin to black fins parting the slicked hair where his ears should be, but even that's not enough to pull your attention from the perverse scarlet eyes burning into yours from behind the severely salt-chapped flesh of his face.

Unnatural hue aside, they’re utterly petrifying, and while something deep in your body tells you that you should run, you can't bring yourself to move from the spot.

He pulls himself up a bit, lithe torso exposed as he lazily rests his head on his finned forearms by your feet. His body language is completely contradicted by the obvious hate in his expression, which only makes it even more difficult for your brain to try and decide what in the fuck you're supposed to do in this situation.

What the hell is he?

You try to ask, but the shock of seemingly stumbling upon a possibly malevolent supernatural creature in the dead of night has caused a severe regression in your speech capabilities. The only thing your mouth is capable of producing is a series of incoherent babbles and sounds, hands shaking as your resist the urge to touch him to see if he's real or if you've been slipped some form of extremely powerful hallucinogen.

He studies you briefly through pale lashes and you could swear you see him roll his eyes before a prolonged blink.

I'm sorry, is this not the expected result? He's looking at you like you're the weird one in this scenario?

Regardless, he lets you stare at him and allows your feeble human brain to come to terms with what you're seeing. Amazing, how quickly your kind forgets you don't exist alone. He draws the line, however, when you finally find the ability to go to poke his fins. He swats you away with an unnaturally quick movement from his slippery, wet hand and you stare at the water spots he leaves behind like it's the strangest shit you've ever seen.

"Are you often so rude as to touch strangers, human?"

You skitter back on your ass, eyes wide and disbelieving even as the truth stares you back with a mocking expression. His voice is raspy and graveled, cracking from what you assume is disuse. It takes you a moment to process his words, despite being absolutely certain that you’ve heard them.

"Holy fuck, you're real!"

"Just grasping that, are we?"

"What the fuck are you?"

His face contorts and his lips lift in a snarl, revealing the extremely sharp looking fangs on either side of his mouth. Okay, so that might've been extremely rude. He's obviously sentient, so maybe saying something so brash and offensive wasn't really the way to go.

"Sorry, I mean -fuck - I've just never, uh-" You clear your throat awkwardly, still trying to decide whether or not to bolt. He watches you through tautly narrowed lids, and you get the feeling you should tread very carefully. Whatever emotion it is you see in his face, it certainly isn't patience.

"Are you a..." What would you call him? A mermaid? A fish-man? A sea spirit? It doesn't quite matter, since he doesn't give you time to finish your line of thought.

"Your people have no word for what I am." He speaks the words almost bitterly. "But just because your kind doesn’t acknowledge me doesn't mean I don't exist."

You're not entirely sure if you should apologize on behalf of the human race or admit yourself into a psych ward.

"What, uh, what should I call you... Um, sir?" Smooth. But you're not really sure what to say here. What exactly are proper honorifics when it comes to situations like this?

"My name," He sighs again, as if it's some great chore to introduce himself. "Is Shigaraki."

"Okay, Shigaraki," You say his name, trying to get the hang of it as it rolls off your tongue. "It's nice to meet you- I think?"

He pays your attempt at polite conversation no mind at all.

"What are you doing here, human?"

Okay, he's curt and to the point. Good to know. He seems to have very little consideration for your bewilderment, despite being the one that demanded your attention in the first place, which isn’t necessarily a good thing when you don’t really know how to answer his question between the confusion and the sheer oddity. To be frank, you can’t muster much of a response.

"Just... sitting here?"

"No, I mean what are you doing? Every single night, you come here, you look at the sea for hours. Why?"

His pointed tone demands an answer, seeming irate or even provoked by your harmless nightly activity.

"I don't know." For some reason, the question frustrates you as well, mainly because you really don't know. The ocean soothes you, even if you're just spectating it. It's too busy during the day, packed with tourists and teenagers yelling and bounding around in the sand, and while you're happy they're having a good time and all, the voices are impossible to drown out. Even the sea seems to protest their presence, the tide becoming higher and higher and more rambunctious until it almost forces the invaders out. More than once, folks have almost drowned for being too stubborn and refusing to cut their beach day short despite the obvious danger.

It seems to calm itself at night, waves gently washing ashore instead of slapping angrily at the feet of anyone treading the sand as if it's trying to coax them deeper only to pull them under.

"You don't know?" It seems more like a statement than a question, and it's an unimpressed statement at that.

"Yeah. I don't really know. I just like being here, I suppose." You shrug, letting your arms fall limp at your sides. It could be the shock, but somehow, you’re actually managing to carry on the conversation with him. "Is there something wrong with that?"

Something flashes in his eyes, and it sends a shiver down your spine. Once again his body language drastically contradicts the vibe you're getting from him. He leans back casually in the water, and just beneath the edge, you see something slick and shiny flutter where you're certain his legs should be. "I guess not. But if you like it here so much, why don't you ever come in?"

"I-I don't know... The water is dangerous at night..."

“Is ‘I don’t know’ all you know how to say?” He gives you a derisive smile, mocking your tone while swimming graceful circles back and forth in front of the rock with an inhuman grace that sets you on edge. "Don't tell me you're scared, little human."

"I'm not scared, I'm just not stupid."

He runs his tongue over his fangs and something akin to a smile crosses his features. "Sure you're not. A little girl like you could never be afraid of a little water."

He's taunting you and you know it, but the way his eyes stay locked with yours as he swims around and around and around is making you feel a little dizzy...

"I'm not afraid-"

"Come in then."

He dips into the water and disappears, and despite knowing better, you find yourself leaning over the rock to see where he's gone. He's waiting for you just under the waves. You can see the fluid flap of an ebony tail glimmering in the moonlight, silver hair haloed around his head. One clawed finger beckons you toward him, and you can feel yourself leaning further and further.

You're willing yourself to draw back, but the closest you can come is ceasing your forward movements. Even as you try, you can't pull your eyes away from his, staring unblinkingly up at you and glowing that foreboding sanguine shade that cuts even through the darkness of the waves.

'Come in, little girl. Show me you're not scared.’

His webbed hand threads up through the rippling surface, ready and waiting for yours.

You can't help it.

You reach.

You feel the slippery surface of his scaley skin interlocking with yours before something in his expression morphs into something wholly ominous and knocks you from your stupor. His magnetic eyes darken, sinister snarl hinting through the smile he’s straining to keep. This isn’t a serene sea creature playfully helping you face your fears; the ill intent is written on his face too prevalently as his mesmeric movements lure you toward the water.

This is a predator, one determined to sink his teeth deep into your neck and steal the life from your still beating heart. You can feel it as his grip begins to tighten on your own palm.

Whatever spell he might have been casting has been broken if only just enough for you to shake yourself free. He's almost fully closed his fingers around yours before you jerk sharply, yanking your hand away. In anticipation of your movements, he thrusts up and out of the water, sharp claws digging hold into the skin of your forearm. You cry out from surprise more so than the pain even though the tips of his pointed talons slice open your skin with little to no resistance.

Fangs bared and enraged, he’s clearly livid now. All facade of relaxation falls away as his tail flaps furiously trying to pull you into the water with him. He's strong, but your will to live is stronger. The layered skin of your knees breaks as it scrapes against the jagged rock, body thrashing and desperately try to release yourself from his unyielding grip

"Let go of me!"

"Get in, you little brat!"

