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#Hes about to smash his skull
itsxroxannex · 6 months
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Killer pissed him off again :))
Killer belongs to RahafWabas Dust belongs to Ask-DustTale
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jasontoddenthusiastt · 9 months
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BFTC isn’t really a case of terrible characterization for Jason so much as it was a terrible case of victim blaming. Like yeah, some of the things Jason did were a bit extreme compared to his “better” appearances, but that’s nothing new and pretty much true of many stories that aren’t utrh or lost days. The bad parts are are also definitely exaggerated by fans.
The story isn’t centered on Jason. Of course every other character’s description of Jason would be knee-jerk dismissive and misunderstanding, since (again) the intention was to make Jason out to be the cartoony bad guy villain. But if you look past the layers of grime they added, the bare bones of his characterization are not entirely incorrect. It’s a biased story in which their intended criticisms of Jason’s morals often fell short, so to compensate they deliberately cranked up his motivations to be more extreme and unrealistic (but one which, nonetheless got Jason’s overall thoughts and goals relatively consistent with stories that portrayed him accurately).
Yes, him shooting Damian was out of character, but granted we’re all in agreement that it was a true case of “bad writing decision”, I don’t think it’s hard to look past. The only other bit people probably complain about (which felt iffy at worst) was him being “a bit enthusiastic” at times in trying to convince Dick to become another lethal Batman (you can just as easily say Jason wouldn’t have been personally invested enough to have acted in the way he did). I don’t care though because he was probably doing it for shits and giggles, and it was funny watching him push their buttons on his spare time while being excellent at his job. Same old ‘none of them deny that he’s effective, they just can’t get behind the killing’ conflict.
Looking past the fact that Jason still had a valid point, the “he’s the bad guy” plot falls apart for other obvious reasons, which happen in the 3rd issue. It’s kind of hard to focus on how much of a bitch Jason’s being when the other characters are written in an infinitely more problematic way (which ends up happening in most “hate Jason” stories). Not only did they heavily imply Jason is a victim of SA, but the way Dick/the batfamily treats Jason about this is … horrible. Arguing that this was a case of character assassination for Bruce and Dick would be more realistic than using this story to claim Jason is a Bad Person™.
Even though Bruce does have a bad track record with his perspective on victims of SA.
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Hey. Maybe listen to the living person begging you to turn it off.
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Geez. I wonder why he never felt safe enough to confide in Bruce or any of the rest of them. Implying that enduring what he did made him “broken beyond repair”, that he needs to be “fixed”, and saying verbatim, “you are my greatest failure”, not “I failed you greatly”. Then deciding on behalf of Jason that a bunch of people who weren’t involved in what happened to him should all know about this so they can decide what should be done. And everyone agrees with this garbage. Unbelievable.
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Aka, any sort of healing he may have tried to accomplish was ruined by you lot. When exactly am I supposed to see that Jason was evil all along.
The story collapses in on itself in the third issue because where Dick is supposed to be at his prime within the arc, he just sort of rambles about how Jason was a shitty victim and then awkwardly shifts to talking about personal growth and coming to accept his own heroic destiny.
I do resent this, but not because “Jason sucks here”. Jason’s “bad portrayal” pales in comparison to the problematic mindsets given to the other characters (namely Dick) which were framed as good-natured intentions and “tough love”. As for people who describe this as “vilifying Jason to prop up Dick” … I don’t really know what to make of that.
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beevean · 5 months
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In a less unjust world this would’ve been an ideal final confrontation between N!Hector and Carmilla/Lenore. Even funnier that it’s voiced by Crispin Freeman too.
https://youtu.be/lqfMfyDyo34?si=nXh1gVPiHyGYfyjQ
youtube
the absolute LOL I was suspecting that it was a Hellsing clip when I read Freeman 😂
(I want to close my eyes and imagine that Alucard here is a very, very pissed Hector lol)
"I'm a dog... then you're dog food" oh. oh I am swooning. Oh dog motif my beloved. The dog biting back <3 The cowering dog snarling and showing its teeth <3 only the kindest people earning its most undying loyalty <3 yes <3 this is what should have been <3
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wizardnuke · 2 years
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what's funnier for a meet-ugly fic. if it's a meet-ugly from the start ("we first met each other in a holding cell") or if it starts cute ("my grocery bag tore open on the street and they helped me pick everything up, also I got their number") and then gets ugly ("I didn't call them because I was busy and five days later we met again, in a holding cell")
#warning. long tags that got wildly off topic real fast. there's caleb meta in here#I think it's the difference between them being like 'huh. who's this guy' and the spiderman pointing meme#fic im writing doesn't have this thru a ship lens but it has a similar thing except like. it's a meet ugly where they don't exactly meet#but they see each other#smash cut four years later spiderman pointing meme in a holding cell YOU. WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE#pov you're trying to convince everyone you're interacting with (while in the holding cell) (well. a dungeon) that you're an assassin from#another country but your mother in law is in the next cell over and she CLEARLY recognizes you and does NOT believe the show you're#putting on because context from the prev time you were around each other states you are not loyal to that country and that you are also a#lying liar who lies shamelessly at the first chance you get if you think it'll get you what you want. and it's making shit complicated#because she visibly wants to ask questions about why the hell you're here but you're under surveillance so she's just staring holes into#ur skull and she doesn't know she's your mother in law. this is the funniest thing I've ever written#it's a HARROWING experience for caleb in the fic. he is terrified out of his mind. but also. it's so so funny. my guy why did u do that#'caleb is a master manipulator' common misconception! he is a conman and scammer! he wishes he could operate on pure unfeeling logic and#intellect but sometimes and even oftentimes he is made of 80% panic minimum and then he commits to the bit#it's a very nuanced complicated situation etc etc but honestly a large part of it is also deirta being like what the fuck is this guy's#plan. why the fuck is he even here. and caleb's internal monologue is 'do NOT accidentally call her mother. do not do fucking not' which#is if anything making it more difficult to not call her mother. big fan of the way he refers to elders with titles I 100% think he would#call her that if he and essek were officially together. 'caleb has good social skills and awareness' common fucking misconception he is a#conman and scammer and knows vaguely what to say to get what he wants or more often how to direct attention away from what he's doing but#when he's just Being Caleb he gets to the fuckin point and that lady is his mother in law and he would refer to her as such even if#that's. a fascinating choice to make given everything about essek and also the lingering political situation between the empire and dynasty#I love caleb sooooo much I think he makes a good few snap decisions that are objectively DEEPLY unhinged and I think abt that a lot#calebs not a stable guy! I think it's rlly interesting how not stable he is even when he's doing well he has a few screws loose up there!#this is coming from someone who can relate to the irrational thinking that mental illness does I think he just sees point A to point B and#Does Shit. that's why he fireballs people when he knows it's going to trigger him. it's why he told essek to get it together instead of#killing him- he saw an ally. his morality and his decision making skills are removed from normal logic bc fuck normal logic he's caleb#widogast (sometimes- he goes by a fake name and considers himself entirely seperate from bren while he also holds himself accountable for#the crimes that bren was manipulated into committing) and its why he's Like That and I think he's neat.#I'm done now. what is this.
