#MEMORY IS A MONSTER INTENSIFIES

[alibonbonn]

THIS BLOG IS NOT IWTV SPOILER FREE BTW.

[yandere-sins]

The Orcas' Tale - Chapter I

Excited to finally start! I haven't written in a while so I felt a little rusty, but I still hope I was able to convey the conflicting feelings that come with meeting these creatures ♥ Enjoy! (Please remember that the polls are only active for a day!)

Fandom: Original Content   Pairings: Yandere!Orca Mermen x GN!Reader   Warnings: Yandere, Monsters, Violence & Accidental self-harm, Non-consensual touches, Animalistic behavior, Mention of blood/claws/sharp teeth, Hinting at death/non-con/killing of animals/near drowning, Long post

"In fact, you don't want them to think about you at all! Otherwise —ey w—t l— —u ——!"

Straining yourself, you tried to hear what the voice was telling you. A sudden waft of nausea overcame you as you concentrated hard on making out those last, vital words. Your eyes snapped open as pressure squeezed your brain inside your skull, and you barely had time to gasp as your body instinctively threw itself to the side, choking and spitting out water from your lungs and stomach.

Through your blurry vision, you could only see gray. Feeling hadn't returned to your hands to notice the little gravel digging into your palm as you clawed at the stone surface, trying to find hold in your disorientation. Slowly, with every cough you made, the pressure on your head subsided, leaving only a pounding headache and your fight or flight instinct in control of your body while you freed yourself of the wretched water inside the spaces it didn't belong. That was until you finally regained the feeling in your body. The pebbles pressing into your skin, threatening to break it.

The hands on your body, holding you steady.

"This was a stupid idea," an eerily familiar voice sighed, the pressure on your stomach and lower back intensifying. Confused and disorientated, you rocked your head from side to side, trying to see. Trying to find the voice that was different from the one you heard before opening your eyes. But your vision was still blurry, and you couldn't make out anything, even with splashes of color passing your view. 

"It's not stupid just because we have never tried it before," someone else, someone you already knew, hissed, and you tried to remember who it was to no avail. A hand on your collarbones, fingers spreading all over your chest, didn't lock your movements but didn't allow you to fall over either, as they kept you slightly elevated. 

"W-Who…" you sputtered, followed by another cough, another spill of water coming from who-knows-where inside you.

"Urgh, well, it's alive, at least…"

Pressure on your ribs made you fall back on your legs, sitting upright. You were swaying back and forth, worse than you ever had on the ship that transported you out on the North Pacific Ocean for your studies… Right… You'd been working out on the ocean, and then something happened. You couldn't get back to the boat, and they didn't do a headcount before leaving. You'd been left there. For how long? Gulping down spit or water—not sure what was in your mouth at that point—you tried to remember, but your memory was as blurred as your vision. 

Did your crew come back? Were they the ones helping you back to your feet? You should thank them. Had they left you at the mercy of the ocean, who knows if you could have made it long. As much as you loved the deep, blue waters, they were just as risky and unpredictable as any other nature-related job. Accidents happened, and you weren't mad you were left behind, but you were still thankful they came back and saved you. 

Slowly, taking the time to adjust yourself, you turned around, the hands allowing you the room to move as you pleased while they stayed ready on standby if you fell. Focusing your eyes was still hard. The space you were in dimly lit and unfamiliar. But when you lifted your head, squinting your eyes as hard as possible, you could finally concentrate on what was ahead of you. 

Instantly, a cold shiver ran down your spine. 

Your fight or flight mode was still intact as you jumped back from your position, your body slamming into a cold and hard wall of something, your headache briefly making space for other pain before returning full force. You didn't know what to expect, but you expected the familiarity of your kind. Human faces, human bodies, humans.

These were not humans.

It needed the extra blow to your head to jump-start your memories. Memories of the little orange boat you had been stranded on, of unknown voices speaking to you, promising the help you desperately needed. Uncanny figures that intrigued you and eventually lured you to the edge, claws that dug into your clothes as they pulled you where the light couldn't reach. A tongue down your throat that helped you breathe and then… darkness. 

That's right, at the cusp between life and death, you had simply passed out, completely at the mercy of these creatures that now reared out of the water, hands and claws reaching for you from all sides. There was no escaping them, no way out, their black skin glistening in the blue light coming from the walls being the only thing discerning them from the shadows around you. All you could do was close your eyes and wish to wake up. Realize this was a bad dream on a dreadful night. Wake up from it, realizing you left the TV on when you fell asleep, subconsciously listening to horror movies. None of this was real. 

But when the hands wrapped around your ankles, wrists, and shoulders, claws too close to your throat to not fear them slicing it open, webbed fingers both sticky and slick, you realized this was not a dream you could wake up from. Not a nightmare to banish once you opened your eyes again. This was reality. 

It took you a moment to regain this clarity of mind, the hands lifting you away from the hard surface you had slammed into and setting you down on something soft, the fabric almost slippery. They wouldn't let go until you opened your eyes, staring at your left hand as you let it slide through the fur beneath you, knowing the feeling well enough to discern it. "Seal…" you muttered, the softness of it astonishing you at that moment. All the horrors your mind could imagine disappeared with the gentleness and warmth you felt around you, sitting on such precious fur. It soothed some of the shock and weariness that kept you tense and on alert.

"The human likes it," someone cooed, the voice giddy as you heard water splashing alongside it. That finally snapped you back to reality and the situation you were in. Gulping once again, at least there was no more water clogging your throat and airways. Realizing that helped to gain the courage to look up, straight ahead at curious eyes watching you, leaning on the ledge you were seated on, giant bodies hidden halfway inside a pool of water. Every jolt of their muscles caused a small wave to splash against the others next to them, but they didn't mind. Why would they? 

Mermaids. 

You remembered it now all too clearly—their voices, faces, actions. Knowing folklore tales as much as any other human but always denying them to your scientifically driven mind, it was almost laughable you fell for their lures, their promises of help. It was true your options were limited, but it felt like you betrayed yourself by still believing them. Then again, that was the whole thing about mermaids, wasn't it? They were able to lure in even the most experienced and resistant of humans at their whim, to kill and eat them. However, dwelling on your idiocy and not concentrating on the situation at hand wasn't going to help you now, either. 

Watching them for a few seconds, you jumped from their faces one after the other. Orcas, they called themselves, and strangely enough, they looked like it. Like a weird mix of a human and an orca, but you could still see both parts in them and discern either part at a glance. The markings in black and white of an orca, the face and body like a human. Muscles just like a professional athlete, but a tail hidden from sight that you were sure would be exactly like that of an orca. They were decorated in adornments that allowed one to believe they had the same aesthetic needs as humans. Still, their sharp teeth lurked behind their lips, and their fingers ended in claws that reminded you there was just as much animal in this mix. 

Looking away was dangerous but necessary, and luckily, as your gaze panned around the room, they only ever seemed to lean further over the edge, trying to see what you saw, before sinking deeper into the cool water again, wary of your gaze falling on them. Either way, you appreciated their discretion, despite hearing their little clicks and whistles at each other echoing through the space. It wasn't a small room, cave-like and branching off into more carved-out areas filled to the brim with things. But if you remembered the size of these creatures right, they'd have to squeeze together if they all wanted to come sit on the same ledge as you. You found the room to be made of hard, solid stone, a blue, bioluminescent shine of a climbing plant with little bulbous blooms on it, illuminating the cave sparsely as it spread on the cave walls. Part of you would have loved to study this growth, but it wasn't the right time. 

Beneath you was the seal fur, and you tried to ignore the gruesome acts you knew orcas did to these creatures, thanking it silently for softening the spot you sat on. But now that you had time to look at the splashes of color from before, you noticed they were fabrics hung from the walls. Sails and flags mingled with more furs. Crates, both wood and metal, some more decayed than others, stood off to the side, but you also spotted some out-of-place items like golden goblets and jewels strewn about. 

"Where… Where are we?" you asked warily, feeling a sense of dread as you couldn't find a discernable exit or connection to the outside, like a window or door. You had a bad feeling about this, but at this point, it came as no surprise that this situation didn't seem to get better even after you accepted this as reality. 

"In our–"

"Home!"

"This is our cave!"

It was a desynchronized answer, but it did the trick. Though that didn't explain where exactly you were, just their connection to this place. Still, scanning the ledge you sat on, you found three sections laid out with fabrics and furs, the stone ground creating gaps between them. Considering the size of these creatures, it might be a squeeze for all of them to fit, but it did look like the three had their beds laid out.

The sound of excessive splashing made your head whip forward, the merman in the middle lifting himself out of the water and on top of the ledge. It was the first good look you got at any of their bodies, and you had been correct with all your assumptions about them. He had to crawl on his hands to get the massive part of his upper tail over the edge, but he didn't seem to mind. In fact, it looked almost like a natural movement as he put himself in a seated position. You were already cowering backwards, not needing to accommodate the creature, but feeling less safe now that it was out of the water. 

But before you knew it, his hand reached for your ankle. 

The feeling of having to cave in to someone else's demands was terrifying, choking you with fear of the unknown especially considering it was a monster you were dealing with. But even without you trying to scoot away, your leg was painfully stretched as the merman began pulling you back closer toward him. "Are you feeling better now?" he asked. You were surprised about the concern he voiced, thinking about how contradictory it was to be given kind thoughts while you felt like prey in their eyes. 

"Yeah…" you mumbled, twisting your ankle carefully, inconspicuously, hoping he might be enticed to let go. Instead, this seemed to have been the magic word, the orca on the right jumping out of the water with much more force and less elegance than the one in the middle, landing belly down on the ledge and immediately reaching for your arm. "Finally!" he rejoiced, squeezing and pulling at your underarm, both actions reckless and painful. Now you had two limbs of yours being yanked, and the gaze you shot the last merman of the three was almost panicked as he sat up on the ledge as well, back facing you, but his eyes on your free left leg. With a careful hand, he let his fingers graze over your skin, jolting away as goosebumps spread in the wake of his touch. 

Their hands were a horror in themselves. Webbed fingers sticking to you and yet sliding up and down your skin, unable to find hold unless pressure was applied. These creatures had no sense of gentleness, probably used to very different forms of touches and holding than a soft, easily breakable human like you needed. Their curiosity was their drive, but it made you feel sick the longer their touch remained. Occasionally, they'd coo or chortle in awe while all you could concentrate on was trying to soothe the sore muscles inside you by adjusting and twisting your body to accommodate their hands.

Even though you were intimidated by just looking at them, fear clawing at you almost as much as their hands did, you decided enough was enough. While they were stronger than you, you had the advantage of knowledge. If they were any bit as much orca as they said they were, they probably had the attitude of their animal counterpart, making them believe they were above everything. But they weren't above the element of surprise. 

So when you were sure they were mesmerized by your meager body compared to theirs—the third merman even back to prodding at your leg after being startled by the goosebumps—you took a deep breath and then pulled. Pulled as hard and fast as you could, very much aware that if they weren't sufficiently distracted, their reflexes would probably have dismembered you. Luckily, you were able to get away even as their claws snapped after you, your eyes meeting that of the middle merman briefly as you scrambled to your feet, backing away until you found a wall to steady you. Your knees were shaking, but after a few milliseconds, the merman suddenly gripped a shoulder of each of the ones next to him, his claws visibly digging into their bodies. The others snapped out of their reflex just barely after the middle one, looking at him instead. 

"No fun," the one on the right groaned, sinking back into the pool of water. "What good is it if we can't play with it?"

His eyes appraised you briefly, a displeased expression weaved onto his face, turning into a snarl when you met his gaze. "I thought you found us interesting, no?"

Lifting his tail fin out of the water, he waved it back and forth, but contrary to what you remembered, no tracker was punched into it; only a gaping hole remained. And yet, you immediately understood what he was trying to say. This was way worse than you thought, as you realized they used their leverage of maybe being able to tell you how to get back to land to make you do what they wanted, no matter what that meant for you. 

"Don't you want to go home?" the merman teased, a smug grin revealing the rows of sharp teeth behind his lips and confirming your realization. It was terrifying but even more so frustrating. Swallowing hard, you tried to find some reasons with the other two, but while one had now fully turned his back to you, the other seemed just as displeased as the one in the water.

"Maybe we should just eat them," the one in the middle pouted. Your mouth almost fell open seeing this creature actively avoiding your eyes, crossing his arms, and pursing his lips in a pout. All just because you refused whatever they were trying to do? How could they not understand that their actions might be wrong? You had never seen a grown man pout in your life, but you couldn't decide if it was worse on this creature or on a man of your own kind. 

"What do you think, Nerrocan?" 

For the first time ever since you met them, you heard one of them being addressed directly. The merman in the middle looked at the one who sat with his back to you, and you took a moment to appraise his form. Broad shoulders, coated with black hairs that reached below the shoulder blades but did nothing to hide the monstrous amount of muscles weaving under his skin. A dorsal fin stuck out from where his human spine must have transitioned to the fish one, and you caught yourself almost reaching out to touch it, confirming the strangeness of this lifeform. It was curiosity more than a reflex, but both were dangerous down here, locked with these strange creatures.  

"Nerrocan…" you whispered, the word slipping out before you could stop. Their white ears perked up, glances snapping to you from the corners of their eyes and over their shoulders. They seemed less alert than surprised, but you clasped your hand over your mouth anyway, feeling as if you were the rude one for speaking so casually to someone you didn't know. Slightly embarrassed, you caught Nerrocan's gaze, looking away before he could, but you scolded yourself for the mishap, missing the shine he had in his eyes as you called out to him. 

You expected some reaction. Cruelty packed into words by Nerrocan that would give the other two the 'go' to do what they planned with you. Or maybe a verbal lashing for daring to speak to him. Perhaps even some hope as he held the other's back, making the unknown threat you felt from them disappear. From the looks of it, he was just as fearsome as the others but showed less interest in you than his fellow mermen. It was hard to understand how different lifeforms thought, but you had still hoped to be able to communicate with them on the same level as with any other sane human being, even just for the sake of the similarities between you two. But you were wrong.

Nerrocan said nothing. He merely shrugged his shoulders slightly, barely visible in the dark. More than half of his body was coated black, so it was no surprise you couldn't see it move much, only when the blue light shone on it. However, you did catch the glance he threw back over his shoulder at you, and you wondered if he understood the devastation you felt visibly on your face. All hope shattered. 

"Nerrocan, you're so fucking boring. Can't you go along with what we want to do just once?" the merman on the right complained, his words a sharp sound, somewhere between hissing and lilting. 

"Shut up, Lyr," the one in the middle ordered, and for a moment, you could see the merman named Lyr snap his teeth at him like a beast warning another. However, when the middle one lifted his hand—presumably to hit the one on the right— Lyr scooted away and out of reach. Before you knew it, Nerrocan vanished in the water, and you watched as Lyr scanned the pool below him before hissing and slipping out of sight. You had a feeling that something must have been going on that you couldn't see, but you knew better as to go and look where they had gone. 

Especially with one still remaining. 

The merman took a deep breath, breathing out before giving you a—what you could assume was meant as a mood-lifting but came out as a terrifying, mocking—smile. "Look, we don't want to eat you. But we hoped you were a bit more… fun."

"I don't even know what that is supposed to mean…" you mumbled, pressing yourself more to the wall as the merman sighed, scooting a bit higher on the ledge and closer to you. 

"Look around you," he directed your attention, gesturing around the cave. "We brought you into our home and made sure you'd survive the dive. Don't you think you owe us something?"

"I didn't ask you–"

"Well, you would have died up there, you know that, right?" His interruption felt like a cold splash of water to your face, but his words hit you even harder. They sat in your stomach like a big stone. One that would sink you if you were left alone in the ocean rather than help you swim. Being demotivated was one thing. But at this point, you were pretty much helpless. You would have died without them but with them… there was no guarantee you would survive these guys, either. 

"Look."

Raising his hands, the merman tried to ease your fear of him—in vain. With a small hopping motion, he elevated himself further towards you, and you, with no place to back up anymore, held your breath. 

"We know humans. You guys are curious and want to know more about us. All of you are. You are always prodding in our territories, trying to find us, and when you do… well. You do this."

Lifting his tail fin out of the water, he waved it back and forth, curling it enough so you could see the red blinking light coming from it. The tracker. You definitely didn't just imagine its existence, and slowly, you let out the breath you were holding, looking him in the eyes. This was more of a conversation than you ever had with any of these guys, and you decided to face it. 

"Humans aren't even that tasty," he noted, assuming your weariness was rooted there. He wasn't entirely wrong. 

"Then what do you want from me."

His grin spread a bit wider at your questions, his eyes sparkling with the knowledge he got you, like a fish drawn to a hook. Inching closer, you barely had time to shift your attention to the two heads that popped out of the water behind him, exchanging glances before directing their focus on you. "You see, we saw humans before. Cute ones—like you! But none would let us explore them a bit. We are oh-so curious about those things you stand on. About your tiny parts and soft body. You're so…"

"Human," you finished his sentence, goosebumps spreading all over your body as you exposed yourself, unwillingly aware of your weakness being your very existence. The merman scanned you with his eyes, almost undressing you with how intensely his gaze burned on your skin. It was an unnerving feeling, one of mutual understanding of how different you were. Weak. Vulnerable. Powerless. Them even communicating their plans was their form of showing mercy. Because if they wanted, they could have easily forced you into it as well.

