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silverskye13 · 9 months ago

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Hi, I just came from reading the last chapter of RnS, and I am once again shaking by how strong it made me feel, which is also finally giving me the strength to ask this, finally.

How do you write compelling, logical emotions? Like, you are writing as you go, and yet I go back and everything reads with such a sound conclusion, like the characters are feeling what they're meant to be feeling, like their emotions are deeply complex and it's just, how? Are there any tips you can give?

Have you studied any writing theory, or have you got any advice on dissecting pieces of writing for improvement? Because I feel like there's oh so much I can get from "improving from writing more"

Thank you for the kind words. Gosh I'm glad the emotions all make sense. I feel like that's one of the harder things to juggle -- especially when posting chapter by chapter, where sometimes weeks go by between scenes. It gets easy to lose things.

Answers to questions [as best I can] under the cut, because I can see this getting long and rambly.

How do I write compelling, logical emotions?

Uhm! This is a bit hard for me to articulate, because writing emotions is very intuitive to me. I'm a very emotionally aware person -- generally speaking I can recognize how I'm feeling and why very quickly within myself. That, I think, helps being able to write them. But some tips that are hopefully helpful:

Study yourself Emotional intelligence aside, the best way to write feelings is to figure out what they feel like. It doesn't have to be in-depth. You don't have to psychoanalyze yourself. It is enough to be able to go "I'm nervous. My stomach feels tied in knots, my throat is dry." or "I'm happy. I feel like I could dance, there's energy I need to get rid of. I feel full to bursting." Any time you've read something and gone "Oh god, that's exactly what that feels like!" It's because someone sat down and studied it for a few minutes. Sit with the uncomfortable feelings, or bask in the good ones. Root yourself in the moment and really stew. It doesn't have to be for big life events. If a movie makes you feel excited, just take a second to describe how it feels. If a book makes you cry, give a thought to what the tears are like. The next time you sit down to write a feeling, you might not be able to remember exactly what it felt like, but you will probably remember the words you attached to it.

Emotions in real life aren't logical, but stories are If you've ever gotten really angry, or really sad, or just any Big emotion, you know they're often overwhelming and paralyzing in their own special little ways. It is so easy to get swept up in the feeling of a thing that your brain turns off, and your body does crazy irrational things, and then its hours later and you've calmed down and it feels like you'll never get that emotion back again, because it was just so... much. That is allowed to exist in a story, but writing incomprehensible feelings takes your reader out of it after awhile. We need something to stay rooted in, if only so we have a reason the character is feeling as they are. Story emotions have a beginning, middle and end that you can chart. We see what causes them, we feel them, they come down from the high, and then they get a resolution. All of that doesn't have to happen at the same time. The character can feel anger over something and it drives their progression for the rest of the book. But, if at the end of the story, we don't see a resolution, it gets harder to believe -- even if in real life, emotions aren't always nearly so neatly tied. [Depending on the type of story you're writing, sometimes you might choose to intentionally leave emotions unresolved by the end, but generally they're still addressed in a "X was still angry, and would always be, but life moves on" sort of way. As long as it was an intentional choice that thought was put into, and that's evident in the character, people will believe it on a writing/empathy level.]

Emotions keep your character relatable, so keep them reasonable Emotions are how your readers connect with your character. Its the little moments where you get into their head and empathize where your attachments grow. Being able to see not only that a character is feeling something, but also see why they feel that way, does a lot of heavy lifting for making you like a character. Even if their feelings are inherently irrational [ie. thinking your friend hates you because they don't want to hang out one day], if you know why the character would feel that way [main character has social anxiety, which has been a problem through the whole book] you can sympathize with them, and care about their struggles.

Think about body language There is so much more to emotion than just "his stomach tied itself in knots" and "his anger was a lightning strike." Emotions are movements and mannerisms. Even something as simple as pacing can convey a thousand different things: quick steps, talking with your hands, in fast circles, leaning forward, beaming [Excited, sharing ideas]. Slow, ponderous steps back and forth in a line down the hall, hands clasped behind your back, brow drawn, gaze low [Contemplative, troubled, turning an idea over and over]. Stomping, storming, glowering, fists clenched, stopping sometimes in front of the door you're pacing in front of, scowling and turning back to your solitude [angry, bracing yourself for an unpleasant confrontation, could be calming down or could be building yourself up to something]. Body language can sometimes convey more of an emotion to the reader than writing how the feeling feels can, especially in a limited POV where you're only inside one character's head.