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bhalspawn · 1 year
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i finished origins again :(
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trollbreak · 1 year
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Hey fun fact sometimes I do a funky description for syrin and then I can’t just have a passing thought about it without having it on the brain for the next like hour
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My dad: is a new hulk movie coming out? I saw a trailer with hulk & a... female hulk
Me: it's a Disney+ show
Dad: ah okay... But now they're overdoing it, aren't they?
Me: overdoing what?🤨 (knowing exactly what he means & that his answer will piss me off
Dad: that they (marvel) making hulk also a woman. It does not even make sense.
Me: *pissed of. Even when I saw this coming*
Me: she also exist in the comics & her name is Jen & she is Bruce cousin
Dad: & how did she got these powers?
Me: she needed a blood transfusion & Bruce gave her blood...you can put the puzzle together
Dad: ah okay.
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thuringwedhil · 5 months
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started to draw something inspired by the "king of beasts, father" scene + the following massacre from the darth plagueis novel and couldn't help myself but give the gremlin a pair of earrings ... as a treat
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confused-wanderer · 1 year
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..the batfam siblings are randomnly getting teleported through time to the original days of batman and robin, but somehow Bruce is nowhere to be seen. This leads to so many more questions, and each of them has begged the villains to just put them out of their misery at some point.
Exhibit 1
Jason *teleports into Wayne Manor*
Jason: what the actual fuck is happening?
Eight year old Dick:
Jason:
Jason: Ah sh- shoot.. Hey there..
Eight year old Dick *lip trembles*
Jason *panicking* : uhhhh hey kid please don’t cry-
*WHAM*
Jason’s knees explode in pain as he doubled over and then there’s a continuous tornado of blows coming before he’s down for the count
Eight year old Dick: IM GONNA ROCK YOUR SHIT FUCKER *about to smash a granite statue on Jason’s head if Alfred hadn’t walked in at that moment*
Jason *tasting blood and wheezing* : I- I think my ribs are broken.. also why does this fucking feel like déjà vu?
Exhibit 2
Tim:
Robin!Dick:
Tim: uh- hey Dick?
*villain appears*
Tim *running in front* : Don’t worry I’ll protect yo-
Robin!Dick running out from behind him wielding an electric blowtorch he stole from Tim: MEET YOUR END TODAY!
Tim *panicking* : ROBIN NO
Dick *cackling* : ROBIN YES
Exhibit 3
Damian:
Dick:
Damian: Richard.. you’re- not what I expected.
Dick *scaling the side of the skyscraper to help a cat stuck there*
Damian: .. Compassion is a quality you always-
Damian:
Damian: .. Richard.. where is the rest of your gear?
Robin!Dick *with cats in hand running off the ledge*
Damian: RICHARD WHERE IS YOUR GRAPPLING HOOK?!
Dick ended up doing several gymnastic moves, giving a perfect landing with the cat in tow and not a single scratch on him. Damian has stopped functioning.
Bonus
Cass *smiling warmly*
Dick *smiling and waving* : HI NICE LADY!! Do you want a cookie? Alfred made them!!
Cass *taking the packet Dick is trying to hold upright*
Dick: That ones for you! And this *takes out a small box with a skull drawn on it with crayons* is for your family! I know you don’t like talking about them.. and I think they’re the ones who hurt you. Just give them one cookie and they’ll never bother you again!
Cass: :) . Thanks.. but cookie not solve everything..
Dick: Aww..
Dick:
Dick: If I burn their house down will that work?
Cass: •_•
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hyewka · 1 month
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warnings. possibly unfaithful, switch!beomgyu, ex best friends, pull out method, drunk sex, not proofread
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you’ve always felt big feelings towards beomgyu, after all he has been your best friend for as long as you can remember, its just never ever been lust, even as a teenage girl with rapidly changing hormones. you love beomgyu, but it was never romantic. and yet as much as it surprises you, in the moment, it feels so right. like this is exactly how its supposed to be. getting maniacally mounted by choi beomgyu in a bathroom with your sense overwhelmed with the soju and beer breath. yeah, that sounds about right.
you just hadn’t expected it to turn so sappy so quick, despite the alcohol in your systems.
“i missed you…i missed you, i missed you”
at some point, you would’ve guessed those repeated declarations would’ve faded into white noise had it been any other person—any other person but him. someone who’d you considered the most important being of your entire life, someone who you haven’t seen or heard from in two entire years when your entire relationship had consisted of seeing each other all the time, someone that you’ve also, terribly missed.
when you share the same sentiment, when you also feel the need to repeat it over and over again, the heartache you’ve felt and the utter devastating emptiness that you’ve lived with for so long now being satiated—the repetition doesn’t let the words turn into sounds of nothingness as it naturally would’ve. rather, it continues to ram against your skull every time he gasps and whines them. like it gains a deeper, more intimate meaning the more he whispers them against your neck, trailing his wet kisses along your jawline.
“what happened with him?”
it’s like he got worked up at his own question, gripping the plush of your ass so hard his nails painfully digs into your flesh, having you hiss. you don’t blame what you register as an involuntary response—your ex boyfriend was the sole reason for your fallout with beomgyu, it’s a sore subject to poke.
“we broke it off six—s-six months after.” after you and beomgyu fell out you would’ve said, but how can you when the prick’s practically ramming his cock in you.
“oh,” he groans speeding up his sloppy pace, finding more rhythm—all while wearing a dopey smile, the frown on his face returning to ecstasy. “why?”