"No!"

Falling backwards and trying to use your weight as leverage, you do your best to kick the creature off. You land a few good hits on his lean chest, but it's not enough to fully dislodge his grip. It takes a well-placed, hard slap to the side of one of his headfins to finally stun him. It was a last-ditch effort, but oddly enough, it works.

He instinctively releases you in favor of cradling his tender, damaged fin. It isn’t long before he realizes his error and comes to his senses, but it gives you just enough time to pull away. He snaps forward several more times in pure, seething rage, fingers clamping around nothing but air in his failed attempt to seize you once more.

Sputtering and hissing, he even crawls partway onto the rock as you're furiously backpedaling away from the water to save yourself, giving you good look at where his hips meet the sleek scales of his pitch-black tail. It’s fascinating, beautiful even, but your body knows better than to slow to give yourself a better look. The split-second flash in your memory will have to suffice, coupled with the sheer and utter terror that will no doubt be permanently ingrained in your memory from this encounter.

His inflamed face and vividly gleaming red eyes that watch you with palpable hate written in his expression are the last thing you see before pushing yourself up on your haunches and sprinting away from the sea as quickly as your little human legs can carry you.

He watches you run, slamming a fist down on the rock in frustration and spitting out curses. He almost had you. He was so fucking close!

Once he manages to calm himself, he allows himself to coax the sore fin on the side of his head. Its thrumming in pain, overly sensitive to the touch. It was like you had known just where to hit him to make it hurt. Yet, as angry as he is, he can't deny that you're interesting.

"You can't escape me, girl. You'll be back."

The sea calls to you, and you can’t resist that call forever. You can’t resist him forever.

#Shigaraki x reader #Tomura Shigaraki #Shigaraki #Hey Ho What the fuck is wrong with me #Siren Boy just wantsta love you I swear #It aint my best but I really love the sea right now

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caithyra · 3 years

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“Historical Accuracy” Nope.

So... Did my eyes deceive me, but is there a female villain dressed like an oiran (Edo period prostitute, which means AFTER the Sengoku period) from Yoshiwara in Yashahime? Really? We’re having yet another villainous oiran-look-alike? Is female sexuality so horrifying that we must make villains that look like indentured prostitutes all the time? RWBY did it too...

TL;DR: Whether or not Sunrise switches and baits this STOP trying to justify this children’s fantasy cartoon as “historically accurate”. It’s not even biologically accurate.

CW: Yashahime timeline, Rin’s age and puberty, child prostitution, ~*historical accuracy*~, if you’ve gone through the whole “medieval fantasy historical accuracy” thing in other fantasy fandoms, you get the idea...

Y’know, officially according to the laws governing Yoshiwara, girls sold into prostitution weren’t allowed to begin sexual work until they were 18 years old (the age was lowered later in the hopes that brothel owners would comply with the laws, they didn’t. However, the 18-year-old law was in the 1600s, just after the Sengoku period, when organized prostitution took off). Even if sleazy brothels started them younger (though still usually, but not always, started them in their mid-teens, which by their reckoning, would be a year or two older than Rin).

Let that sink in when you go “Japanese people did not know it was wrong back then!”

They made literal laws to prevent prostitutes, who were considered of a subhuman caste, from having to work before they were late-teens/adults! If a procurer picked up Rin in the Edo period and sold her to a brothel she would have had sexual experiences later in life than she did as a supposedly beloved and free girl!

Also, if we are being historically accurate and the official ages (one year old at birth and a year older at every new year) are counted like in medieval Japan then in the spirit of being historically accurate... Rin was in that case biologically 6-7 years old in the original series; 10 when Sango gave birth to the son and Kagome returned and thus, at most, 12 years old when she gave birth to the Yashahime twins and 11 years old when impregnated...

Except that back then, the vast majority of girls didn’t go through menarche before the age of 14-15... It’s quite a conundrum to be historically accurate, you see... The modern equivalent of getting your period at 11-12 would be something like getting it at 7 years old, which, while not impossible, is considered really early and would stunt growth and very unlikely to happen on a village peasant’s diet.

Especially in Japan who banned meat between the years 675 to 1868 (yes, 1193 years, it’s not a typo) except for medicinal purposes. Meat is one of the things linked to early puberty, after all.

Which meant that very, very few women married before the age of 16 unless they came with a long contract that needed to be fulfilled beforehand, but then, it was usually with the understanding that consummating the marriage was to be put off to a more appropriate age. Most women married in their 20s because if they survived that long, they were likely to survive into their elder years.

You see, the low life expectancy in medieval lands were because infant deaths and childhood mortality rates. Once you reached adulthood as a woman at 20 years old? You’re likely to live into your 50-60s, if not longer, barring accident, injury or serious illnesses.

Also, it is possible that due to Inuyasha’s introduction in the first chapter/episode (arson, murder, theft of enshrined artifact) he is considered of an unclean/impure/untouchable caste (eta/hinin) and not allowed to marry outside that caste. (In the Tokugawa era, certainly he cannot marry outside the caste, but I haven’t looked deeply into the Sengoku equivalent. Also, any children would inherit his caste under Tokugawa laws.)

Kagome is outside that caste. In fact, as clergy and miko she’s the opposite of that caste. There’s no way she would be considered his wife in Kaede’s village, no matter what Kaede says, and as a girl brought up in a shrine in 90s Japan and likely traditionally so, she likely would refuse extramarital intercourse (not even modern Japan has a strong hook-up culture compared to, say, USA).

Luckily, she’s a miko and hopefully exempt from yobai, though. Yobai means “night-crawling” and it actually means “men have needs so let them crawl into women’s beds at night, also she might never have met him before”. It is nowadays considered part of rape-kink. It was originally a Heian period tradition that was somewhat different...

Oh and weddings were not a thing for peasant villagers. Noble weddings would have the precursor of the modern san-san-kudo ceremony in a formal reception room, but the white kimono/headgear and modern ceremonies done after the Meiji period were not a thing in the Sengoku period.

Geez, did Kagome even know what she gave up (Oden, a meat dish, is her favorite food!) when she went back in time permanently?

Okay, I’ll stop now.

But, y’know, little girls getting fucked is the sacred cow needed to be protected in the name of ~*historical accuracy*~ like always. And having recently been in the ASOIAF fandom, I have literally no patience for that bs. So this flow of consciousness rant was born.

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magicrowiswritingstuff · 4 years

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“Not so good News” - Gabriel x female!reader (1/3)

Part 1 (you’re here!) | Part 2 | Part 3

Summary: After a successful solo hunt you are driving back to the bunker though you have to make a stop at a gas station. Everything seems normal until some men arrive with the intend to kill you.

(It’s a pre-established relationship and (L/N) means “last name”)

Warning: blood/injuries, panic attacks, heavy angst and violence

Category: 100% angst

Words: about 7000

Note: I only started season 13 a while ago so I know the timelines don't really match but I wanted the Winchesters to already be in the bunker with Gabriel present. Also, I added a living room in the library area again. Also please no spoilers, thanks!

Note 2: I have another fic about Gabriel. Click here if you want to read it. That one is more fluffy.

_________________________________

"Not so good News" - Gabriel x fem!reader

With a sigh you rubbed your eyes hastily before clutching the wheel of your car again in a tight grip, bringing it back in the lain you were supposed to be driving in. It was pretty late already, well after midnight and you were just returning from a solo hunt you had finished successfully only hours ago that had left you pretty exhausted.