"Yes," he chortled, seemingly content with you understanding their desire. You couldn't imagine that this was all they'd ask of you, a memory of the voice you heard before waking up in this cave returning to you. 

It hasn't been that long since another tribe—who was it? The sharks?—had been… blessed with an unusual mate.

You wanted to suppress the implications echoing in these words, hoping and wishing this wasn't what these orcas intended to do with you. You couldn't fear something that hadn't happened yet, or else you might lose the last bit of rationality in you that would get you out of this situation, no matter how much anxiety tried to paint the gruesome pictures of possibilities. But you needed to know. Needed to hear it from them, even if the promise was empty. If you wanted to build any kind of trust, this would be necessary, even if the betrayal would hurt twice as much.

"If I agree will you take me back? Back to this place you know, where I can return to my kind? Promise you won't kill me?"

Nerrocan was the first to return to the ledge after disappearing so abruptly. You hadn't noticed it at first, but when he looked at you, his gaze shifting to your legs for a few seconds before looking back up at you, you noticed the split lip he now had, blood trickling from it as the blue light grazed him. "Promise," he answered for the three of them, gaining a sharp glare from the other two. Lyr, too, came back up on the ledge, merely resting his upper body on the stone and propping himself up with his arm. 

"Aren't you gonna say something when he's undermining you, Krill?" he asked the merman in the middle, and now, finally, you had names for all three of their faces. 

"He won't do it again. Right, Nerrocan?" 

The spoken to let out a huff, but when Krill took a deep breath, Nerrocan opened his mouth, submitting as told, "Of course, Krill."

"Well, now that this is out of the way, shall we begin?" Krill asked, his gaze sticking to Nerrocan for just a moment longer before returning to you. Putting on a calculated smile for you—as if he was trying to imitate human behavior—all you felt was another shiver running down your spine. You braced yourself, getting a grip on your shaking hands by curling them into fists. The faster this was over, the quicker you'd find out if they'd keep their promise. The faster you'd be able to get home and sort out this mess your life was in. 

"Okay…" you whispered. Once again, your word seemed to be the one they had waited for, all of them leaping forward, closing in as you let out a surprised squeak. "Stop!" you yelled, shielding your face with your arms and trying to hide behind them out of fear of the approaching predators. To your surprise, the sound of splashing water and bodies moving ceased. When you pried your eyes open, the mermen had stilled, their muscles barely flinching under the intense tension running through them. Their expression was grim, worse than before, seemingly unimpressed with your reluctance after you gave them the go. It seemed their patience was running thin, but what else were you supposed to do?

"Not all at once… please?" you tried to explain yourself, their bodies remaining still for a moment. Lyr was the first to break the silence, groaning loudly in annoyance as he slipped back. Nerrocan said nothing, merely pulling his hands back to his side. He had come the closest to you—especially your legs—and even Krill put some distance between you two, sighing loudly before driving his hands through his short hair. 

"Choose then," he ordered, and there was no hint of teasing or playfulness left in his voice. His eyes remained wide open, staring as he waited for your answer, his body so tense you were scared he might pop a vein. Krill seemed to be the least amused about all of this, but the dirty looks of the other two were just as chilling and pressuring. "Choose who you want to "play" with first, then."

It was an amicable choice that seemed challenging for the three, but they made it your choice nonetheless. Your eyes dragged over all their faces. Nerrocan, the quiet one of them, who seemed very interested in your legs and not much else. Lyr, who was already back to grinning, his casualness paired with the intensity of his gaze drilling into you, making him seem a little unhinged. And Krill, whose word seemed to stand above the others, but whose words could never make him trustworthy to you. 

You had to choose one before their patience with you would finally run out. 

[transform4u]

Absolutely love your stories (especially G2S). I am a young, gay man who works as a professional actor, largely in Shakespeare. There's a part of me, though, that wishes I got into another type of performance job: professional wrestling. Any chance of turning me into a cocky, uber-macho, douchey pro wrestler?

As you practice your lines, intoning, "Now I am alone. O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I! Is it not monstrous that this player here," a sudden, piercing snaaaaappppp reverberates through your brain. The words on the page blur and morph before your eyes, the text twisting into an audacious proclamation: "Hark! Attend ye now, and heed my might, For I am the grand champion, in the fiercest fight. With rippling muscles and a gaze so grand, I stand alone, the mightiest in this land."

Your head throbs, a painful pulse echoing through your temples. “Ugh!” you exclaim, the words feeling foreign and absurd, "What the fuck is this shit?" watching in disbelief as the pages of your script flutter to the ground like discarded confetti. Your once slender frame, so familiar and comforting, now feels alien and grotesque.

The pain in your head intensifies, spreading to your limbs. You clutch your temples, desperate for relief, but instead, a bizarre transformation begins. Your body starts to stretch and bulge, muscles twitching and swelling with a relentless, throbbing ache. It’s as if your very form is rebelling, growing and expanding, reshaping itself into something both awe-inspiring and unnerving.

Before you, the mirror reflects a man of Herculean proportions. Your physique is a chiseled marvel of muscular splendor, each muscle honed from relentless, grueling workouts. Your thick biceps bulge like coiled serpents, veins snaking beneath the skin and pulsing with every boastful flex. Your pectorals, mountains of sculpted glory, strain against the tight fabric of your sleeveless, skin-tight shirt, daring the seams to burst with every breath. A washboard of abs gleams under the light, each segment defined with such precision it seems carved by a master sculptor.

Your face is a masterpiece of overconfident charm, with a square jaw and a smirk so smug it could melt steel. You’re clad in leather trunks that cling with an egotistical perfection, and boots polished to a mirror shine. Every stride you take exudes an aura of unrivaled bravado, as if the very air should feel privileged to share space with you.

Memories flood your mind, a parade of cocky triumphs and extravagant victories in the ring. You recall the roar of the crowd, the electrifying atmosphere of the arena. The weight of the championship belt, a symbol of your undeniable superiority, feels familiar around your waist. You remember the way you dominated every opponent, their struggles a mere footnote to your own grand narrative. The ring, once a stage for your craft, now serves as the arena where your ego reigns supreme.

You chuckle, a dumb, almost delirious laugh that escapes your lips. It’s a laugh of pure, unfiltered arrogance, as you bask in the glory of your new form. The absurdity of your past, the innocent pursuit of theatrical lines, feels like a distant memory now. You revel in the grandeur of your physical transformation, your every move imbued with the swagger and entitlement of a true champion.

With an arrogant grin, you roughly grab your crotch through your shorts, relishing the sweet sting of bruising your own palm on the bulging package within. "Mmmm fuck yeah, that's my boy," you rasp. "Gonna need those monster nuts to knock some sense into that skank's pussy."

A savage rage surges through you, fueled by the unrelenting need to assert dominance over everything in your path. Your ego balloons like a balloon, becoming an inflated sense of superiority and entitlement. You lick your lips, the saliva dripping down your chin. In an instant, all traces of empathy or reason flee your mind, replaced by pure, animalistic lust.

Your thoughts shift abruptly as a buxom redhead fills your head, her tight red lace panties and skimpy thong driving you wild. Memories of fucking this vapid bimbo backstage flood your consciousness. Her high-pitched moans echo in your ears, her tits bouncing wildly in your grip as you slam into her from behind again and again. You'd make her scream so loudly they'd have to muffle her with a mouthful of your dick!

Your fantasies run wild, conjuring up the depraved image of you tossing this vapid bachelorette onto your bed like a rag doll. She lets out a series of desperate, keening moans as you roughly yank down her scant clothing, exposing miles of creamy skin that you proceed to mark with hickies and bite marks, branding her as your bitch. Your hands paw clumsily at her nakedness, squeezing and groping with a mindless, animalistic hunger until you've reduced the girl to a mewling heap of neediness and desire. Without warning, you drive into her soaked cunt, immediately setting a brutal pace that has her squealing like the depraved little cumrag she is.

"God, her tight snatch is gripping me so good as I split her in two with my massive fucking tool. I bet the bitch loves getting destroyed like this - pounded into oblivion with my huge dick splitting her open…"

You feel like a monumental asshole, an insufferable prick encased in a gilded cage. A golden cross of arrogance wraps itself around your throat, choking the life out of any shred of empathy or humanity left within.

You let your mind drift to your glory days of mauling dumb fags on the wrestling mat, pummeling them until their teeth rattled on their skulls. The sick satisfaction of watching them fold and beg for mercy - ah, that was the real thrill! None of the groupies' attention or the money from selling merch matters compared to the sheer rush of putting simps in their place.

Your phone buzzes incessantly, spilling over with thirsty messages and snaps from horny women begging to be destroyed. "Tucker, I need your cock sooo bad," one filthy piece of ass texts back and forth.

All this validation only stokes the flames of your egotism higher. "That's right bitch, worship Tucker's cock like the fucking whore you are!" you bellow. The world is your oyster and everyone else better remember their place. This is YOUR domain - THEE Tucker, conquerer of cocksucking sluts!

[sweetvoidstuff]

Bittersweet II Cha Hyun Su x Reader

Cha Hyun Su x Reader

Summary: In the aftermath of a nightmarish struggle for survival, strained bonds and lost memories characterize the heartbreaking exchange between you and Hyun Su, where a desperate attempt to bridge the gap between shared experiences unfolds, leaving a lingering sense of loss as you face an uncertain future together.

