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luveline · 10 months

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𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐧 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

things aren't the way you planned coming home with your newborn, but you have eddie there to lean on when things get hard (and an unlimited supply of 'munson-style' hugs). requested here. infatuated dad!eddie x mom!reader, 3k.

cw post partum recovery, reader is suffering from some symptoms of post partum depression

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

"You're sure you can manage?" Wayne asks, his voice buzzing down the line.

Eddie peers out of the kitchen into the living room quietly. You're sitting on the sofa in a shape that can't be comfortable considering your recent stitches, the baby on your thighs where you've brought them together, your hands delicately posed on either side of his head.

"I think so," Eddie says, answering Wayne's questions with honesty. "She's feeling a little better today."

"It's hard, Eds. You take care of her and call me if you need help, okay? I'm proud of you. Both of you."

It catches Eddie off guard for a moment. He's done enough crying lately, clearing his throat to say, "Thanks, Wayne. Call me tomorrow."

"You call me, I don't wanna wake anyone if you're sleeping."

They say their goodbyes. Eddie leans against the kitchen doorway to spy on you and the baby. Babies cry more than he ever could've imagined despite the warnings, but it's quiet, too. There are moments of peacefulness like this one breaking apart the chaos.

You're whispering something. Eddie stands very still, wishing the dishwasher would magically silence itself. He strains to hear you.

"I love you," you say. "Sorry I'm tired, honey. I promise I'll be better. You're so beautiful."

Eddie bites his cheeks, wondering if his family (his family!) aim to make him cry and little else tonight. He gives himself a look in the mirror magnet on the fridge framed by a We Love Michigan border, rainbows and cute elk surrounding something less pretty. His hair is frizzy but that's nothing new, greasy at the top and dry at the bottom. He scrapes it back into a scrappy bun and wipes the oil from his face with his sleeves. He's in dire need of a shower.

Resigned, he steps out of the kitchen, new socks slippery on old linoleum before finding stability on the crush of carpet in need of a vacuuming in the living room. You look up and bless him with a smile.

You've had a bad case of the baby blues, though the midwife assured him that was normal, and not to worry unless it continued past the first few weeks.

Well, Eddie will worry. Any depression you experience breaks his heart, no matter the cause, and no matter how temporary it may be. Just 'cos a cut might heal doesn't mean it didn't hurt when you got it.

"How do you feel?" he asks cautiously.

You make a face that he knows precedes a lie. "Don't worry about me."

He sits on the arm to look down at the baby —his baby, his son— in your hold, your face moving immediately to rest on his thigh.

"I'm okay, teddy," you say.

"How about you?" he asks the baby, taking his hand gently.

The baby doesn't open his eyes nor answer the question, well and truly asleep.

"Do you think Charlie was the right name?" you ask, stroking his small face lightly.

"If we hate it, we can just call him Wayne."

Eddie's out of this world lucky that you'd liked the name and loved him enough to name the baby after his uncle. Charlie Wayne Munson, born six pounds and two ounces, the smallest baby they saw all week in Hawkins General.

"He looks more like a Wayne than a Charlie," you say, rubbing your cheek into Eddie's sweatpants.

"He's so fucking beautiful," Eddie says, getting his hand behind your shoulders. He gives your back a loving rub, up and down the whole stiff length of it. "Would you relax? Or tell me what's wrong? Please?"

"Nothing's wrong… Look how perfect he is, I'd be a freak to act like something was wrong," you say, the exhale of your words warming his leg.

Eddie rubs his hand up with a tad more roughness until the cinch between your shoulders has flattened.

"You're having a biological reaction," Eddie says, leaning down to press his lips to the top of your head. "Don't feel bad about feeling bad, sweetheart. This is a physical thing, that's all it is. You're not a freak for feeling wobbly."

You relax even more, pad of your thumb swiping Charlie's smooth cheek.

"Want me to make you feel better?" he asks.

"How?"

"I'm not sure yet. I was thinking we'd make a list. Starting with a hug, quickly followed by something amazing to eat before Wayne wakes up."

"Charlie," you correct with a small laugh.

"Is there a nickname for Charlie?" Eddie asks. "What are we gonna call him? Lee?"

"We'll think of something," you promise.

Eddie isn't worried about it. He figures there's at least five years of nickname time to get one that sticks. For now, he has a list to make and things to do, and the first is making sure you're as well as you can be. He starts with the hug, pulling what you want for dinner from you one soft kiss to your temple at a time. Chicken pot pie? Ramen noodles with a fried egg on top? Sesame chicken? Triple cheeseburgers?

You can't decide. Eddie chooses breakfast for dinner. It won't take long —he can fry the sausage, eggs, turkey bacon and toast in one pan.

He keeps the door open to watch you, though nothing is actively wrong. You're deflated now rather than tense, petting and fawning over the baby as much as you can without waking him up.

"Just as handsome as your dad," you say.

It's a lovely sentiment but Charlie does not approve. He blinks awake, signified by your saccharine, "Hi, baby boy," followed by ten seconds of awe-filled cooing. Eddie's frying some bread in the pan but dinner can wait, he wants to see the baby with his eyes open again.

By the time Eddie reaches the couch, he's crying.

You move him carefully into a rock-a-bye hold and shush him. "It's alright," you say.

"He sounds like you."

"What?" you ask between shushes, hand tapping a slow and gentle rhythm into Charlie's swaddle.

"He sounds like you when he cries," Eddie insists.

Not your pained screams a few days ago nor your heart wrenching tears when you're feeling at your worst, but your hormonal sobbing. Like when you saw the commercial about the new 'shoplifters exposed' program on CBS that featured an old lady who stole a tangerine from the grocery store and got arrested despite her having alzheimers. She didn't mean to, Eddie, why would they make her cry like that? In fairness, it was a very upsetting commercial, but you cried for four hours, and for days afterward your eyes would well with tears and he'd know exactly what you were thinking of.

"When you're on your period," he explains. "When you know you wouldn't usually cry."

"You think so?" you ask.

"I think the solution is the same, too."

You nod your agreement. "He's hungry."

You and Eddie feed the baby with varying levels of success. Charlie doesn't wanna latch even though it's a bottle teat, causing some confusion —is he not hungry? Is he cold? No, sweetheart, he's not cold, he's got two blankets and the thermostat's at 68 Fahrenheit. Maybe he needs a new diaper? You check. His diaper's clean.

You're looking more and more defeated by the second. Eddie sits beside you to give your knee a reassuring squeeze. Babies are hard to look after, but he knows you'll both grow into it. You're exhausted from nine long months and a turbulent half day stint of pushing and crying and turning the bones in his hands into powder, your hormones are going crazy, and you're having a tough time. This won't be your forever feeling (though if it were to last, Eddie would stay at your side through that, too, that's not a question).

"You know what else works when you're not feeling good?" Eddie asks, offering his arms. He isn't some muscled herculean shape, but when you hand Charlie over, his arms look strong. Capable. Holding Charlie feels just as perfect as holding you. "A Munson-style cuddle," he finishes, trying to speak to his wailing son in that same bubbly parentese you've started talking in.

Eddie did a lot of talking to your bump while you were pregnant, but he was usually just trying to make you laugh. There were times where he'd lay with his nose against your hip and his arm under the bump, wondering about moments like this. What was the baby going to look like? What colour would his eyes be? What will it feel like to hold the baby in his arms?

Charlie feels lighter than Eddie first prophesied. Small. He has eyes like yours rather than eyes like his and he couldn't love it more.

Eddie takes the bottle when you offer it and sandwiches the baby to his chest. He doesn't want to condescend you, doesn't want to shoo you off, but Charlie's crying around the bottle and you look veritably miserably.

"Do you wanna go and make sure the food isn't on the turn?" he asks. When he realised the baby wasn't going to go down easy again he put your plates on a baking sheet and put the oven on low to keep it warm.

You hesitate. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know. I think so, sweetheart. We're barely a room away, alright?"

He's called you sweetheart more since the birth of your son than ever before, which is insane; Eddie's called you sweetheart likely twice a day since the day you met. That's a whole lot of sweethearts.

With the baby's changing mood comes a change in the weather. Eddie pats his little back, a quiet thump thump thump, while rain lashes the closed windows. The baby finally decides he's hungry, and the mood turns from frenetic to ambient almost immediately.

"You make sure you eat if you're hungry!" Eddie calls to you.

"Are you sure?"

"I think…" He drifts off, distracted by Charlie's long eyelashes, the way they skim under his eyes and the tiny noises he makes as he suckles. "Aw, baby," he murmurs, "good job. I knew you were hungry. You sounded just like your mom." He can't help grinning. Eddie is really talking to his kid right now, his real life baby. "You made her super emotional, but you're her whole world now. You're mine, too, obviously, but I'm cooler than this." He sighs. "No. I'm not. This is the coolest thing ever."

"What do you think?" you ask softly.

Eddie looks up. You're standing at the door, staring at them like they're made of sparkling diamond, every inch precious.

"Right. I think that we're gonna have to start eating when we can. Wayne never had a baby, but he said I was bad enough as a teenager, and Steve said he's lucky if he gets to eat a hot meal some days."

"Steve does have three," you say, frowning. "We really can't eat together anymore?"

You ask like you're less bothered than you are. Like a gimmicky Oh, man. Eddie knows it hides a real worry, and right now he's trying to give you the world on a silver platter, so he dots a little kiss on Charlie's head and says warmly into his skin, "No, that's not true. You're going to be such a good kid, me and mom will be eating together all the time. Isn't that right?"

Eddie looks at you with his head still tilted down. "I wanna eat together, okay? Everything's changing, but dinner doesn't have to. I just wanted you to eat 'cos you left half of your waffles at breakfast."

"I can wait."

"Then let's wait. You wanna come and hold him?"

"No, he's settled. I don't wanna mess it up again."

"You didn't," Eddie says, firm and sweet at once. "Sweetheart, come here. You didn't mess up, okay? I'm serious, come and sit with me."

You hesitate in the way. You're still unsteady on your feet despite the few days you've had to recuperate. Though your hair is cleaner than his it certainly isn't clean, nor are the clothes you've pulled on. Eddie read up and asked around on what would be comfiest for you, debating nightgowns and silk pyjamas at length, but all you've wanted to wear is a hoodie you've had since you were a teenager and a pair of sweatpants with fraying cuffs. He loves it —you look like an adorable dork.

Your stomach visibly churns. Eddie thinks you might chuck up, is already pulling the baby to his chest to place in the bassinet when you take a short, quiet gasp for air.

"Sorry, I don't know why I feel so on and off. I know it's just hormones. I promise I feel happy– I feel happy–" You gesture an open palm toward him. "He's gorgeous, Eds, he's everything I wanted and so much more, I just– I just feel like crying and I don't know why," you confess, blinking to suppress tears, shifting your weight uncomfortably from foot to foot.

Eddie detests seeing you this uneasy, and he swoops in to correct it.

"Come here," he says again, no hands free to hold out to you. He hopes his voice is inviting enough.

You shrink into yourself. "I'm being weird."

"I like when you're weird. I kind of love it. I don't think we'd be in the mess if I didn't love it."

"It's a mess?" you ask.

"It's perfect."

You finally smile, creeping around the bassinet and the needlessly baby proofed coffee table to sit on the edge of the couch with him. Charlie makes a sound in the back of his throat.