On paper it had sounded like an easy one so you had decided to go alone. You enjoyed hunting with the Winchesters ever since you joined their little team but you had missed being independent and you felt like your skills had gotten a little rusty over time. You just didn't want to depend on someone intervening when you were unable to handle yourself, you wanted to challenge and improve your own skills again. And since the hunt seemed fairly simple, you found out that it was only a ghost, you had decided it was the perfect one to try on your own. Of course, Sam and Dean and especially Gabriel weren't all too pleased by it so you had to promise them that you would call them immediately if something was wrong. Only that you didn't do that even after the job had quickly turned out to be a little more complicated than you had initially thought. It wasn't a huge deal, really. You only had a problem finding the corpse of the ghost. But after teaming up with one of the locals who also had been the best friend of the ghost you were able to put the pieces together and find the corpse in the forest in which they had buried him in after an accident.

At least that was what you had told the boys over the phone after you had finished the hunt. You purposefully didn't tell them about the man -not ghost- trying to kill you and the local to hinder you from finding out the truth. The truth was him being the cause of the ghost's death. Anyway, after dealing with him the ghost was able to move on without the need of the corpse being burned. Maybe you would tell Gabriel the real story sometimes since the hunt was fairly interesting otherwise. But for that to happen you had to arrive at the bunker first which meant another good hour of driving. You yawned again. It was pretty late at night and you were still driving down the empty road with your eyes growing heavier by the second. The small inconveniences during the hunt only added up to your inability to sleep currently which was why your body was so exhausted now. Normally you would have searched for a motel now and slept there for the night but you really wanted to return to the bunker as fast as possible and since you were almost there you tried to force your body to carry on. Not that you could have slept if you had found a motel anyway. You just wanted to return to Gabriel and snuggle with him. Maybe then you would be able to sleep again. The archangel always had a soothing effect on you even though he was so full of energy himself. But whenever you needed a distraction or were just too stressed one hug from him was the only thing you needed to cheer you up.

Right now the mere thought of him improved your mindset and made you smile softly though it got interrupted by another yawn. Damn, you were really tired and your body ached and hurt. You cursed the psychotic man who had tried to kill you and you even cursed yourself under your breath. You just had to tackle him to the ground in a forest in which the ground was uneven. You could still feel every stone and branch stabbing in your back. Gripping your jaw you massaged the black bruise there. At least the man's punch had only left a bruise and not completely dislocated your jaw. Nevertheless it still hurt.

Groaning you blinked rapidly to avoid falling asleep while driving when you noticed a gas station coming up. Maybe they would have some coffee to go for you so your eyes wouldn't fall close all the time. You just needed to drive for one more hour but you feared your body would just collapse if you wouldn't get something to keep you awake.

You stepped out of your car after you had parked it in one of the lots and put your keys in a pocket of your jacket. With a sigh you breathed in the fresh night air and looked around. The road you had followed up until now was surrounded by trees which now creaked once in a while as they were moved by the harsh wind. It was dark, long shadows stretched from the woods towards you with the only light source being the lights from the gas station to shoo them away. They illuminated the front row of the trees, making them appear not as frightening or unpredictable as the darkness behind them. But all in all it was a beautiful, quiet night and for a few more moments you just stood there, leaning against the car door and enjoying the silence and harmony. Looking up you admired the night sky and the stars dancing above you. There weren't any clouds covering them up tonight so you could see every single one, sparkling brightly so full of life. However, they were only small lights in the dark, not illuminating anything near you but still brightening up your mind. Though you were used to the darkness of the night, used by it through many hunts that had dragged on till the sun would rise up again so the blackness of the sky and nature around you seemed comforting now. But that hasn't always been the case because when you had been little you had feared the darkness and the monsters lurking in it. Like every child you had feared the monster in your closet or under your bed but not like every child you had to experience the painful truth. You had to learn that those monsters were real and you had to learn how to survive them. And to be honest you had feared the darkness up until adulthood, even after becoming a hunter. There were times in which you hadn't been able to sleep because you had feared another monster would try to attack you. You never continued with a hunt when it got dark which was very limiting because many only appeared in the night. You only got better at handling your fear after meeting and teaming up with the Winchesters. And after a while you learned to work with the darkness and not fight against it. So even though there were shadows all around you, stretching towards you, you didn't care. Your heart didn't even skip a beat anymore, you were completely calm. So why were you unable to sleep properly currently?

Another sigh left your lips as you stretched your limps and broke away from your car. Rubbing your eyes and yawning loudly you walked to the shop which seemed like a little sun in the sea of darkness. Like a moth to a flame you got drawn towards it, or rather by the thought of a hot cup of coffee. But you continued to wonder about your nightly problems. You had never really been an insomniac before except for the time when you had been terrified by the dark so you really couldn't tell what your problem was all of the sudden. It seemed like you grew tired fairly easily but then when you would lie down you were unable to fall asleep and rest. It got very irritating and even caused some unpleasant outburst and mood swings which were often directed to Gabriel, Sam and Dean and sometimes even to Cas. You didn't want to get in their face and yell or growl at them all the time but without your much needed sleep you snapped very quickly. If another outburst had occurred you always made sure to apologize afterwards when your temper had cooled down but you felt awful about it nevertheless. However, you had noticed then when on a hunt you would snap more often which was also a hidden reason why you wanted to do one on your own.

You had reached the shop while lost in your thoughts so you shook your head to clear it and then entered the small building. Looking around you noticed that the cashier was nowhere to be found. You figured that they would be in the backroom for a quick nap and since you didn't want to impose right away you decided to look at the aisles first. You immediately found different types of chips and snacks though your eyes got stuck by the chocolate bars. You normally loved chocolate and would have bought some immediately without question, maybe even to share with Gabriel later on, but when you looked at them a nauseous wave struck you. Gulping you turned your gaze away from the sweets as you felt rather ill all of the sudden. This was another thing you experienced more frequently since a couple of days and again you had no clue as of why. You hadn't caught the flu or any other stomach bug so you had to continue wondering what was up with your body currently. Turning away from the aisles completely you wanted to walk up to the counter and ring for the cashier to ask for some coffee when you saw four men approaching the shop. There wouldn't be anything unusual about that if you hadn't noticed that there was no car parked in the parking lot except for yours. Immediately your body and mind froze. The only way to reach this station was by car since the last and next city were about two hours away. So how did they get here?

Your heart beat quickened as they reached the door. Your sleep-deprived mind screamed at you to move as your hunter instincts took over but your body wouldn't obey. The men had entered the shop and now stood directly in front of you. Your trained senses from being a hunter rang in alarm; they screamed at you that something wasn't right, that their intentions weren't good. An uneasy feeling washed down your back as you glanced between the four men, trying to find out what they had planned but you couldn't focus your mind on them. You crossed your arms before your chest in a defensive manner and stared at them, taking one step back. All of the four men were dressed in black suits with matching ties. Did you end up in the men in black? If it weren't so late at night and the air so full of tension you probably would have laughed at the silliness of their entrance and appearance. Maybe you even would have thought that this could be one of Gabriel's many pranks but by the way these men looked at you with so much disgust in their eyes you knew that this was not a game. The man closest to you took another step forward which made you back away against one of the shelves. You had walked into a trap without realizing it.