the first part, kinda ~~~~~ the next part, kinda

Masterlist

~~~~~

The last few hours unfolded as a nightmarish chapter in the ongoing struggle for survival. Your group of survivors had been taken hostage, forced to fight off scavengers seeking harm. The struggle for survival had strained your bonds, particularly the delicate balance after Ui Myeong's inclusion, triggering an unspoken personal turmoil with Hyun Su and the others but also between you two.

After your decisive move to aid the vent lizard monster, the atmosphere grew more strained. Pushing past Hyun Su, you rushed to aid the vent lizard monster, recognizing the fear it instilled in others, your determination to buy time for the creature clashed with escalating threats. Hyun Su and Ui Myeong had disappeared during the chaos, leaving you with a lingering regret of missing the chance to talk to Hyun Su once more. You had seen  his face as the others tried to kill the jelly monster.

Returning to the common area, you collaborated with fellow survivors, sealing the entrance in a desperate attempt to ward off hostile monster attacks and create a brief illusion of security for the night. The atmosphere remained charged with anxiety and uncertainty, survivors grappling with the aftermath of relentless assaults and the toll it took on their collective psyche.

Sang-wook's sudden dash with Yu-Ri on his back disrupted the makeshift sanctuary. Concern etched on your face, you inquired about the situation, opening a dialogue with Sang-wook to understand the urgency of their escape plan. His brief words revealed the desperate need for a refill of Yu-Ri's asthma spray, and with a sense of urgency, he handed you the car keys. Taking charge, you sprinted towards the abandoned vehicle, only to be abruptly blocked by a sudden force, sending you flying, disoriented, and confused as you overheard the end of their conversation.

"Does it matter? We won't be here. I will go with you," Hyun Su declared, bewildering you as you tried to pierce together the events that unfolded amidst the chaos. The urgency of the situation and the underlying tension left you grappling with the unknown.

Confusion reigned as you attempted to convey the urgency of Yu-Ri's situation, but Hyun Su's unfamiliar coldness dismissed your concerns as you came back up to your feed. The following sequence of events played out in slow motion, culminating in a moment of shock as Ui-Myeong aimed the gun at the departing duo, gunfire echoed, and Hyun Soo's anguished scream reverberated.

As Ui Myeong redirected the gun toward you, a sudden push threw you into a wall, pain radiating through your body, ultimately knocking you out. The chaos intensified with gunshots and screams, leaving the fate of Hyun Su and the others hanging in uncertainty.

Upon regaining consciousness, the landscape had changed once again. Sang-wook and Yu-Ri and even Mister Han were gone, leaving a void in the group dynamics. Hyun Su stood among the survivors, his memories wiped clean. Ui Myeong gone. The weight of the day's losses threatened to bring forth tears that remained elusive.

Stepping closer to Hyun Su, despite the heaviness that lingered in the air, you extended a hesitant hand, your fingers brushing against his arm as if seeking an anchor in the disarray that had become your reality. His eyes, a canvas of confusion, held a spark of recognition that flickered and faded like a distant star.

"You don't remember..." you began, the words caught in your throat as you gazed into the depths of his bewildered eyes. It was a plea, an attempt to bridge the gap between the shared experiences that seemed to be slipping away from him.

His expression softened, an acknowledgment of the void he couldn't fill. "Thank you for saving me again," you continued, the gratitude woven with a tinge of sorrow, sitting next to him. Every syllable carried the weight of moments that seemed destined to be forgotten.

A somber silence hung between you, punctuated only by the echoes of the distant hum of the shelter's generator. In that silence, you found the courage to address the unspoken pain that lingered between you and Hyun Su.

"I don't remember saving you. Or you," he confessed, his voice carrying the weight of an apology he couldn't fully understand.

The admission cut deep, like a wound that refused to heal. In that moment, you chose not to dwell on the fragments lost in the recesses of his mind but to weave new threads of connection. "It doesn't matter," you whispered, your voice a gentle reassurance that sought to bridge the gap. "I will always remember you."

Hyun Su's gaze faltered, self-doubt clouding his eyes. "Isn't it inconvenient for me to be here? Shouldn't you be afraid like the others?" he questioned, baring the vulnerability that lingered beneath the surface.

The words hung heavy in the air, a reminder of the fractures in his memories and the trust that seemed to be slipping away. With a steadying breath, you addressed the uncertainty that loomed. "We've had this conversation before," you said, your eyes meeting his with unwavering sincerity.

You extended your hand like so many times before, a silent plea for him to hold on, to grasp the hand you were offering. His gaze didn't meet yours, the unspoken invitation hanging in the somber atmosphere. His eyes, filled with uncertainty, locked onto your hand, and you hesitated, uncertain if he would recognize the gesture.

 He didn´t. Uncreatin looking at your hand. In an act of boldness and with embarrassingly red cheeks, you gripped his hand, holding it tight. His confusion reflected in his expression, you held his gaze and, with a deep breath, spoke softly, "I trust you, Hyun Su." The words lingered in the air, a testament to the connection that surpassed the boundaries of fleeting recollections.

"With or without your memories, I trust you."

His gaze met yours, and you saw a flicker of gratitude in his eyes, as if sensing the depth of your unspoken pledge. A fleeting smile graced Hyun Su's lips, a fragile bridge between the past and the uncertain present.

In that moment, you chose to focus on the small victories, finding solace in the fragments that remained. The weight of uncertainty lingered, but the warmth of the connection you sought to rebuild offered a glimmer of hope in the aftermath of the day's turmoil.

Unbeknownst to you, this heartfelt exchange marked the last time you would speak with Hyun Su for a very long time.

[jojikawa]

“Excuse me, Ma’am. Is this your son?”

You try bringing Sukuna with you for a day of daily errands but he only causes mischief because he craves your attention. Contains descriptions of gore.

tw// fluff, adult language, MC is Lilith! (a powerful demoness), lewd/suggestive themes.

masterlist

Him 🩷

Sukuna’s eyes fluttered open. His eyes were burned by the rays of sun that came in, which sorta ruined the moment, but that was fine because he was in your bed. He was pleasantly surprised to see that Yuuji was still asleep, locked away in the back of his mind so he was able to get to the body first. When he looked down, he expected you to still be in his arms, pressed against his chest as his little spoon but you were…gone. Instead, he held a pillow that was vaguely your height and width. “What?” He muttered before pushing the poor body pillow to the side. What confused him even more was that he didn’t sense your energy at all…until he entered your living space. That’s where he found a demonic-looking bottomless pit in the middle of the room. It emitted a red aura; if he listened closely, he could hear the screams and cries of sinners.

He recognized this portal. Seeing it unlocked a memory from the past. You’d only ever use it when you wanted to speak to Lucifer about something. Man, he really hated that guy. If the two of you weren’t friends, he’d probably kill him too. Sukuna didn’t like the idea of you being so cozy with another guy. Even if it were Lucifer himself. (The two of you weren’t “cozy” at all. More like siblings in reality.) 

Sukuna backed away once the living room began to shake. Soon, a huge monster with no face and only arms climbed out of the hole. In one of its arms was you in its palm. It sat you on your couch before retreating back into the hole where it closed permanently.

You adjusted your hair before noticing your lover silently watching you. “Oh, good morning.” You whispered, now only inches away from him, placing a kiss on his cheek.

“Where’d you go?” He didn’t return your affection but it wasn’t something you took to heart. “There was a meeting.” You answered.

“So important you needed to abandon me for it?”

Your smile only intensified at his pouty expression. “I didn’t want to wake you. But don’t want to bore you with the details. I’m glad you’re awake now.” You wrapped your arms around him and snuggled into his chest. Your behavior made him melt. He already forgot he was upset with you! 

“I have a book club today so I’ll be gone. You should give Yuuji back his body now.” You looked up at him and saw that he was becoming gradually annoyed. Were you already trying to get rid of him? The nerve. 

“I’m comin’ with you.”

“It’s girls only.”

“I don’t care.”

He was such a handful.

The two of you arrived at your neighbor's house. All the girls were already there and you were the last to arrive. Sukuna couldn’t understand why you indulged the most in human pleasures. Book club? Really?

“I’m sorry I’m late!” You announced your arrival to the group of women seated around a dining table. They all have a book or two, ready to share. Their eyes seemed to be more focused on the man next to you. Sukuna.

“Um, (y/n), you didn’t tell us you were bringing your…” The brown-haired woman grimaced at the sight of the man beside you. He looked awfully scary.

You waved it off. “This is just my husband. I felt bad leaving him at home.” flashing her a smile, you made your way over to the table. Another chair was pulled up next to where you’d sit. 

“Husband?” Another woman repeated. You heard their whispers. “But he looks like he’s wearing a high school uniform.”

Your heart dropped. Sukuna never makes an effort to change his attire before coming to hang out with you. The last thing you wanted was for you, an elementary school teacher, to have rumors of you dating a high school student. 

“What’s wrong with what I got on, huh!?”

The woman visible began to tremble as your husband was intimidating the woman. He shoved his face into hers, using his height to remind her how small she was to him. He was acting like a high schooler!

“N-Nothing! I-I…” The middle-aged woman failed to form words and was almost on the verge of crying before you stepped in. With a fake smile on your face, you pushed Sukuna to the side. “Don’t mind him. He just has an affinity for…the old days. I get these clothes made for him as gifts.” You then elbowed Sukuna, causing him to cry out and curse to himself under his breath.

It helped a little, but the woman made sure to avoid Sukuna after that.

Unfortunately, for your husband, he needed to sit through your session of woman gossip about romance novels, Tumblr, Goodreads, and all the other bullshit he didn’t care about. He sat next to you with his head in his palm, looking at the things you’d have with you from time to time, zoning in and out of the conversation and not really contributing. He was barely even paying attention to the things that you were saying. 

Until you said something rather interesting.

“Oh, there’s this one book I’ve picked up recently that I wanted to share with you all!”

His ears perked up there.

You put a book on the table. The cover was of a woman with traditional clothing and behind her was an oversized demonic man. It was a…romance novel. But it was probably the dirtiest, smuttiest, and most degenerate thing he’s ever laid eyes on. Even the cover was like softcore porn…

He immediately pieced together that it was some form of a modern adaptation of you and him. 

“Oh my gosh, (y/n)! I didn’t think you’d read something so…so…exciting!”

You laughed. “I know! It’s by this young author and I can’t believe she nailed the ‘Beauty and the Beast’ concept so well.” Your face began to heat up at the implied romantic events that would transpire in the story. 

He wanted so badly to make fun of you but he didn’t want to embarrass you in front of your friends…

Actually, that's exactly what he wanted to do.

“Do you really read this slop about men who aren’t gonna fuck you? Men who aren’t even real.”

You didn’t react at first but your friends did. They gasped and jeered at Sukuna’s explicit language and insults.

“You wretch! What would a caveman like you know about literature? This is why we've restricted men like you from joining our club.” The Hostess bellowed as she stood, slamming her hands on the table. Who did she think she was?!

“Excuse me, but I am perfectly capable of yelling at my own husband, thank you.” You stood as well. Ryo was in the wrong but you’d never tolerate another life form raising their voice at him. “Perhaps, he’s right. Last time I checked, I’m the only one here who’s married.” You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes at the woman. She had recently confided in the group about her divorce so you bringing it up as a jab was intolerable!!

The two of you were promptly kicked out and he was never allowed to be a guest ever again. Now, you were at the nearby supermarket, getting some food so that you could at least make something to feed the vessel he was in.

“I can’t believe you embarrassed me like that. Do you understand the amount of explaining I’m gonna have to do next time I go?” Like a disappointed mom, you paid no mind to the man behind you, occupying himself with the shopping cart. His cheek was somewhat red from that slap you just gave him as well.

“I was makin’ it interesting. That was probably the most eventful thing they’ve had all week.” His neutral expression turned into a smirk. “But to be honest, I think you got yourself kicked out.”

You had been comparing the prices of two different boxes of the same pasta when he said that. You seized your actions before whipping your head around to look at him. “What!? No, I didn’t.”

“You did. Yelling at that bitch was pretty hot!” Sukuna snickered to himself but he made sure he was quiet so that he wouldn’t earn another slap across the face. “It wasn’t hot and it was your fault for saying anything at all.” You rolled your eyes and placed the preferred box into the cart. Without a word, you moved down the aisle and Sukuna followed. You saw that a lot of the boxes were premade dust for homemade baked goods.

“Kuna!” You called him and smiled. You showed off the box of extra triple chocolate brownie mix. It was hardly noticeable but his cheeks turned pink from the nickname. Kuna, huh?

“Why do you assume I’ll eat that shit?”

“You liked hot cocoa. I think you might be a chocolate lover.” You hurried over to put it in the cart. You remembered that you needed sugar as well.

Hanging out with Gods must be boring. That’s how Sukuna felt. You’ve been alive for so long that you could probably rule the world but instead, you were at the supermarket. He watched you struggle to reach things on the high shelf. You couldn’t exactly use your powers or everyone would notice. It was really cute and he almost forgot that he was supposed to be helping you.

“Why is it on the very top shelf? How is anyone supposed to get this?” You mumbled to yourself, trying to figure out a non-embarrassing way of reaching the product…that was until you felt Ryo’s chest press against your back. He reached above you and effortlessly picked the container of sugar off of the shelf.

You couldn’t help but blush. You didn’t even know if he knew what he was really doing. But he did. Seeing you flustered at his actions was probably the most pure form of beauty he’s ever witnessed. Even if he didn’t know your origin, he could already tell that God handcrafted you to be gorgeous. Whether it be you’re angry, sad, or happy. 

“Thanks.” You whispered, a smile gracing your lips.

“Told ya your ass was small.”

And your smile fell. “Ugh, I can’t stand you.” You rolled your eyes before bringing your attention to the nearby boxes of cereal. “Hmph.” Sukuna’s cocky expression disappeared once you turned your back again. He was so bored in here. Couldn’t you shop any faster?

You could easily tell that your husband was getting restless. The metallic sound of the cart moving back and forth, the shifting of his weight causing the fabric of Yuuji’s jacket to brush against itself, and the huffing and puffing of the very man you had been talking to occurring ever so often.

“Why not go and pick out things you might want to try?” You chimed, silently putting more things you were interested in buying inside of the cart. Sukuna narrowed his eyes. “You just wanna get rid of me.” His sudden deep voice would have startled anyone, but not you. You shrugged. “Things would go faster if you were more involved in the process.”

Without another word, he left the cart behind to (maybe) listen to your advice. (he didn’t.) He thought that getting under your skin was much more entertaining because he sort of got a kick out of pushing your buttons. Nothing got him going more than a sexy woman who could kill him but hasn’t yet. So, he ended up causing mischief the only way he could.

Nearly 10 minutes went by. You lost sign of Sukuna after moving through different aisles and finding a handful of things you wanted. Now, you were at the bakery, talking to the woman at the counter about some freshly baked desserts you wanted to take home. That’s when an officer approached you.

“Excuse me, Ma’am, but is this your son…?”

You broke away from your previous conversation to see a huge man in a black uniform. He was holding Sukuna by his clothes.

“We caught him shoplifting.”

Sukuna’s signature grin was plastered on his face. This man was asking if he was your son??? The two of you looked nothing alike. That could only mean that he must have told this man that you were his…mom.

“Th-That’s my…” You were in the middle of taking a paper bag full of donuts from the counter woman. You averted your eyes from Sukuna’s face to avoid getting angry. “...my friend’s son.” 

“What?!” He blurted out. The Officer released him. “Well, Ma’am, we will be letting him off with a warning but if it occurs again, we will not take back any stolen items, but instead, you will pay for them.”

You bowed. “Understandable. I’m sorry for his actions. Unfortunately, he was not disciplined enough as a child.” You gave an awkward laugh. The Officer left and you finished getting your goods from the baker. The cart was pretty much full now. 

“What’s gotten into you?!” Your eyebrows furrowed at the man who couldn’t help but smile. Why was he picking on you today? Why was he being such a brat??? Before all of this, when the two of you were first together, he was so more mature than how he was acting now.

‘Because you’re paying attention to everything else and not to me.’ is what he wanted to say but, oh, he’d sound so needy and weak. Truth be told, he was somewhat jealous. Not only did you have your own friends and hobbies, but you were so much more used to modern life while he understood next to nothing. Plus, he didn’t have his own body and was only a fraction as powerful as he used to be. This was the perfect recipe for a boring life. 

You never got an answer from Sukuna but his eyes told you everything. Being around Adam taught you how to read men well. You ordered him to get you milk and eggs from the dairy section.

Waiting patiently near the check out, you noticed a particular man in the distance watching you. He looked young… perhaps his mid to late 20s? The stranger was somewhat attractive, sporting short blonde hair and looked similar to those singing boy band groups that girls loved to fawn over. 

Once you caught him staring, you flashed a smile, helping things seem less awkward.  The man smiled back before he began…making his way towards you. He reached your cart, making sure to stay out of the way of other passing customers.

“Oh, I’m not in line.” You pulled your cart to the side once you saw he had a handheld basket full of stuff.

“No worries, I wasn’t done anyways.” Chuckling, he locked eyes with you. They were full of wonder and joy. “I actually came here to speak to you.”

Your smile faded. Oh no…

“To me?” You repeated, tilting your head. It added to your ‘cute’ factor.

“Yes,” he replied. “I wanted to know if you were a m-model of some kind. I’d love to get a picture. You are the definition of beauty.” His cheeks turned a rosy pink at the sight of you. He fumbled with his jacket, trying to look for his phone.

You shook your head. “Oh, no, I don’t do either but I’m flattered that you think I do!” Suddenly, you had become aware of the clothes you chose to wear today and how you did your hair. “Although, I don’t mind if you’d take a photo.” You placed your hand on your cheek.

“Forgive me, then. I was wrong to make an assumption.”  The man flashed a charming smile. “I was just put off by finding someone like you in such a normal place like this.”

You couldn’t help but smile too. You rarely have a lot of good interactions with men. Especially these days with men hating women have become so normalized.

“I appreciate your compliments so much, but I’m married.” You laughed, prompting the man to give you a surprised look. “Oh, no! I wasn’t trying to come onto you or anything. I-It’s just that I’m a photographer, you see. I take photos of pretty people for my social media.”

“That’s so interesting.” You told him. He moved closer to you, attempting to show you one of his social media pages. Before you could take his phone, you noticed that he stopped moving.