"Hear that? He knows you're here," Eddie murmurs, making room for you hopefully.

You sidle up to his thigh and lean on his arm, careful not to knock his elbow. You watch Charlie drink his bottle for as long as there's milk left, two ounces knocked back like it's nothing.

Eddie eases the teat from Charlie's lips carefully. With care but a clumsy imprecise manoeuvre, he lays Charlie down in the bassinet. He has a lot of hair for such a small baby, enough to stroke back from his forehead, soft under Eddie's fingertips.

"He's really, really beautiful," Eddie says quietly.

"I know," you say, an anxious hand on your cheek. "I can't believe something as good as him could come from someone like me."

Eddie stands between your legs, resting a loving hand at the slope of your shoulder. "Why would you ever think something like that?" he asks, his voice as soft as it's ever been, but with a smile in case you don't want to talk about it any more.

"He's… I'm just not…"

Eddie gives you time. You've needed it ever since you went into labour, time to piece things together.

"I really thought I was ready," you say, looking up at him with a pinch between your eyebrows.

He brings his hand up to cup your face. You don't lean into it. "Alright, I'm going to talk for a little while, 'n' I know you won't agree with everything I'm saying but I need you to know that this is how I really feel, yeah? Buckle up." Eddie bends down, unafraid of embarrassing himself because it's you. "I know you think these feelings are your fault… that this is some failing, like you're–" He drops his voice to a whisper, "Like you're being a bad mom already, but it's not the truth."

You startle at being read so easily. "Eds," you mumble.

"We knew this might be how you felt afterward, the midwife talked and talked about baby blues and you said–"

"I said I couldn't understand how I'd ever feel sad once he was born," you say, looking at his neck rather than his face.

"And that's fine, you know? You're not a bad person for thinking it would be perfect and then changing your mind."

"But he is perfect," you say.

Eddie rubs your cheek. "He's perfect, but this is hard. Being a new mom with your stitches and your aching tummy and all the gross fluids–"

You laugh through a groan, pressing your eye into his hand.

He leaps to keep it going. "This isn't how you expected to feel, but that's okay. There's nothing to be ashamed of. Cry if you feel like crying and don't feel fucking guilty about it, this sucks. You had to do the world's most tumultuous campaign for the last nine months and suddenly you're standing at the start of a new one that takes up, like, a gazillion pages with half health and an equally useless companion."

Your lips press into a thin line, but your eyes are soft and bright despite their obvious fatigue. You bracelet his wrist with your fingers and push his hand further into your cheek.

"My dork," you murmur.

"You understand it, don't you? Makes you an even bigger dork."

You nudge your nose into his palm. "I understand. Thank you, honey."

Eddie's not done. "You said you don't know how something good like him could come from someone like you? I don't think bad was a possibility."

Your second thank you is better. The first wasn't inauthentic, but this one sounds as though you genuinely believe him. Eddie bows down into a crouch to wrap his arms around you, the majority of his weight on your shoulders and avoiding your sore lower region, and the entirety of his love pressed to your cheek, a long, mindless kiss.

"I love you," you say.

Eddie tucks his head against yours, ignoring his protesting knees. "I love you, too."

Your food turns to dry mulch by the time you remember it in the oven. You're too distracted by Eddie's hug, his offering for a shoulder massage, and the subsequent second hug that ensues, your back to his chest, dozing in the sanctuary of his arms. Munson-style cuddles are his expertise.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

thank you for reading!

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mononijikayu · 4 days

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"the good life is just ahead of us." — gojo satoru.

Why he insisted on being the one to marry you, and not someone else, was a question that plagued your thoughts. After all, he had an uncle who could have fulfilled the role just as easily. The Gojo name alone would have been enough to shield you from the Zenin clan's influence.

GENRE: post hidden - inventory arc (2010s)

WARNING/S: domesticity, fluff, angst, trauma, implied death, violence, romance, hurt/comfort, character death depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, depiction of blood, depiction of killing, depiction of suffering, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief, profanity, family drama;

LISTEN: endless love - the myth by luyifei

NOTE: feeling a little bit better, no more fever. but im still longing for satoru. thank you for still reading my works and healing with me. it's really healing to just take time and see him be the silly man he is. i love him so much, guys. so so much!!!

masterlist

u s and t h e m

THIS WAS NOT WHAT YOU WERE EXPECTING FOR YOURSELF. But you supposed here you were, a wife. The soft glow of paper lanterns illuminated the room, casting a warm, serene light over the two of you. You sat side by side, still adorned in your wedding kimonos, the delicate fabric rustling softly with each movement.

The faint scent of incense lingered in the air, a reminder of the ceremonies that had just concluded. The traditional wedding had been beautiful, a blend of solemnity and joy that now left you in a quiet, reflective mood.

You never expected to marry, not even as once an heir to the Zenin. The idea of marriage seemed distant and inconsequential, especially given your upbringing in the rigid traditions of the sorcerer clans. But fate had a way of surprising you, and you found yourself facing a future you never anticipated. And to make it even more unexpected, you were marrying someone younger than you, your kouhai, Gojo Satoru.

The age gap of just three years seemed trivial in the grand scheme of things, yet it was enough to raise eyebrows among the conservative circles of the jujutsu world. But age was just a number, and both of you were of age, mature enough to understand the implications of your union.

It wasn't a marriage born out of love, at least not in the conventional sense. Instead, it was a pragmatic decision, a calculated move to protect yourself from the suffocating grip of the Zenin clan.

As you stole a glance at Satoru, you couldn't help but marvel at the stoicism that seemed to define him. Despite his youth, there was a wisdom and resolve in his gaze that belied his years. He carried himself with a confidence and grace that commanded respect, a stark contrast to the uncertainty that gnawed at your own heart.

But Satoru was adamant, his determination unwavering. He saw something in you, something worth protecting, and he wasn't about to let you face your fate alone. His loyalty and selflessness were qualities you admire, even as you grappled with the weight of his decision. And so, with a mixture of apprehension and gratitude, you embarked on this unexpected journey, unsure of where it would lead but determined to face it together, hand in hand.

Life as a Jujutsu sorcerer was a tumultuous journey, fraught with uncertainties and dangers lurking at every turn. From the moment you embarked on this path, you knew that your existence would be defined by battles against cursed spirits, the constant threat of death looming over you like a dark shadow. In such a perilous world, thoughts of marriage seemed like distant fantasies, unattainable dreams reserved for those fortunate enough to live outside the confines of the jujutsu society.

As you navigated the treacherous waters of sorcerer life, you couldn't help but envy the love story that your parents had shared. Theirs was a romance that had transcended the boundaries of clan politics and societal expectations, a testament to the power of love in the face of adversity. But such tales of enduring love felt like distant echoes in your own reality, overshadowed by the ever-present specter of clan obligations and duty.

Over the years, you had watched as your peers found love and companionship, forging meaningful connections amidst the chaos of their lives as sorcerers. Yet for you, the prospect of marriage remained an elusive dream, a distant star shimmering on the horizon but forever out of reach. Clan politics and the weight of tradition cast a long shadow over your hopes for a happy ending, leaving you resigned to the belief that such joys were simply not meant for someone like you.

With each passing year, your hope for finding a partner dwindled, replaced by a sense of resignation and acceptance of your solitary fate. The idea of experiencing the kind of love that your parents had shared felt like an unattainable fantasy, a bittersweet reminder of what could have been but never was. And so, you resigned yourself to a life devoid of romantic love, finding solace instead in the company of your fellow sorcerers and the shared purpose that bound you together in the fight against darkness.

There was no reason to settle down, to have that sort of normal that most people do. Not even when Kaiko was alive, not even when you were your father’s heir to the Zenin. And so, you lived your life as you always have — chasing after curses and killing them. Listening to the voices in your head. Let Kaiko haunt you in your dreams. Rinse and repeat. You were alright with that. You were more than satisfied with what you have.

You’d taken a break from doing missions a year ago. You had a breakdown a year ago, when Suguru left. And you didn’t want to deal with the aftermath of it. You didn’t want to see anyone. Not even your own mother. Yet your grandfather, Zenin Naobito, had visited you one day. And your whole world started to spin. You were forced to return to the Zenin clan against your will and an ultimatum was forced.

The prospect of being wed to your uncle Naoya to secure your position as Fushiguro Megumi's guardian had been a nightmare. You had always hated him, as much as you did every member of your father’s clan. But you understood why it was Naoya. All your other uncles were already married. Jinichi was not one to take another wife after he had brutalized the other with deadly childbirths. Naoya was seen as grandfather’s heir by the clan elders. And you knew that it was only a matter of time before they sprung up a trap.

You sat in the grand hall of the Zenin estate, the tension in the air palpable. Your grandfather, Zenin Naobito, was seated across from you, his stern gaze fixed on you with the weight of his authority. The room was silent, save for the occasional rustle of the traditional paper screens and the faint sound of the wind outside. This was a meeting you had been dreading, but it was inevitable.

Naobito's eyes bore into yours as he finally spoke, his voice cold and commanding. "You know why you're here," he began, each word carefully measured. "There are matters that need to be resolved, and you are at the center of them."

You nodded, already anticipating the ultimatum that was about to be laid out before you. "I understand, Grandfather."

He leaned forward slightly, his expression hardening. "Your duty is clear. Marry Naoya and solidify our clan's future. In return, I will let you have the responsibility to take care of Toji's children.”

Your mouth felt dried. “And if I refuse?”

“If you refuse, well it is a simple matter. Jinichi will take over their guardianship. Considering Tsumiki is his daughter and Megumi is Toji's son, he has every right to them."

Your heart sank at his words. The idea of marrying your uncle Naoya was repulsive, but the thought of losing Megumi and Tsumiki to Jinichi's care was unbearable. He was brutal. Children had no need to be around such a man like him.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "And if I agree to marry Naoya, I will be allowed to take care of Megumi and Tsumiki?"

Naobito nodded curtly. "Yes, that is the arrangement. Fulfill your duty, and the children will be yours to care for. Refuse, and you will have no say in their upbringing."

You clenched your fists, struggling to keep your emotions in check. "Grandfather, Naoya is not a suitable match for me. He is—"

"Megumi Fushiguro is the future of this clan, but he needs guidance." Naobito interrupted sharply. "Naoya will be his mentor. You will marry him and fulfill your role. This is not a matter of personal preference, but of duty and honor."

You looked down, feeling the weight of his expectations pressing down on you. "But what about the children? Naoya may be their biological relative, but he does not care for them. He sees them as nothing more than tools for the clan's power."

Naobito's eyes narrowed. "That is not your concern. Naoya will raise them according to the clan's traditions. Your concern should be with your duty to this family and help him in doing that duty."

You felt a surge of anger and frustration. "My duty is also to those children. They deserve a loving home, not to be treated as pawns in a power struggle."

Naobito's expression softened, but only slightly. "You have always been headstrong. As much as your father. But understand this: the clan's future depends on this marriage. Sacrifices must be made for the greater good."

You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. "And what about my happiness? What about the children's happiness?"

He sighed, as if the question was a nuisance. "Happiness is a luxury we cannot afford. This is the way of the Zenin clan. You were born into this family, and with that comes responsibility."

You looked into your grandfather's eyes, searching for any sign of empathy or understanding. There was none. Only cold, unyielding resolve.

"Grandfather," you said quietly, "I cannot marry Naoya. I will not subject myself or the children to a life of misery."