"(Y/N) (L/N)" the man spoke and looked down at you like you were only an insect to him. Taken aback you furrowed your brows and bit your tongue. Who were those men and why did they know you? They didn't seem familiar to you at all. Your breath hitched and you grabbed the shelf in a tight grip, trying to maintain a level head and not lose yourself in panic. You were a skilled hunter, no doubt in that but in your sleep-deprived state you definitely wouldn't be able to take on four men on your own. And this realization scared you more than you would like to admit. You knew that if this would escalate into a fight you wouldn't stand a chance especially cornered like that. Reluctantly you had to acknowledge that you weren't only very scared right now but also in a seemingly hopeless situation. Gulping you opened your mouth to speak: "What do you want?"

The men didn't answer you with words but by drawing their blades. However, they weren't normal blades. Your eyes widen in fear as you realized that they were angel blades. These men were angels.

You opened your mouth again but before a single word could escape over your lips the man closest to you swung the blade towards your chest. Immediately your adrenaline kicked in and all traces of sleepiness were gone as sheer terror took over your mind and body. You managed to dodge the attack and kick the man's arm away from your chest only barely. The tip still grazed your shoulder, making you hiss as you spun around and tried to run to the exit only to see that the three other men had blocked the door. Your body froze again as your mind spun in panic. You stood there like a deer caught in the headlights with no idea how to escape. The three men came towards you which made you even more anxious. How should you fight three people in front of you while also watching out for the one behind you … wait. You spun around to face the fourth man just as he rammed the blade into your side. You looked down, you knew that something had hit you but you didn't feel it yet. But luckily it only slashed your side. If you hadn't turned around he probably would have stabbed you right through the middle of your back. Your eyes snapped back up to meet his in the same moment as he grabbed your hurt shoulder with his free arm and rammed you against another shelf. He had pinned you against it with his arm presses against your throat. He let you struggle for breath. Instinctively you dug your fingernails in his arm and tore at the flesh, trying to pry him off. But he wouldn't butch. So you decided to kick him against both shins instead. His vessel moved a bit, allowing you enough wriggle room to push the arm away. Now able to breathe again you instantly clawed at the other arm which was holding the blade that was still scraping your side. Before even your mind could catch up you had already brought it down against your knee. Since they were angels you knew you couldn't hurt them much, however his vessel still reacted to the blow and his fingers let go of the blade. You caught it before it could hit the ground and then pushed the man away from you. Catching your breath you held the blade out towards the four men in a threatening manner.

"What-" you huffed. The adrenaline in your veins made your heart beat uncontrollably fast and your breath choppy. "What do you want from me?"

Again you didn't get a verbal answer. Instead they began to walk towards you again. Struck with fear you ran. You pushed the man without a blade out of your way and ran towards the door. You had to get to your car, had to get away. Your breathing was livid as you ran but you didn't seem to be able to get any air inside your lungs. Your mind screamed at you. You couldn't believe angels wanted to kill you. Angels were out to kill you. Why? What had you done? Your grip around the blade tightened as you tried to ground yourself in reality. It didn't matter. You just had to get away. You could continue thinking about the reason later. But you saw it. You saw their duty to kill you in their eyes. And they were willing to.

You had almost reached the car when a fifth man walked out from behind it, his blade already drawn and angled towards you. Unable to stop you just duck under his blow and continued running. You ran into the woods. It got very dark pretty quickly but your mind screamed at you to not stop. So you ran further until you were unable to see any light from the gas station anymore. Then you took a sharp turn to the right and hid behind a tree. You clutched the blade against your shaking chest; you grabbed it tightly like it was a lifeline. Your breath stuttered over your lips, the air left you faster than the blood flowing out of your wound. The wound. Only then you remembered your bleeding side. And only then the pain finally hit you, it crushed brutally over you like a wave. Gasping for air you patted down your left side and hissed when you touched the open wound. You couldn't see any blood in the darkness but you felt the substance coating your fingers. You saw the bright red color through your inner eye.

You pressed the hand against the wound and bit your lip, drawing more blood as you tried to not scream out in pain. The angels would be searching for you so you had to stay quiet, no matter how difficult that was right now because you could already hear their footsteps, the crunching noise of leaves breaking under their feet. And it was coming closer. You attached the blade on your belt to push yourself up with your now free hand pressed against the tree, your right hand still pressed against the wound. A low groan left your lips before you were able to suppress it. Cursing under your breath you began to walk away from the crunching noises. You had to make a loop around them to get back to your car. You had to keep going. Another sound left your lips that resemble a high-pitched yelp more than a low groan. "I can't" you wheezed and collapsed to the ground as another wave of pain hit you. Your breathing was shallow; you didn't even seem to get any air inside your lungs anymore. They burned as much as the stab wound on your side. What should you do? What were you supposed to do? Oh God you couldn't fight five angels normally on your own let alone in your current condition. You felt tears streaming down your face before the first sob cut through your body. Clutching your chest you bend over, heaving though nothing came out apart from shallow breathing. But the nauseous feeling stayed. You couldn't stop gaging.

"Gabe" you stammered out between irregular breaths while crying even harder. "Gabe, oh God please help me." You wished he would appear in front of you, safe you, get you out of there. But he didn't show up. And through your in panic scattered mind you were able to grab one clear thought. You wondered if the angels had blocked you from reaching any other angel.

You had to find a way out of here on your own. You had to fight. You had to get away. So you pulled yourself up again.

"Don't think about the pain. The blood on my hand. My blood."

You cried out as another wave of pain burned through you. But you carried on, you had to, you had to continue walking back towards the car. You clenched your teeth and pulled through, pushed forward. After a while you noticed that you couldn't hear any footsteps anymore. But that revelation didn't calm you down. The silence of the forest, the silence of the darkness freaked you out even more. You felt like a kid again, you felt how you had when you had feared the dark and the monsters in it as a hunter. You saw shadows move around you, stretching towards you, trying to grab you. You saw your bedroom in front of your inner eye, your closet encased in the darkness and the shadows dancing in front of your window. You grabbed your blanket from your bed; put it over your head in a desperate attempt to hide from the monsters. You whimpered, not believing that this was real. It wasn't real. You weren't a kid anymore. Shaking your head you tried to escape from the pictures in your mind. And as your vision cleared your breathing hitched and you broke out in a cold sweat. You were surrounded by trees. You had run into the forest, remember. Long shadows. Was there someone behind you? You jumped as you heard something break. Just a branch. Who was there? Fearful your eyes darted around, trying to catch a glimpse of the monsters that were after you. But they weren't monsters, they were angels. Groaning in pain you shook your head and began to walk again.

"Don't think about it. It's only shadows, only the darkness of the night. It's comforting not frightening" you whispered, trying to convince yourself. "You work in the dark. It's comforting not frightening."

You yelped as you stepped into a tiny hole, stretching your injured side painfully. Holding yourself upright by leaning on a tree you tried to catch your breath. By now your whole side seemed to be engulfed in flames. You felt like you were burning alive. Cursing under your heavy breathing you dug your nails over the flesh of your wound. It hurt but this pain distracted you from the greater pain which pulsed through you like fire.

Gritting your teeth again you pushed yourself forward. You could already see the lights from the gas station again. You almost made it. Only a couple more steps. The hope to get away filled you with determination. You could do it. You groaned.