Physical pacing to show emotion, through word choice Make. Your readers feel things. With punctuation. This is where reading poetry will really help your writing, tbh. Poetry is where punctuation gets really contemplative, really intentional, and you can use that to your advantage in prose too. My thoughts are running. You can tell they're running because I'm in a rush and the words are longer and this sentence is running just like I am. It's one step over and over and over, and ignoring periods for commas because commas feel a little more like a step and less like a hard rest -- and sometimes you do breaks because it feels like a tumble what does this make you feel? It's breathless your readers are waiting for you to stop so they can stop reading and it feels distressing like maybe it's panic or thinking too quick and -- There's something. Creeping. Up on you. A hesitant feeling, like a predator in the grass. There is something disjointed here. In the sentences. The hard stops make you pause. The longer sentences lull you into something. It feels off-balance. Unsafe. Are you scared? Hesitating? What is it, exactly, creeping? You can also get really crazy with it. A character isn't thinking clearly so y o u s ss t art b r e a k i n g up t he wo r d s. You have to be careful. It has to be legible still. But it can be bold, and it can mean something and it can be eye catching and it can be a thought without acknowledgement. Play in the space! Words are toys.

Emotions are your stakes, just as much as bodily harm is If your readers care about how your characters feel, you have a compelling tool to drive their care for the rest of the plot. It's not just bad enough that they could be physically hurt by a situation, putting them in emotional distress makes your readers distressed. This does, however, need balance. In the same way you wouldn't keep your foot on the gas in a car at all times from point A to point Z, lingering too long on one emotion when your readers are invested emotionally drains your readers. There needs to be periods of rest and happiness, to balance the periods of emotional turmoil, guilt, and apathy. If you've ever read a book and thought "Man this character is a crybaby, they never stop whining" or "this book is making me depressed. Everything keeps going wrong all the time!" the balance is skewed too far towards the sad/depressive emotions, and you are emotionally distancing yourself as a result. Something similar happens the other way, if you ever read something and feel like the characters are never in danger, or the plot isn't taking itself seriously. Everyone's tolerance for this is different, but generally speaking, adding small moments of comedy and levity to temper hardship can go a long way to keeping your characters emotionally relatable -- so many people cope with humor anyway.

Read and analyze what you like in other works For the same reason people trace a drawing when they're trying to figure out how the original artist drew it, for the same reason you first knit a pattern instead of knitting a sweater from scratch, pick up a book you love, that gets you emotionally invested in the characters, and really pick apart why you like it. Write down words or descriptions you thought hammered an idea home. Reread a scene once or twice and feel your heart squirm over it and ask yourself why? Just, sink your teeth in and analyze. It helps a lot.

And on the subject of analysis...

Have I studied any writing theory, or have I got any advice on dissecting pieces of writing for improvement?

Also kind of hard to answer! Specifically because I haven't studied much writing theory, outside of reading comprehension classes in high school that I'm 10 years removed from now. If I had to give advice, I think it would have to be from my experience which is: Read a lot and take notes.

You're correct, "practice writing" can only get you so far, in the sense that anything in a vacuum is hard to learn from. If I've only ever eaten a PB&J, it's gonna be real hard to learn how to make spaghetti. Chances are I don't even know tomatoes exist. So, read a lot, and read critically, and take notes.

When I say read critically: I mean read with your eyes open. Ask yourself "why?" as often as you can. A book makes you cry, why? Is it specific to the character? Is it because you want them to be happy or because they're going through something you've been through? A book makes you frustrated, why? Was an important plot point forgotten? Are the characters hard to understand? If so, why are they hard for you to understand? Does the author not explain their motives correctly, does it feel like you skipped a chapter? Or is it because their motives are understandable but you still think what they're doing is stupid? I recommend going back and reading your favorite book with that lens. "This is the best fight scene I've ever read!" Why? Was it important to the characters and therefore important to you? Did it wrap up a plot point well? Was it just fun watching the bad guy get beat up?

I learned how to do this first with descriptions. A few years ago I was reading Kings of the Wyld, and about halfway through the book I realized I thought Nicholas Eames was the best writer I'd ever read. That's objectively untrue, I'm sure there's some better, but it's how I felt and I wanted to know why. So I read the book again. I figured out it was because his descriptions were great. It wasn't just that I could see what was going on in my head, the descriptions told me things about the world.