When you looked at him, a splatter of blood coated your face and clothes. The body of the man imploded into a dozen cubes, falling into your cart and all over the floor. Women and children screamed at the sight before running for their lives.

You hadn’t even begun to process what just happened. Your eyes instinctively closed to protect themselves from the blood. Upon blinking, you saw that the man you had just been speaking to no longer had a head. His phone dropped to the ground before it reached your hands and his body soon followed with a shallow thud.

You didn’t even pretend to act afraid for the sake of not looking suspicious. Your eyes then found Sukuna. He was the only other person that didn’t run besides you. 

Oh, Ryo. Still as jealous as always.

His face looked mildly disappointed at the men who had fallen next to you. He didn’t even try to pretend like he had nothing to do with this. You frowned, realizing that you’d have to clean this up for the sake of Yuuji.

“You can’t kill every man who talks to me, ya know.” You sighed as a small cloth appeared in your hands. You used it to wipe the blood off of your face.

“You let him talk for too long.” Sukuna’s words were laced with venom. He despised people who were in your personal space…men most of all. Those without manners are unfit to live, in his eyes. 

The police would be arriving soon. Without a word, you dialed a number that no one else could reach.

“Yeah, hey. It’s me. Do you think you could pull a few strings for me to help a situation I’ve gotten myself into…? Sorry. I hate to be a bother…Well, the guy I’m seeing sort of…mortals got involved.”

This was the first and last time you were taking Sukuna ANYWHERE in public again.

[luvrbug]

strawhats x reader where reader has a terminal illness? Instead of telling them they kept it a secret from everyone else? sorry if its confusing

i did monster trio! my requests are less than 4 characters per ask :]

«────────«⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅»────────»

Luffy

is Heartbroken. Absolutely devastated. He feels .. betrayed that you wouldn't tell him this and keep it a secret.

Luffy is in complete denial that your illness is terminal. Constantly pesters poor chopper about a cure :[. Will scour the entire earth for a cure if he has to!

He doesn't handle you deteriorating very well. Every labored breath, each time you stand getting tougher and tougher... It intensifies his drive to find some magical cure to save you.

When Luffy can't find a cure and you die, a part of him goes with you. Luffy never really changes, but his light is a little dimmer.

Zoro

Feels hurt that you wouldn't just tell him. He wants to protect you, even from this disease. No matter how much effort he has to put in, Zoro will not just accept you dying.

He knows you're strong, but he just ... babies you. Treats you like glass. Will probably cut up your food and hand feed you if no one says anything.

Doesn't bug chopper about making a cure. He knows the little reindeer is just as hurt as him and doesn't need to be constantly reminded.

Absolutely rages after you die. Towns, navy vessels, whole headquarters.. nothing is surviving his wrath. He becomes ruthless in pursuing his dream and absolutely decimates anyone or anything that stands in his way. (but everyone can see how dejected he looks when he's drinking, always glancing to the seat beside him)

Sanji

Sanji's heart SHATTERS. He can't believe youd keep a secret of that much importance from him. He could have been feeding you healthier!!!

Feels responsible for this. Was it his smoking? Were his ingredients not good enough? Is he just.. not good enough?

He treasures every moment with you. He was before, but now even the most mundane things are stowed away in his memory.

When you die, sanji goes with you. Not literally, but everyone notices how dejected he is. His cooking goes down in quality, starts smoking more, and doesn't even have the energy to simp over every woman to exist.

[incesthemes]

so skin is an episode about being hurt by your loved ones. the allegory is told through the literal torture and murder of girlfriends by a shapeshifter wearing the face of their boyfriends. the psychological aspect is just as important as the physical aspect for this shifter—it's a betrayal, something that will destroy both parties involved and ruin their relationship (if the victim makes it out alive of course).

the shapeshifter takes dean's face: he becomes the boyfriend-murderer, and sam is therefore the girlfriend-victim. it's the first time an episode has itself had an incestuous lining on a thematic level since the pilot (interesting too that the episodes that focus on sam have placed sam and dean in the position of lovers, whereas the dean-focused episodes until now have been more platonic in nature).

throughout the episode, the emotional B story depicts both sam and dean hurting (betraying) the people who trust them. sam, for one, is trying to maintain a relationship with his college friends, but he's lying to them. it also seems like he's not being very communicative with them in the first place, since most of his recent messages are people asking where the hell he even is:

(side note, i love that sam is apparently friends with two people named john and mary. feels weirdly psychosexual)

he hurts rebecca, and zach by proxy, later in the episode by lying to her and contaminating the crime scene. his lying, through the lens of the allegory, is framed as a betrayal of trust—metaphorical abuse and torture.

the shapeshifter also brings up another betrayal: sam leaving for stanford, betraying his brother and stealing his life away by forcing dean into a difficult position where he has to abandon his own dreams so that sam can pursue his.

this is victim blaming. the shifter is hurting people because he thinks they deserve it, because he's the true victim here, because he was shunned from society and treated as a freak. this episode portrays the monster as imprinting on dean, rather than sam or dean imprinting on another character. it's the second time a parallel has been drawn between the monster and one of the brothers, the first being pilot.

the shifter speaks for dean: dean is jealous because sam has friends, a life—and dean is just a freak. the B story of the episode starts with dean telling sam that it's for the best if he cuts his ties with people, and up until this point in the episode dean is portrayed as being unilaterally correct, because sam keeps hurting people as a result of his lying.

but now it's given a different framing. even if what dean has said isn't incorrect, we can see it through a lens of selfishness and jealousy. does dean want sam to give up his life because it's truly for the best? or is it because dean wants what sam has, and he'd rather neither of them have it than watch miserably as sam achieves what he's given up on?

misery loves company.

dean apologizes for what he said at the start of the episode at the end of it, but the shapeshifter dug dean's memories and feelings out from somewhere. because the shifter is imprinting on dean, it's likely that his own experiences are intensifying the secondhand feelings he's receiving from dean, but even if that is the case, there's still something there—it's possible that right now, dean still isn't fully aware of it himself. it's possible that he is and is just trying to bury it.

regardless, we're still getting a rare glimpse into dean's true feelings here, however biased they may be. as dean's fear of abandonment unravels, dean himself is slowly coming undone, and this begins to take on a more prominent part of each episode. the ending scene of phantom traveler, too, is revisited in this same conversation:

if episodes 1-3 are introductory to sam, dean, and john respectively, then episodes 4-6 make an interesting trilogy about dean's fear of abandonment. phantom traveler introduces dean's fears and then reveal a scene at the end where dean perceives john as betraying him. bloody mary, too, includes a scene where dean perceives sam as betraying him by not being open and honest with him about his secret. these events are synthesized in this episode and elaborated on, and the fears that have been underscored through the past two episodes are finally given voice.

anyway, tangent aside, all of this culminates in the blurring of lines between the shapeshifter wearing dean's face and dean himself: there's very little difference between sam's big brother and the monster they're fighting. it helps that they share the same sentiments and anguish toward the world, the same jealousies, the same fears. where does the shifter end and dean begin? how much does the shifter speak for himself, and how much is extrapolated from dean's secondhand feelings?

is dean the real monster in this story?

skin is an episode about being hurt by your loved ones. the shifter takes on the likeness of various women's boyfriends/husbands. there's also an implication toward the episode that the shapeshifter uses this setup to have sex with women he finds attractive:

there is, of course, no real point for the shifter to undergo what appears to be the rather painful process of transforming back into dean after shedding rebecca's skin once he captures sam. except that this episode is about betrayal. the psychological torture is just as important as the physical torture for this shapeshifter. and the shifter finds girls he likes and uses their lovers' faces to destroy them.

dean is the lover. sam is the girl. the lines are clearly drawn here, made stronger by the sheer amount of overlap shared by dean and the shapeshifter. it's important to the shifter that dean is the one who is going to hurt sam, because the connection between sam and dean makes the violence that much more painful.

he says that sam should "appreciate" dean more than he does. it adds to the idea that dean feels "all alone" and that he wants someone to love him. dean's core desire is for family: dean wants his family to love him. he thinks sam doesn't love him, but sam should love him. again sam is blamed for a perceived betrayal, dragging up more and more of the minute details across the last several episodes that point to the emotional distance between them. dean wants those gaps closed, and sam is trying to keep them apart. skin is an episode about being hurt by your loved ones.

just like in the pilot, sam and dean are thrust into overtly romantic positions via the allegorical A story. a monster who has victimized girlfriends is assuming the role of dean and victimizing sam. like in the pilot, the character onto which sam and/or dean imprint is the antagonist, the monster. two lines are crossed in both of these episodes: the boundary between hero and villain, and the boundary between family and incest. doubt is cast on the roles they occupy, and that doubt breeds the gothic anxiety which allows for the nature of sam and dean's relationship, both to each other and to the world, to be questioned.

perhaps then it's only natural that shortly after this episode is where the integral running gag begins and sam and dean start getting mistaken for gay lovers. they stand within the liminal space that separates the acceptable from the taboo, and in doing so they become both, neither, everything all at once: brothers, lovers, boyfriends, girlfriends, tempting and unfaithful and desiring of something they can't have.

sam wants to go home. dean wants someone to love him. in the end, all they have is each other.

(fascinating, i think, how this is the episode where the idea that they're "freaks" is introduced, not only once but twice. very peculiar language)

[gabessquishytum]

My brain got possessed by the typo (accidental monster Dream from https://www.tumblr.com/gabessquishytum/744409898494853120/okay-au-with-mpreg-monster-dream-is-heavily?source=share), so let's have a pregnant monster Dream now! Dream is an ancient Mara spirit who used to visit people in their sleep and torture them with nightmares. Not anymore, though - he's been depressed for the last millennia or so, and he's in semi-retirement or on an extra-long vacation, and he just chooses some good, solid houses where he hangs out as a monster under the bed. He needs to spin nightmares to feed, but since he's depressed and all, he gets sustenance simply from being near sleeping minds. It's less nutritional, but it keeps him alive, although he starves. He's been living in a nice Victorian townhouse for the last century, and he loves the place. There's a king-size bed with a canopy in the master bedroom, and Dream very much approves of it. All of a sudden, his routine is somewhat disturbed: the house is sold, the previous owners move out, and there comes a new man. Dream is wary of him at first (what if he picks up a bed Dream doesn't like?), but they get on well. Hob - that's his name - is rather unobtrusive. He reads a lot and always keeps piles of interesting books on the bedside table, has a pleasant voice (he often laughs when talking with his friends over the phone and sometimes talks to himself), and even cleans all the dust under the bed. Regularly. Dream is enchanted! His curiosity picked up, he visits Hob in his dream. He doesn't mean to make it a nightmare and just wants to peek to know him better, but the dream takes a surprising turn. Hob...comes on to him. Dream looks essentially like a corpse, with paper-white skin, glowing eyes, and wild black hair, and he's well aware of his looks. Humans are supposed to find him scary. They always do. And here is Hob, who looks at him reverently and wants to fuck him. Dream is very confused, but he doesn't mind at all: while he's never done it, he knows about the things humans like to do in their beds at night. He's lived under those beds long enough, wishing there was someone to touch him lovingly and whisper sweet nothings to him, too…And if he seizes the opportunity to make that wish come true, even if just for one night, who's there to blame him? He lets Hob make love to him and retreats under the bed in the morning holding that memory dear. Hob wakes up with a distinct feeling that he's never had such a vivid (and hot!) dream before and wishes that his otherwordly lover, who was so shy, responsive, and passionate, was real. A few weeks pass in mutual longing: Dream wishes he was someone loveable, Hob wishes he met someone like that in reality. Or at least saw in his dreams again! Soon, Dream feels that his hunger intensifies and walks the dreams of neighbors to feed properly. It gets worse. He's always hungry and miserable, and his lower back aches, and when he takes a minute to think what the hell is wrong with him, he feels a life growing inside and realizes that he's knocked up. Dream considers his options and decides to talk to Hob. He was so gentle and loving with him, after all...Of course, there's no way he would want Dream and his baby if he finds out the truth. Or is it?

Magic monster dream baby conceived from magic dream romance!!! I absolutely love it. Hob sure is in for a surprise, isn't he?!

At first, Dream goes back into Hob’s dreams to speak with him. He's far too scared to just wriggle out from under the bed and confront Hob in the real world. He appears to Hob and explains that he's pregnant, and that it's all real, and Hob is very kind to him. He hugs Dream and kisses him and promises him that all will be well. Still, he gets the shock of his life when he wakes up and finds Dream anxiously sitting on the edge of his bed. When Dream said it was real, Hob didn't quite believe him... until now.

But Hib doesn't freak out. He asks Dream to explain who/what he is. Dream gives an outline of what his species are, how he's supposed to create nightmares and absorb the energy that comes from the fear and dread. He also explains that he hasn't really done much of that lately. And that's he's worried about the baby. He doesn't even know how this pregnancy is supposed to work.

Hob listens carefully and wholeheartedly promises to help. He tells Dream that he must start weaving nightmares again - he needs to eat! He can start on Hob, who really doesn't mind being scared (fear makes him horny, more than anything). As for the baby, well, they'll work it out together. Whether it's half human or all dream, Hob wants the child as much as he wants Dream. He would like to try and make a relationship work between them.

He even shuffles under the bed with Dream to cuddle him where he feels safe and secure. Although he makes clear that Dream is also welcome IN the bed, too.

Dream is just awestruck by the whole situation. Hob seems to genuinely want him, a thing that seems utterly impossible. Dream has long considered himself unlovable, hence his prolonged periods of isolation and depression. It seems impossible that Hob would to build a life with him. But he looks at Dream like he's precious, magical, worthy of love and adoration... is it truly possible that Dream could live in contentment with his baby and this human?

Hob (who is falling more and more in love with every passing minute) sure hopes so.

[fangsandfracturedhearts]

Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Chapter 2: Reunion

Summary: After embracing eternity as a vampire spawn under Astarion's wing, the Crimson Palace becomes a haunting symbol of the man he once was. As his personality unravels into a dark abyss, you flee. A year of hardship unveils the harsh reality of existence as a vampire spawn.

Just as all hope seems lost, a twist of fate reunites you with Astarion, revealing a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows. As you navigate the complexities of your relationship, you must confront the unsettling truth behind the Rite of Profane Ascension and the devilish secrets it holds.

In a race against time, you embark on a daring quest to save Astarion from his descent into darkness. With each choice you make, the stakes grow higher, testing the limits of your courage and determination.

Will Astarion find redemption, or is he destined to succumb to his own inner turmoil?

Word Count: 3.6k

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x female!Tav Spawn

Warnings: Possible spoilers. Eventual Explicit Content. Slow Burn. Thoughts of Suicide. Violence. Blood. Injury. Mature Content.

Instinctively, you descend swiftly into a crouch, your eyes sweeping the shadowed tree line. You can smell them stalking nearby, shrouded by that murky gloom, but your sharpened eyesight can only make out the dark silhouettes of the trees. You scan your surroundings in a practiced manner of calculated calm, taking mental notes of possible hiding places and escape routes.

The toe of your boot grinds slightly back and forth into the ground as you determine your footing. The recent rains and high foot traffic around these small alleyways have left the ground slick with a viscous mud that would make trying to outrun your assailants perilous.

The pungent sickly-sweet scent of powdered iron vine intensifies in measured increments as the Gur hunters advance on your position. The powerful scent makes your eyes water, and you blink rapidly, trying to clear your hazy vision. Your heart drops into your stomach as that familiar rhythmic beating of hearts starts to come into earshot. Squeezing your eyes shut tightly, you listen closely, trying to discern how many hunters are trailing you.

One, two, three, four, five, six… Fuck, there are too many.

Kneeling behind an abandoned overturned wagon, your mind haphazardly flicks through various strategies. Avoiding a head-on assault would surely be the most sensible option. The Gur are highly trained monster hunters, making them a deadly quarry already, but these Gur would likely be fuelled by a rabid desire for vengeance after what occurred in the temple concealed beneath the Szarr Palace after the ritual had been completed.

They are inching closer to you in a practiced, systematic advancement. The increasing resonance of their hearts thundering in their chest gives you an estimate of their looming proximity. Moving slowly, keeping as low to the ground as you can muster, you creep away from your current hiding place, eyeing an angled corner that could provide you with some cover and, if you’re lucky, an escape route. Your boots sink into the gelatinous, muddy earth beneath you, eliciting a dull, squelching sound with every tentative step.

What had Astarion said - roll your foot down starting from the heel 1 joint at a time? How many joints are in a foot?

You scoff inwardly at the memory - Astarion had attempted to teach you his craft but had deemed you hopeless when you couldn’t even manage to improve your footwork after several lessons. In truth, you hadn’t put as much effort into learning as you should have because you found how flustered he would get at your ineptitude both amusing and utterly adorable.

Perhaps I should have taken my lessons more seriously.

Rounding the corner, you see the darkened outline of a hunter already standing at the fork in the path ahead of you. More of them rise from the long golden grass bordering the walkway. You can vaguely hear the slow, muffled footsteps approaching you from behind. It came as no surprise that they would’ve anticipated your movements. Corralling you in this cramped alley had been a well-planned trap, and you walked right into it. The pack of hunters strategically block any potential escape routes with ease as they encircle you, blades drawn and ready.

Fuck.