"I can do it."

Huffing you stopped behind another tree to observe the parking lot of the gas station. You didn't see anything suspicious at first but just when you decided to leave the protective shadows you saw the fifth man circling your car. Your heart beat painfully fast as you stopped your movement and stepped back into the darkness. What were you supposed to do now? What to do? You clutched the wound on your side as panic was flooding over you, pushed you down like a wave in the ocean. Your breathing hitched even though you seemed to not get any air in your lungs. You couldn't breathe, you felt like you were trapped underwater. Your head spun in dizziness.

Shaking your head you looked down at your wound. For the first time you could make it out in the dim light of the gas station. Taking off your jacket, which had a hole ripped in by the blade, you checked the injury. It was a deep gash you knew so much but by all the blood covering your shirt and body your side could as well be ripped open completely. As you palpated the wound you hissed. Definitely deep. You looked at your freshly blood covered fingers. And still bleeding. You needed to stop the bleeding even if it was only for a short while. So you removed your shirt and ripped it apart to wrap it around your torso like a bandage. It wouldn't do much, you knew that, but maybe it would slow down the bleeding so you wouldn't pass out because of blood loss. After you had secured it tightly you put on your jacket again, zipping it up to the very top. You had to focus.

"Focus! You can handle one angel."

You grabbed the angel blade and detached it from your belt, weighting it in your blood covered hand.

"My blood."

Shaking your head you turned to the gas station, looking at your car which was still circled by the man. He had his blade drawn, too and watchful eyes that scanned the whole ground. You would have to sneak up on him. Looking down at your blood covered side you nodded to yourself. You wouldn't be able to win a frontal confrontation with him in your state. So you began to move forward, still engulfed by the shadows of the trees. He was watching the part of the woods you had escaped into earlier the most, the part which was closest to your car. You had to move to the side and sneak up on the angel from further away, hoping he wouldn't turn to you. It wasn't much of a plan but you had no other option. Your pulse was racing, making your body shiver and your skin tingle.

"Concentration" you reminded yourself. You waited for the angel to finish his round to look at the specific part of the woods again. The man stopped and turned to the trees. Now was your chance. So you began to speed-walk towards him as silently as you could muster, blade drawn. You were only a few steps away from the man when he turned around, his eyes widening in realization. Without thinking you jumped forward and tackled him to the ground, pinning his hand which held the blade down with your knee. Raising the blade above your head you hesitated to bring it down into the angel's chest. They wanted to kill you and you didn't even know why but you still hesitated. And of course the man saw his chance and exploited your weakness. With his free hand he punched you in the face. With disoriented view and mind your grip on him loosened which led to him kneeing into your already injured side. Screaming out in pain you felt the blade leave your hands as you clutched your wound instead. Your eyesight got hazy, black dots dancing in front of you, laughing at you. What was happening? Before your sight could clear again or before you knew it the angel had knocked you down and was now the one leaning above you. Groaning you blinked rapidly until your sight got better. Just to face the man grabbing his blade and bringing it down towards you. With your eyes wide in horror you put your hands protectively out in front of you. You grabbed his arms as the blade only barely hovered over your throat, desperately trying to push him further away. But you were in a poor position with your strength leaving your body quickly. The blade hovered dangerously close over your throat, taunting you. Your arms were shaking, your breathing irregular and heart stuttering. Grunting you channeled the last drops of your strength and pushed his hands to the side with a cry. The blade pierced through your shoulder that had been nicked by the blade earlier which was now lying on the ground beside you. A high-pitched scream left your trembling lips as tears exploded from your eyes, streaming down your dirt covered face. You searched for your blade blindly, scanning the ground with your hands until the tips of your fingers touched its cold, smooth handle. With a loud battle cry you grabbed the blade as the angel pulled his out of your shoulder. Sitting up you rammed the blade inside the angel's chest and watched as he screamed and got illuminated by a bright light which made you squint your eyes. Then the man's body went limp and fell to the ground beside you. Groaning and wheezing you pushed yourself up only to fall back to the ground. With shaking hands you reached out towards your right shoulder, stretching your injured side in the progress which made you hiss. As you touched the wound you immediately gasped for air, trying to hold back the tears that already filled your eyes again. This was bad. Turning around you pushed yourself up on your knees and looked at your hands. Your hands were red, deep red. A red sea, blood sea. Blood. You were losing too much blood. Your body ached. It hurt so badly. You gaged. God, you felt so nauseous. And so tired. You felt the adrenaline slowly leave your body, leaving you exhausted. You wouldn't survive very long in your state with four more angels on the hunt for you and without any help.

"Gabriel" you tried again. "Gabe, please help me. I need you here, please."

But he didn't show up. You were still blocked, unable to reach him. You had to get away from the other angels. You had to get into your car.

Panting you grabbed the keys from your pocket and heaved yourself up right. You stumbled to your car, unlocked it and fell onto the driver's seat with a suppressed scream. Get away. Flee now. You closed the door and started the motor with a grunt. As you put the car into reverse, moving your injured shoulder to do so, you cried out again. Grabbing the wheel you saw the blood now sticking on the leathery material. Blood everywhere. Your body screamed and ached. It hurt so badly. Your eyes darted around in the inside of the car. Blood was flowing out of your shoulder and side, seeping through the temporary bandage and covering your car, painting it red. You shook your head.

"Concentration!" you hissed. You pulled out of the parking spot just as one angel left the forest. You saw the hatred in his eyes, the fury and disgust glistening in the inhuman eyes. You had to get away. Now! You stepped on the gas immediately. You wouldn't hesitate anymore. Get away! Your mind was blank. The only thought on your mind was to escape. You wanted to see Gabriel again. You had to. You had to get away.

You didn't see back, didn't turn around or look if they were following you. They weren't. Your fingers were wrapped around the steering wheel so tightly that your knuckles stood out white and prominent and your nails dug into your palms. Nevertheless you weren't able to suppress the shaking of your body, no matter how much you tensed up. You heaved again, felt like throwing up again but like before nothing came out as your body continued to tremble. You didn't even see the road anymore; it was hidden behind a curtain of tears. Were you even still driving or standing still? You sharply sucked in the air. Focus. You need to focus. But the control was slipping away from you like the surface when thrown underwater. The wave was pressing you down again and you sunk deeper and deeper. The pressure of the water above you pinned you down; it sat on your chest and made you unable to breathe. Gasping and groaning you tried to claw at the surface, tried to reach it but you couldn't. You were sinking. You were drowning.

And then you opened your eyes and you were back in your childhood bedroom. It was dark. The only light illuminating some of the room was creeping from under the door. It made the button eyes of your stuffed animals which had always protected you before glister viciously. It made them scary. They terrified you. You wanted to call for your parents but your mouth was too dry and your tongue seemed to be tied into a knot. So you turned away instead only to see thin arms scratching on the glass of your window, begging you to let them in. The darkness was suffocating, it was cold and hot and scary and you were helpless. You were only a child. What were you supposed to do? You couldn't fight. You couldn't fight the darkness, the fear and panic. Hot tears were streaming down you face as you tried to fill your lungs with air. The shadows were looming over you, eating away the light and leaving you behind in complete empty darkness.