Naobito's eyes flashed with anger. "You dare defy me?"

You straightened your back, meeting his gaze with determination. "I will do whatever it takes to protect Megumi and Tsumiki. Even if it means defying you."

For a moment, the room was silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Then Naobito spoke, his voice low and dangerous. "You will regret this decision. You are turning your back on your family, on your duty. And the consequences will be severe."

You stood up, your resolve unwavering. "I accept whatever consequences come my way. But I will not let those children suffer because of the Zenin clan's ambition."

And for that you were imprisoned, a room which was made to restrict your power. You consistently refused, no matter what brutalizing, backhanded thing they do to you. You even refused to eat, refused to drink. You refused everything — if they weren’t going to be fair to you and just let you care for Toji’s children.

It was then that Gojo Satoru had intervened and did what he did best—forcing the higher-ups' hands and rescuing you from a fate you dreaded. Satoru's intervention was nothing short of a masterstroke, a bold and daring move that sent shockwaves through the higher echelons of the jujutsu world.

It was after all within the Zenin’s rights to do as they pleased with one of their own. A Gojo intervening in the matter of another clan was downright disrespectful. A harmful prospect at that — which sets precedence.

But he could hardly give a chance to care. With his unparalleled charisma and influence, he wielded his power like a weapon, manipulating the strings of fate to orchestrate your liberation from the clutches of Zenin Manor.

His actions were swift and decisive, catching even the most astute observers off guard. With a calculated precision, he leveraged his connections and resources to launch a daring rescue mission, breaching the formidable defenses of Zenin Manor with ease.

For Satoru, there was no obstacle too great, no challenge too daunting. He moved with a sense of purpose and determination, fueled by his unwavering commitment to your well-being.

With each step he took, he drew closer to his goal, his resolve unyielding in the face of adversity.And when he finally emerged victorious, cradling you in his arms as he carried you to safety, it was a moment of triumph unlike any other. The weight of your freedom hung heavy in the air.

When he finally laid eyes on you after a year apart, locked inside the oppressive confines of Zenin Manor, his heart shattered at the sight before him. He looked towards Zenin Naobito. He had never been more furious with the old geezer than he was at that moment. He knew that the Zenin were cruel, but to do this to you? He was just too angry. Too angry to control himself.

You, once vibrant and full of life, were now a mere shadow of your former self, your spirit broken and your body bearing the scars of untold suffering. The time in captivity had taken their toll, leaving you gaunt and hollow-eyed, a mere shell of the person he remembered.

For Satoru, seeing you in such a sorry state was a gut-wrenching experience. His heart ached with a pain he had never known as he took in the sight of you, imprisoned within the walls of Zenin Manor, your once-bright eyes now dulled with resignation.

With a surge of raw emotion coursing through him, Satoru's cursed energy went haywire, crackling and sparking with unrestrained fury. In that moment, all he could think of was freeing you from this prison, tearing down the walls that held you captive and whisking you away to safety.

Without a second thought, he gathered you into his arms, his embrace a lifeline in the suffocating darkness of Zenin Manor. His heart pounded with a fierce determination as he vowed to protect you, to shield you from any further harm.

In that moment, as he held you close, Satoru knew that he would stop at nothing to ensure your safety and well-being. For you were not just his senpai, but the person, besides Suguru, that cared about him most. And as he carried you out of Zenin Manor — all he could do was stare at you. Hoping your lilac eyes would meet his.

There was little chance he would let you return there. Not ever in his life would he let you set foot in Zenin manor again. He had taken you to your maternal home, Mikoto manor. Your aunt Arisu was there to welcome you, her face contorted to a mixture of relief and worry. She had ordered servants to call for healers.

Satoru whispered things to you as you lay there in his arms. But you were too weak to register everything. The stress and exhaustion had taken their toll, and it had taken a few days for you to get some rest, to gather your strength. The dark shadows under your eyes had slowly begun to fade, and the tight knot of anxiety in your chest had started to loosen.

When you finally awoke from the haze of exhaustion, the first sight that greeted you was Satoru, sitting by your bedside. His usual playful demeanor was replaced by an expression of deep concern, his cerulean eyes full of layers of worry and tenderness.

"You’re awake," he said softly, his voice a soothing balm to your weary soul. He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "How do you feel?"

You blinked, still disoriented, but the warmth in his gaze anchored you."Satoru? What?....”

“Shhhh, how are you feeling?”

“I feel... better.” You whisper to him. “It seems….you got me out of Zenin manor. Thank you."

He let out a breath he seemed to have been holding, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Good. You made us all worried."

You tried to sit up, but he gently pressed you back down. "Easy. You need to rest."

"I know," you said, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. "But I feel like I've slept for days."

"You have," Satoru replied, his smile widening a bit. "But you needed it. You’ve been through a lot."

You looked into his eyes, seeing the depth of his concern. "Thank you, Satoru. For everything. I don't know what I would have done without you."

His expression softened, and he took your hand in his, squeezing it gently. "You don’t have to thank me. I’d do anything for you."

For a moment, you were silent, just soaking in his presence. The warmth of his hand, the steady reassurance in his eyes. It was a stark contrast to the cold, calculating environment of the Zenin estate.

“How is—”

“I found them.” Satoru says to you, as though trying to reassure you. “They’re okay. Don’t worry about it.”

Your eyes reflected in relief. “Oh.”

“Yeah, made sure to hide them in a safe house, y’know?” He smiles at you. “Don’t worry too much, Genmei–senpai.”

You hadn’t heard him call you senpai in a while. You haven’t seen him in a while either. But the sound was refreshing. To hear him talk to you a little with relief. When he called you senpai then, it was because he wanted to play with you. Gojo Satoru was quite a brat. Granted, he’s still bashful about it. Still, you were surprised he was using it more respectfully. You sighed, letting your body release the tension.

"I was so scared," you admitted quietly. "I thought... I thought I was going to lose Megumi and Tsumiki. I thought I was going to lose everything there."

Satoru’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, his eyes blazing with determination. "You won’t lose them, senpai. I won’t let that happen. I’ll protect you. We’ll protect them together."

You nodded, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. "Together."

Just then, the door to your room creaked open, and your aunt Arisu peeked in, a relieved smile on her face. "Oh, you’re awake! How are you feeling, dear?"

You smiled back at her. "Much better, Aunt Arisu. Thank you for taking care of me."

She walked in, her steps light and graceful. "Nonsense, darling. It’s what family is for. Your mother is on her way, and she’s been worried sick about you."

You nodded, feeling a pang of guilt for causing your family so much worry. "I know. I’m sorry."

Arisu shook her head, coming to sit on the other side of your bed. "Don’t apologize. You did what you had to do. And now, you’re safe."

You glanced at Satoru, who gave you a reassuring nod. "Yes," you agreed. "Now I’m safe."

From then on, you just let yourself have time to recover from what you endured in Zenin manor. Satoru would be on his regular missions every other day, but he would make time to see you. He brings new sweets he finds and likes at times. You didn’t like sweets. But the more he brought to you, the more you felt in tune with him in liking them. Sometimes he and you would just take a stroll around the manor gardens, losing your minds to the mundane sound of birds chirping.

As he and Suguru used to do, he’d rest his head on your lap and just take some much needed rest he couldn’t. He’s too overstimulated most days, you know that much. He was always using his powers around everyone and everything.

Here with you, he seems to find some peace. Some relief. There was no need for Infinity around you. There was no need to be around walls between you. He could just be himself around you. And you wouldn’t judge him.

There was a day you couldn’t get out of bed. The pain on your lower back was too much. Jinichi was too rough with his brute force when you were back in Zenin manor. And so you just stayed in your room, gathering your strength.Satoru kept you company, with some conversation and for a while, that had led you to ignore the pain.

Your mother had finally arrived, her face etched with worry but also relief at seeing you safe. Aunt Arisu hovered nearby, her usual grace and composure a comforting presence. You both looked at your mother and aunt. Satoru looked at you as your face contorted with concern. You could tell that if it was the two of them, it was unbearable news. His hand still holding yours, his cerulean eyes filled with unwavering resolve to protect you.

"Now that we’re all here," Aunt Arisu began, her tone gentle but firm, "we need to discuss the next steps.”

“For what?” Your face contorted into confusion.

“We can’t let you go back to the Zenin clan, and we need to find a way to secure Megumi and Tsumiki’s guardianship."

Your mother nodded, her eyes reflecting the same determination. "Arisu is right. We need a permanent solution, one that will protect you and the children."

“Yes, I know.” You retorted back. “That’s why we’re thinking about what to do.”

“We already have a solution to suggest.” Your mother whispers, looking at you softly.

You looked between them, confusion and apprehension swirling in your mind. "What do you mean?"

Arisu exchanged a glance with your mother and then with Satoru. "We think you should get married."

Your heart skipped a beat. "Married?"

"Yes," your mother continued. "To Satoru. It would remove your status as a Zenin and give you a new standing. With Satoru’s influence, he could pressure the higher-ups to let you take guardianship of Megumi and Tsumiki. You’re their aunt, and Satoru would be their uncle by marriage. It would make things much easier."

You felt a wave of apprehension wash over you. "But… I’m three years older than Satoru. I don’t want to force him into this. It’s not fair to him."

Satoru’s grip on your hand suddenly tightened, and he leaned closer, his bright blue eyes locking onto your lilac orbs with an intensity that took your breath away. "It’s fine," he said softly but firmly. "I want to do this. Not just to protect you, but because I care about you. This isn’t just a duty for me."

You searched his eyes, seeing the sincerity and determination in them. "Satoru, you don’t have to do this. You don’t have to tie yourself to me just because of this situation."

He chuckled, a soft, genuine sound that made your heart swell. "You think this is just about duty? I’ve wanted to protect you for so long, senpai. Before all this happened. I care about you…..so. I don’t think this would be an issue, senpai.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you listened to his words. "But… are you sure? This is a big decision."

"I’m sure," Satoru said, his voice steady. "I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I want to marry you, and I want to protect Megumi and Tsumiki. We can do this together."

Your mother and Aunt Arisu watched the exchange with hopeful expressions. "It’s the best solution," your mother said gently. "And it’s clear that you two care deeply for each other."

“You don’t have to love each other now.” Arisu says to both of you, smiling. “But well….that grows with time. It’s enough to care now.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the decision settling over you. But as you looked into Satoru’s eyes, you felt a sense of peace and certainty. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” He says to you, his smile ever so tender.

"Alright," you said softly. "Let’s do it. Let’s get married."

Aunt Arisu smiled, her eyes shining with approval. "Good. We’ll make the arrangements. It will be a small ceremony, just family. You only need witnesses, after all.”

Satoru squeezed your hand, his eyes reflecting his relief and happiness. "Thank you," he whispered. "For trusting me."

You smiled back at him, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "Thank you, Satoru. For everything."

Satoru broke the silence first, his voice soft but laced with his usual confidence. "So, what do you think? Not exactly the wedding you imagined, huh?"

You glanced at him, a small smile playing on your lips. "It's not the wedding I imagined, no. Well….I didn’t expect one. But it's for a good thing. Thank you, Satoru, for everything."

He reached out, taking your hand in his. The simple gesture was grounding, a reminder of the bond that had brought you to this moment. "I couldn't let them force you into that marriage. With Naoya? Not a chance, senpai! You deserve better than that."