“just didn’t work out.” you reply curtly, trying to move on from the topic of your ex. he lets you, humming contentedly.
there was a part deep inside him that urged him to be smug and petty with an i told you so, or get mad that you dumped him for a relationship so futile to your life, but he can’t find himself to do so as he gets lost further in the way your face contorts, reacting to each jerk of his hips. you’re perfect, he thinks to himself over and over again. you’re perfect.
he thinks he could cum right then and there.
but somethings on the tip of your tongue— in fact, the moment you had registered him inside your head when you went inside that damned karaoke room, you noticed the ring. you quickly dispelled your first thought—it doesn’t look like a ring for marriage, it looked far too casual for that.
but you had still eyed it practically the entire night curious if it held any meaning and you had so badly wanted to pry. then you finally concluded that beomgyu has always been into jewellery, rings no exception. an hour ago, you didn’t know why you were so curious of his relationship status. but now? now you’re being fucked. you have a reason, so you try to bite the bullet to satiate your curiosity. “what about you?” you choke out. however, your question immedietely evaporates from your head when he smashes his lips against yours again heaving.
you don’t question it, you melt into it, pulling him in closer to the point there’s absolutely no space between the two of you.
“missed you” he whines. it has you uncontrollably tumble out giggles between your smushed lips before he steals your breath away yet again. you feel like you’re on drugs, you’re so high off of the adrenaline you feel. never in a million years would you have expected the original deep set uncomfortable tension between the two of you three hours ago to turn into this. when you had been invited out to hang out with your old college friends to come in and be met with familiar faces—you just didn’t expect your joy to so quickly be replaced with suffocating dread when the most familiar looks you up and down.
you weren’t warned of his presence. and now you were crowded by it.
“i couldn’t,” you gasp, your hooded eyes flying open when he revisits a hickey, grazing his teeth. “i can’t, i can’t live without you. that’s what i’ve realized, i can’t do it.”
you nod over and over again along to his words, frankly out of it, rolling your hips pathetically in rhythm with his. “wh-what about you?” he asks, his vulnerablity on full on display. long gone was the confident, vulgarity that oozed out of him.
it turns you on so much, it’s wrong but it does—his teary eyes, imploring you to put him at ease as he drives his cock deep inside your cunt. it feels right, it feels natural to try it out with him. the moment your finger flick his nipples, beomgyu gives you an immediate, satisfactory reaction—a combination of a gasp and a shriek before his head just pathetically falls to bury his head into the junction of your shoulders.
“you’re sensitive,” you note, letting your fingers lightly lay against his chest. the faltering of his pace is extremely noticeable as he had been increasingly building up his pace. it gives you a rush of dopamine, enough of it to have you more confident with what you want.
“whyyy..why’d you touch..” his whines muffle into your skin.
you peel his head off your shoulder by a fist of his hair and for what feels to be the hundredth time this night, he knocks the breath out of you—he’s gorgeous. when you started making out earlier you had passively asked him to keep his glasses on, you didn’t expect him to make such an effort to keep them because it’s practically falling off the bridge of his nose, crooked and foggy. he looks like a perfect mess.
your ex boyfriend hated it—when you had introduced domming during sex it had immediately killed the mood even though he promised you afterwards that it totally wasn’t because of your risque play with his nipples. after a while, you believed him—you wanted to believe him so you tried to ease into it again, showing him some porn, he’d surely like it as much as you did. you were sorely mistaken. he didnt, he practically ridiculed you, basically implying you were a total freak. it’s one of the things that served as a catalyst for your eventual breakup.
but beomgyu, god, beomgyu.
he transcends even your wildest imagination—hes everything you’d wish to hear and more. when you experimentally let your finger twist his hard buds again as he attempts to pick up his rhythm he gurgles on his spit, moaning loud enough for you to completely lose it. he slows down again, almost completely stilling, looking like he’s about to sob with his face a shade of red and pink, as if hes asking you for mercy.
“what?” you slur, cocking your head. “who allowed you to stop? i was close.”
he shakes his head, bottom lip slightly wobbling, “i c-can’t. if you keep touching my-”
your groan cuts off his rant. “hurry up, my legs are starting to cramp up gyu.”
he flinches at your harshness, falling into a pout. it’s a habit that as long as you remember, had driven you up the wall. but right now, you can’t help but find the action adorable, in complete contrast to the dirty situation you’re in. “but what if i just…like, cum?”
you sigh, propping yourself up again, “when you feel it coming, pull out.” you say simply, which doesn’t seem to ease his mind but he doesn’t resist shaking his hips again. it isn’t long before he’s losing himself in you, slap of skin against skin no longer your concern, totally ignoring the semi public setting. the moment he feels like he has has the upper hand you do it again, playing with his nipples until you’re sure they’re pink and plump, sore.
he not once questions anything, which makes you feel so immensely comfortable. “he would’ve hated this,” you comment absentmindedly, more to yourself than beomgyu. you hadn’t even thought he picked up on it when suddenly he becomes a lot more vocal, moaning obnoxiously loud you would’ve definitely slapped him silly and hopped off his cock…had you not been completely trashed. your brain is turned off, only mustering up a wobbly smile as you drown in his outward display of pleasure. it makes you feel so powerful. he both exaggerates and at the same time actually fucking loses his sanity.
he says those words again, panting, eyes completely glazed over and mouth almost permanently hung open, his hand reaching down to shakily play with your clit, making you arch into his touch, absolutely out of breath. “can’t live without you,”
at that final declaration, you clench around his dick to which he immediately reacts, erratically fucking into you, having your tits jiggle lewdly. he thinks hes hypnotized, he thinks he would’ve probably just bust a nut inside you anyway, but he snaps out of it, getting a sense of clarity.
beomgyu's cock throbs one last time inside you, before he pulls out, giving his cock only one small pump before spurting his load, some of it landing on your stomach and legs, some dripping to the floor. he lets out a soft moan, his breath hot against your neck. after what you believe to be an eternity, your sweaty selves interwined with each other, wallowing in silence as you finally get your breathing controlled, beomgyu pulls away to look at you.
it’s like you truly are telepathically connected, something you’ve joked about for years due to the instance you’ve completed each other’s thoughts. but you’ve come to realize it might be closer to the truth than anything you’ve ever known to be true. your feelings were intertwined, scarily so.
so its to not to your surprise when he doesn’t ask for a round two, he knows. like he always does.
you just try to ignore the constant ringing of his phone.
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jasontoddenthusiastt · 11 months
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Family Methods
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[ Suicide Squad: Get Joker! #3 ]
As much as I rag on this story for implying Jason’s trauma-induced spidey-senses activate when the joker walks into the room, there was some rare mockery of Bruce’s side of the ever-so-tiresome morality debate.