Another scream left your lips as the pain in your shoulder seemed to explode. Brought back into reality you step on the breaks so suddenly that your body was almost thrown forward. You howled, clutched your shoulder and threw your head back. There were still tears clouding your eyes and hazy thoughts clouding your mind but you knew where you were again. You were in your car. Gasping. You could only gasp. But breathing was hard. Really hard. Another cry left your lips. Air. You clawed at your throat. You needed air. What was only happened? Why- angels wanted to kill you. What was happening here? You head pounded painfully. Your breathing hitched again and your thoughts got mushy. It was as if you could only see them through a thick fog, as if they were obscured from yourself. Angels wanted to kill you. You felt so sick. You were losing blood quickly. But what... what were you supposed to do? Bandage. You had none. A scream spilled over your lips and then another one. It hurt so badly and you were so weak. Weak and getting even weaker by the second. Shaking your head you tried to sort your thoughts. You had to concentrate. But there was nothing that could hold you in reality. Until your phone rang. Grabbing it with shaking fingers you saw that it was Gabriel calling you. Gabriel. Your Gabriel. You accepted the call. You wanted to say something but nothing came out. It was like your throat was laced up tight. You were still gasping for air. You felt like fish on dry land, surrounded by air, by oxygen but unable to breathe it in.

"(Y/N)?" Gabriel asked with worry in his voice after you hadn't said anything for many seconds. You immediately sobbed, not able to suppress it and the screech of pain afterwards.

"(Y/N)!" the archangel yelled. You sucked in the air, preparing yourself to answer him. But your body shook so much you feared your voice would too.

"Gabe" you finally hiccupped while wailing in pain. Clutching your side you hissed. "Gabe, help me."

You sounded pathetic. You were a hunter you should have been used to dangerous situations like this one. But the revelation that angels were after you shook you more than you would like to admit. So you sounded like a desperate child and you felt like a helpless child. You were injured. Baldy injured. And you needed help.

"Where are you? What happened?" he asked but you didn't even seem to register it. Your mind was so cloudy. You felt like you were spacing out and in constantly. You felt like throwing up again. But you managed to push one clear thought through as you prayed to him: "I'm here, Gabriel." You hoped that he would find you this time; that you could reach him this time. You groaned and let your phone fall onto the floor of the car. Your arm was too weak to hold it to your ear any longer. Your breath stuttered over your lips as a tingling sensation took control over your shaking body. You only faintly noticed your car door opening and the voice yelling your name. Only when he touched you, you looked to your left and saw Gabriel standing on the street. His eyes were filled with worry and shock as he saw the state you were in. He grabbed you, picked you up onto his arms and before you knew it you suddenly were in the bunker.

"(Y/N)?" you could hear Sam's cry of worry but we're unable to answer him.

"Gabriel, what happened?" Dean asked the archangel who still held you in his arms. You were probably bleeding all over him. Bleeding. Your wounds. You groaned again, gasping for air and clutched at Gabriel's shirt. You couldn't tell if your disoriented vision was sat on his face or if you were staring at the ceiling.

"Why is she still in pain? Haven't you healed her?" Dean accused the archangel with his voice filled with distrust.

"Of course, I healed her" Gabriel snapped back and began walking to the couch on the side of the library. "But she has lost a lot of blood so she will still feel tired and in pain for some time." the archangel laid you down on the cushions which made you groan again.

"Gabe" you gasped and reached out to him even though you still weren't really able to see clearly. But Gabriel grabbed your hand and sat down beside you. He held your hand close to him in both of his hands and waited for your breathing to calm down, whispering soothing words you weren't even able to really understand. Blinking away the tears you finally were able to make out his face.

"Ga-" you started but clenched your teeth as another wave of pain, phantom pain burned through you.

"Angels" you panted. Sam and Dean joined the two of you, standing behind Gabriel and looking down at you, worried. "They tried..." you gasped, your body tensed up again. "..to kill me."

To your surprise the three men standing over you didn't seem surprised.

"We know" Gabriel said and the Winchesters nodded. Confused you furrowed your brows and tried to sit up with your back pressed against the arm rest. Slowly the pain seemed to wash away, though your body was still sore and tired.

"What? Wh-why?" you asked and freed your hand from Gabriel's grasp. You pressed that one against your skull. The headache was still pounding against it but at least your breathing seemed to regulate itself again. You saw up to them, waited for an answer, an explanation. But they stayed silent, looked at each other before turning their focus back to you.

"Gabe?" you addressed him directly.

"It's because..." he started but you could see the conflict in his eyes, the fear and worry dulling his usually bright honey eyes. You braced yourself, or at least tried to because what he said next ... you would have never expected that.

"It's because you're pregnant."

You blinked rapidly and opened your mouth but no sound stepped over your lips. Suddenly you felt very nauseous again and clutched your stomach out of instinct.

"Wha-what?" Was that a joke? Another one of his pranks?

"You're joking..." you stammered and shook your head. This couldn't be real. You glanced at Sam and Dean but they seemed very serious. You looked back at Gabriel. "This can't be real. Is this a joke?"

"I'm serious" the archangel said and reached out to you but you flinched back instinctively. Hurt flashed over his face. But you couldn't react to it as another wave of panic threatened to crash over you again. You were pregnant. You were pregnant with Gabriel's child. A Nephilim. You began to gag and heave again, bending over as new tears spilled out of your eyes. Grasping your throat instinctively you tried to pry the invisible hands off. You were shivering and shaking like a leave again. This couldn't be real. Your body heated up only to cool down immediately afterwards. Or maybe you just imagined it. Or you were just going crazy. You gaged again as dizziness closed its claws around you: The darkness closed its claws around you again. You felt as helpless as a kid. You felt as helpless as you were when you had been only a kid. You felt so sick. So weak. So overwhelmed. Your breathing hitched, got more rapid. Pregnant. Not a joke. You were...

"Pregnant." Was that a question, an observation? The reflex to gag stopped and suddenly you felt very tired as the adrenaline left your system.

Nephilim. They were forbidden. You would be killed because you were pregnant with one.

"How do you...?" you asked and straightened up again. Your gaze was flickering around as panic slowly closed its claws around you again.

"Angel radio" Gabriel replied. "Every angel knows."

You stayed silent. You didn't know what to say.

"Did you know?" the archangel asked. You only shook your head, unable to reply with words. You felt so nauseous.

"What am I supposed to do now?" you asked not directed to anyone specifically.

"We will protect you" Dean said. "And the baby."

Sam agreed as well as Gabriel. They began to talk but you didn't even hear them.

You were pregnant. This was the only thought spinning in your mind. Pregnant. What were you supposed to do now? What should you do? This can't be happening. Your breathing got shallow again. This wasn't real. You were still in that small town, occupied with that ghost hunt. You were, only dreaming. This had to be a dream. This wasn't real. It couldn't be real. This wasn't happening. Your wounds began to burn again. But they were healed. They couldn't burn. You only imagined the pain. This wasn't real. All of this couldn't be real.

"Hey." You snapped back into reality. Looking up you met Gabriel's soft eyes. He tried to appear calm and collected, tried to sooth you but you knew that behind his honey colored eyes a storm like the one inside of you was raging. He was panicking as well but he managed to look at you with so much love you almost forgot all those worrying thoughts that were screaming inside your mind.

"Everything will be alright" Gabriel said and squeezed your hand before continuing to draw circles on the back of it. You nodded and smiled at him. Or at least you tried because you knew that only one of you would survive this pregnancy: You or the child. And you wouldn't let you be the one to end up alive.