Your eyes dart frantically, examining your assailants one by one. A roaring tempest of loathing and disgust saturates their crazed eyes. You can virtually taste their acrid hate permeating the air. These people saw you as nothing more than an abhorrent monster to be put down. Their hearts hammer wildly in their chest, battering against their ribs in a morbidly musical cadence.

Settling into a defensive stance, you reach out to the weave, letting the well-known, comforting presence spread through every fibre of your being until you’re overflowing with it. The palm of your hand warms slightly as you prepare to cast. Spells hurtle through your memory as you struggle to settle on an appropriate one. 

“Impero tibi.”

You cast sleep on one of the Gur stalking in the tall yellowing grass, successfully incapacitating them, giving yourself an opening. The hunters attack in response, hurtling themselves towards you. 

Speaking the invocation for Misty Step, you dematerialize into a silvery fog just as a hunter thrusts the biting sharp edge of his sword towards you. Reappearing on the roof of a nearby home, you take some of the hunters by surprise. Casting recklessly, you manage to incapacitate several of them before they can recover. You take care not to kill even though it imposes risky limits on your ability to defend yourself. These people are just more innocent victims of Cazador and your misguided attempt to help Astarion reclaim the safety and happiness that was stolen from him centuries ago. You have damned an unfathomable number of souls to an eternity of suffering, including the Gur’s children, and you’re not keen to add additional blood to the sanguine sea you are already floundering in.

No more unnecessary bloodshed.

A hunter leaps onto the roof and swings his blade with a howling scream tearing from his throat. Throwing your body to the side, you manage to avoid most of the blow, but the cool, steel tip cuts into your snowy skin, slicing a shallow gash diagonally across your chest. The tangy metallic smell of blood infuses the air. It would be a pleasant aroma if it were not the scent of your blood saturating the breeze. Snarling with your fangs bared, you leap to the roof of the neighbouring small shack, hoping to get a little distance from your pursuer and the remaining hunters.

As soon as your boots thud on the wood shingles of the roof, you know you’re in trouble. The shingles are rotten and loose from years of exposure to the elements and neglect. They slide under your feet, throwing you off-kilter to your knees. You claw at the rotting wood, fingers trying to find purchase to stop your descent, but there is nothing to hold onto. You’re hurtled off the side of the roof to the slick, boggy ground in a heap.

The hunters drag you to your feet aggressively, thrusting your back up against the wood wall of that long-abandoned shack. The deteriorating timber whines under the pressure. The razor-sharp contoured steel of a dagger’s edge presses against your neck firmly. A scroll flashes and dissolves in the dim light cast by the low-hanging crescent moon, and a profound sense of fear mauls you savagely. Bolstering your resolve, you try to cling onto the weave, but it retreats and dissipates, rendering you unable to cast. The putrid tang of powdered iron vine and sweat makes your eyes sting, and your stomach twists in a violent upheaval.

Did they bathe in the stuff? Good Gods.  

“Where is your master?”  

My what? Oh…   

“I don’t know.” They will never believe you, but what did it matter? They will kill you regardless. 

Would I tell them even if I did know?

“Where is he hiding spawn!?” the hunter shouts furiously, spittle flying from his lips.

Spawn. This is what the “hero” of Baldur’s Gate has been reduced to.

Struggling, you try to shove them away, but their grip on you only intensifies. You recognize the faint hint of a Giant’s Strength potion lingering on their tepid breath. Attempting to escape their vice-like grip would be a useless endeavour. They’d known what they were hunting and came well-prepared. You shouldn't have expected any less.

Baring your fangs in frustration, you shout, “Did I stutter? I said I don’t fucking know!”

How long had the Gur been tracking you in the hope you’d lead them back to him, and why couldn’t they locate him without you? The last weeks you had spent with him, he’d scarcely been trying to conceal his identity, and a man like that hardly blends into a crowd. He turned heads everywhere he went. His very presence intrinsically commands attention.

Maybe he left Baldur’s Gate?

The mere thought makes your soul croon a forlorn, melancholic melody.

“Kill her. She either can’t or won’t give him up. She’s useless to us.”

The hunter nods their agreement with a ghoulish smile and unholsters the stake at their hip. An odd sense of relief floods through you at the prospect of your own demise; no more fear, no more pain, no more hunger. It sounds… peaceful. Your eyelashes flutter as you close your eyes in acquiescence, and ready yourself for the final blow.

You faintly hear the soft whispering hiss of a blade being drawn. One of the Gur holding you lets out a loud yelp, and their fingernails claw painfully at your skin as their hand is ripped from your arm.

“What was that?” the hunter shouts with ragged, trembling breath at their compatriot.

“I don’t know! I didn’t see any-” their voice halts abruptly, trailing off too little more than a hushed murmur vanishing into the gloomy twilight.

You squirm, trying to shake yourself free, tugging desperately at the arm squeezing you against the wall. Panicked, the remaining hunter plunges the stake towards you hastily. Their eyes bulge from their sockets and dart in all directions frenzied. As the stake draws nearer, your eyes reflexively squeeze shut.

A fitting end to my sad story, if nothing else.

A delicate gust of air hits your face, and your body is jerked forward as the force driving you into the wall is ripped away. You stagger slightly, and your arms swing out as you strive to regain your balance.

What in the Hells?

Your eyes snap open with surprise. Silvery rays of moonlight bounce handsomely off his alabaster skin, highlighting the chiselled planes of his face. A gentle breeze stirs and carries an all-too-familiar fragrance. Astarion heaves the hunter off their feet, suspending them in the air by their neck. They kick and flail desperately, trying to wriggle free from his grip. Guttural, rasping gurgles escape the hunter’s throat as their life is slowly squeezed out of them.

"Please, don't!"

Heart-stopping, deep crimson eyes flash in the chalky luminescence meeting yours. Gods, he’s even more beautiful than you remember. He sneers at you momentarily before closing his eyes and cocking his head sideways, grimacing as if what he’s about to do pains him physically. In a fluid, seemingly effortless motion, Astarion hurls the Gur into the wall with a resounding thud. The hunter falls in a motionless heap, unconscious but alive.

You can finally breathe a sigh of relief, but it’s short-lived. Blinding, searing pain radiates from your abdomen, causing muddled black orbs to flicker and dance in your vision. Looking down, the stake juts ominously out of your side. The hunter didn’t hit their target, but they hadn't missed entirely either. Your chest tightens as a rising panic grips you. Without thinking, you pull the stake free in a swift motion. It departs from your body with a sickening squelch, leaving a gaping wound in your side. Sticky blood starts to form a pool around your feet. The stake tumbles to the ground, falling out of your trembling grip.

Pressing your hand to your side, you glance up and meet Astarion’s gaze as your vision starts to tunnel.

“… Astarion?”

A nauseating dizziness seizes you, and your knees weaken. The last things you perceive are arms wrapping around you and your name ringing sweetly from his lips before you black out.  

Awareness fades in and out as you start to regain consciousness. Your eyelashes flutter, and you strain to pry your eyes open. They feel heavy and part open sluggishly. Your surroundings are just an obscure blur as your eyesight twists and undulates in rhythm with the pounding in your head.

Where am I? What in the Nine Hells happened?

Focus… I need to focus.

A nauseating drumming rasp thrums between your ears making efforts to concentrate painstakingly difficult. Vague snippets of memories start to form and clasp together piece by piece as you try to recall the last things you can remember.

Shadowheart.

The forest.

Hunger, all consuming, insatiable hunger.

The sickly-sweet scent of powdered iron vine.   

The Gur.

Dismay floods through you, and you leap out of a large four-poster bed. Agony radiates from your side and seers unforgivingly, igniting every nerve. Your legs fail and give way, knees colliding with the chilled floor. Trembling, you grit your teeth to stop yourself from crying out. As the harsh stabbing pain subsides, your sight begins to clear, and the chamber comes into focus bit by bit.

No... No, it can’t be...

A handful of variously sized candles illuminate the darkened space. The prodigious room is elaborately decorated in luxurious adornments but is otherwise empty except for you. Despite the additional ostentatious furnishings, you would recognize this place anywhere.

The Crimson Palace.

Pushing yourself up off the floor requires more effort than you would like to admit and leaves you feeling lightheaded. Chilly air caresses your skin, and you realize you’re in your undergarments with bandages wrapped snuggly around your chest and side. A hot flush of embarrassment explodes in your gut, rising upward like a rogue wave. If your skin could redden, you have no doubt you’d be as red as Karlach. Scanning the room, you see a clean robe has been neatly laid out, and you slip it on, thankful for the coverage. The floorboards creak beneath your feet as you pathetically try to sneak toward the closed door. 

I really should have been a better student.

The door hinges whimper as you carefully ease the bedroom door open. Peeking out from the small crack, you’re grateful to find the adjoining hallway is devoid of any sentient life. You tiptoe forward as softly as you can muster, but the ever-present faintness caresses the edges of your consciousness, making your gait unsteady. Tottering on your feet, the faded wooden floor whines mockingly at you.

Voices slowly come into earshot as you approach the end of the hallway. They start as a distorted mutter but become distinct as you inch further toward them. Instinct howls at you to run, but you would recognize that voice anywhere.

Shadowheart.

“She’s coming with me!” Shadowheart bristles. Her voice rings with a tangible agitation.

Astarion’s voice is a velvety dulcet in comparison, “Don't be foolish. She’s not safe with you, nor you with her.”

Shadowheart crosses her arms and shakes her head sneering in disbelief, “Are you seriously asking me to just… just leave her here with the likes of you?! Did the ritual rob you of your intelligence as well as your soul, Astarion?”

“Come now,” his words are soft, wrapped up in that beguiling tone you know so well, “don’t play stupid, my dear. It doesn’t suit you. The Gur will stop at nothing to capture and kill her. She’s not safe with you any longer. Surely, you want what’s best for her, don’t you? I can keep her safe."

Shadowheart snorts exasperatedly, “That’s rich, coming from you.”

His poise falters, and he slams his fist onto a large desk with an echoing bang, “She had a choice!” he snaps back defensively.

“Tell yourself whatever lies you wish, Astarion. It doesn’t change the facts.”

“Do shine your divine illumination on these “facts” for me.”

Her eyebrow cocks up contentiously, “Now who’s playing stupid?”

"She stays!” he growls deeply.

Shadowheart's hands move to her hips, and she widens her stance in a bold show of defiance, “Over my dead body.”

“Well…” his fingers come up to his chin thoughtfully, “That can certainly be arranged.” a sly smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

They’re so engrossed in their squabbling that they don’t notice you standing in the study’s wide archway observing them.

It’s hard to believe we were all friends once.

“Will you two give it a rest? Good Gods!”

Startled, their heads snap towards you in unison. Shadowheart’s eyes flood with relief at the sight of you. She hurries over and wraps her arms around you in a gentle hug. Your thoughts swirl with the temptation to bite her. Your body goes uncomfortably rigid, and you clench your fists, digging your nails deep into your palms as you fight your appalling desire to sink your fangs into her neck.

I won’t do it. I won’t!

Shadowheart quickly notices your discomfort and releases you, slowly backing away with her hands held up, “I’m sorry. I forget myself.”   

You give her a tight smile, “It’s okay.”

���You’re bleeding all over my new rug,” Astarion interjects bluntly and a bit aloof, pursing his lips, “again.”

“What?”

His eyes fall to your midsection. Following his gaze, you see a wet maroon stain blossoming on the front of your robe. Blood drips onto the rug from the hem swaying loosely around your ankles. Your wound must have reopened when you jumped out of bed in your panic.

Shadowheart rummages through her bag and tosses you a healing potion, “Your wounds were too dire for me to heal completely, I’m afraid.”

Drinking the potion makes you cringe as you swallow the syrupy liquid. Healing potions, really just potions in general, had never been particularly appealing, but since being turned into a spawn, everything took on the flavour and texture of ash. Except for blood, of course.

“How did you find me?”

She casts a glance back at Astarion who is standing there casually, arms crossed, looking beyond bored. Your bewilderment must be apparent.

“Oh, don’t look so surprised, darling. I am more than capable of seeking out assistance when I choose. I am many things, but a healer is not one of them.”

Shadowheart shakes her head and rolls her eyes, “I was as surprised as you are when he showed up. I very nearly plunged a stake through his ribs right then and there.”

“You would have died in the attempt,” he says nonchalantly with a dark, malicious smile.

Blazing with the red-hot fury of the Hells, she veritably flays him with her eyes. He snickers his delight fiendishly, a wry smile widening across his face. He always did thorough enjoy the way he could get under her skin.

Despite her customary zealous demeanour, you can see the exhaustion in Shadowheart’s face; dark, puffy bags forming under her eyes. It’s readily apparent she’s been up all night tending to you, and knowing them, arguing with him.

“You look exhausted, Shadowheart. You should go home and rest.”

Her brows draw down in a slight furrow, and her jaw clenches as she glances between you and Astarion apprehensively. It’s obvious she’s scared to leave you alone with him. 

I’m scared too.

Trying to conceal the fear, you plaster on the most soothing smile you can muster, "I'll be right behind you.” 

If he allows me to leave…

She sighs, “Fine, but I expect to see you later, and if I don’t...” she trails off, turning to Astarion, “I’ll kill you, Astarion, even if it’s the last thing I do.” 

He smirks, entertained by her threats and bows shallowly, “It was lovely seeing you again, flower.”

With a final exasperated grumble, Shadowheart stalks down the hall and disappears, leaving you alone with Astarion, who is eyeing you with a hawkish intensity. You shuffle your feet uncomfortably under his probing glare.   

He is truly a sight to behold. Yellow candlelight flits and flickers in the deep scarlet hue of his irises. He holds himself with an elegant confidence that commands attention. It’s no wonder so many unfortunate souls met their grim fate after making the mistake of falling for him, enthralled by his masterfully executed masquerade.  

Just as I did. 

Even now, although your fear runs like drifting ice through your veins, you find his presence oddly comforting. You desire nothing more than to run to him and be wrapped up in his strong arms to spend eternity safe in his cool embrace. How many nights alone did you spend silently crying missing him? 

This isn’t my Astarion – not anymore. 

A mournful sign escapes your lips as you swallow the lump in your throat and blink away the tears welling up in your eyes.      “Positively elated to see me, I see.” Astarion purrs deeply as he takes a step closer to you.  

You take a step back, wanting to preserve the distance between you and him. It’s an odd feeling, wanting to run from him and to him simultaneously. Astarion raises his hands in a gesture feigning innocence, ceasing his advance. A pained expression is momentarily adorned on his face, but it’s so fleeting you wonder if it was ever even there or if you had just imagined it.  

“Why?” your voice comes out in a barely audible, timid whisper.

His brows knit together in confusion, “You’re going to have to be more specific. Why what?”

“Why save me?”   

Astarion leans forward slightly, "Would you have preferred the alternative, darling? Should I have just let those vile Gur put you down?”

“Yes,” you say bleakly.  

There had been a serene kind of peace, knowing the end of this ordeal was coming. It would have been a merciful reprieve from this nightmare you were trapped in. His eyes widen in surprise, a wave of shock sweeps over his features, disquieted by your brutal honesty. Astarion straightens, and he stands there staring at you apprehensively as if unsure how to respond. An array of almost imperceptible emotions flit across his face in rapid succession, but there’s no way to discern what they are with any degree of accuracy. He shakes his head bringing himself out of his thoughts. His eyes narrow, and that cold stone mask he wears slips securely back into place.  

“You die when I let you.”

Master List of Chapters: Fangs and Fractured Hearts

If you're interested I write another fic with Spawn Astarion x Tav called - Shadows of the Past

AO3 [Crossposted]

[fatecantstopme]

Not Yours to Take

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: In which Dean begs Castiel to take away your memories of him to keep you safe.

Warnings: cursing, use of pet names, canon violence.

A/N: Told from Dean's perspective. Shares some similarities to Cass taking Lisa and Ben's memories.

"Absolutely not," I said angrily.

"Dean...come on. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself on a hunt. You know that," she responded calmly.

"This isn't a normal hunt, (Y/N). I don't want you anywhere near it."

"I don't care. I'm not letting you go alone!"

"I've hunted alone hundreds of times, I'll be fine."

"You just said this isn't a normal hunt. Going alone is a suicide mission. Hell, the whole damn thing could be a trap."

"Exactly!" I yelled. "So why would I put you in danger like that?"

"Our lives are dangerous! We choose to keep fighting every damn day, no matter the cost--why should this be any different?"

"Because I can't lose you!"

She stared at me quietly, sadness etched onto her beautiful face. "Dean..."

"No--don't look at me like that. With Sam...with Sam gone, it's just you and me. You're all I have."

She sighed. "You still have Cass."

I shook my head. "He's never around anymore. Too busy with whatever angel business he's got going on."

"There's no one else to call," she said softly.

I knew she was right--hell, I knew I shouldn't do this alone, but that didn't mean I was going to risk her life. I crossed the short distance between us and gently touched her cheek. "I shouldn't have yelled...but my mind is made up. I need you to stay here."

She looked defeated as her pretty (y/e/c) eyes met mine. I hated seeing that look on her face, but I would rather have her alive and angry at me than dead.

"Fine," she murmured. "Just--for the love of God, be careful."

"Careful is my middle name, darlin'," I joked.

She rolled her eyes. "'Reckless' is more accurate."

I grinned as I placed a soft kiss to her lips. "I'll be back by midnight, okay? I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Dean Winchester."

"I'm coming back, (Y/N)," I said softly. I turned away from her to grab my jacket and my bag, unable to look at her any longer. She was scared for my life and she had every right to be...

We'd been hearing rumblings in the last several months of a supernatural hit that had been placed on my life. Basically every monster was out to get me--I'd become the hunted. I wished Sam was here every day, but he was one more person I couldn't save. I would be damned if (Y/N) was added to that list.

I started to walk out the motel room door when I heard her inhale a shaky breath. I couldn't look at her--couldn't bare to see the worry in her eyes--so I turned my head back in her direction, but my eyes were trained on the floor. "I love you, baby."

"I love you too, Dean," she whispered.

I walked out the door without looking back, knowing there was no way I would leave if I looked at her.

**********

I made my way to an old abandoned farmhouse just outside of town. We knew there were reports of a demon infestation of some kind. Our intel indicated this was the demons' home base. I had this strange feeling in the pit of my stomach, which intensified the closer I got, but I did my best to ignore it.

I opted to park the Impala about a half mile away to keep the demons from hearing me coming. I walked the rest of the way, staying off the main road.

When the farmhouse finally came into view, I noticed it was completely dark. It didn't look like anyone was home. As I crept closer, I continued to see signs of abandonment and disrepair. There were no indications that anyone--human or not--had been there in a long time.