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Like, ah yes,
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the pinnacle of morality
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rawrsatthetree · 8 months
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Dark urge and Astarion hold a baby
GN!Durge!Tav x Astarion
Inspired by a fanart of Astarion holding a baby and an audio of Neil talking about babies as Star
Warings: well it's druge so descriptions of violence
As you and your party waded through the crowd of refugees a strange sound caught your attention. It sounded like crying but far too high pitched to be any person or child. The sound grated and scrapped at your mind and before your realized it, you had wandered off from your party in search of the source.
Among the crowd of broken families and lost souls you found an old elven woman cradling a squirming bundle in her arms. The thing wriggling about in her grasp was what had been making the terrible noise that had now quieted down into a pathetic whine.
You didn't notice how close you were lingering until the old woman spoke up. "Can I help you dear?" She questioned, her demeanor warm and friendly.
"Oh, um I was just um..." You were at a loss of words, your eyes fixed on the thing in her arms.
"Would you like to see him? Come closer, no need to be shy." She gave you a warm smile.
Hesitantly you shuffled forward to where you could see what it was she was holding, expecting some sort of animal or other strange creature.
"A baby?"
"Yes, a precious little thing, his name's Arthur." The woman rocked him in her arms.
The baby took a reprieve from it's fussing to turn and look at you. It stared at you blankly for a moment as you stared back before it broke into a smile and babbled at you.
"Would you look at that." The woman cooed, "he hasn't smiled once since he lost his mother to the Absolute's army."
The very sight made you mind ache and twist. Thoughts of all the horrible ways you could end the small innocent life flooded your skull. Perhaps you could simply smash it, the little ball of goo and viscera that it is. Or maybe it would be fun to squeeze its little neck until its doll like eyes popped out of its skull and its neck snapped.
Your vision started to blur, your pulse pounding, hands shaking. You tried to regain your sanity, remembering the mediation exercises you had practiced with Halsin. First ground yourself, breathe, what can you hear, what can you see.
Breathe in, you heard the footsteps on the crowd.
Breathe out, you felt the cool breeze.
Breathe in, you smelled smoke and farm animals.
Breathe out, you heard the chatter of the crowd around you.
Breathe in, you heard the old woman speak. "Would you like to hold him?"
Breathe out, you could see the baby still smiling up at you.
Your mind cleared as your vision came back into focus. The Urge had passed for now and relief washed over you. You answered the woman, "Can I? Are you sure its okay?" You asked mostly to her but partly to yourself.
"Of course dear, he seems quite fond of you and it would give my old arms a much needed rest." The woman held little Arthur out to you.
You stood there stiff as a board not sure how you were meant to take the baby.
"Have you never held a baby before?" She asked noticing your apprehension.
You shook your head 'no'. Even if you could remember you doubted you had ever held a baby in your past, at least in a way that it's limbs stayed intact.
"Here, hold your arms like mine, almost like your making a basket."
You followed her example as best you could. The woman shifted the baby into your arms with out warning.
"There just like that! Be sure to support his head, see you're a natural." She encouraged you as you panicked with the infant in your grasp.
After an awkward moment of adjusting to the warm squirmy little weight in your arms, Arthur calmed and snuggled into your chest. The innocent little thing feel asleep in your arms happy and at peace. You were over come with emotion, it felt so sick and wrong, it shouldn't have been possible for you to hold something so precious. Yet there your were holding a baby gently without any intent to harm it. The feeling of his little body in your arms filled your heart with a feeling you didn't quiet understand but it brought tears to your eyes all the same.
*************
Ever since that night he had you restrained, Astarion had tried his damnedest to keep an eye on you. It figured the moment he got distracted by some snide comment from Shadowheart, you had vanished. He hadn't even noticed until he went to turn to you for back up only to discover you were gone. Panic over came him as he frantically scanned the crowd for any sign of you. Either you had been abducted by one of your countless enemies or your urge had drawn your attention away from the party. Both outcomes filled him with dread.
Without even a word to the others he rushed though the crowd. He smelled the air for any hint of blood, yours or your victim's. Nothing, at least you weren't hurt or hadn't hurt anyone else yet. He only grew more worried as he moved though the refugees with no sign of you, surly you couldn't have gotten far.
Just when he was sure you had been kidnapped by some villain never to be seen again, he found you. There you were with your back to him standing with some old woman. Whatever relief he felt was quickly replace with concern as he noticed how you rocked and swayed.
"Darling, what are you doing?" He approached you cautiously hoping he wasn't to late to save you from the urge.
"Oh, is this your husband? What a handsome young man." The old crone greeted.
Astarion ignored the woman only focused on stopping you from what ever nightmarish act you were about to commit. Before he could reach out to you and pull you way, you turned around to him.
"Astarion look! I'm holding a baby!" You beamed at him. You moved closer and whispered so only he could hear you, "and I'm not hurting him."
You were a sight to behold grinning from ear to ear with dried tears staining you cheeks. Just as you said, there in you arms was a fat little lump of a baby curled up and completely intact.
He wasn't sure why but seeing you standing there with a baby cradled in you arms made his cold heart ache. He was relieved you were safe, proud that you had fought through your urge, deeply sad - although that was nothing new; but there was something else, a longing he didn't understand. Not wanting to dwell on the feeling he turned his attention to the baby.
"Just look at the little thing, so cute and helpless." He smiled fondly at the infant.
You noticed the way he looked at the baby with such softness, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. "Can my husband hold him for a bit?" You asked the woman, not realizing how naturally the word 'husband' had rolled off your tongue.
"What?" Astarion was taken aback, "No, I couldn't possibly." He looked to the woman hoping she would object.
The woman gave the two of you a knowing look before answering, "of course dear."
You turned back to him, your eyes shining, holding out the baby, "only if you want you Starlight."
Astarion caved under your loving gaze, he hated how easily you swayed his heart. "well alright give it here, you know I can't say no to that face."
His action did not reflect his words as he stood there froze just as you had, not sure how to take the baby. If he had ever held a baby it was centuries ago long before he had been turned and far to long ago to remember.
"Here Star, hold you arms like mine." You instructed him just as the old woman had done for you before gently passing the baby into his arms.
The aching longing tore a hole in his heart as he held the sleeping infant in his arms. You felt it too as you watched him, your love, cradling the baby as if it were the most precious thing in the world. You moved closer to him warping an arm around his waist, you cuddled into his side as he relaxed into you resting his head against yours. The two of you didn't need words to understand what the other was feeling. The baby, although a source of pain, was also a symbol of your hope. Hope you'd both find freedom, hope you'd survive this whole ordeal, hope you'd have a future.