To be continued: Part 2 is here

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I purposefully didn’t state that the reader is pregnant in the beginning so it would be as surprising as it is in the story. Did I succeed?🤔

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brainweird-moth · 2 years

Text

mmm bulletpoint character summaries if miss anything/new here

warnings: injuries, cult, age talk

note: oleiri age faster than human (~2 month = 1 year development) so all ages about development, not literal time pass

puzzled wanderer (puzzle):

live in sunny forest since creation, always want adventure but village forbid (”for safety”)

danger come to doorstep, puzzle set out at 18

each time return home, people realise not treat her kindly growing up and everyone become TOO at peace

at 24 discover conquerer near death in eden, bring home and help heal

where she is now: ~25, happy have new friend and want do best bring her happiness too! she just wish know what do...

disgruntled enchanter (chant):

grew up alone in isle, learn how survive, and entertain by passersby

after hear stories, set out for wasteland at 14 and relearn survival

devote to research at 17; quickly become promising, but...

also known for cruelty and tendency abandon when person stop suit them

at 21, attack by krill and left with brain damage (plus epilepsy, removal of eye, service manta...)

in recovery until 24, settle and start over in village of sanctuary at 25, and meet first real friend, trouble

at 27 with caution, help trouble escape from home

where they are now: ~29, still struggle with past but very happy with new start... and maybe in love...

cheerful troublemaker (trouble):

grew up in village of harmony - cult in valley of triumph obsess with eden, orbit, and “truth”

brain damage and semiverbal from creation; but get worse over years

first trip to eden at 8 with conquerer (then 9) - over years take 4 trips, each one cause more brain damage

start reject eden - and harmony beliefs - at 14, with latest brain damage

conquerer go from best friend to worst nightmare, and she not understand why... she love home... but home not love her anymore.

in adulthood she begin explore world outside harmony, seeing what life really hold, and at 24 escape with help from chant and caution

where she is now: ~26, living happy - traumatise to hell and back, but have support and real friends now... and maybe in love...

cautious merchant (caution):

grew up with older sister (climbing flower) in small prairie village, unknowingly with... basically immune condition

flower take one successful eden trip alone, but during trip with caution (then 14), she try help someone and pay price... in same trip, caution come down with illness

at around 15, move to wasteland and become apprentice to forgotten ark’s herbalist - seems only hope, since no one at home understand. soon after, become on-and-off traveller, bring back samples from places and sell for researchers

rocky relationship with chant: they hate each other, but also need each other’s work... chant near breakthrough on illness when suddenly disappear.

begin search at 23, but not find until 28 in place least expect - sanctuary island.

at this point, work with chant to help trouble escape home - this give both new respect for the other, and slowly become real friends.

where they are now: ~30, dealing with anxiety, PTSD and chronic fatigue - not much left learn from herbalist, but more than that have support in them. makes trips to sanctuary island for break from pressure

mountain conquerer (conquerer):

grew up in village of harmony

violent thoughts/urges since creation, begin with cruel pranks as child and escalate in teens + adulthood - abuse into use this violence for leader’s sake, especially target toward trouble when she start reject

spend long time loyal to him - until trouble escape, and she get too cocky thinking leader will appreciate anything she try get her back

he do not. she get punish, first time in long time, and start see harmony true colours: one awful, power-hungry person happy with puppet - her.

throw self in eden one last time at 25 - trauma overtake and corrupt. roughly 2 month later at 26, on brink of death, puzzle (with friend bloom) rescue and bring to sunny forest.

where she is now: ~27 years old, trying work with violence and accept there good things and she deserve... but feelings terrifying

#moth refs

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stars-are-just-ghosts · 3 years

Text

Supernatural Isn’t Just A Show

I started watching Supernatural fifteen years ago, just like many of you. I followed the paths of two young men who hunted the evils in the world that the rest of us couldn’t have imagined on a good day. Vampires and demons and monsters. Greek gods, angels, Lucifer himself. The stories were heartfelt and humorous and dark and tender. They challenged us to see that monsters could be good, and being evil was a choice. They brought us into a reality of hope and fighting the whole world if it meant that your family was safe.

That’s what the show was really about, you see. The hunting and the laughter and the dark and everything in between was just the icing on the cake. The real story? That was family. Two brothers who came together and saved the world, again and again. Two brothers who fought side by side, and sometimes with each other, and always for what was right, even if the drawn line was hard to see. Two brothers whose devotion bled into the world around them and brought other amazing people into the fold. Two brothers who grew to have a circle of people who were the epitome of family, because ‘family don’t end with blood.’ Castiel and Charlie and Bobby and Kevin and Crowley and Jack and the list goes on. A list that extended beyond the characters, beyond the actors, beyond the show itself. One that includes you, me... JoAnn and Steven and Jeffrey.

Let me tell you about JoAnn.

Her daughter and I went to school together, a beautiful young woman named Sarah. Over the years I spent so much time at their house and with JoAnn that it was beyond easy to see them as family. And JoAnn became incredibly special to me. My mother and I have always had a strained, tumultuous relationship with very little in the way of affection. JoAnn, however, became the emotional mother I’d never had. We would laugh together (she had a killer sense of humor,) I would call her just to share something or vent (there was never a moment she wasn’t willing to listen,) she was able to hold all four of my babies after they were born (and they lovingly called her Auntie JoAnn.) And I even managed to get her addicted to Supernatural.

She loved Dean, especially Dean’s rear end. (-wiggles brows-)

Shortly before her first and only grandson was born, JoAnn became terminally ill and passed away. She never got to see her grandson, or hold him, or watch him grow up. I think about that all the time, especially when I see a picture of him that Sarah has posted. When I’m watching Supernatural, and Dean says something familiar or I remember a moment in the show that JoAnn particularly loved, I think about JoAnn and how much I wish she could have seen her grandbaby. And how much I wish her daughter, the lovely Sarah, could have experienced that, too. I wonder if JoAnn would have shared this show with her adorable little grandson. I miss that woman every day.

Now, let me tell you about Steven.

His father, Steve, is one of my best friends. I’ve known him for over twenty years. And when his three children were little, I used to babysit them. His son, Steven, was born with severe Cerebral Palsy. He was nonverbal, wheelchair bound, and was tube fed. But he was also the funniest, brightest, most happy boy I’d ever met. He had the most brilliant smile, and the greatest laugh. And whenever someone he loved or really liked walked into a room, his eyes would light up like stars.

When Steven hit adulthood, I would help his Dad out when Steven was at his house. We liked to watch movies and tv shows together. And I offered up the suggestion of Supernatural. It became like tradition after that. We would all be there in the living room, Steven on the floor with his Dad, and we’d watch the episodes in order. It always made me happy, to be able to share that with them.

About four years ago, Steven became ill, landing in the hospital. While there, his heart gave out. He passed away without ever having finished the show he had grown to love. Since then, his Dad hasn’t been able to watch anymore. It’s too painful. Too hard to think that Steven isn’t there to watch it with him. I understand completely. Because I’ll watch an old episode and remember Steven’s unabashed laughter. And I wish he was still here to watch it with us. I talked with Steve about giving it another try. He heard the show is ending soon, and I think he is finally ready to see it through, to finish it for both himself and his son. Let me tell you about Jeffrey.