"Hm...all for the best. For Tsumiki and Megumi too."

He grinned. "Exactly! Tsumiki and Megumi deserve a guardian who genuinely cares about them, y’know? Not someone using ‘em for power."

You nodded, feeling a surge of gratitude and affection for the man beside you. "I never expected to marry at all, let alone under these circumstances. But I'm glad it's you. I know we'll make this work, no matter what."

Satoru's cerulean eyes softened as he looked at you, his thumb brushing gently over the back of your hand. "We'll figure it out together. This marriage, it's not just about duty or obligation. It's about us, and what we want for our future."

A silence settled between you, comfortable and filled with unspoken promises. The magnitude of what lay ahead was daunting, but with Satoru by your side, it felt manageable.

“You know you don’t have to call me senpai anymore, right?”

He blinks at you. “But aren’t you still my senpai?”

“....I am your wife now, aren’t I?” You felt your ears turn red at those words. You look at him shyly. “You…you can call me Genmei. Or….or whatever you prefer.”

“Then, I’lll just call you wife!”

“S-satoru—”

"So… wife!" Satoru said after a moment, a mischievous glint in his eyes against his dark glasses. "What do you think this marriage is going to be like? Any rules you want to set right away?"

You felt yourself turn redder than before. "You want to go with that right away?"

He grinned, leaning in closer. "Absolutely. We need to set the ground rules. Like, I get the right side of the bed, and you’re responsible for all the snacks during movie nights."

You looked at him stupefied but then you laughed softly, the sound breaking the tension and filling the room with warmth.

You raised an eyebrow, trying to hide your smile. "Oh, really? Well, in that case, I get control of the remote, and you’re on dish duty for the rest of the year."

Satoru feigned shock, clutching his chest dramatically. "Harsh! But fair. Deal. And one more thing – you have to kiss me goodnight every single night."

Your mouth opened agape as you shook your head, blushing. "Absolutely not!"

"Eh! Why not? Are my lips not kissable?"

"T-that's not what—"

"I'm a good kisser, y'know! You'll waste my talents if you deny me."

"You drive a hard bargain, Gojo Satoru." You grumbled at him. "....Only in the cheek."

"But I want it to be on my lips!"

"Well that's not what I want!"

Satoru sighed dramatically. "But I want more than that."

"Well too bad, that's all you're getting from me."

He smirked, winking at you. "Well, you can't blame a husband for trying. You'll say yes one day!"

"You wish." You grumbled.

"Anything else?" His dark rimmes glasses lowered as he leaned close to you. "Anything my sugars wants?"

"S-sugars.....Satoru, really?"

"Hey, its either that or wife."

"Oh whatever." You gave into him. You looked at him. "What do you expect from the marriage?"

He looked back at you. "Well, what do you expect from me?"

You shake your head at him. “I just…..there should be no rules. Let's be honest with each other. And let's take things one day at a time.”

“I agree,” He nodded at you. “There’s still so much more I have to know about you, y’know?”

“I’ll tell you everything you wanna know.”

“Same here.” He grins at you. “Just ask first, ‘kay? So I’ll know what to say.”

“And if you wanna see other women, I’m fine with that—”

He suddenly frowns at your words. He looked almost like a child about to throw a tantrum. “Why would I wanna see other women? I’m married to you! I said my vows and everything!”

“It’s not like we’re in love, Satoru!” You rubbed the small of your neck, feeling your face warm at his words. You purse your lips at him.

Satoru leaned back, a playful smirk still dancing on his lips. "Yet," he said with a wink. "Who knows? We might just surprise ourselves."

You hit his hand lightly, turning away as you grew into scarlet. “You’re unbearable.”

“Well, I am an optimist. One man can dream, y’know?”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn't suppress a small smile. "Always the optimist, huh?"

"Of course," he replied, his tone shifting to something more sincere. "Besides, love or not, we're a team now. And I'll do whatever it takes to protect you and the kids."

Your heart softened at his words, and you felt a rush of gratitude and affection for him. "Thank you, Satoru. I just... I don't want you to feel trapped."

He reached out, gently cupping your cheek. "Hey, if anyone's going to be trapped, I couldn't think of anyone better to be stuck with. Besides, this isn't just about duty. It's about making sure you, Megumi, and Tsumiki are safe and happy. And if that means playing house and pretending to be a perfect husband, well, I'm up for the challenge."

You laughed, feeling the tension ease from your shoulders. "Alright then, husband. Let's see if you can live up to that title."

Satoru grinned, leaning in to press a light kiss to your forehead. "Challenge accepted, wife. Now, about those snacks..."

You shake your head at him.

But a smile echoes on your lips.

You were stuck with this man for life.

But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

The good life is just ahead of you both.

epilogue

Years later, the house was filled with the sounds of laughter and chatter as you, Satoru, Megumi, and Tsumiki tackled the task of spring cleaning. It was a rare day when all of you were together, now that Satoru rarely has days off. So, on his rare day off, he was happy to clean with you guys.

So far, you can say that the atmosphere was light and joyful. Today’s task for you to clean was the attic. You were tasked with rummaging through old boxes, so you do — but that’s when Tsumiki stumbled upon an old photo album.

"Hey, what's this?" Tsumiki asked, pulling the dusty album from a box labeled "Memories."

Satoru's cerulean eyes lit up as he recognized it. "Oh, that's our wedding album! We haven't looked at that in ages."

With curiosity piqued, everyone gathered around as Tsumiki opened the album with genuine care. The first photo was a beautiful, traditional shot of you and Satoru in your wedding kimonos. You looked serene and elegant, while Satoru wore a proud grin. You were relatively tall, but Satoru was just even taller. And bigger, even when he looked that slim.

"Aww, you both look so lovely!" Tsumiki swooned, her eyes sparkling.

Megumi, on the other hand, looked mildly horrified. "Do we have to do this?"

Ignoring Megumi’s grumbling, Tsumiki flipped to the next page. The following photos were less formal: Satoru making silly faces during the ceremony, you playfully swatting him with your fan, and the two of you attempting to feed each other cake, which resulted in frosting smearing across Satoru's face.

Tsumiki burst into laughter. "Oh my gosh, Satoru-san, you look ridiculous!"

Satoru chuckled, unabashed. "What can I say? I like to keep things interesting."

Megumi cringed as he saw a photo of Satoru posing dramatically with a bouquet, striking a superhero pose. "This is so embarrassing," he muttered, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

Tsumiki, flipping through the album, came across a photo of Satoru mid-dance, his kimono flaring out around him, and you were laughing so hard you were bent over. "This one is my favorite," she declared. "You both look so happy."

"That was a fun moment," you reminisced, leaning into Satoru. "We were trying to do a traditional dance, but Satoru kept improvising."

"Improvising?" Satoru protested playfully. "I was enhancing the dance!"

Megumi rolled his eyes. "I can’t believe we’re related to you."

"Oh, come on, Megumi," Satoru said, ruffling the boy's hair. "You know you love me."

Megumi sighed but didn’t move away. "Yeah, yeah, whatever."

As you continued flipping through the album, the laughter and stories flowed, filling the room with warmth. It was a reminder of how far you had all come as a family, through the challenges and the joys. Even in the midst of your duties as jujutsu sorcerers, moments like these were precious.

In the end, it wasn’t just the silly wedding photos that made the day special. It was the shared memories, the love and support that bound you all together. And as you closed the album and set it aside, you knew that whatever the future held, you would face it together—just as you always had.

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kirain · 29 days

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I saw a comment of yours about Ascended Astarion and I just wanted to say him sacrificing 7000 bloodthirsty vampires that can't control their bloodlust isn't a bad thing. If anything it's a mercy killing. People enjoy Ascended Astarion because it's cathartic for a lot of people who've suffered similar abuse. You lack empathy.

I think you may have the wrong person, because I've never commented on ascended Astarion. The only time I've come relatively close was when I discussed Neil Newbon's stance on him in the comments of a viral post, where a Tumblr user got mad at him for saying, "Meh. He's not for me." And even then, I made it abundantly clear that I don't have a problem with people who enjoy ascended Astarion. I was more so defending Neil for having a preference, which he's allowed to have. Is that what you're talking about? Because I haven't discussed ascended Astarion anywhere else. 😅

As for your comment ... what? First of all, an unconsensual sacrifice isn't a mercy killing, it's murder. They didn't want to die. Those innocent people—and yes, they are innocent; Cazador captured and enslaved them—don't simply die. As per the infernal contract, they go to hell. Specifically to Mephistopheles, the second most powerful and cruel archdevil in the hells. They will suffer for all eternity. That's not merciful. Personally, I'd rather be an undead spawn who has to drink rat blood every now and then.

Second, if you feel that way about all those spawn, then you should keep the same energy for Astarion, because he's the same as them. The only difference is they haven't had a chance to live in the real world or learn to control their hunger. Now, I do agree setting thousands of spawn loose on the Sword Coast is a lot, and potentially dangerous for the living, but the Gur will keep an eye on them, as is their oath. If you let them go, you give them a choice. They're still slaves to their hunger, and they likely always will be, but they get to choose how to satisfy it. If they truly can't resist harming others, then the Gur (and paladins) will surely kill them; which sounds horrible, but at least they'll be spared a gruesome afterlife.

Cazador took their choice away, as he did with Astarion. If they deserve to die, if they don't deserve a chance to prove they can live peacefully in Faerûn, then the same goes for Astarion. That's part of what makes his ascension so hypocritical. He's no better than Cazador, in the sense that he takes their agency away and uses them for the exact same purpose. Those spawn even could've been Astarion. He just so happened to be the "lucky" one who had a parasite crawl into his head. He's special to the player because we know him, but he could've been any of his siblings. He is all 7,006 of those spawn.

I will admit I didn't ascend Astarion, as I personally think it's the worst path for him, but you have it backwards. I didn't deny him ascension because I lack empathy. I denied him ascension because all I have is empathy, and that extends to characters who aren't the main focus of the game. You do what makes you happy, but I don't think becoming the worst version of yourself is healing, and I care about Astarion (and the people around him) too much to watch him continue the cycle. Sebastian, Dalyria, Chessa, all the others trapped in the cages—they have names and they're victims, too. For me, the most cathartic moment of Astarion's quest was when he realised it and set them free.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #ascended astarion #neil newbon #tav #cazador szarr

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acourtofthought · 4 months

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I haven't seen this particular gem of a post but there is apparently one going around stating that everyone in the ACOTAR world has suffered more than Lucien, that he doesn't know suffering.

Just a little starter here. The first book began with Lucien's friend being murdered because they needed to sacrifice him in order to break the curse on Spring.

"Autumn Court is ...cutthroat. Beautiful, but his brothers see each other only as competition, since the strongest of them will inherit the title."

"Lucien fell in love with a faerie whom his father considered to be grossly inappropriate for someone of his bloodline." "His father had her put down. Executed, in front of Lucien, as his two eldest brothers held him and made him watch."

"Without his title protecting him, his brothers thought to eliminate one more contender to the High Lord's crown. Three of them went out to kill him."

"But he has never forgotten what they did to her, or what his brothers tried to do to him. Even if he pretends that he has."

"She took his eye as punishment. Carved it out with her own fingernail, then scarred his face. She sent him back so bloody that Tamlin...The High Lord vomited when he saw his friend."