"Astarion, I-" You were cut off by a familiar voice calling out over the crowd breaking your tender moment.
"There they are! Hey!" Shadowheart was waving at you as she approached with Lae'zel close behind her.
As if snapped out of a trance Astarion quickly handed the baby back to his caregiver and thanked her. He whipped misty eye before either of them could notice.
"What the hells are you two doing, we've been looking everywhere." Shadowheart scolded, examining you both with suspicion.
"Sorry, I had another episode," You lied. "Thankfully Astarion found me before I could hurt anyone."
"Enough doddling, we've wasted enough time searching for you." Lae'zel turned as if to leave with out you. Shadowheart simply rolled her eyes, turning to follow.
"Come my love, we don't want to be left behind." Astarion spoke to you softly as laced his fingers with yours, pulling you toward the party. You waved goodbye to baby Arthur and the woman before turning to continue you journey.
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agirlcandream84 · 2 months
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Boyfriend!Frank is NOT Pleased With Your Choice to Diet.
Girlies -- just read and be healed. Trust me.
Boyfriend!Frank x Reader
Word Count: 1,370
“Eat,” he says, sliding the burger and fries in front of you on the table.
“That’s it? You’re not gonna, like, scold me about it?” you ask.
“That’s it. Eat,” he replies and slides into the booth across from you.
And so you did, glancing at him tentatively every few minutes, the meal quietly tense. But you'll be damned if he wasn't right. The burger coated your ribs, it's protein-packed patty satisfying you so thoroughly that your headache instantly dissipated and your blood sugar evened out. With every bite you feel your energy restored, your stomach nearly like a bottomless pit.
Near bursting, you push the plate a fews inches away from you and lean back, taking a final sip of your icy Coke. Frank has been done for a few minutes, always just inhaling food quickly and quietly, and has his arms folded across his chest, his huge form smashed into a tiny booth, as he observes you.
You meet his eyes and will yourself not to look away from his glare.
"Don't" you say to him. He shrugs his hulky shoulders, his lips pressed into a straight line, his eyes still locked to yours.
"Because you don't know how it is. I'm trying my best, ok?" you add, now growing more alarmed at his silence than his presumed scolding. His face remains unreadable, the tendons in his forearms flexing as he repositions himself in the booth slightly.
"And by the way its not that serious. Trust me, I eat plenty. That's sorta the whole problem" you continue, almost willing his angry rant to just come already. His eye contact is unflinching, even as a fork clatters to the ground from a nearby table.
"It's not like it was on purpose. I just didn't plan right." you explain, your mouth just yammering in the silence. Your fingers fiddle with the napkin as you roll it into a tight coil. At his silence, you roll your eyes and let out an exasperated sigh.
And it's true. You didn't plan to wait too long too eat and give yourself a pounding headache. You didn't plan to wait 7 hours between two hard boiled eggs and your next meal. You didn't plan to nearly pass out at the store.
But the other part, the part Frank is actually mad about, you did plan. You did plan your incredibly calorie-restrictive diet-- the one that's barely enough food for a toddler. You did plan to basically starve yourself for about 4 weeks to fit into the dress you bought for that wedding. You did plan to hate your fucking body so much that you were willing to neglect it and starve in the name of being smaller. Existing less.
And so when you attempted to order a side salad for a whole-ass meal, after very nearly passing out at the store alongside Frank, after not eating more than 2 eggs in 7 hours, after being nearly in tears from the headache tearing through your skull, after complaining the Advil you took on an empty stomach was making you nauseous, Frank was... displeased.
He'd immediately grumbled a "Nah, fuck that, no fucking salads" and you'd looked at him with your mouth agape, beginning to interject but he'd stopped you with "Non-negotiable. Go sit in the fucking booth sweetheart and you'll eat what I order you." You blinked incredulously before grabbing your purse and storming to the booth, sliding in with a huff.
One cheeseburger and a large fries later and you assumed you were in for it. You prepared yourself for the Frank ranting that didn't come.
"You done?" he asks plainly, his face unimpressed with your excuses.
"Yeah I'm done," you reply petulantly, feeling like a teenager having a tantrum.
Frank stuffs his keys in his pocket and grabs the greasy bag to toss in the trash. You scramble out of the booth to follow him back to the car, Frank holding the door open for you to exit and opening your car door while you climbed in. The ride home mimics the meal, tense silence as Frank stares ahead with squinted eyes.
As you arrive home, Frank puts the car in park and you waste no time hopping out the passenger door and towards the apartment complex, eager to slither out of the awkward silence. Despite the tension, Frank is still a gentleman, reaching for the grocery bags you were attempting to haul from the trunk, murmuring "I got it sweetheart," and sending you into the building.
Shortly after Frank places the bags on the counter, you reach to begin unloading the groceries but Frank's hand lands on yours, stopping you before he laces one hand around your waist and the other cupping your jaw, his wrist shifting slightly to tilt your face up towards his before he envelops you in a kiss so tender that you nearly lose your breath. He's slow, deliberate-- his lips grazing yours before you feel the firm press of him as his tongue twines around yours. You allow yourself to melt into his hold, his fingers traveling into the hair at the nape of your neck.
When he stops, you steady your breathing, his face still inches from yours, and ask, "Frank, what are you doing?" You didn't object to his affection but his tenderness was unexpected.
"Apologizing," he responds, his hand still cradling your head.
"Apologizing?" you stutter out, an apology the last thing you expected.
"Yeah. Apologizing," he confirms, brushing his thumb along your jaw. "Way I see it, if I ever gave you the impression that I didn't love your body exactly the way it is, that's on me," he adds.
"Frank it's not--" you start but he interrupts with "Lemme finish sweetheart. I'm not doing my job if you don't feel fuckin' gorgeous every day. Fuck sweetheart, I think about you all damn day. I dream about you and you're layin' right next to me for God's sake. And if you don't know that, I fucked up," he adds, his sincerity enough to nearly break your heart. You feel his hand squeeze your waist.
"Frank, its... you're not," you start, stumbling over your words, the topic so complicated and loaded. You take a deep breath and start again, "The way I feel about my body is the sum of years and years of feeling inadequate and social pressure and unkind words from people who were supposed to love me. You have healed me in so many ways Frank. But this wound is deep. Sometimes it reopens."