Jeffrey has lived in NYC for over 20 years now. He is my big brother, and was diagnosed with different mental illnesses, including Borderline Personality Disorder. He’s still made a life for himself that makes him happy in a place I know for sure I would never survive in. (I’m a small town girl, through and through.) And it was because of my brother that I found out about GISHWHES.

You have to understand, my brother doesn’t open up to people easily or step out of his comfort zone for just anyone or anything. But in doing this scavenger hunt? My brother walked around NYC in a robot costume, including taking the subway and walking crowded streets. He also wore a bikini made of lettuce, and not once was shy about it. He dove right in and gave it his all in order to help other people, and to this day I am still insanely proud of him for it.

After everything he went through, from living on the subway for nearly two years (and never telling us) to going from corporate work (which he hated) to doing something he really loved (comic books, baby) to being hospitalized for suicidal tendencies to finally being diagnosed with things he had struggled with all his life but never had taken care of, and finally having a sense of mental health in a new job as a live-in dog nanny, this amazing man is finally happy. And when I think of that, I think of the video of him wandering around dressed as a robot because of GISHWHES. Now, if you’ll bare with me... let me tell you about myself.

I am a pansexual woman married to my best friend with four amazing children.

I have depression and anger issues that I have struggled most of life with.

I have spent a good chunk of my adult life being a stay-at-home-mom and only now am going back to school to learn a new career. I have rescued and taken care of animals since I was 17, something my children have grown to love as well. And I am happier now than I have ever been. But it wasn’t always that way.

I had my best friend die in my arms when I was 12, that being my first experience with death and grief and unchecked anger. And I grew up a lonely kid who spent most of my time hiding how depressed I was, doing everything I could to take care of everyone else in my life, the majority of them never knowing how much I actually struggled with just living. The first love of my life was killed in a car accident when I was 16. My parents divorced when I was 17 and I dropped out of high school, working three jobs just so I wouldn’t be home with my mother.

I was married to a selfish and controlling man at 18, had my first child at 19, second at 20, third at 23, and divorced at 23 with three small children and no job. I was terrified and didn’t know what I was going to do. Everything was up and down and inside out.

But I have a very clear memory of sitting down one night, after the kids had gone to sleep and the apartment was quiet and I was alone with nothing but my thoughts and the television… and a repeat episode of Supernatural (Season 2, Episode 16 – Roadkill) was on. (Spoilers ahead if you, by chance, have not seen this episode.)

In that moment, I was barely paying attention to it. I was a wreck, filled with guilt and fear. My face was covered in tears, and I was sobbing as I sat there and rocked with a pillow held in my grip (I oddly remember that pillow vividly because it had rough edges.) But as the episode progressed, I began to quiet. I remember listening intently to Sam and Molly as they sat on an old bed in Greeley’s home, looking at the letters he’d written to his wife.

“It’s a love letter he wrote her… my God, it’s beautiful… I don’t understand how a guy like this can turn into a monster.” Molly said to Sam. I mirrored that sentiment, in my own way. (I know my situation wasn’t the same.) I’d married a man I’d thought I’d loved. A man I thought loved me. But his actions and selfishness lead to the downfall of our marriage, our family, and my (then) situation. But I had been the one to make the decision to end things, right? After everything he’d done, I couldn’t be with someone I couldn’t trust. And it wasn’t just about me… it was about our children. They needed a mother who was happy…

At the end of the episode, Molly is faced with the reality that she has been dead the entire time and that her husband David had already said his goodbyes, moving on without her.

“What am I supposed to do?” Molly asked, in tears.

“Just… let go. Of David. Of everything. You do that… we think you’ll move on.” Sam responded gently.

Isn’t that what I should be doing? I thought. Because by that point, I’d been stuck in grief and fear for months. I don’t think I knew it until that point, but I’d been holding onto it like a security blanket because it made sense, it seemed like I deserved it.

“But you don’t know where…” Molly responded, her voice still soft with tears.

“No... Molly, you don’t belong here. Haven’t you suffered long enough?” Sam asked. “It’s time… it’s time to go.”

I sat there in stunned silence.

As odd as it sounds, it felt like he was talking to me. Because for years I’d tried to keep our marriage together because I thought I had to for our children. For years, I’d practically raised those three children alone. For months, I had sat in a holding pattern, waiting for my shoulders to finally break under all the weight from the failure I felt and the misery I was drowning in, doing everything I could to be a good mother with nothing to fall back on. But then I watched Molly walk into the light, tears streaming down her face, a smile ghosting across her lips, and I realized… I really had suffered long enough.

“You really think she’s going to a better place?” Dean asked after Molly moved on.

“I hope so.” Sam replied.

“I guess we’ll never know, not until we take the plunge ourselves, huh?” Dean said with half a smirk.

“Doesn’t really matter, Dean. Hope’s kind of the whole point.” Sam said.

And there it was. What I’d been missing. Hope.

This show, these two actors, those two brothers opened my eyes to something that had been right in front of me the whole time. I didn’t know what the future would bring, I didn’t know what I was going to do next. But I was certain I had suffered enough. I was certain I needed to move on, for my children, for myself. And as the episode ended, I wiped my tears off my face, shut off the tv and kissed every one of my sleeping children a few dozen times. And I went to bed thinking about the depiction of that light, that hope.

Two years later, I married my best friend – the love of my life, a good man who never lies, never hurts me or my kids, lifts me up when I feel down, makes me laugh every day, treats me far better than I will ever think I deserve. We had a baby boy together, bringing our family to a total of four amazing kids who all call him Dad. We have our own home which we work so hard for, we have a plethora of animals who make every day adventurous, and I am finally on a career track I feel excited about. All because I decided to stop living in my suffering, and move on.

That is why this show is not ‘just a show.’ For me, anyway. Because of JoAnn and Steven and Jeffrey. Because of the hope I found with the show itself. And I know I am not alone in at least this sentiment.

Every season since, I have watched the episodes. I have followed the stories and witnessed the amazing things this fandom has done for each other and complete strangers. I have seen people’s lives changed by the show and the actors, I have been able to connect with other people I never would have known, and get closer to those I already did. I have shared this series with my children, who all love it and the main characters as much as I do.

And right now, as we get near the end of the series, I am not ashamed to admit that I am hurting. I feel a genuine heartache. A genuine loss. I feel like a part of my history is coming to a close. But like at that moment when my world was inside out and I was trapped in my own little hell, I have hope.

I don’t know what waits for me. I never have. I don’t know what awaits any of us. But this show will never really die. The connections we’ve made, the way the stories and people have touched us… that never really goes away.

Whether we watch Supernatural on repeat on a bad day, or follow the actors as they move on to new adventures, or get someone in our life to start watching it, this show will always be around. Just like hope. And… isn’t it like Sam said? “Hope’s kind of the whole point.”

So, hold on to hope. And message me if you’re grieving, if you need an ear from a fellow fan, or just someone to shoot Supernatural memes back and forth with. We’re a family. You, me, all of us. And I’ll always be here for you.

(P.S. I will ship Destiel till the bitter end.)

Love,

QuietDarkness (stars-are-just-ghosts)

#Supernatural #SPN #forever a fan #season 15 #this isn't the end #hope is the whole point #Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #Castiel #GISHWHES #misha collins #jared padalecki #Jensen Ackles #some spn spoilers

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