"The wheat was as gold as the Summer Lord's beard." It's autumn, the wheat is ready to harvest and they have a god named the Summer Lord who is cloaked in gold. That's a lot of information packed into one sentence.

"He had learned long ago that harboring regrets was akin to stashing embers in your pockets: hopeless and bound to hurt." That says so much about the character. He has regrets, ones he's worried over so much he's learned how futile it is. And the image of someone holding onto embers because maybe they deserve that pain is poignant and relatable. We have all done something we regret.

I started writing down all the descriptions of his that I liked, picking them apart to see how they work. I like descriptors that inform you about the world, that are unique to the character, and that are rooted in the physical. I think that's successful writing, so I emulate it.

If you want to get better at writing, really study the stuff you like and ask yourself why you like it. If you can't do it in your head, if you can't just read a book and figure out what went well, write it down! It doesn't have to be a 10 page paper. Just writing "I loved X character and I think xyz reason is why" is enough to get you started. The more you practice figuring out what you like, the better you'll get at identifying and describing it. The more you know about those things, the better you can transfer it into your own work. Study can be really fun when you really dig your elbows into it.

I also think it's equally useful to do this to media you don't like. Pick a book you hate and do the same thing. Why don't you like it? Is it because you don't like the themes, or because the characters were too frustrating to relate to? Was it because the plot seemed forced? Were there plot points and ideas that seemed awesome that the author just ignored? Figure out what you don't like, what you think doesn't work, so you can figure out how to avoid it.

The thing about studying anything is: everything has rules. Learn the rules. Learn why the work [or why they don't]. That's studying.

Learning when its appropriate to follow or break them, that's writing.

This turned into a very, very long rant! Hopefully it helps :'D if not, my apologies.

#writing advice #answering asks #anonymous #writing #long post

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zoeykallus · 2 years ago

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Okay. So, this is a bit weird. But maybe the Bad Batch (+ Gregor?) when their s/o is VERY protective over their baby when it's born? Even though it's the Batcher's kid too, s/o stares intently at them holding baby to make sure nothing bad happens, won't leave the baby's side, can hardly sleep because they are so on edge about something happening to baby when they aren't around, and is wary and tense about Batcher taking care of them?

I mean, I know the boys would do a good job, but I find myself doing this with my little brother when we was younger, my cousins, and friends kids - I get so overprotective because I'm scared something will happen, and anyone other than me and the Mom, I can get...pissy/snarly/angry when baby and I are separated. I have absolutely no clue why this happens?

But if it's not too much trouble, I would love to know how the boys would react. I am...a spicy, hot mess sometimes 😅

Aloha! 😊

I've heard of this phenomenon before, but I don't know exactly where it comes from. Though, I think it's called 'postpartum maternal separation anxiety' or it is a form of it.

I should utter a warning, I have no idea (experience) about motherhood, or parenthood (and I don't want to 😅 ), at least not first hand!

Nevertheless, I could be able to estimate how the boys react to it. Let me see… Most of this is not going to be very fluffy though. Sorry, I'm trying 😅

The Bad Batch/ Gregor x Reader HCs - The Overprotective Parent

_____________________

Warning: Angsty/Tiny bit of fluff and comfort

_____________________

Hunter

He is so confused that he says nothing at first when you carefully but impatiently take the baby out of his arms.

"Is something wrong?" he finally asks alertly.

"Everything's fine."

Hunter frowns, clearly sensing something is wrong, as he approaches you and the child again to touch it, you pull back from him.

"This is my child too," he says calmly but with his brows drawn together critically, "What do you think will happen if I touch it?"

You sigh and finally try to explain to him what is going on inside you. That you're worried and anxious if you don't take care of it yourself.

"We need to work on that" Hunter says seriously "It's our child, I'm the father, you can't keep it from me, it's not right or fair. You know me, I would never harm our baby".

Of course the rational part of your perception knows this, but there is unfortunately also an irrational part that sometimes takes control. You will have to find a way to deal with this together. Hunter is a good partner and father, he will not want to have his time with his child taken away. If you can't find a common ground on your own, it could have a very negative impact on your relationship.