"S'my job to take care of you though sweetheart" Frank replies, ever the protector. He could take fix anything, he was certain, at least that's what he told himself. Surely he could fix this. He would just love you harder and louder.
"Frankie you do," you reassure him, standing on tip toes to kiss him again. He reciprocates, again tugging you closer and kissing you in a way that felt like he was trying to heal you. When he pulls away again, his brows have returned to their natural furrow and you know he's got something else on his mind.
"Ok out with it," you prompt him, still locked in his arms and trapped between him and the counter.
"Yeah, the other thing is sweetheart, I don't like when someone treats my girl bad. Even when you're doin' it to yourself," he states plainly, the scolding you expected finally coming to fruition.
"I told you, I wasn't try--"
"Nah, nah. I don't want the excuses doll. You're starvin' yourself," he retorts. You can't quite manage to look him in eye at the accusation. He isn't entirely wrong. In fact he's entirely right. That was sorta the whole idea.
"Yeah, so you gotta cut that shit out. You deserve to eat food when you're hungry. Don't make ask it again and you sure as hell better make sure I don't catch ya' doing it," he adds, his word on the topic final. You nod, feeling near instant relief at the thought of not dieting. You had been miserable for weeks.
"Unfortunately, you gotta learn a lesson though honey," he says with a smack to your ass as he hoists you over his shoulder and stomps to the bedroom.
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forsworned · 3 months
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⠀⠀⠀˗ˏˋbumblin fool ft. poly!tf141ˎˊ˗
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꒰ঌa/n໒꒱ i'm just writing whatever comes to mind at this point, bc i think it's fun to write about how tf 141 would react to a female being on their squad, even if its a bit delusional lol more so on my part but oooohhh welll
꒰warning(s)suggested polyship, fluff꒱
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀˗ˏˋrequests are openˎˊ˗
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"How many fingers am I holdin' up?"
Simon's gaze was locked onto her and her lips split into a grin, so clearly dazed and wanting to giggle at his awful attempt at trying to test if she had been concussed from the fall she had just taken moments ago. Fortunately, Simon was able to scoop her up after her head smashed against the pavement, lucky to not have split her skull open but not lucky enough to not have a small knot on her right temple.
"You serious?" She giggled, swaying a bit to the side but he held her still. He couldn't help the annoyed huff that slipped from his lips, but there was a glimmer of amusement behind his eyes. His eye black that had been smeared against his eyes hours ago was now faded from the rain that had drenched them. Even in her allegedly concussed state she read Simon like a book. Always wanting to know all his ticks so she could push the right buttons, usually working in her favor more than her detriment. However, she really couldn't speak for her other teammates.
"Yes, 'm bloody serious. Now answer the question." It was almost playful the way he responded to her. Not wanting to give too much away, but also not wanting to be too rough around the edges for her. God knows he didn't want another go around of the same tears and pouty lips until he had to muster up the pluck to apologize.
Kyle, Johnny and Price couldn't help but chuckle at the scene unfolding in front of them. Luckily the incident had happened on their way back from the bar and not in the middle of a mission. Her usual state of bumbling around, and tripping over thin air was a rather large contrast to how tactful and agile she was on the field. She tapped her chin for a moment with that giddy smile. "Hmm, four?"
Simon glanced between her cute and incompetent expression and his two fingers and then back to her. Kyle was the first to burst out into laughter.
"Bloody hell." Simon groaned as the others chuckled.
"Got ye a concussion, don't y'lassie?" Johnny brushed the hair out of her eyes and she smiled sweetly up at him.
"Bumblin' fool." Simon shook his head.
"Jus a clumsy duck off th'field, aren't ya?" Price grinned, as he softly pinched her cheek. She licked her lips as she wriggled into his touch, feeling the rough pads of his fingers tickle her soft skin. A girly mirth errupting from her and she cowered away playfully from him. A wry grin on Simon's face as he observed the interaction and held her steady once more.
"Well, she's definitely concussed." Kyle laughed again, playing with a strand of her hair. She hummed in content.
"Y'think that's somethin' to be happy about?" Simon's vexation bubbling to the surface at her lack of concern and at his teammate's lack of intiative. All of them at her side, cooing at her in her wobbly and whimisical state and more than ready to take care of her. He pinched the bridge of nose. No wonder she was so giddy.
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𝘐 𝘋𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘒𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘛𝘰 𝘚𝘢𝘺 (𝘖𝘳 𝘋𝘰.)
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary: You’d never understood why Bucky never seemed interested in physical intimacy. When you find out, you realize it goes deeper than you ever thought.
Note: For my ‘Don’t Touch Me’ square on my @marvel-smash-bingo card!
Warnings: rape/non-con, sexual abuse, nightmares, ptsd, Hydra Themes, implied Hydra Trash Party, insecure!reader(?), crying, angst.
[Series Masterlist]
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Your sex life was not bad in these last few months you’ve been dating Bucky. That wasn’t to say it was particularly good, either.
You hadn’t had sex with him at all. You hadn’t even got past a little bit of making out. And there was nothing wrong with that, either. Maybe he was just shy. And he was a real quiet guy when he was around anybody but you, so you knew that that was a possibility.
He was also born in 1917, so there could be just more of an awkwardness around the topic for him. You obviously had no idea what Sex Ed was like in the 1930s, but you knew that it definitely wasn’t great.
Maybe he just wasn’t interested in sex at all. And that was perfectly fine, too. He could be asexual. Or gray-asexual. Or demisexual. And you were by no means a homophobe. If he wasn’t into it, he wasn’t into it and that was that. You would certainly not be upset or—God forbid—angry over something like that.
But the thing that plagued your mind after he ran off somewhere after kissing you for a little too long was the why. He’d never said a word about sexual attraction—you’d never had that conversation before. You didn’t really know how to bring it up.
Part of you wondered if you were the problem. Was he just not attracted to you? Was there just one tiny detail on you that completely made him not want you in that way? Fuck, did you smell bad?
You pushed the thought away. But you did know that you needed to have this discussion with him. Mainly in case that last reason was it.
As if right on cue, he walked into the kitchen of your apartment.
“Hey, doll.” He smiled, wrapping his arms around you and swaying you from side to side.
“Howdy howdy. I didn’t hear you come in.” You grinned. “You’ll give me a heart attack one day.”
“Sorry,” he replied sheepishly.
The rest of the night went on as usual. At least, until halfway through the night—perhaps early morning—when you were awoken by the sound of muttering.