Lucien's brothers lurked on the edges of the crowd - no remorse, no fear on their handsome faces. Amarantha sighed. "I thought you would have learned your lesson, Lucien. Though this time your silence will damn you as much as your tongue." Lucien kept his eyes shut. Ready - he was ready for Rhysand to wipe out everything he was, to turn his mind, his self into dust.

"but only after she made Tamlin bestow Lucien's punishment. Twenty lashes." (remember, because he tried to help Feyre in her trial? Also she prevented Lucien from being able to heal).

"Lucien lay chained to the center of the floor on the other side of the chamber, his remaining russet eye so wide that it was surrounded with white. / Again he was to be Amarantha's toy to torment."

"Don't give me that look, Lucien." SIlence again. Then a vicious snarl, and a shudder of magic rocked the house. Tamlin's voice had been low, deadly. Do not push me on this. I didn't want to know what was happening in that room, what he'd done to Lucien.

Thoughts slammed into me, images and memories, a pattern of thinking and feeling that was old, and clever and sad, endlessly sad and guilt-ridden, hopeless -

"She - she didn't act that way at..." Lucien. Lucien had hated her. Had made vague, vicious allusions to not liking her, to being approached by her. I was going to throw up. Had she...had she pursued him like that? Had he...had he been forced to say yes because of her position?

He might have completed the Great Rite with Ianthe of his own free will, but he certainly hadn't enjoyed it. Some line had been blurred - badly.

I waited the five minutes it took Tamlin to decide not to kill Lucien, and then smiled. I wondered if Lucien had pieced it together. That I had known Tamlin would come to my room tonight, after I had given him so many shy touches and glances today.

"Back off". "Do not touch me," he growled." Where Lucien stood, back against a tree - twin bands of blue stone shackled around his wrists. / And in this case...holding Lucien against that tree as Ianthe surveyed him like a snake before a meal. She slid a hand over the broad panes of his chest, his stomach. And Lucien's eyes shot to me as I stepped between the trees, fear and humiliation reddening his golden skin.

As the youngest of seven sons, I wasn't particularly needed or wanted."

"Did you think it was mere hatred that prompted my brothers to do their best to break and kill me?"

The circle of people who now claimed to be Feyre's new family...It was what, long ago, he'd once thought life at Tamlin's court would be. An ache like a blow to the chest went through him.

"I am Lucien. Seventh son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court. And a whole lot of nothing.

"I do not belong in the Autumn Court. And I'm willing to be I'm no longer welcome at h- the Spring Court." Home, he had almost said.

"The same things he does now." Helion waved a hand. "Belittle her, leave bruises where no one but him will see them." (So to recap, Beron physically and verbally abuses his WIFE, killed Lucien's love and people think he had an easy childhood with this man?)

It would explain why his father and brothers detest him so much - why they have tormented him his entire life.

I hadn't asked Lucien any questions about that visit - to Tamlin. Lucien hadn't explained the black eye and cut lip, either.

"I don't have anywhere else to go." "You ruined any chances I have of going back to Spring. Not to Tamlin, but to the court beyond his house. Everyone either still believes the lies you spun or they believe me complicit in your deceit" - Side note but even knowing this, about how the people feel about him because of Feyre's schemes, Lucien still allowed the NC to permanently station him there in SF. It's really cute of E/riels to think Az is having such a rough go of it, living in the Night Court with the brothers who love him, while Lucien just has it so easy, right?

The male had grown up alongside Eris. Had dealt with Eris's and Beron's cruelty. Had his lover slaughtered by his own father.

This paragraph is about Eris: Beron had tortured his own son for information, rather than thanking the Mother for returning him. / The male had been raised with every luxury and privilege - on paper. But who knew what terrors Beron had inflicted upon him?

So with that said, If that's how Beron treated his own son how do you think he treated the son he suspected belonged to another man?

Cassian knew Beron had murdered Lucien's lover. If the High Lord of Autumn had been willing to do that, what wouldn't he do?

So by all means, I'd love to know how a character who we have canon evidence of suffering from his younger years all the way through the present has it so much easier than everyone else?

Someone's selective reading is showing!!

#elucien #pro elucien #lucien vanserra #anti e/riel #pro lucien vanserra #lucien and elain #acotar series #character deep dive #lucien supremacy #lucien spell cleaver

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emmitaaa4 · 4 months

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Addressing some fandom BS inconsistencies

Gwyn was shadow mommy, Az was shadow daddy, they were gonna have shadow babies with her extra super pliable bones.

I audibly chocked when I read this @nikethestatue (btw everything said in this post was on point). No but seriously this is how they sound, too many of them insisting that there is nothing wrong with basing the likelihood of a ship on who has the more suitable uterus to be with a man... cause supposedly they're just picking up on the hints SJM wrote for them? She likes babies for HEAs so ofc children are the end all be all of a relationship, plus there's absolutely no way that she could ever write an adoption plot SJM is literally adopted and has done it in other series. Selective reading strikes again.

A minimum amount of critical thinking would tell you that 1) the infamous *magical uterus change* scene was about nessian (& feysand), not about any ship; 2) if SJM had written Nesta changing Elain's uterus, it would have given too much away, not to mention 3) how disturbing/violating it would have been for Nesta to change her sister's reproductive anatomy WITHOUT HER CONSENT?! None of it makes sense narratively; my girl Nes would never, especially given the trauma they both suffered from having their bodily autonomy--and so much more--ripped away by the Cauldron.

This argument is so trivialized that I see it every other day on reddit/tiktok/*insert media app*, and yet elriels are the toxic side of the fandom? The ones whom people are allowed to insult, to ridicule for theories all made in good fun, the women that are villainized over a difference of opinion? Don't get me wrong, there's assholes on both sides and people keep calling one another variations of delulu (and the nastier personal attacks). But by painting this fandom-wide villain there is such a lack of accountability for the plethora of harmful talking points spread by other portions of the fandom. (I've been silently reading the anti-elain & anti-elriel tags for like a year, and I'm on tiktok. Yes, I have self-destructive tendencies).

Anyways.

I never understood either how people ever actually thought (or well still think) that gwynriel would happen BEFORE elucien?? It makes no sense logically, narratively, or in terms of characterization & the arc she's set up for Elain, Azriel, and Lucien. Yet it took one controversial bonus chapter for people to decenter Elain in her own story, that is make her choice of romantic partner--which SJM spent 3+ books setting up--Azriel's. It took one bonus chapter that soo many readers are still unaware of, to brush Elain off as a "sexual object" Az is using to distract himself until his therapist-extraordinaire Gwyn comes in and heals him all up. Because ofc she will: she's badass and not the "passive and weak and boring" Eplain (aka "Plant" or "brain dead gardener"), she fits the YA archetype of the spunky warrior-girl so she can handle his darkness, and SJM supposedly spent time fleshing her out because she wrote her as a LI for Azriel; she's made for him, she is what he needs to grow (I actually enjoyed Gwyn's character btw, just pointing out how silly it all sounds). “Next book is a love triangle between Elain/Az/Gwyn” “Elain will turn evil or is secretly evil”. So you're telling me that SJM would pit Elain & Gwyn against each other in a love triangle over a man... all because of a necklace that was not even mentioned once in the actual books? Please, let's be logical for a second.

All this because instead of reading the bonus chapter in the context of the books, some people are reading the books in the context of the bonus chapter. Which now that I think of it is probably why so many people mischaracterize Az the way they do--because yes we know enough of his character to know half of the stuff the fandom diagnoses him with is questionable. Azriel? Entitled incel x fuckboy hybrid (gotta be the first of his kind, minute slay ig)? Interesting tell me more. No joke I saw a semi-popular post on here where a gwynriel said they read the bonus WITHOUT HAVING READ ANY OF THE BOOKS. I'm sorry, ship wars are silly and believe it or not idc who ppl ship, but it makes it hard to take some of the things they say seriously.

All this to say that the fandom isn't even debating the right thing. If you consider everything SJM has said in her interviews:

(she's been planting seeds for Nesta & Elain's book since acomaf; she knows who she is writing the first 2 books about + is keeping things open for the 3rd one--with 5 different ship options--which automatically rules out "Elain will close the series"; she said she's doing research for Elain's book in the ACOFAS bonus & there's seeds for future bookS in acofas; all she said recently about her beloved *heroines* and the themes of fate/true love/choice she finds *very* interesting & wants to discuss)

and if you also consider all she's written in the actual books (elain's characterization + the overarching plot in general & how she fits into it), then it's pretty evident that Elain's book is next.

The question then would be who is the MMC / 2nd PoV in her book, aka would acotar 5 be an elucien or an elriel story? Because logically, gwynriel was always a consequence of elucien. I honestly do not understand how people don't see that.

Oh and they always think they're gagging elriels with the "obviously Azriel is the next MC" as if elriels aren't saying the same thing? And we're the ones twisting info and not making sense. It's just funny at this point.

---sidenote: I realize that this post generalizes some things, and I just wanted to say that I have interacted with lovely eluciens / people on either side of this headache of a ship war. My hard limit is Elain haters though... back off I say 🤺 BACK OFF 🤺

---sidenote 2: I would have written this as a reblog except im not entirely sure how tumblr works and I get no visibility from them rip.

#please be so for real rn #elain archeron #anti gwynriel #anti nonsense #acotar 5 #elriel #pro elriel #pro elain #pro azriel #sjm interview #azriel bonus chapter #nesta archeron #elucien

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happyflux · 4 months

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Saw a really long post today where someone was talking about D&D vampire lore, compiling what different sources say about it (including the Baldur's Gate games) and, y'know, for the most part it was a good post, it's a useful and good quick reference on what the different sources have said about vampires.

(readmore because this turned out long oops)

But then at the end, and in an addition to the post replying to a tag someone had put, the post began talking about applying all this lore to BG3 specifically, and it made me think. Because the takeaway that post had seemed to be that the things about vampire lore which are consistent to the rest of D&D do apply to BG3 as well, and that Astarion is simply an exception due to his extremely strong willpower and sense of self. And that just doesn't seem right to me at all. It feels like missing the point.

BG3 did some very specific, very interesting things with the lore of D&D. In terms of vampires, yes, but also more generally, BG3 pretty consistently gives the message that the things that are said in the rulebooks are not necessarily true, but are oversimplifications and generalizations that are believed to be true in universe.

BG3 got rid of racial ability scores, giving every race the same "choose a +2 and a +1" that variant humans can have in D&D. BG3 not only got rid of racial alignments, but got rid of alignments entirely - there is no detect evil and good, protection against evil and good has been replaced with a spell that mechanically protects against outsiders of various kinds, there is no alignment selection for player characters, no alignment showing up on inspection despite pretty much entire stat blocks being visible, and the companion characters all have complex morality that doesn't fit neatly into any alignment box. BG3 establishes and many times repeats that Volo, the in-universe author of a lot of the texts we have access to about Faerûn, is an incredibly unreliable source. BG3 has Halsin, a large-built and hairy elf (something which the rulebooks claim is impossible as elves are slender and graceful and have no body hair), say that "sometimes I think conventional wisdom is too narrow about what someone can or cannot be".