That feeling in my gut crept back up and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. My hunter's instinct told me something was very wrong and I would be wise to listen to it.

Suddenly, my phone began to buzz in my pocket. I pulled it out and the screen lit up with (Y/N)'s name. A sense of worry came over me and I answered without hesitation. "Hey baby, you okay?"

I heard muffled sounds on the other end of the phone and my heart began to beat faster. "Babe?"

I listened more closely and I heard what could only be described as sounds of a struggle. I felt a wave of panic wash over me and my grip on the phone tightened. "(Y/N) answer me!" I yelled.

I started running back towards the car, not giving a damn if someone saw or heard me. Whatever was happening to (Y/N) was happening back at the motel--so that was where I needed to be.

I wasn't more than 100 meters from the car when I heard a terrifying sound that cut me straight to the bone. It was clearly a woman's cry of pain--and I knew in an instant it was (Y/N)'s voice.

"(Y/N)!" I yelled into the phone as I ripped open the driver's door of the car and slid in. "(Y/N/N), answer me, please!"

The engine roared to life and I took off in the direction of the motel. There was nothing but silence on the other end of the phone and terror had begun wrapping its icy tendrils around my heart. "Baby, please..." I whispered, not expecting a response.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N) can't come to the phone right now. Can I take a message?" an unfamiliar voice said through the phone.

"Who the hell is this and where is (Y/N)?" I asked angrily.

"She's right here, but she's a little--unconscious--at the moment." The voice chuckled. "Who I am is really not important. All you need to know is I'm here to collect on a bounty."

My foot pressed down harder on the gas and I tried to control my breathing. "Look here you son of a bitch. If you hurt her, I swear to God, I will kill you and everything you have ever loved."

The voice chuckled once more. "The famous Dean Winchester bravado. I had a feeling I would like you."

I had already assumed he knew who I was, but with my suspicions confirmed, my fear for (Y/N) only increased. "I'm the one you want, so why don't you leave her out of this."

"You know, I would, but you've been a very hard man to track down. I figured going after the person you love most would just make my job easier. Now, you'll come right to me."

I knew there was no point in arguing. The panic in my voice when I was yelling for (Y/N) had already made it very clear how I feel about her. "If I hand myself over, you'll let her go?"

There were a few beats of silence before the man responded. "I will agree to those terms."

"Good. I'll be there in 20 minutes."

I hung up the phone and continued to speed towards the motel. I had a feeling that whatever this creature was that had (Y/N) wouldn't have any qualms about ignoring the terms of our deal. I couldn't just go in there and hand myself over, but I also couldn't go in guns blazing. Despite all evidence to the contrary, I'm not suicidal.

I exhaled heavily, mind set on what I needed to do. I didn't want to--I didn't even know if he'd respond, but I didn't have any other choice.

"Castiel," I said aloud. "I, uhh--I could really use your help here."

All I could hear was the roar of the car's engine.

"Come on, Cass--I know you're busy, but this is important. I'm not praying to you just for fun."

Still nothing.

"Damnit, Cass! It's (Y/N). I need you, man. Please." I hated begging, but desperate times and all that...

"I'm here Dean."

I jumped slightly as Castiel appeared in the seat beside me. "I know I called you, but it's freaky as hell when you do that."

"Sorry," he said simply. "You said this was important?"

"Some asshole kidnapped (Y/N) and I need your help."

"Why would someone kidnap (Y/N)?"

"Oh, I don't know Cass--maybe it's because I have a goddamn bounty on my ass!" I said sarcastically.

"I see. They're using (Y/N) to get to you."

"Good job. Now we're all caught up," I grumbled. "I don't know what we're dealing with, but my money is on a demon--probably a group of demons."

"I can see why you called me."

I shot him an annoyed glance, but didn't comment on his statement. "I left her at the motel thinking she'd be safer there--I never thought one of these monsters would come after her to get to me."

"It's not your fault, Dean."

I was surprised he said that--because it was definitely completely my fault. If I had just let her come with me, she wouldn't be in this situation. "Then who's fault is it, Cass?"

The angel remained silent. I sighed and focused my attention back on the road. "We're about 15 minutes out."

"Do you have a plan?"

I thought about it for a moment. "Yeah...it's not a great plan, but it's all I got."

**********

"You're right, that's a terrible plan," Cass commented.

"You got a better one?" When he didn't respond, I continued. "Didn't think so."

"We have no idea how many of them there are."

"I'm aware of that, Cass."

"Just making sure."

"Just...poof out of here so they don't see you. This only works if they think I'm alone."

I could tell he didn't like the idea of me walking into a trap by myself, but we really didn't have another option. When I glanced back over to the passenger seat a moment later, he was gone.

I took a deep breath. "God I really hope this works..."

**********

Ten minutes later, I pulled into the parking lot of the motel. I looked around and spotted at least five people milling about outside, all trying to look like they weren't focused on me.

I got out of the car and started walking to the room, heart hammering in my chest. I had salt and holy water in my pockets, and an angel blade tucked into my waistband. I was as prepared as I could possibly be on such short notice.

When I reached the door, I turned the handle and was surprised to find it unlocked. As I stepped inside, my eyes scanned the room as quickly as possible. There were at least four demons in the room and (Y/N) was tied to a chair in the center.

"Dean! So nice of you to join us," one of them said. It was the same voice I had spoken to on the phone.

"I'm here, as promised. So why don't you just let her go."

The demon's eyes flashed black and he gave me a dark smile. "Oh please...you didn't actually think I was going to let her go, did you?"

My jaw tightened and I felt anger bubbling beneath the surface of my skin. While I hadn't assumed he would let her go, I really didn't like hearing it.

"I warned you, you son of a bitch," I ground out. My eyes flicked over to (Y/N)'s unconscious form and I took note of the obvious injuries. God only knew what they'd done to her before I got here.

"Yes, yes, murder, blah, blah, blah," the demon muttered. "Unfortunately, I'd already caused her quite a bit of pain before I made that promise, so there was really no use in keeping it."

My hands clenched into fists and I fought the urge to attack. Four to one were not good odds...nine to one was even worse. I needed Castiel to pick off the demons outside before I picked a fight with these ones.

"So which one are you? Demon #4,235?" I asked.

"I am Ariel," he answered smugly.

I choked out a laugh. "You're the little mermaid?"

The demon growled lowly. "I am significantly more powerful than a mermaid." With a flick of his wrist, I went flying against the wall, unable to move no matter how hard I struggled.

"I really hate Disney," Ariel grumbled. "At least I'll be rewarded for delivering your head on a silver platter."

"That's nice," I grunted. "I hope King Triton is pleased."

Ariel tightened his fist and I suddenly couldn't breathe. This wasn't the first time I'd felt this sensation, but it sucked every damn time.

There was a strangled cry from outside the room and it got the attention of all four demons. Ariel loosened his grip on me and I was able to breathe again. "What was that?" he hissed.

The other three demons shrugged in confusion.

"One of you go check it out."

None of them looked like they wanted to go, but eventually one stepped forward and went outside to check. He left the door open behind him, but he never came back in.

"For the love of Hell," Ariel muttered as he moved towards the open doorway.

"Not Hell," Castiel said from inside the room, angel blade slicing through the skin of the nearest demon.

Ariel's hold on me kept me pinned to the wall, but I felt it weaken as he spun around in surprise. Cass had grabbed ahold of the last demon and sunk his blade into the demon's chest. He glanced up at Ariel and took a menacing step in his direction.

The demon immediately abandoned his meat suit, a massive cloud of black smoke escaping into the night. I fell to my knees as his power left with him, body aching from the intensity.

"(Y/N)," I gasped out as I got to my feet and rushed to her side. "(Y/N/N) can you hear me?"

She didn't respond and I felt a moment of panic as I rushed to cut the binds around her wrists and ankles. She fell into my arms and I picked her up with ease. "I need to get her to a hospital."

"Of course."

"Uh-uh. Don't you leave yet. I know you can't heal her, but I might still need your help."

Castiel looked perplexed, but he nodded and followed me to the car.

**********

I wanted to stay by (Y/N)'s side when we got to the hospital, but the nurses told me to stay back in the waiting room. Castiel took a seat to wait patiently, but I had too much adrenaline to sit down. I paced back and forth for a good half hour, my boots wearing a pattern into the old carpet.

People were giving me odd looks, which I ignored. I was singularly focused on remaining in control of my emotions as we waited for news about (Y/N)'s condition. In the strangers' defenses, I did have a fair amount of blood on my clothes, none of which belonged to me, and I probably looked a little angry--okay, maybe a lot angry.

"Riley," a doctor called from the front desk. It was the name I had given when I brought (Y/N) in.

I practically ran to the doctor, Castiel following behind me. "How is she?" I asked, worry lacing my voice.

"She was quite clearly in a rather violent altercation, but she's going to be alright. She sustained a head injury, as well as several lacerations and bruises, but she's awake and asking for 'Dean'. I assume that's one of you?"

My body visibly relaxed. "I'm Dean."

"Would you like to go see her?"

I nodded and the doctor gestured for me to follow. When Cass tried to come with us, the doctor shook his head. "I'm sorry, but only one person at a time."

I turned to look at him, but Cass waived me on. "Go. She needs you."

I nodded gratefully and followed the doctor to her room. When I walked through the door, I saw the woman I loved lying in the bed, looking smaller and weaker than I'd ever seen her. It was enough to nearly shatter my heart into a thousand pieces.

She looked up at me when I stepped through the door and offered me a soft smile. "Dean," she murmured lowly.

"Hey baby," I said softly. Tears were stinging my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I didn't want her to know how emotional I was feeling in the moment.

"I'll leave you two to talk," the doctor said before closing the door behind him.

I crossed the room and grabbed her hand, giving it a tight squeeze. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

"For what?"

"For leaving you alone. I didn't think they would come after you..."

She squeezed my hand and a gentle smile graced her pretty face. "It's not your fault, Dean. Besides, I'm fine."

I nodded and bit my lip. "Thanks to Cass," I admitted.

"Thanks to both of you," she insisted.

I offered her a small smile. "I'm glad you're okay."

She tried to pull herself up into a more comfortable sitting position, but a gasp of pain escaped her lips and she slumped back against the pillows.

"Hey, don't try to move too much. Let me help you."

"Thanks," she mumbled.

I started to help her adjust so she'd be more comfortable. "Lean forward for me, baby, let me fix these pillows."

She nodded and leaned forward, giving me access to the crappy hospital pillows that were wedged between her back and the bed. As I moved them, her hospital gown shifted slightly, revealing her right shoulder blade to me. My body stiffened and I inhaled sharply as I took in the mangled skin where her anti-possession tattoo had once been.

I tried to keep my exterior calm as I finished adjusting the pillows and she leaned back against them, wincing at the pain. My face must have betrayed me, because when she looked up at me, a worried expression crossed her face.

"Dean? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I lied smoothly. "I just don't like seeing you in pain."

She nodded, but didn't look entirely convinced. I had no way of knowing if she was already possessed or not, but there was one surefire way to find out. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the small vial of holy water I had there from earlier in the evening.

Unfortunately, she noticed my movements and her eyes narrowed. "I really wouldn't do that if I were you," she hissed, eyes turning black as night. "You'll hurt your precious (Y/N)."

Anger flared up inside me. "Get the hell out of my girl, you black eyed son of a bitch."

She laughed. "Why would I do that when I'm having so much fun in here? She's in here with me, you know. Wide awake and fighting."

She got out of the bed with shocking speed and sent me flying across the room. Apparently the demon had been faking pain to make me think it was (Y/N).

"You know what the best part of all this is, Dean?" The demon asked as it approached me. "She's going to watch helplessly as I gut you like a pig. I might even make her eat your entrails, just for fun."

I winced as I pulled myself into a sitting position. I was getting really tired of being tossed around like a damn rag doll. "I think you underestimate her," I said with a grunt of discomfort.

"The fight weakened her before I ever possessed her. She's not strong enough to overpower me." The demon leaned forward and grabbed my face in its hands. "You're not much of a threat either without your little angel pal--and you won't do a damn thing to hurt your beloved (Y/N)."

The demon was right about one thing--I wouldn't hurt (Y/N), at least not irreparably. I still had the bottle of holy water in my hand and I made the split section decision to toss it into her face. "Sorry, baby," I muttered as the demon jumped back in pain.

I managed to get to my feet, but the demon flung me against the wall again, holding me still with its power. I managed to gasp out (Y/N)'s name before the demon began to suffocate me.

I stared at the face of the person I loved most in this hellscape of a world and silently pleaded with her to wake up--to fight back. I didn't want to die, but more importantly, I didn't want her to have to live with the guilt.

I was starting to fade, I knew I was going to black out soon and then it would be all over for me. I struggled against the power that held me in place, but it was useless. I saw the demon pull a knife out of a bag of (Y/N)'s clothes. I recognized it instantly as the knife I'd given her as a gift when we first got together. Fitting that it would be the weapon that kills me.

The demon began to approach me and for the first time in a long time, I felt like I was truly about to die. What was worse was the accompanying fear along with it. Would I be going back to Hell? Would (Y/N) be okay without me? Would I get to see my brother again?

Suddenly, the demon's black eyes flickered back to (Y/N)'s normal (y/e/c) ones. Her hand shook and she dropped the knife she was holding, a strained gasp escaping her throat. The demon's power over me faded in an instant, and I sunk to the floor, gasping for breath.

"Dean," she gasped, her face contorted in pain as she struggled to hold the demon at bay. "I can't--I can't hold him off much longer."

"Cass!" I yelled, trying to summon the angel for help.

"Exorcise him or kill me," (Y/N) begged. "I can't let him kill you, but I'm not strong enough to maintain control."

I suddenly wished I'd paid more attention when Sammy tried to teach me Latin...at least the words to the damn exorcism. "I can't remember the words," I said in distress.

"Then you have to kill me," she pleaded.

"I can't. I won't."

"The demon--it won't...won't let me recite the words."

"Son of a bitch," I muttered under my breath. I pulled myself off the floor and took a step towards her. "Hang on for me, baby. Please."

She nodded and I turned my back to her to open the door. I stuck my head out in the hallway and saw Castiel sitting patiently at the other end. Clearly no one had noticed the commotion happening in this room, including the angel. I stepped out into the hallway and waved to him, hoping he would see me.

Cass looked up at me and I waved to him, motioning for him to come here immediately. He stood up and started walking towards me and I gestured for him to come to the room. I ducked back in and closed the door. A second later, Cass appeared inside the room.

"What's going on, Dean?"

"She's possessed."

"That's not possible."

"The demons cut off my anti-possession tattoo," (Y/N) said through gritted teeth. "So, a little help would be nice."

Castiel fixed his gaze on her and his eyes widened slightly. "I can see the demon within you."

"That's disturbing," I muttered. "Get it out of her."

"I can't without killing her."

"What? Use your mojo, dude. That's what you do."

"Haven't you ever noticed my 'mojo' as you call it burns out a person's eyes?"

I thought back to all the times I'd seen Cass kill a demon and realized he was right. "Shit."

"Do you know an exorcism?" (Y/N) managed to ask. "Preferably a fast one."

"I know where I can get one." With those words, Castiel disappeared into thin air.

"Not a great time to disappear, Cass!" I yelled at nothing.

"He'll be back," (Y/N) said. "I think."

"Are you okay? How much longer can you hold him off?"

"He's really strong, so not much longer. Also, he really doesn't like you."

"Most demons don't," I said with a shrug.

"He keeps muttering something about the little mermaid. I don't know why."

My eyes widened slightly. "Well I do. His name is Ariel...and I may have made a little mermaid joke when we met earlier."

She managed a weak laugh. "A demon named Ariel. Awesome."

In any other circumstances, I would have laughed with her, but I was too worried to appreciate the humor.

"I have the exorcism," Castiel said as he reappeared beside me.

"Great!" I grabbed the book from his hand and realized it was my dad's journal. I held the leather tightly as I began to read the words from the page. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas omnis incursio infernalis adversarii..."

The more I read, the more intense (Y/N)'s struggle became. She fell to her knees and cried out in pain, but I kept reading. I needed that demon to get the hell out of her body.

"Ergo, Draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica, adiuramus te! Adinos!" The moment I finished speaking, (Y/N)'s head flew back and black smoke escaped her mouth.

After a few seconds, her body collapsed on the floor and I rushed to her side. "(Y/N)!"

She lifted her head and her eyes met mine. She offered me a weak smile and said, "I'm fine."

I breathed a sigh of relief and helped her off the floor and back into bed. "Cass, go grab an anti-possession necklace from the trunk of my car."

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, Cass was gone.

"I feel like I owe you another apology," I said softly.

"For what?"

"Well...you didn't exactly get my first apology and I also need to apologize for letting you get possessed."

"You didn't let anything happen, Dean. None of this was your fault. Shit like this happens to people in this life...I know what I signed up for."

Cass reappeared with the necklace before I could respond. I took it from him and placed it around her neck, breathing a sigh of relief once it was in place.

"I will wait outside," Cass announced. He disappeared again before either of us could say a word.

"Angels," I muttered under my breath, earning a light laugh from (Y/N).

I turned my attention back to her and I sighed. I hated seeing her like this--I hated seeing her hurt and in pain. It made me want to kill whatever had caused her pain, only this time it was all my fault.

"Dean, I wanna go home," she whispered.

I wished more than anything that we had an actual home to go to, instead of yet another shitty motel. I wished I could give her the life she deserved, but I knew that would never be in the cards for us.

"Alright," I murmured, placing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Lemme talk to the doctor."

**********

We drove for over an hour to a slightly nicer motel in another town. I didn't want her recovering in that rundown place--the same place she'd been attacked and possessed.

(Y/N) was asleep in the backseat when we arrived, having fallen asleep almost immediately after leaving the hospital. Cass and I had ridden in silence the entire time, allowing me to have time to think.

I got us a room while Cass waited with (Y/N) in the car. When I returned, I gently woke her up and helped her into our room.

"I wanna take a shower," she stated. "I feel disgusting."

I knew the feeling, so I agreed to her request even though I was worried about her falling. Besides, I needed some time to talk to Cass alone.

I helped her into the bathroom and started the shower for her. She refused my help any further and shooed me out of the room. "I'm weak, Dean, but I'm not an invalid."

I chuckled and threw my hands up in surrender. "Just yell if you need me."