Now, to be very honest, you thought about muttering ‘shut up’ back, before you remembered that you were a real person and not a dinosaur like you’d been dreaming about.
You sat up, looking over at your boyfriend. Another bad dream.
You kneeled above him, opening your mouth to say something to wake him up. And once again, as if on cue, he woke up. He sat up quickly, bonking you in the head with his own skull.
“Fuck—“ You hissed as your eyes watered slightly. “Bucky, you’re okay, you’re okay, it was a dream, it’s over.” You attempted to reassure him as you reached out.
“Don’t touch me,” he pleaded. “Don’t touch me. Please.” The way he said it made your stomach flip.
“I’m not.” You promised. “I won’t. I won’t. You’re okay, you’re safe. It’s me. Jus’ me and you.”
He seemed to relax at that as he laid back down. And then—very surprisingly—fell right back asleep.
Normally his nightmares were more of a major thing, so this was certainly a surprise. You frowned, before you yourself eventually fell back asleep.
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The next morning, you woke up alone, with the faint smell of breakfast coming in through the room. You walked out of your bedroom and to the kitchen, greeting your boyfriend.
“Mornin’,” you hummed.
“Good morning, doll. Did you sleep good?” He asked innocently, as if he didn’t remember the night’s…revelations.
“Yeah.” You murmured back. And then you decided to finally grow some balls and ask.
“Bucky? Can I talk to you about something serious?”
“Sure.” His brows furrowed slightly. “Always, hon. What’s goin’ on?”
“Is there a reason you don’t want to have sex with me?”
He practically turned to stone.
“What?” He croaked out.
“There’s nothing wrong about it! I’m just—it’s stupid. I’m sorry, I’m being an asshole. Never mind—“ You wanted to simultaneously beat the absolute shit out of yourself and bury yourself.
“No, you’re not.” He cut you off. “I—should’ve told you earlier. About this. It’s—it’s not you, I promise. I..I want to have..sex with you and all of that stuff. I do, really. It’s just—there’s..some stuff.”
Your brows furrowed as you took on a concerned and empathetic expression. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“No, it’s—it’s okay. I do. It’s important to me that I tell you.” He explained. “But—it gets kinda heavy. Are you okay with..hearing all of that?”
You nodded. “Yes, babe. I am.”
“When I was—when I was the Winter Soldier, HYDRA would torture me. You know that. They’d…’punish’ and ‘train’ me in ways that..fucked me up. Clearly. One of those ways was through sex.” He admitted, fiddling with his hands.
Your mouth went dry. You didn’t really know what to say. Or to do, even. Did you comfort him? Say anything at all?
“I know you would never do that to me. I promise—I’m positive and comfortable in the fact that you wouldn’t ever do anything to me without my permission.” He assured you, making eye contact. “You’ve made it perfectly clear that I can say ‘no’ and can make my own decisions without any form of punishment.”
You nodded slowly.
“But it’s just—it’s hard, y’know? Like, how I get all..jumpy and ‘PTSD-y’ on the Fourth of July because of the fireworks. It’s like that, but with..sex, and being naked and stuff like that. It doesn’t have anything to do with the Fourth of July, just like it doesn’t have anything to do with you. It’s just..a thing that happens in those circumstances.” He explained. “I don’t—I’m sorry. I don’t want to be like this, I promise.”
You could see his nose was getting red and his eyes were beginning to water.
“I don’t want to be broken.” He blinked away some tears, wiping the ones that escaped his eyes with the side of his hand.
“Baby, no. Oh, baby. No, you’re not broken. Honey, you’re not. I promise.” You comforted. You opened your arms for a hug and he wrapped his arms around you.
When he was ready, he continued. “It was mostly men. There weren’t any women in HYDRA up until like..2010. But sometimes they’d sell me—and I mean literally sell me—off to certain powerful women for a variety of purposes. And I didn’t have a choice.” He murmured.
“I know, baby. It wasn’t your fault. None of that was ever your fault.” You said softly.
He nodded slowly. “I do..want that. I want to do that with you, it’s just—it’s hard.”
“I know. Thank you for telling me. And we can take it slow. And if you realize you’re not into it at all—no shame. No judgement. Not from me.” You promised.
He nodded. “Dr. Raynor—when she was my therapist she..she uh, pushed on the subject.” He confessed. Your brows furrowed.
“She what?”
“I was mad about it then. And I still think she could’ve gone about it in better ways, but she gave me something useful, so..at least there’s that.” He hummed. “She suggested showering and taking baths together. For..non-sexual intimacy.”
“You wanna try that?” You met his eyes, the beautiful blue eyes that captivated you.
He nodded slowly. “If you're comfortable with it, yeah.”
“Okay. We can try that, babe.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek.
“I love you.” He murmured. You’d heard him say it before, you’d worked your way up to it, but neither one of you really wanted to hold back that feeling from each other.
“I love you too. No matter what.” You swore.
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A/n: two Oneshots on the same day? Shocking, I know. Really wanted to bring hydra trash party and reader insert fics together. This was low key inspired by me and an ex (we’re on good terms dw), and it feels very important to me.
Please reblog if you enjoyed!
Sequel here!
dividers by @saradika-graphics
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spacebarbarianweird · 5 months
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@ramlightly graciously let me write a fic based on this comic. Check it out, it's so cool!
"Dominate Person" is a nasty spell that can fully submit a humanoid to your power. It's unclear if the victim has self-consciousness in the moment but since it's possible to throw Wisdom saving rolls I think you can feel that you are controlled.
Thanks @bhaalbaaby for beta-reading!
Puppet Master
Synopsis: Astarion is enchanted by the "Dominate Person" spell and almost kills Tav.
Tags: angst, comfort
TW: A description of physical violence
Read on AO3
Masterlist
Headcanons
Astarion wants to move. To hide in the shadows and shoot the necromancer from there.
You are surrounded, but you keep doing your work.
But he can't.
His body is paralyzed, and he feels a wave of panic. 
No, not this. Not "Hold Person"!
He can't do this. He can't make it.
Paralysis is like being sealed in a tomb with too little space to move. Helpless, voiceless.
What if something happens to you when he is like this?
"Astarion, use your daggers!"
Is it you? Or one of the adventurers you've teamed up this morning to kick necromancers out of the town?
Astarion just has to wait. The spell wears off when the spellcaster is down. Or a healer manages to find a way to get rid of the invisible chains.
Or...