On the topic of vampirism specifically, BG3 has Jaheira (who is established to be wise and knowledgeable due to being an experienced and well travelled adventurer) say "They say that the only thing a vampire can feel is hunger. Nothing else touches them - not grief, or mercy. Or any sense of what is just. Who knows. There is often more ignorance than insight in what 'they' say", in response to Astarion remaining a spawn. And, on an Astarion origin run, it is established that at least half of his siblings can be convinced to want to oppose Cazador (it's just that non-origin Astarion chooses to antagonize them instead), and they can be persuaded not to feed off of people, and even without Astarion suggesting it Dalyria will take the initiative to help and take care of the other spawn. And, and this I think is crucial, every vampire we see in BG3 aside from possibly Vellioth is established to have been through circumstances which could easily twist someone and turn them horrible, no magical twisting of emotions or inherent existential evil required.

To play Baldur's Gate 3 and take away from it that the things which D&D lore has previously said about vampires apply to this game, and that Astarion is just somehow Special because of his Extremely Strong Willpower and Sense of Self feels like completely missing the point. Vampires in BG3 are evil because they're stuck in a cycle of violence and suffering and aren't able to escape, and when they are given an escape from that cycle they are able to heal and recover and be more than what they were made. Astarion does not have exceptional willpower, Astarion got lucky. He got out, he made some connections, he got a chance to heal and unlearn the things he'd been taught before being thrust back into Cazador's presence, and that's why he's able to break the cycle. Or, alternately, if the people he finds when he gets out don't push him to unlearn the things Cazador taught him and instead reinforce those beliefs, he becomes just like him. Again, no magical twisting of emotions required.

#bg3 #astarion #sorry about the long post lol #also don't take this too seriously. i don't think interpreting a story differently than me is problematic or anything #it just annoys me when people are wrong about my blorbo on the internet (read: when people interpret the story differently from me)#hence why i made my own post instead of commenting on the one that i reference

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nahoney22 · 11 months

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Holding On (Part 2/2)

Hunter X F!Reader

Weeks after your rescue, things seem to be looking up for you. Though Hunters feelings remain the same, how can he express how he truly feels?

warnings: hurt/comfort trope, reader suffers from nightmares, panic attacks, mentions of needles and injections. Very emotional reader. Lots of comfort. Mutual pining. First kiss. Female reader.

Authors note: I completely forgot I was to do a part 2 to this. Sorry for the wait. Queued Post.

Part One | Part Two

You awaken to the gentle hum of the ship, blinking away the sleep from your eyes. As your vision clears, you notice Echo sitting across the room, head slightly bowed, soft snores escaping his lips. A warm smile spreads across your face at the sight.

You speak softly, not wanting to disturb the peacefulness of the moment. "Echo, hey." He stirs at the sound of your voice, lifting his head and meeting your gaze with a gentle smile.

"Hey," he responds, stepping closer to you. "How are you feeling today?"

It's a question you've grown accustomed to from the whole team, and despite the lingering challenges, you find yourself improving each day. "Good," you reply softly, sitting up and crossing your legs on the bed. "And how about you?"

Echo chuckles and shrugs, his eyes reflecting a mixture of weariness and determination. "Same as usual." He retrieves a scanner, checking your vitals with practiced ease. "Listen, last night you had a nightmare."

You sigh, the memory of the unsettling dreams still lingering in your mind. "Yeah... they've been happening quite frequently."

Sympathy shines in Echo's eyes as he finishes the scan, confirming that everything appears fine. He takes a seat beside you. "Hunter was here and saw you tossing and turning. He asked me to stay until you woke up."

A pang of embarrassment tugs at your heart, realising that Hunter had witnessed your vulnerability even in your sleep. "I'm sorry he had to see that," you admit, cheeks flushing with a mix of gratitude and embarrassment.

Echo's gaze softens as he nods in understanding. "Yeah, nightmares were a constant companion to me for a while. Still have them occasionally. It's... something we've all been through in one way or another."

You find solace in his words, knowing that you're not alone in this struggle. "I guess it's just part of the journey, huh? The memories and the pain find their way back, even when we try to move forward."

Echo's hand rests reassuringly on your shoulder. "It's okay to feel overwhelmed. Healing takes time, and it's different for everyone. But we're here for you, every step of the way."

A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips, appreciating the support from Echo and the rest of the team. "Thank you, Echo. You've all been so kind to me."

He offers a warm smile in return. "Of course, we care about you. You're part of the squad, part of our family."

The word "family" resonates deeply within you, reminding you of the connection you shared with them all. Despite the hardships and the nightmares, you're grateful to have found a place where you belong. Finally.

"Morning. Can I get you a drink or anything?" You look up as you hear a voice from the hallway, and your heart flutters at the sight of Hunter approaching. Echo takes his cue and gives you a final pat on the shoulder before leaving just the two of you.

"I'm alright for now, thanks," you reply, grateful for his offer, and pat the spot beside you.

Smiling, Hunter takes a seat, his fingers strumming somewhat anxiously against his leg. He still hasn't addressed your confession of love from a while ago, uncertain of when the right time and day would be. With the nightmares plaguing your mind in recent weeks, he feels that bringing it up now would only add to the tension.

"Echo tells me you saw me have another nightmare," you speak up, sensing the sudden thickening of the air. "I understand why you didn't want to stay and watch."

Turning his head to look at you, Hunter's eyes shimmer with reassurance. "I didn't want to leave, I just... I know Echo is more familiar with dealing with this type of stuff, and I wasn't sure what to do. I should've stayed."

"I would've been fine either way, don't worry," you whisper, gently placing a hand on his forearm. A warmth flows between you both, and although you're unsure if he feels it too, he lets out a somewhat breathless exhale before clearing his throat.

"We, uh, we're going to be landing on Coruscant in a few hours. Maybe it'll do you some good to get out for a while?" Hunter suggests, but a sudden wave of panic washes over you.

Your eyes widen, and you instinctively shake your head. The memories of being captured and taken by the Empire on a busy planet flood your mind, leaving you feeling vulnerable and unsafe. The Marauder has become your sanctuary, a place of solace and security.

"N-no, no, I can't," you stammer, a wave of unease washing over you, making your skin prickle as if an itch you couldn't scratch.

Hunter's voice is calm and reassuring as he wraps his arm around your shoulder. "Hey, it's going to be alright. I'm right here with you," he says, his presence providing a sense of comfort. "You won't leave my sight. Crosshair will be with us too, on high alert, ready to spot anything suspicious." He tries his best to offer reassurance, but your body begins to tremble, and tears well up in your eyes.

"Not yet. Please... I'm not ready," you plead, your voice filled with fear and vulnerability.

"Okay," Hunter says softly, his touch comforting as he rubs soothing circles on your back. "You can stay on the ship then. I'll stay with you, and we can have one of the others stay too," he suggests, understanding your fear and offering a solution. You nod, quickly wiping away the tears that trickled down your cheeks, trying to steady your panicked breathing.

“Sorry, it's just..." you trail off, finding it difficult to put your feelings into words. But Hunter understands, and he gently pulls you closer until you can rest your head against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat provides a calming reassurance, especially as he tenderly runs his fingers through your hair. "Maybe another time,"

There was no denying the nervousness that gripped you as the team landed on Coruscant, even though you chose to stay on the ship. Memories of that traumatic incident flooded your mind, causing your heart to race in your chest, despite being shielded by two of the bravest soldiers you knew.

You're in the cockpit, keeping a watchful gaze through the windshield when you hear hushed whispers coming from the hull. Your curiosity piqued, you turn your attention towards the source and see Hunter and Crosshair engaged in an intense conversation. However, when your eyes meet Hunter's, you notice that his smile, though meant to be reassuring, doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"What's going on?" you ask, voicing the question that lingers in your mind.

Crosshair turns his gaze to you, his expression as stern as ever, as he holds up a stim pack. "Tech's orders," he explains, his voice carrying a tight tone.

A sudden wave of nausea washes over you, triggering haunting images of the torment inflicted by the IS-O droid. Your mouth goes dry, and before you know it, Hunter is rushing to your side, his presence a comforting anchor. "It'll be over in a second," he assures you, his voice laced with concern.

Crosshair approaches cautiously, standing beside you and placing a calming hand on your shoulder. "Don't worry, doll. I'm not as clumsy as Wrecker," he remarks, trying to infuse some levity into the situation. However, despite his attempt at humor, you can't find it in you to laugh.

Gently, Crosshair rolls up the sleeve to your arm and you do your best to hold your nerve and look away but your eyes deceive you and instantly fall to the right where the stim was being raised, needle pointy. The sight of it made you recoil and push the boys away from you.

“No, I’m not doing it.” You rasp, tears stinging your eyes once more. “I’m not ready.”

“Cyare, Tech says it’s imperative you take this stimulant.” Hunter explains, holding his hands up as if to ease a wild creature. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Hunter,” you whimper, shaking your head, “I-I can’t!”

Crosshair remains quiet, watching you closely but his eyes are soft at seeing you so anguished.

"Hey, shhh, hey, it's okay." Hunter's soothing voice brings a momentary calmness as he gently cups your cheeks, his touch grounding you. Your ragged breaths begin to steady as he draws closer.

Overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment, the fear of the injection momentarily fades as Hunter presses his forehead against yours, cooing softly and caressing your skin with his thumbs. "That's it, you're okay," he murmurs, his presence offering a sense of security.

Your eyes flutter closed, unaware of Crosshair's approach as he seizes the opportunity to administer the injection while you're in this state of calm.

"Hunter," you rasp, feeling a gentle hold on your arm, the fear starting to creep back into your consciousness.

"Just focus on me. You're doing so well. So, so well," Hunter encourages, tilting his head slightly, his breath brushing against your lips. In this tender moment, you're overwhelmed with the urge to lean closer and kiss him. But instead, the truth spills from your lips in a burst of honesty.

"I love you."

There's a suspended pause in the air, your eyes squeezed shut in anticipation of his response. You couldn't help but reveal your true feelings. He meant everything to you.

"I love you most, darling," Hunter replies, his words filling your heart with warmth and relief.

When you open your eyes, you notice that Crosshair had discreetly stepped away, and there's a subtle sting in your arm. Huh, guess he was gentle handed.

Crosshair had left with a small smirk, leaving you feeling a mix of flustered and curious. "I... sorry, I don't know why I said that," you stumble over your words, trying to steady your breathing while your heart races with the weight of your admission.

Hunter hums, a knowing expression on his face that tells you he's not entirely convinced by your apology. "Is that why you've said it twice now?" he asks, tilting his head to the side, his eyes searching yours.

Your eyes widen in surprise, your brows furrowing as you try to recall the first night you were rescued. "Twice?" you repeat, your mind racing to piece together the memories.

"Yeah," Hunter confirms softly, his hand moving from your cheek to your arm, soothing the sting from the stim. "A few nights after we rescued you, you were half asleep and it slipped out that you loved me." He holds his breath, hoping beyond hope that your feelings were genuine as he gathers the courage to ask, "Do you?"

You blink up at him, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Do you?" you ask in return, suddenly remembering that he had just declared his love for you. In front of Crosshair of all people.

"Of course. A lot," he replies, his words filled with sincerity and affection. The warmth that spreads through your chest reassures you that your feelings are reciprocated.

A gentle silence fills the air as the weight of your shared feelings hangs between you. In that moment, the galaxy seems to fade away. All the pain and suffering no longer seemed to matter.

Unable to resist the magnetic pull any longer, Hunter leans in, closing the remaining distance. His lips brush against yours, soft and tender, as if afraid to disturb the fragile beauty of the moment. “I’m going to look after you. I’m going to love you, forever.” He utters against you and you melt into his embrace.