She waved me off again and I walked out of the bathroom, leaving her to her own devices.

Cass had sat down in a chair near the door and I made my way towards him. I didn't want to have this conversation...I didn't want to ask of this of him, but I didn't see another option.

"Thanks for coming to the rescue today," I began.

"You know I will always help you," he responded.

I nodded. "I actually need your help one more time before you go."

"With what?"

I took a deep breath. "This bounty thing--the price on my head--it's putting the people I love at risk. More risk than I ever imagined." I started pacing back and forth as I spoke, letting the words just flow. "What happened today just solidified it for me, ya know? I'm obviously living at risk every day of my life, but that doesn't mean I should be dragging other people into it. I mean, look at all I've lost so far--you and (Y/N) are all I have left."

I paused, needing a minute to just breathe. "My worst fears almost came true today. (Y/N) was hurt because of me...she could have died because of me. Then she was possessed by a demon who wanted to kill me? Imagine if he'd been successful! She would have had to live with that guilt the rest of her life and it would have killed her. I don't want this for her--any of it. She deserves better and I need you to give it to her."

I sat down on the bed facing Cass with a sigh. My head dropped into my hands and I felt tears pressing against the backs of my eyelids.

"What is it you're asking me to do?"

I stayed silent for a moment, taking those precious seconds to make sure this was the right decision. When I was certain, I looked up at my friend, sadness etched into my face. "I need you to take away her memories. I want her to forget about this life--to forget any of this exists. I want her to forget about demons and angels and all the shit that goes bump in the night. I want her to forget about the death and the pain and the endless battles. I want her to live a happy, normal, safe life--far away from this...far away from me."

Cass stared at me in silence for a moment. Neither one of us were aware our conversation was no longer private--the shower had turned off over a minute ago.

"Do you understand what you're asking? She will know nothing of this life, which means she won't remember you."

The tears finally pushed through my mental block and slid down my face. "I know. I hate the idea of her being out in the world loving someone who isn't me, but I can handle it because she'll be safe. She'll be happy. She needs to forget me...or she'll never be safe."

I heard the bathroom door open and I quickly wiped my eyes, trying to hide the pain I was feeling. I turned towards her, trying to put a smile on my face, but it slipped away the moment I saw her expression.

She was standing there, hair wet and dripping, wrapped in nothing but a bath towel. Her eyes were filled with sadness and a pain so deep it broke my heart.

"Castiel, will you give us a minute, please?" she asked softly, but firmly.

"I'll just be...outside," he muttered as he disappeared.

"(Y/N)--"

"No, Dean. This is my time to talk," she said cutting me off. "Sometimes you make me so incredibly angry--like a violent level of angry I didn't even know I was capable of. You're so...so...arrogant. So certain you're right and every one else is wrong. You make decisions without stopping to think how those decisions affect other people--you make decisions on my behalf without even consulting me. Do you ever stop to think about how I feel?"

"(Y/N), I--it's for your own protection--"

"Damn my protection, Dean! And damn you!" she yelled. "You don't get to decide for me. You don't get to determine my life path! You don't wanna be with me, then that's your prerogative, but don't you dare make that decision for me. I chose this life with eyes wide open. I knew the dangers, I knew the risks, and I chose it anyway. I chose you, Dean Winchester, knowing everything that comes along with that."

I starred at her in stunned silence--I'd never seen her this angry before.

Tears streamed down her face as she continued. "I have loved every moment of our life together--the good and the bad. I wouldn't choose anything else, certainly not a 'normal' life. I love hunting monsters with you. I love saving people with you. I love traveling the country with you. I love living in shitty, dingy motels with you. I love getting into fights, coming home bruised and bleeding, battling our way through everything that comes our way. Do you know why? Because I'm with you--because I love you. So don't you dare take my memories from me, Dean Winchester. They are not yours to take."

I stood up and crossed the room with surprising speed. I wrapped her up in my arms, holding her tightly to my chest. She leaned into me, ignoring the pain her body was in. I kissed her on top of her head and held her for a long time before she finally pulled away from me.

"I just want to protect you," I whispered.

"I know, Dean...but the safest place for me will always be right beside you. There's no place else I'd rather be."

I touched her face and closed my eyes, just feeling her warmth emanate from within. I knew I couldn't live without her--at least not happily...I needed her more than I ever cared to admit. I wanted to protect her--to keep her safe, but maybe she was right. Maybe the safest place for her was in my arms. I would die to protect her--I would kill to protect her. Who else would be willing to do that?

"I love you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), and I'm sorry."

She smiled up at me. "I love you too, Dean...and I know you are. Just don't try that shit again."

I chuckled lightly and leaned down to kiss her. Part of me hated admitting she was right, but I knew from that moment on, I would never let her go. Never.

[spacebarbarianweird]

Hey, I saw you take request and so I wanted to ask if you could write some fluff, maybe some Astarion comforting Tav after they went through a panick attack

Gender neutral if possible please, I just had my first ever panick attack and would love some comfort from my fav Vampire <3

- Astarions-Imagine-Archiche [Would love to go off anon but sadly, Tumblr dosent let me send asks through sideblogs]

Hi! Hope you will enjoy it!

FEAR

Sometimes it's just too much to bear TW: A description of a panic attack Tags: hurt \ comfort, gn!reader, nurturing Astarion, post game, established relationship Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Surrounded by a fiery inferno, you sense the escalating heat in the air. The thick layer of fabric shields your skin from immediate harm, yet your body responds almost primally.

Scorching and stifling air leaves you struggling to breathe, and the smoke stings your eyes.

Fire.

An indiscriminate devourer of all, whether mortal or undead, demon or elf, it rages like a starving beast. Discarding your sword, you decide to leap, knowing the flames will only graze your skin a bit.

"Ig-nis!" Astarion's voice rings out, casting a fireball into the necromancer. The half-orc topples, weakening the ring of fire around you. Muscles tense, preparing for the leap, but an abrupt freeze takes over just as your feet are about to propel you forward.

Attempting to move your hand, your brain feels detached, as though subjected to a Mindflayer's experiment. The fire intensifies, yet your legs remain unresponsive. Trapped within the confines of your own body, you are helpless and silent.

It's merely a "hold person" spell, lasting a minute or two or until Astarion dispatches the necromancer. Nothing harmful, nothing scary. The enemy just wants to win some time. 

Immobile, you manage to shift your eyelids just slightly. Astarion is nowhere to be seen while the necromancer looms ten feet before you. Approaching like a ghoul, his eyes scrutinize you as if you're a specimen in a lab.

Astarion. Astarion, where are you? Panic sets in. What if he's wounded, dead, or worse, turned into a mindless ghoul under a new master's control?

The necromancer, eyeing you with a sinister hunger, licks his lips. "Pretty creature. You will serve me well once you die."

His touch on your right temple triggers another memory—a Mindflayer's pod, helplessness, fear, disgust. A tadpole approaching your eyelid.

If you could scream, you would. 

"What is your worst nightmare?" the sorcerer whispers, casting the second spell.

Suddenly, you're back in the Nautiloid. A Mindflayer cracks your skull open, and the scent of burning bone fills the air. The monster probes your bare brain, and it sprouts thin black legs. Your organ is no longer yours; it's an intellect devourer.

A vision unfolds. Astarion's body writhes and transforms into a Mindflayer. "Don't do this to me. I can't do this again!" he cries for help until his face explodes, tentacles burst forth. 

You fall again, from the Nautiloid to the seashore, but the Emperor is unwilling to save you. Your spine breaks on the rocks.

Baldur's Gate. The day of the attack. The Nautiloid inches forward, missing Astarion, who escapes to the sewers. You'll never see him again; he's condemned to be his new master's slave.

No, no, please, no, gods help me.

Suddenly, the fear releases its grip, your hands and legs regain movement, and you collapse onto the scorched ground. 

"Fuck!" you curse. "Fuck you, bastard!" 

The necromancer lies dead. Fat flies crawling on his rotten flesh.

"Well, someone needs to learn how to dodge”, Astarion chuckles. “Next time, it'll be something more dangerous, like a power word spell or a death finger. Instant death, and you're resurrected as a ghoul," strong hands lift you up, and you stand on your feet once again.

"Where have you been," you mutter, your voice trembling.

He pulls away. "What do you mean?"

"I didn't see you. I thought you were dead. Where were you?"

"Darling, I made sure to disappear from his decayed eyes. I prefer an advantage when the enemy... let's say... has their ways with the undead and the dead." He tilts your chin up, making you look into his crimson eyes. 

If you weren't as tired and numb, guilt might settle in. That's how he fights—no knight, no warrior. He hides and attacks when the enemy forgets about him. It's not his fault you were knocked out, but the bitterness lingers in your heart, replacing the fear.

Returning to the small camp silently, you muster the last remnants of your strength to pull off your armor. Astarion sits by the fire with a book, not attempting to join you in the tent. Guilt pervades your thoughts. What if your rudeness jeopardizes the progress, you've made together?

What if you wake up the following day, and he's gone?

Your mind spirals in twisted ways. What if a piece of the tadpole remains in your brain? Powerful creatures aren't to be trusted. What if it's still there, waiting to hatch? What if Astarion harbors one inside his head as well? What if this isn't the end, and unthinkable horrors lie ahead? What if one day you wake up and hear a voice subduing you to some eldritch, horrible, and insane entity?

You feel like you can't breathe. The heart races, heavy as a tombstone, and your hands are numb and cold. The uncertainties weigh on you like a suffocating shroud.

A lump rises in your throat, an unbearable sensation that makes you want to vomit. You press your hands to your chest and breathe heavily as if you are short of air.

Light steps approach from behind. "Darling, your breathing can be heard in a nearby village. What's wrong?" The voice sounds distant, echoing through thick walls. Suddenly, your eyesight blurs, reality becoming an illusion, disconnecting you from your body. The voice sounds unfamiliar and distorted.

Astarion wraps his hands around your waist. "It's okay, everything is alright. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." 

 It still feels unreal, as if someone tries to imitate your lover's voice.

"I- I am…I am dying", you whisper.

"It's just a panic attack, nothing more," he replies. "Let me guess, he casted the fear spell on you? You saw something unpleasant, didn’t you? Illithids, I bet." 

Astarion brushes your hair with pale fingers and then kisses the crown of your head. He gently touches your hand, then your leg. "You are here. You are safe with me. And if someone threatens you, I will rip their throats." He holds you tighter, speaking comforting words. The lines he once used for seduction and manipulation now sound like a weird, soothing spell.

You don't feel your body. You don't understand where you are. You remember the Nautiloid, the blood, the fear. 

You start crying. You haven't cried for ages – first, there was no time to reflect on awful things happening to you. Then, it was Astarion who needed you to be strong because he was a mess after 200 years of abuse and sudden freedom he didn't dream of having. But now it’s you who is overwhelmed and scared.

"Hush, everything is okay. You are safe with me," Astarion whispers.

Suddenly, you come to your senses. The racing heart subsides, and the looming horror fades.

You breathe freely. Astarion strokes your hair. "Feeling better?"

You nod and find the strength to sit up. "What can I do for you, my love?" Astarion asks.

Licking your dry lips, you realize the intense need for water causing your dizziness. Before you can utter a word, the vampire reaches for a flask. In three big gulps, you drain the bottle and collapse onto your back in the tent. The thick black fabric, enchanted with the "darkness" spell, feels like a reassuring wall, offering a sense of safety rather than claustrophobia.

Astarion lies beside you, wrapping his hands around your waist. But instead of pressing his face against your collarbone as usual, he pushes against his chest. If he were alive, you would hear his heartbeat. 

"I am just—I don't know—afraid?" you finally admit. "I'm afraid this Illithid madness isn't over, and something is stuck in our brains waiting for the right moment. I'm afraid to die. I'm afraid you will die. I'm afraid that one of these powerful creatures we pissed off will come for our souls. I'm afraid you will slip into feral madness, and there's nothing I will be able to do to prevent this."

He presses you even tighter. "You are a very brave little thing, you know that?" he finally says. "I insist on that. Leading the way from this Illithid madness, letting me close despite knowing who I am. Facing any danger or monster. But sometimes it's just too much, right?"

You nod and receive one more kiss. "I will always be with you; I am not going anywhere. And when it just feels too much, you tell me. I will gladly take a nurturing role. Besides, you've been caring for me for far too long. Time to change roles."

Slowly, you drift into sleep, the last thing you remember before slipping away being Astarion whispering, "I am lucky to have you."

--

@tragedybunny @caitlincat-95 @tallymonster @astarionsbeloved @lumienyx @fayeriess @aoirohi @elora-the-slutty-songstress @veillsar @astarion-imagine-archive

[steam-beasts]

Something Splendid!

While Thomas was venturing James grumbled discontentedly as he chugged along the mainline, pulling a dirty goods train laden with fresh hay to a farm near Wellsworth. The usually proud engine couldn't hide his disdain for such a job.

"Puh! Typical of the Fat Controller to have me pull a goods train!" James huffed indignantly, his frustration loud and clear in his voice.

James's driver chuckled and shook his head in amusement at his engine grumbling.

"Honestly, James. To think that you've been doing this for years," he remarked, gently teasing. The fireman chimed "And besides, James, it's just hay! It's not that dirty!"

James scoffed at the suggestion. "Ha! I'd like to see you two in my spot! Then you'd know EXACTLY what I mean," he retorted stubbornly, making his dissatisfaction adamant.

The driver smirked, enjoying the banter. "Oh yeah? Well, it ain't easy for us either, ol' boy. It's tough work getting you to move! Even before you became a big fluffy beast! Not to mention how hot and stuffy it can get in here!" he teased as he patted the cab, affectionately reminding James of their own struggles.

James rolled his eyes at the playful jab from his driver and kept his focus on the rails ahead. As they neared Crosby, a sense of nervousness crept over him. It was in one of the fields there that he had his infamous crash back in the 1920s, a memory he would rather forget.

As they approached Crosby, James began to feel a strange, tingly ache spreading throughout his frame. With each passing minute, the sensation worsened, causing him to grow increasingly uneasy.

He began wincing, lightly grunting from the dull pain. The mischievous trucks behind him seized the opportunity for their entertainment. With malicious glee, they began roughly bumping into James with increasing force, their chant of "On! On! On! On!" ringing out tauntingly.

James yelped in surprise as the forceful bumps propelled him forward, his attempts to brake proving futile against the relentless bumping. "Ah! Stop it!" he growled, glaring back at the troublesome trucks, his eyes flashing with irritation.

The trucks continued their assault, giggling maniacally as they kept bumping James with no sign of stopping. James could only whimper in distress as his speed increased, his brakes rendered useless and the aching pain coursing through his body intensifying with each jolt. Unable to regain control, he felt a sense of helplessness wash over him as he hurtled forward, at the mercy of the mischievous trucks. His driver and fireman's efforts were useless, unable to shut off steam or pull James's brake lever.

Eventually, they came around a bend and James felt his wheels slipping off the rails. The driver and fireman jumped out at that point. Panicking, James screamed as he began tipping over "Oh nonononononono! NOT AGAAAAII—!!!"

WHEEEESH!!

He unintentionally wheeshed a great amount of steam as he crashed into the field, his body being engulfed in steam and smoke. Everything in that moment went black.

James groaned, his eyes fluttering open to the harsh sunlight in his eyes. Despite feeling sore and dizzy, James's senses slowly began to come back to him, and he noticed something peculiar. Instead of the expected view of the field around him, he found himself staring directly up at the sky. Confusion clouded his thoughts as he realized that it didn't feel like he was lying on his side as he should be after a crash. Instead, an unsettling sensation told him that he was somehow standing on his tender, adding to his disorientation.

As James instinctively moved to shield his eyes from the glaring sunlight, he froze mid-motion, a sudden realization hitting him like a train. He didn't have hands, at least not in his current form. The memory of his monster form flashed through his mind, stirring up a mix of fear and curiosity as he grappled with the implications what was happening.

Hesitantly, James brought his "hand" to his face once more, the unfamiliar sensation sending a shiver down his spine. It looked like his front paw from his other form, but much more slender.

Gasping in shock, James unintentionally sat up without even trying, his newfound ability surprising him as he took in the sight of the rest of his grey body. The realization of his current state left him feeling bewildered. Looking down, almost hyperventilating as he inspected his new hands with fascination and horror.

"W-What is this?!" He whispered frantically, feeling his new, muscle-toned chest and red tuft of fur. By that time, his driver and fireman had arrived on scene, and what they saw of James was unbelievable.

"Should we get the breakdown train?" The fireman asked.

"And what? Tell them they have to rescue a derailed human train? I think not"

To be continued...

[softsnugglystomach]

Another fic set in @snexy-the-snail’s PJO AU. This has been mostly completed for like a month now but then I Just Didn’t Write It, so-

-

It was a slow, boring day in Atlantis, and Poseidon had little to do but think. There was just enough activity that needed his attention that he could not leave his palace entirely, but too little to let the time pass at any pace slower than a crawl. He sighed, resting his head on one hand as he sat upon his throne and letting his mind wander as he waited. Percy would be asleep right now, tucked into bed in his room in Sally’s apartment. There were no prophecies for him to worry about, no quests to cause him stress, no monsters to sink their teeth into him, to rip him to shreds-

No. No, Percy was safe, his son was fine.

Unless, some voice in the back of his mind whispered, one of his enemies caught his scent on the wind.

Percy was okay, Percy was fine.

How can you be sure? Whispered the doubt in the back of his mind.

A bitter feeling built in his chest, strangling his lungs and leaving his stomach feeling empty, drowning out all reason until, at last, he caved.

A part of him split off from the body sitting upon his throne, materializing in his son’s room with the sound of a wave sweeping ashore. His son, his precious Percy, laid in his bed, snoring softly as he slept, and Poseidon brushed the hair from his face, a soft smile on his lips.

He picked him up, cradling his boy in his arms, and placed his lower legs inside his mouth, a soft, gentle gulp pulling him deeper into the glowing cavern.

——

The creak of floorboards was the first sign that something was wrong. Sally sat up in her bed, giving up on trying to sleep, and grabbed the knife from her bedside table as she went to check on her son.