USE THE DAGGER
The voice is intimidating, too loud, and too powerful.
It's like the Cazador's voice in his head again. Suppressing. Ordering. Torturing.
No, no...
Astarion feels his hand move toward the dagger. The strings make him move.
It's not "Hold Person".
It's "Dominate Person".
Full control of the victim. The voice your body cannot resist. You become one of them, fighting for them.
Murdering your loved ones.
KILL
Astarion rushes forward to you. To the only person he loves and cares about. The only person in the entire world who has never hurt him.
"Astarion! Help me! Astarion, what's wrong?"
Astarion pushes you into the ground with all his newfound vampiric strength.
No, no, please, stop it!
MURDER THEM
The dagger stabs through your stomach, causing an internal rupture. The second dagger wounds your chest.
You stare at him in pain, in silent prayer. You watch your lover killing you.
Blood. So much blood. Your blood.
A strong hand pulls Astarion from you, but it's not enough.
Astarion has an order from his new master.
To kill you. To make sure you are dead.
It is the worst type of dissociation. He is just an observer.
His hands rip you apart as if you are a prey he's found in the woods. Your eyes are full of terror and pain.
VAMPIRE, DRINK THE BLOOD.
No, no, I won't do it. I don't take the blood without consent... NO!
His fangs pierce into your neck, taking the blood non-stop. To satiate him, to let him feel alive.
And to drain you.
He is less than a slave. A puppet. With his locked mind in agony.
CRUSH THE SKULL
Astarion grabs a handful of your hair to smash you against a stone. Your body is motionless. Broken. Almost dead.
And then...
The agony of death pierces the mind. It's an acid flare of horror - too familiar for the undead.
It happened to him once, many years ago. When he was killed by Cazador and revived as a vampire spawn.
That's how death feels.
But he isn't dying. More than this, his body is his again.
Astarion stands up, feeling the nightmare wearing off.
Your body lies on the ground in blood and gore.
Astarion falls to his knees, his hands shaking.
And yells.
**
You wake up, your body sore and in terrible pain.
Astarion.
Your mind reacts with a panic attack - a near-death experience causing mental anguish. Your body remembers how Astarion jumped on you with his daggers.
How he ripped your throat.
How he almost crushed your skull.
You try to collect yourself. "Dominate Person". One of the nastiest spells necromancers know. Create a humanoid puppet and make them kill their friends and loved ones. While they silently scream, locked in their minds.
Some people never recover from that. Offing themselves, not being capable of dealing with what they did.
Damn, and what did it do to Astarion? It's what happened to him during his enslavement. Orders impossible to resist.
You want to call for him, but your body refuses to act. It remembers.
His hands, his fangs.
And his eyes in such desperation you've never seen.
Before you manage to collect yourself again, you fall into oblivion.
**
Astarion is silent.
His nails pierce his scalp. His teeth are clenched. His eyes open wide as he stares at the wall.
The companions who murdered the necromancers ignore him, but he doesn't feel any hostility.
Just a spell. It happens.
"Astarion... Is this your name, right?" a young fighter approaches him. "You need to take a bath."
Astarion looks at himself. His clothes are covered in blood. Your blood.
"Tav will be fine. We have good healers here. Don't blame yourself."
As if enchanted again, Astarion walks away. In silence, he locks himself in the bathroom - a small wooden room with a tub full of hot water. But instead of putting off the dirty clothes, he submerges himself fully clothed.
The fabric clings to the body, and Astarion hugs his knees. The blood mixes with water.
His back hurts as if his scars are bleeding.
He doesn't know how long he spends there. An hour? A day? A week? The water is cold. but he can't care less still hearing your cries.
The door creaks, and he notices familiar soft steps.
"Astarion? Are you alright?"
He can't look at you. Can't make himself. Can't witness the damage he caused.
"I almost killed you, and you ask how I am doing?" his voice breaks.
"The necromancer almost killed me," you say firmly. "Not you. Hey, look at me!"
Your head is heavily bandaged. There are bruises all over your face, and he knows there is much more evidence of his violence below your shirt and trousers.
"It wasn’t you. It was them. You would never do this to me."
"I did."
"You didn't. Come on, take off your clothes. They’re all wet."
He wants to make you go, make you leave. He will be happy knowing you are somewhere safe and far from him.
You touch his neck, and he can't resist. Astarion allows you to pull off his shirt and then manages to take off the trousers as well. 
"I am sorry," he whispers.
"Don't." You start rubbing his back, and he flinches when your gentle fingers touch the edges of the scars.
"Tav... You need to rest..."
"Don't be selfish. I need this, too."
"What? Why?"
You take his chin and make him look up at you. "Because my body remembers you killing me. Because my subconscious tells me to run away. Because I remember these gentle hands of yours driving blades into my chest. I need to forget it before it's engraved forever. So please, don’t push me away. Not now..."
You keep rubbing his back, hands, and chest. You plant kisses on the clean skin. You wash his hair, stained blood, and gore, and make sure your touches are light and tender.
"If you want to talk about it, I am here. I know what exactly it reminded you of," you whisper in his ear.
And at that moment it's too much.
His body shudders as he starts crying, hiding his face from you in his palms. You drop the rags and wrap your hands around his neck.
You sit like that for an eternity, lulling each other until the healer starts banging into the door, demanding you to return to bed. You reluctantly let Astarion go.
You kiss him goodbye and leave, hoping the darkness won't hold his mind again, and he won't run away from you and his guilt.
**
The bed is comfortable as you lie motionless on a blanket. The healer did a great job patching you together. But you will need to fully recover. And gallons of healing potion.
Astarion enters the room. He wears fresh clothes, and if it wasn't for his facial expression, you could think nothing bad has happened.
"Come," you ask him. "I am sorry, but the night of passion isn't an offer today."
"Don't be ridiculous. How are you feeling?"
"Beaten. Wounded. Tired. And you?"
"Violated"
You both are silent. Finally, Astarion lies beside you and wraps his hands around you.
Your body stiffens against your will. Astarion feels it and tries to let you go.
"No. Hold me like that!"
He obliges and gently places your head on his chest. His cool skin feels nice.
Astarion loves me. He won't hurt me.
You repeat it like a prayer before finally being able to fully relax.
"I love you," he mutters. "I won't hurt you. You hear me?"
You nod.
"I love you, too," You smile, and your heart rejoices when he smiles back.
--
Tag list
@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx@astarion-beloved@tallymonster@caitlincat-95@tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars
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