Your heart is soaring with joy, knowing that he was going to be true to his word. It will still take a while to heal, but you knew Hunter would not mind healing with you.

Part One | Part Two

Masterlist

More Hunter Works

Tags: @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex x @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @oohyesplease @theroguesully @mustluvecho @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @kixs-husband @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @imalovernotahater @tinyreadersmur @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @raevulsix @the-good-shittt @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder r @mysticalgalaxysalad @photogirl894 @fantasyproductions @by-the-primes @the-bad-batch-baroness

#Hunter x reader #bad batch reader x Hunter #tbb hunter #bad batch Hunter #nahoney22 writes #the bad batch #Hunter bad batch #queued post

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danosrosegarden · 4 months

Text

this could build us a home - edward nashton x gn!reader headcanons ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

{contains: very mild religious references, descriptions of stalking, and mentions of smoking.}

{note: this piece was a paid commission, and i have permission to share it publicly. find out more about commissioning a piece from me in my pinned post.}

☽ What if Edward Nashton wasn’t alone in his suffering? What if the pitch black, grime-infested hellscape he spent each day zombie-stumbling through was also the sunshineless wasteland that you shivered and wandered through, too? What if his stomach wasn’t the only one glazed over with a thick, slimy, goopy layer of churning, crawling disgust and disdain for everything he saw? What if you saw through the same cloudy, weary eyes? What if there was you?

☽ You’d wake each day with a throbbing headache and aching bones. Your body was tired, your soul was weeping, your heart was heavy, your eyes were red from crusty sleep scratching at the whites–but there was work. There was always work to be done, something to check off the to-do list.

☽ At first, Edward feels bad for watching. For internet stalking. For trailing a few concrete slabs behind you while you walked home from work. He really can’t explain what drew him to you. It was like a magnet. Like there was some pheromone in your weakly glimmering aura that he couldn’t get enough of. You smelled like something familiar, you tasted like something irresistible. You carried with you the same tired, fed-up ambience that he had lugged behind him for his own entire miserable life. There was something cracking and crumbling apart inside of you. It was something only another broken person could recognize.

☽ He justified the nights he’d spend with his stomach in knots, wishing he had the courage to follow for just a little bit longer before turning the street corner and avoiding suspicion. He had no malicious intent coursing through his veins as he got up early to watch your morning commute to work from his own apartment across the street, this you must understand. He’d calm the guilt coiling and knotting in his gut with this: I just want to make sure they’re safe. That’s true, in his own odd way.

☽ What he didn’t know was this: you’d also had your eyes peeled, your teeth sharp for any scrap of Edward you could get your hands on.

☽ You hadn’t been working together for long. Your desks were across the office from each other. You didn’t even live in the same apartment complex. But Edward Nashton was some missing remedy for your water-logged, disintegrating life, you were simply sure of it.

☽ You weren’t sure how to describe it. A crushing schoolchild, scribbling your first name with Edward’s last in a notebook, surrounding the words with sparkling gel pen hearts? Maybe a dying sinner, weeping at the blood-stained cross for mercy. However you spun it, a spell had been placed over your everyday life. You wanted to share each moment with him, let him see all that had been stomped and spat on. As if what, he could heal it? Well, it sounded idiotic, but your heart scratched and clawed at your chest for any piece of him you could get.

☽ Maybe you didn’t know that Edward followed you home after work or stalked your social media each day, hungry stomach growling for another post. But he didn’t know that you looked out your window and watched him smoke outside the complex, tripping and falling deeper in frothing obsession as you watched him stamp out his cigarette and walk back inside. He didn’t realize how superglued your eyes were to him as you should’ve been working, the pile of papers on your desk growing inches with each look you stole.

☽ Edward Nashton had lived through hell, this was certain. But you…you had walked across the same broiling coals, flames licking at your skin. Perhaps you could create a shelter from the lake of fire together, if only either one of you had the courage.

#eli's writing #danonation #paul dano #edward nashton #the riddler #the batman #edward nashton x reader #the riddler x reader #edward nashton x you #the riddler x you #edward nashton x y/n #the riddler x y/n

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rivnedell · 24 days

Text

🤍🌸 • ° Masterlist ° • 🌸🤍

Legend

fluff 🌷

lime ��‍🟩 slight suggestive content (making out for example ..)

lemon 🍋 slighlty lighter version of smut (no p or d word)

angst ☔ characters suffering mentally and emotionally

WIP : work in progress

All my writings are Fem!Reader unless mentioned otherwise

❀ More about me at the bottom of this post

I’m trying my best with English since it’s not my mother tongue and I will take all the advices 🤍

——————————————————–

multi-chapter

- Star Wars -

Obi Wan Kenobi

Obi Wan x You | 🌷 • 🍋‍🟩 • 🍋 |

Relief

WIP

word count :

summary : you’re on a break from your jedi missions as your period pains were aching you, making you stay in bed. maybe your former master would know something to ease your pain.. or maybe not.

WARNINGS : MDI 18+ HOT LEMON at the end ; mention of menstruation pain ; slight angst ; lime (making out & teasing) ;

Ben Kenobi

Ben x you | ☔ • 🌷 • 🍋+ |

Under the Stars

WIP

word count :

summary : maybe this man living as an hermit needs more company than he would admit.

WARNINGS : MDI 18+, this is the most smutty smut thing I've ever written omg, I got carried away..

I blame Ben for being so hot and cute, that's said. Sorry..

• Friends •

Joey Tribbiani

The One with the Sketchbook

Joey x You | 🌷 • 🍋‍🟩 |

WIP

word count : -

summary :you’re an art student who comes to ny for your last year of degree. it’s your first time in the US so you discover life in new york thanks to joey, your new roommate, and his next-door friends ;

warnings : suggestive content ;

Rachel & Joey

The One with Rachel’s feelings

Rachel x Joey |🌷| Fix-it Fic

WIP

word count :

summary : rectifying the barbados event love thing between our fav roommates, despite all the respect I have for the original show’s authors work ;

warnings : none, this just fluffy fluff, with some light angst ;

- Jurassic World -

Owen Grady

Can’t Stop Loving You

Owen x You (Self-Insert) | 🌷 • ☔ • 🍋 |

WIP

word count : -

summary : you got a chance to work on Isla Nublar as a trainer for herbivorous dinos. an unexpected colleague piqued your curiosity as he was the trainer of.. actual living raptors. featuring an unexpected lady boss that broke into your life, and broke your heart ;

warnings : MDI 18+ Lime & (very) HOT LEMON, angsty lemon but! happy ending ;

- Tolkien - Middle Earth -

Kili

Stardusts’ Hope

Kili x Fem!Elf Reader | ☔ • 🌷 |

WIP

word count: -

summary: a dwarf prince and an elven lady; alternative ending of the battle of the five armies ;

warnings : -

——————————————————–

One-Shots

• Friends •

Joey Tribbiani

The One with the Scars

Joey x You (Self-Insert) | ☔ • 🌷 • 🍋‍🟩 |

WIP

words: -

summary : joey and you have been close friends for a long time. he has been there for you during your recovery after your surgery, and this, certainly, has changed everything ;

warnings : 15+ ; no graphic descriptions but scars and physical pain related to the healing process ; (please avoid reading if you are uncomfortable with these topics) ; some sensitive references ;

The One with Ross’s ex

Joey x You | ☔ • 🌷 • 🍋‍🟩|

WIP

word count : -

summary : after you break up with Ross, the situation doesn’t get better. your friends are here for you, and Joey is there. maybe your true love has been in front of you since the beginning ;

warnings : 15+ some references / lime ; slight angst

The One with the Cinema tickets

Joey x You (Self-Insert) | 🌷 • 🍋‍🟩 |

WIP

word count : -

summary : you had a crush on joey since months but the only one to know was your bestie, chandler ;

warnings : 15+ some references ;

The One with the Flower Shop Owner

Joey x You | 🌷 |

WIP

word count : - summary : joey went to a flower shop as he wanted to make a surprise for Emma’s birthday, and he saw you, with a pink peony bouquet in your hands ; warnings : some references but this is just fluffy cute joey fluff ;

——————————————————–

- Actors -

Matt Leblanc

The One with the Race

Matt x You (self-insert) | 🌷 • 🍋‍🟩 |

WIP

word count : -

summary : you attend your first Formula 1 GP and you encounter someone who will be your companion for the week end, and maybe more ;

warnings : mention of mourning, loss ; some ref (making out) ;

Will Poulter

Golden Soul

Will x Reader | 🌷 • 🍋 |

WIP

word count : -

summary : you were invited to tell your story at schools as you were approached by an association fighting against bullying & child abuse ;

warnings : MDI 18+ ; anxiety crisis/stress/lack of breath mention/describing ; suggestive content ; lemon (lighter version of smut - no dirty talk, no bad words but suggestion of sex, making out) ;

——————————————————–

❀ About me : you can call me Nienna and in life, I’m a French Artist. Obsessed with drawing, drinking tea and petting cats. Other than that I recently discovered I was still able to fangirl just like a teen. And I’m currently nourishing a hard passion for the Friends TV series.. so I write a lot for Joey ♡

❀ I never dared to share my stories/fictional writings publicly so it’s a big step for me. (I don’t write nasty smut (bad/slut talking, too raw for me), but I like to write some lime and lemon, lighter versions of smut, tho being no less than hot) !

❀ I will update this list when a writing will be ready/published and if I add new wips !

header picture is not mine!

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soapyghost · 1 year

Text

Scarred- Graves x Fem! reader

Warnings- swearing, violence, mentions of death, guns, angst (A LOT OF ANGST) dark Graves, prior relationship with Graves, mean Graves, smut, oral (m&f receiving), unprotected p in v. ALSO SPOILER WARNINGS- IF YOU HAVE NOT FINISHED THE MW2 CAMPAGIN PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU DO NOT WANT IT SPOILED. THIS TAKES PLACE AFTER THE GAMEA/N: I was chatting with @johnnytavish about a post game angst filled Graves and this is the product of that so enjoy. Wordcount- 3k

He hadn’t even so much as looked at you since he was brought back. After the crushing defeat in Las Almas, he’d changed. The 141 squad had assumed that Commander Graves had died in that tank, and to their credit part of him did. He no longer laughed or even smiled. His somewhat jovial demeanor was never seen again.

General Sheppard had been the one to coordinate the rescue mission, fully expecting it to be a body retrieval. When you and the small group of remaining Shadows touched down in the dead of night your heart was in your throat. You always knew this was a possibility, that you would lose him. But now being smacked with the reality that Graves really was gone shattered you to your very core. It wasn’t supposed to end like this, you thought to yourself. The sweet promises you two had shared all those nights twisted up in the sheets of his room had all snapped like glass. They would never come true now.

You came up first to the metal heap of the tank, unable to contain your anxiety. Wrenching open the door you saw him. He was pale and blood battered. Tears pricked into the corners of your eyes as you stumbled into the scrapped hull and reached to find a pulse. As your fingers touched his neck you almost yanked your hand away, he was warm. He was warm.