As she neared Percy’s room, she heard a strange sound. It took her a moment to realize that it was a swallow, and she froze, the thought of her son being eaten by some monster paralyzing her. But then the anger set in. Who dared try and hurt her son? She clenched her fist tighter around the knife in her hand, ready to rip whoever it was apart, to carve them open and free her son.

The door to his room swung open without even a creak, and there he was, her baby, still asleep even as his head disappeared into the gaping maw surrounding him.

And the person whose gullet bulged around the form stuffed inside-

The person who was eating him-

It was-

“POSEIDON!” She shrieked, cold fury overtaking her as she lunged for him.

—

Poseidon flinched back as he heard his name yelled like a battle cry, barely avoiding the knife as it swung toward his throat. He whipped around to face his attacker, readying a burst of energy that would vaporize almost any monster.

But it was not a monster that he turned to see. Instead, the energy that had built up in his hands flickered and died as he saw Sally, her teeth bared in a snarl, the knife he had gotten her to defend herself held in a white-knuckled grip. She raced toward him again, slashing wildly at the god of the seas as he ducked and dodged, his body warping and twisting to avoid the blade. “Sally, wait, I can explain!” Poseidon curled his arms around his swollen belly in an attempt to keep his son from getting cut by an ill-timed attack.

“What is there to explain? I trusted you, and you turned out to be no better than your father!”

Poseidon flinched back as if he had been struck, his mind flooded with memories of hot and wet and cramped and dark-dark-dark, he couldn’t be like his father, he wouldn’t, he refused to trap his son in a lightless prison! The glow of his mouth intensified, brighter and brighter, he couldn’t leave his son in that suffocating darkness, he refused to, he-

“OW! What the FUCK, why is it so damn bright?”

Both Poseidon and Sally froze, their eyes fixed on his stomach as he realized that he may have made it a bit too bright. Poseidon winced, dimming the glaring light inside of himself before speaking to his son. “I’m sorry, Percy, I didn’t mean to do that, I just- I panicked,” Sally cut him off, her surprise starting to return to burning rage. “What do you mean you ‘didn’t mean to’? You ATE him, you ate our SON, and now you’re sorry for something?”

“He’s safe. I promise you, I would never hurt Percy. He’s safe, I swear on the river Styx that our child is safe.” The anger drained from Sally’s body at the crack of thunder that followed his oath, slowly replaced by confusion and fatigue. Her body sagged with relief, and she almost collapsed onto Percy’s empty bed. “Why?” Poseidon raised an eyebrow at the vague question. “Why did you… eat him? I don’t understand.” Poseidon shrank in on himself, seeming so much smaller than the eight-foot form he had taken.

“Uh, I’m kind of right here? Like, I can hear you two and everything, do I get to be part of the conversation or…?” Percy’s slightly muffled voice came from Poseidon’s middle, making both adults startle a bit as they looked back toward him. “Oh, I… thought you had gone back to sleep for a moment there.” Poseidon mumbled, a bit embarrassed by the whole situation.

“Dad, you just blasted my eyes with the full concentrated power of the sun. I don’t think I can go back to sleep right now. And um, Mom? I’m okay, I promise, Dad’s just keeping me safe.” Poseidon nodded in agreement, glancing over at Sally for a moment before returning his gaze to the form of his precious child, tucked safely within his belly where he could be warm and happy. His hand brushed against his bulging gut, a fond smile on his face. “You didn’t answer my question.” Sally said, looking up at him with confusion. “Why did you eat him?”

“It’s safe.” He tried to explain, not knowing exactly how to convey all the things he wanted to. Sally tilted her head, waiting for him to elaborate. “It’s safe, and he’s with me, warm and comfortable inside my body. Nobody can hurt him without going through me. And I… needed to reassure myself that he was alright.” Poseidon’s eyes avoided hers as he spoke, his body bunching up like some frightened animal trying to brace for a blow.

“Yeah, Dad worries a lot, so this happens pretty often. I sleep much better like this too, there’s less nightmares, I guess because it feels safe? So there’s nothing to worry about, I promise. I’ll be okay, Mom, Dad’s just keeping me safe.”

For a long moment, Sally sat there in silence, as if the whole world had stopped in its tracks. Poseidon fidgeted in place a bit as he watched her, a knot of anxiety bunching up in his chest as he waited for her to move, to react, to say something, anything.

She reached out to place a shaky hand on his belly, resting it atop Percy’s head as if reassuring herself that he was still there. “I… I don’t fully understand it, but if you both are okay, then… then I don’t have to understand.” She looked back to Poseidon again, her face pinched with guilt. “I’m sorry for comparing you to your father, I… I shouldn’t have done that. I know you care, and this… this clearly isn’t like what he did, not really. I just… I think I need a bit to process.”

And with that, she stood and left the room, her hands still shaking slightly as she did.

Poseidon let his focus shift back to his son, still bundled up inside his stomach, seeming to have relaxed a bit since he had woken up. “She… she’s not upset with me, is she?” He asked, his heart still pounding.

“No, Dad, I think she just needs some time to get used to this.” Percy chuckled, reaching out to knead at the soft walls around him in hopes of alleviating some of the tension that had left the whole stomach feeling stiff around him.

A small smile softened the worried pinch of Poseidon’s face as he realized what his son was doing, and he let himself curl up on the bed, his muscles beginning to relax as he let his eyes slip shut. His son was with him, safe and warm and happy, and with that knowledge, he allowed himself to bask in the feeling of content that came with having a bellyful of his precious child. In only a few minutes, he had started to snore, his arms curled loosely around his stuffed gut as he and Percy slept.

—

Percy, waking up bc it’s bright as hell: Who tf tuRNED ON THE SUN-

Poseidon: Oh shit my bad-

[gatheringbones]

wickie stamps, from I am your Frankenstein, from leatherfolk: radical sex, people, politics and practice, edited by mark thompson, 1991

[“When I, in a scene, tediously lay out my implements, I honor my mother's labors and my brother's sacrifice. After cutting my beloved, I methodically wipe up her spilled blood, bind her wounds, and clean the scalpel. Then I wipe down the room. I, too, drop to my knees between her widespread legs and worship her femininity. Only then do the doors to this sacrificial space slowly close. Then I lift my head and gaze with bleary visions into the eyes of my beloved, which are trusted beacons. I am left with a sadness for my brother, who, unlike my beloved, had to let his blood alone. But I am grateful that I, unlike my momma, am no longer hostage to my brother's masculinity or his homicidal/ suicidal whims. Yet as my watering mouth and cunt attest, I have retrieved this cherished womanly act from the undeclared war zone called my past.

My S/ M scenes are the grappling hooks that dredge up these matriarchal memories. When I place a switchblade at my beloved's neck as she cowers at my knee with dripping cunt, I remember myself at age seven, standing at the top of an endless stairway. At the bottom of the stairs is my oldest sister with her boot on my daddy's chest. She's pinned his bourbon- soaked body to the floor. In her upraised hands, arched high above her head, glistens a machete. Its fierceness is intensified by her rage. Next to her, less sure and looking to her older sister for guidance, stands another sister, who, with candelabra held high over her head, hesitantly mimics her older sibling's stance. Both of my sisters have felled the monster called my daddy.

But powerful women have not always been the center of my life. Although my first taste of lesbianism was in the children's home, the first three decades of my life were exclusively heterosexual. My boyfriends ran the gamut of wealthy, overeducated bastards to intriguing but dangerous ex- cons. During these years, the horrors of addiction ate away at my life. But, as in my childhood, there were hints of my While involved with my old man the heroin addict, I enjoyed the scheming, the hustling, and the tension as we waited to cop drugs. Although I was never an IV drug user, I enjoyed the ritual of preparing his works, tying him off, and, once he'd hit a vein, meditating on the blood that slowly swirled into his syringe. Later, while involved with another man, I loved hanging out with him in pool halls while he hustled customers or strutting down the street on his arm dressed in my suede hot pants, high- heeled, over- the- knee boots, and short leather jackets.

It was not until I was thirty that I took my first woman lover. Being someone who would, in order to survive, merge with whatever scene I had to, I melded into her life of brunches, women's concerts, and softball. Because I had stopped using drugs and booze, this relationship was the most stable I ever had. For the first time in my life, with the exception of my siblings, I met strong, independent women.

But, inadvertently, I had walked away from the roots of my eroticism- roots that were intricately spliced into a complicated past. Despite the freedom that I immediately gleaned from claiming my lesbianism, my sexual lust dissipated, just as it had in my heterosexual relationships. Like twenty years earlier, I feared that I would have to sit before a sexologist who would convince me I was frigid.

But this time, I fought back against those inner voices that said there was something wrong with me. The erotic hunger I had felt when I watched my mother's ritual, wore men's clothes, or witnessed my sister's fighting back became familiar again. I, who could not even say the word sex or even leave the lights on in bed, began marching into women's bookstores and picking up lesbian erotic magazines. I rented porno graphic videos. During sex, I started wearing leather and integrating mild bondage and domination. I threw out my milquetoast wardrobe and wore only jeans, leather jackets. and boots. I chopped off my hair. I got tattoos. I came to look like what I had become: a lesbian sadomasochist.”]

[lesbianslvt666]

Sea Monster and Tressures

captain! Ellie x pirate! Reader

In which instead of finding your brother in a pirate crew, you end up fighting the Ellie Williams, the infamous pirate. however, fighting would not be the end goal, for Ellie longs for something deep, every time she sees you.

Content warning: swearing, smoking, mentions of drugs and alcohol, burglary, fights, swords, denigration, abandonment issues, a bit of gore, you aren't the good guy, neither is Ellie lol. Morally grey characters tbh.

The village you were in wasn’t much than a shaggy mess, with infants running wild alongside goats and small dogs, the people, mean eyed and guarded up. The rumours of pirates and thieves expanded alongside the shores hamlets, melting the people together in fear of being disposed of the little to no belongings they had. So you could imagine how they must feel, when a new woman in town appear out of nowhere, no men beside her, only one horse and a brass hip flask with leather cover. Your dishevel appearance did not much to help you. Your Whild locks leaps with every step and jump that Callous, your beautiful brown horse gives. You found him after a village was sweep by burglars, however, you knew she had something to do with it.

You have been following her every step, from coast to coast, in land or sea. she feels like a smoked dream, a foggy memory of the fantasy your soul desired.  At first it felt like admiration, the town you were born at knew her pretty well, so much so that your older brother got to talk to her, agreed upon being part of her navigation. He was your best friend, so, naturally, you thought, he would not leave you behind in the filth, down with the woman who took care of every parentless child. You were wrong…

For the longest time you thought he had abandon you, how dare him not take you alongside his adventure, an aspiration you so much longed for ever since a toddler. And then it got to you, the need of revenge, how fucking dare him leaving you behind, knowing fully well how capable you are, how much you hated were you lived, and how much you loved the sea. Finding him at first wasn’t easy. so you thought, he, a nobody, the leads came to abrupt ends very fast. So now, the target was her, however, you came to realize that maybe, she was always who you were hoping to find.

You knew as much of her as the stories could tell, have never even seen her face before, it was told that she was a natural beauty, auburn hair and freckles, green unwelcoming eyes that didn’t forget nor forgive. The more you heard about her, the more you wanted to be likewise, or alongside…

She wasn’t even much older than you, if the rumours were true, she could only be around three or so years older than you, then… how come a 23 year old achieve as much as she had…

Walking along the narrow streets with callous wasn’t the easiest task, the people selling stuff outside their doors, making the way even thinner, residing like the forgotten path of a river, the chatter could be hear from everywhere, the screams of the kids and the barks of the dogs, the smell of the sea intensified, you knew what was coming, you could feel it in your skin as the air got chiller, it was the first time in all your journey were you had arrive on time.

Agitating the reels of Callous, signalled him to move faster, this time not caring on portraying a low profile. the dangles in your hair clacking alongside with the jewellery that you had taken from your past visits, as to not forget, how many places you’ve been.

Callous was sprinting, moving alongside the shore the sand heavy behind you, leaving clouds large enough to find your whereabouts from miles away, you saw it. The sea monster, the grandiose nature couldn’t compare to anything you’ve seen before, the sea fog opened itself for it, in fear it might have repercussions itself. The plan? It was easy, find your brother, fight with him, and when he feels his defeat, you forgive his life, in exchange of course, to convince the E llie Williams, to join her crew…

Honestly, this is only like a synopsis, cause I would like to know if you want to read the full thing…

Interactions are incredibly appreciated

[sharpescratch]

Monster

A/N: Hi all, so this is me dipping my toes back into the world of fanfic writing after many years of creating nothing so I’m still finding my flow again. Please be kind!

I had this idea that Hemlock would have tried to break Crosshair mentally as well as physically during his ‘re-education’ so this idea popped into my head. Just a short little drabble. Let me know what you think!

Summary: Crosshair’s memories of Tantiss still haunt him. Just over 1k.

Warnings: Torture, angst, bad language, dark and menacing, abandonment issues. All that sort of horrible stuff - avoid if that’s not your thing!

‘Is it really all that surprising that they left you behind?’

Hemlock’s words rung out from the corner of the room. A distant hum accompanied his voice as the devices that surrounded Crosshair slowed to a halt, not that he could see them. The blinding pain had finally subsided and his eyes were slowly coming back into focus. The bindings that held him in place had dug into his skin as he had writhed against them, bruises that were already there being abused further.

‘Why would they risk anything for you?’

Crosshair stayed silent - he always did.

‘You betrayed them.’ The doctor finally came into view above Crosshair- his face calm and even sincere as he spoke. ‘You murdered innocent civilians, their blood soaks your hands. You watched them burn.’

He leant in close to the clone, their eyes locked on each others.

‘You’re a monster…’ Silence still. Crosshair swallowed thickly as he prepared himself. He was exhausted, both from the physical pain he was enduring daily and from the emotional turmoil he was slowly falling deeper into. He was trained for many things. He could endure the pain in his body, but the pain in his head…

‘…and monsters don’t deserve hope.’

Hemlock straightened himself and looked across the room, no doubt to one of his lackeys who was ready to continue Crosshair’s new ‘education’ on command. The machines began to power up again and instinctively the clone took a sharp intake of breath before searing pain enveloped him once more.

His teeth clamped together, desperately trying not to let one moment of pain slip from his lips. His fingernails digging into his palms until he broke the skin, his ankles rallied against the metal restraints. Every ounce of his body screamed against him but he was determined to ensure his will was stronger. He wouldn’t give Hemlock what he wanted, he refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing him break.

‘Tell me, can you still hear their screams?’

But the pain only intensified. Every bone in his body felt as if it were being broken twice over, his muscles stripped of flesh inch by inch, his skin being flayed again and again. It was too much.

‘How does it feel to know that the reason for your very creation is gone? Your motivation for breathing in and out has disappeared?’

He paused and placed a gloved hand to Crosshair’s head ‘How does it feel to know your family have forgotten you?’ He paused again and removed his hand ‘Makes you wonder if they ever really cared at all?’

His will finally broke.

A scream escaped the sniper earning a satisfied smile from Hemlock. He shut his eyes with glee as Crosshair’s pained cries filled the room. He savoured the moment, taking a sick delight in how his test subjects voice caught in his throat when he ran out of air.

Finally he gestured for the machine to be shut off. Crosshairs eyes rolled as the pain slowly subsided, his body screaming for mercy.

‘You’re completely alone in this galaxy CT-9904’ Hemlock spoke softly, he smiled reassuringly at the clone. ‘I can give you a purpose again. I can save you from this. Let me help you.’

Crosshairs body trembled as he turned to meet Hemlock’s eyes ‘Fuck…you…’ he answered, the words barely audible.

The doctor’s smile faded and he sighed half heartedly ‘What a shame. You had such potential.’ He turned on his heel and suddenly disappeared from Crosshair’s view. The machines began their cycle again and just as Crosshair’s world slowly began fading to black he heard Hemlock’s final order.

‘If he dies, throw him to the hounds.’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

‘Crosshair? Hey- Crosshair?’

The sniper sat bolt upright, his body dripping in sweat, tears rolling down his face. Panting, he instinctively grabbed the knife he kept under his pillow and held it aloft. It was dark but he could feel that someone was there…

‘Crosshair…it’s me…Omega.’ His eyes focused and realised that he was holding the hunting knife directly at the young clone. He let out a held breath as he let it fall and took a moment to take in his surroundings.

He was on Pabu, he could hear the lap of the waves and the smell of salt in the air. The moonlight drifted in through his window and draped the world in it’s soft light. He was safe.

‘You were crying out again…’ Omega spoke quietly. Crosshair now realised that Batcher was at her side, the hound whimpering at the foot of his bed.

‘I’m fine.’ He lied, taking some deep breaths ‘go back to sleep.’ He dismissed her and turned his back on her slightly, not wanting her to see him clear the tears that had fallen during his sleep.

He should have known that Omega was not so easily swayed.

‘You’re lying.’ She said defiantly, perching herself on the edge of the bed. She had obviously been woken from her sleep as her hair was sticking up in all directions, her eyes half-lidded still. Crosshair would have made a snarky remark about this but did not have the energy to do so.

‘Hemlock again?’ She pried. Crosshair nodded slowly, not meeting her gaze.

‘He’s gone Crosshair…it’s all gone.’

‘I know…I just…’ Crosshair stared down at his shooting arm, his missing hand a permanent reminder of his choices. He still felt the tremors, even though the hand was no longer there. The ghost of what was still haunted him and he gripped his arm tightly to his chest.

Omega glanced at Batcher with a small smile. She tilted her head towards her brother and as commanded Batcher leaped on top of the bed towards Crosshair, forcing him to lay back down.

‘Wha-?!’ He started but Omega laughed as Batcher pawed playfully at the snipers chest.

‘Looks like we’re staying with you tonight!’ Omega beamed as she got herself comfortable next to him.

Crosshair stared at her in disbelief at her offer of solace, every cell in his body telling him to push her away, to build the walls back up, to not show any vulnerability so he could never be left aga-

‘I’m glad you’re my brother Crosshair.’

Omega said sleepily as she nestled in, leaning her head against him. Batcher yawned loudly as she rested her head comfortably on Crosshair’s waist. The three of them now tangled up in a comforting embrace.

Crosshair knew the nightmares would never end- he would take Tantiss with him wherever he went for the rest of his life. But as the soldier watched both of them drift blissfully off back to sleep, the phantom trembling stopped and for one moment, as he stared at his sister, he allowed himself to feel the one thing he never thought he’d have again - hope.