You could feel the faint dancing pulse beneath his skin. “He’s alive” you screamed. You hoisted him over your shoulder with a strength that you never knew you had. “Get me EVAC NOW!” You shouted, placing him gently on the ground. Swallowing hard to force the tears to recede back into your skull you began removing some of his gear and throwing it at one of the other shadows, you began to search his body for wounds. There was a huge gash on his face that went from the top of his forehead down through his left eye, across his lips ending at his chin. It was bleeding pretty heavily and may need stitches. Continuing your search you came across several broken ribs, a fractured shin and too many cut wounds to count. He was battered and bruised almost beyond recognition but he was alive.

The months after his rescue felt like years. He had lost sight in his left eye because of the cut he suffered, and it snapped something in him. Graves vowed that he would take something from 141 for the things they took from him. Gone was the man you knew, the man you loved, and all that remained was a husk of a man fueled only by revenge. You had tried to talk to him on dozens of occasions but he never even looked your way, let alone deign a response. The anger began to well up inside you after each encounter. This man vowed to protect and love you and now he can’t even look you in the eye. You were supposed to go away together after this mission. Take a month long vacation on some sandy beach thinking about nothing other than each other. Yet here you were, in the dark damp forest in hiding from the rest of the world. His greed had ripped everything from you.

Now that he had fully healed you were going to corner him. You bit your lip as you went over and over in your mind how you were going to talk to him, a stranger in the body of your boyfriend. You had gone over and over in your mind the things you wanted to say but it all flew out the window the minute you see him walking towards you. You reach out to him as he begins to pass you and shove him into a storage room.

“What the fuck Snow?” He snarled. He didn’t even use your real name. This lit a fire inside of you that no one could extinguish. You’d been fucking him for months, and all this man could say was your code name?

“What the fuck?” You scream back at him, “You’re asking me what the fuck? What the fuck is wrong with you? You haven’t said a single word to me since I pulled you from that tank. I saved you Phillip and you can’t even look me in the eye or even say my goddamn name!” Your voice getting higher and higher as you continue to let out every morsel of anger that had been consuming you. “I thought you DIED!” You finish, choking on the last word.

“I did” he spat back at you, eyes finally reaching yours. They were devoid of all life. The sparkle that once thrived inside them had been killed. He wasn’t your Phillip anymore. He was Graves.

His words stung. You couldn’t help the tears that began to swell and push past the dam of your eyelids. They streamed down your face like a waterfall in the early spring.

“No. I saved you. I got you out of that tank and back home. I brought you back to me!” You wailed in a feeble attempt to get Phillip back. You punched him like a child throwing a temper tantrum, but he didn’t even flinch. Your punched bouncing off of him like they were nothing. He grabbed your wrists “Enough” he commanded.

You stare at him for a moment, searching his eyes for answers but found none. Wrenching your hands free from his grasp you spun on your heels and reached for the door. Before you were able to touch the handle a pair of hands grabbed your waist and spun you around, forcing your back against the wall. His lips crashed onto yours, hungry, feral and almost animalistic. This kiss was nothing like the sweet kisses you had shared countless nights in his room. Regardless your body melted into his just the same as it did on all those shared evenings. You kissed him back, thankful that you had even a sliver of him back.

You break away first, gasping for breath. “Phillip you can’t just not speak to me for months and then try to fuck me in a supply room” you whisper, trying to focus. His kiss momentarily erasing all anger that you had within you. The familiar scent of sandalwood and musk washing over you like a warm blanket. Pushing him away you see it, flicker on his eyes for a millisecond, but you see him again. He's in there somewhere. "Phillip, please. What is going on?" you blink back tears again.

"I can't. I just can't" he chokes out after what seems like an eternity of silence. His shoulders go limp as he looks down at the floor, "I can't hurt you again. This has to end" he whispers, so quietly you have to pause. "What?" your voice cracks. His eyes meet yours for a brief moment and he pushes past you and leaves you alone with just your demons.

It had been several weeks since that day in the supply room, and you had thought about what he said every waking moment of every day. Waking up every morning only to remember the man you loved said it was over was like being stabbed. No, being stabbed hurt less than this. The mundane days blended, wake up, feel like you're being stabbed, see him, work, cry yourself to sleep, rinse and repeat. Every time you saw him it felt like you stepped on a land mine, all your bones shattered, you could feel your blood pumping. All you could think about was him saying "I can't hurt you again". What could he mean by that? He's hurting you day in and day out by ignoring you. No matter what happened, you would always love him.

Things had gone back to him speaking to you for work related things, just like how he was when you first joined Shadow Company. When he treated you just the same as every piece of dirt. It took almost a year to crack past Graves to Phillip, and the fear of having to do it all over again was almost too much. But today was different, you saw that spark return to Graves while watching him command a fresh group of Shadows. It was a different spark, one fueled by the need for revenge. At least he was alive again. He was harsher with the new recruits, more than likely because of the sting of losing so many. He was harsher on you too.

"Snow! Shoulders back" he barked, one day during range shooting. You knew your stance was fine, he knew your stance was fine. "Fuck off" you shouted back at him. The whole range went silent. Fear creeped up into your chest, you've spoken to him like this hundreds of times and never had a fear like this. Every set of eyes in the shooting range bore into your body, shredding into as if they were shooting you with their guns. "My office, NOW" he roared, before turning and storming in the direction of his office. You stood there, stunned. He had never used this tone on you before.

You followed after him, like a puppy who chewed up the mail and was about to be reprimanded, tail between your legs. Once you arrived at the door to his office you paused, a million and one thoughts passing through your mind. What if he kicked you from the Shadows? Where would you go? You were already in hiding because of his actions. Would he turn you over to the authorities? No. He wouldn't do that, you took a deep sigh and knocked on his door.

"Come in" came his muffled voice. You slowly opened the door to find him sitting at this desk, hands rubbing his temples. "Sit down" he commanded, gesturing to the plus chair that sat across from his desk. You silently did as he asked, sinking as deep into the chair as physically possible. "You can't talk to me like that Snow." he sighed, as he looked up at you. "Why? What has changed so much that I can't even speak to you?" you whimpered, desperate to fly across the desk and shove your face into his chest like you used to. "Everything has changed, Y/N. Like you said, I almost died. I can't let that happen again. I will not be weak, and that's what you make me" his voice was measured, and restrained.

"I don't make you weak Phillip, I make you human" you pleaded. "Stop being Graves and be Phillip for one goddamn minute." You searched his eyes for the flicker again, but all you could see was Graves. Your mind was swimming with how you could get him back, get back to what you were. Before you registered what you were doing, you leaped over the desk and into his lap. He stiffened at your touch. Placing your hands on his cheeks you forced him to look at you, "Please." you whispered as you leaned down to kiss him.

It took a moment, but he finally returned your kiss. It was the same as the one you shared in that supply room, hungry and feral. Crazed even. His hands began exploring your body, setting fire everywhere he touched. It felt so good to be touched by him again. Every neuron in your body was firing, every sense was filled with him. His tongue pressed against your lips, demanding to be let in, so you parted your lips. You involuntarily bucked your hips into him, and let out a small moan. You had missed this, missed him.

In one swift movement he lifted you off his lap and onto your knees. You looked up at him puzzled. He simply looked down at you and began to unbuckle his belt, and it became clear. A surge of excitement ran through you, this was different. Normally when you had sex it was soft, loving almost fairytale like. This was pure lust, and it sent a thrill down your spine. Your hands reached up to help undo his zipper and release him from those tight black cargo pants. His cock sprung out of its cage and slapped against his stomach. He was huge, you had almost forgotten how big it really was. You took no time in eagerly grabbing the shaft and running your tongue up it, all while looking through your eyelashes at him. A guttural groan escaped his mouth as he threw his head back. You popped the head in your mouth and swirled your tongue around it, lapping up the precum. He grabbed a fistful of hair and began to guide your head, shoving himself deeper and deeper into your throat.

You gagged and tears welled in your eyes as he hit the back of your throat. The sound only sent him into overdrive, as he began to forcefully bob your head onto his cock. The combination of saliva and precum began to drip down your chin as you worked him inside your hollowed cheeks. Finally you pushed back on him to come up for a breath.

"Fuck, I've missed you doll" he breathes, eyes on yours. He hoists you up and onto the desk where he makes quick work of your pants. Throwing them into the corner of the room his attention turned towards the lace panties that barely covered you. You smiled up at him as he took you in, "You vixen" he smirks as he grabs the waistband and shimmies them down your legs. Once you're free of all barriers, he shoves your legs apart and drops to his knees and in-between your thighs. The warmth of his tongue against your folds causes a gasp of pleasure to erupt from you. You desperately grab onto the edges of the desk to ground yourself. He felt like heaven between your legs, the way he lapped up every ounce of you. His tongue sliding in and out of you, before sliding two fingers in. A moan of pleasure escapes from your lips as he picks up his pace, using his thumb to rub your clit. He hadn't forgotten how to please you. You were putty in his hand, literally. Your body turned to Jell-O as you began to feel your orgasm creep up on you. Your soft moans were music to Grave's ears, as he continued to rub your clit and relentlessly fuck you with his fingers. "Fuck, mm- don't stop Phillip. M' gunna cum" you mewl.

All at once you feel his fingers slide out of you, and you tense at the loss of your orgasm. You snap open your eyes and open your mouth to protest but before the words escape your mouth his lips are on you. He flips your body around so your chest is now on the desk and your pretty ass is in the air.

"God, what a sight." he muses, "what would the company think if they saw you on your Commanders desk, begging for it". You simply wag your ass and whisper "please". You hear his pants fall to the floor and feel him pressed up against you. His breath hot on your ear as he lines himself up and thrusts himself into you. A yelp escapes your lips at how hard and fast he entered you, filling you up to the brim. "Fuccck" he drawls into your ear, "You feel so fucking good".

He doesn't give you a moment to get used to his size before he takes a fistful of your hair and places his other hand on your lower back before he starts a relentless pace. Your eyes roll back into your head as you become fuck dumb on his cock. The moans escaping your mouth coupled with the slick sound of his cock pounding your pussy are absolutely filthy. A string of curses leave your lips as he takes his hand off your back and slips it back to your clit, rubbing unforgiving circles. His touch sends shockwaves through your body, and the familiar feeling of your orgasm slowly begins to return.

"Cum for me" he commands you, "Cum for your Commander." The gruffness of his voice sends you tumbling over the edge of euphoria. A mess of his name and every curse word in the world fall from your lips as he fucks you through your orgasm. "Mmmm, you listen so well here" he whispers in your ear. All you can do is gasp and nod your head, too cock dumb to form a proper sentence. His thrust start to become sloppy, knowing he was close you tighten your core, causing your walls to flutter on his cock. The grip on your hair tightens in response and grunt leaves his lips as he twitches inside you, his cum filling you up, and leaking out dripping onto the floor. His breath is heavy against you as he leans down, forehead on the back of your skull.

You both take a moment to catch your breath before you turn around to face him. You had never had sex with him like this. It was always something out of those silly movies where the guy treats the girl like a princess. It was all southern charm and honey. This was down and dirty, sex on his goddamn desk. You look over him, wondering what happened to that but also secretly loving this new side. He smiled softly at you, placing a kiss gently on your forehead before zipping up his pants and retrieving yours. It was him again, for a few moments you got Phillip. After you had redressed he allowed you to hold him for just a few precious minutes before he gently removed your arms from him. Just like you used to, every time you'd both finish you would sit there arms wrapped lazily around each other, simply basking in the others presence. Slowly you looked up at him, a smile on your face.

But the man who looked back at you was not your Phillip anymore, it was Graves.

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