However, Hunter is willing to accommodate you in some way if you are willing to do the same and perhaps allow outside help, possibly in a therapeutic form.

Echo

Your reaction surprises him, and he vacillates somewhat between confusion, annoyance, and concern.

"You're acting like you don't trust me all of a sudden. Is it the prosthesis? Are you afraid I'll drop the kid?" he asks, frowning critically.

"Among other things," you reluctantly admit.

Seeing how this statement hurts him, you regret saying something. He looks at you wide-eyed, then lowers his gaze to his scomp-link arm. Echo doesn't quite know if he's disappointed or angry.

"So I never get to hold our child?" he asks, and his voice has taken on a strange tone that you haven't heard from him before, there's something somber about it.

When he looks at you again his expression is bitter, "You can't deny me that, I've never given you a reason to mistrust me, this is my child too".

You try to explain to him how worried and insecure you are about the baby, in general, not just about him. His expression slowly softens a bit, and he seems to understand, at least partially.

"We'll have to do something about that. Maybe we should ask a doctor for advice"

Echo tries to be understanding, even if in this case he actually finds it difficult for once. He is determined to find a solution that you both can be happy with.

Wrecker

He is already overcautious because the baby is so tiny and he is so huge. It feels strange for him to have this small, wonderful but so fragile looking being in his life. Wrecker is overjoyed to be a father but a little insecure at the same time. Your behavior fuels this insecurity.

He withdraws unhappily, observes the child mostly only with some distance, and you can see how deeply sad he is about not being able to approach his baby properly. Your behavior, and his insecurity, mix into a very bitter cocktail for Wrecker.

Eventually, his brothers notice the pattern and intervene, insisting that you give Wrecker a chance to hold his child. When it becomes clear what this is doing to you, Hunter insists that you seek medical as well as therapeutic help. He can no longer stand by and watch Wrecker suffer.

You need to communicate, so he understands you don't feel like this on purpose, that you can't help it. He'll be happy to find a solution with you.

Tech

He notices your behavior very quickly and doesn't like it at all.

"You are overreacting. I am perfectly capable of taking care of our baby. What's your issue?"

Your explanation makes him frown worriedly as well as thoughtfully. Tech quickly does some research and concludes, "You have some form of 'postpartum maternal separation anxiety'. We need to do something about that."

He knows it's hard for you, but you both have to go through it now.

"I'm not comfortable knowing how uncomfortable you feel seeing me with the child. Actually, I had hoped that the opposite would be the case, that it would make you happy. But I'm certainly not going to give up our baby. So we have to do something. Therapy seems not only appropriate, but necessary if we're going to get this out of the way."

Tech will not back down on this. He tries to be as considerate as possible, but he has a hard time hiding his disappointment. However, he is hopeful that with professional help, you can both get relief from this situation.

Crosshair

He never wanted to become a father, and he has a hard time getting used to this situation. Pride, happiness and a good portion of fear and insecurity mix. Crosshair keeps his distance at first, observing everything carefully, thoughtfully, but also with a loving eye.

It takes quite a while, but when he finally comes out of his shell and takes the baby in his arms, you react quite strongly, partly because it is unexpected due to his previous behavior. Crosshair carefully puts the baby back down, and you see that he is holding back right now, but is incredibly angry.

He doesn't want to confront you in the presence of the child and initially retreats to let off steam. Crosshair feels patronized, discouraged and incredibly angry. You end up arguing quite heatedly, because he can't really understand what you're trying to explain to him, until you present him with some articles that can explain the whole thing more objectively.

He reluctantly reads what you've presented, wearily rubs his hand over his face with a sigh, and leans back in his chair. Finally, he understands, you can't really help it right now.

"Somehow, nothing is ever normal with us, is it?", he mutters.

You shrug your shoulders in embarrassment and lean back in your chair as well, across from him at the small dining table you're sitting at.

Crosshair finally leans forward again, arms folded on the tabletop, and looks directly at you.

"Kitten, I love you, I hope you know that. But this is a non-tolerable situation for me. We need to find a solution. I'm having a hard enough time adjusting to all this as it is. Maybe we need professional help from the outside."

Gregor

He raises his brows and looks at you in surprise as you take the child from his arms.

"Is something wrong?"

It doesn't matter what you say, he'll notice that you're avoiding him or trying to cover something up, he has a sense for that kind of thing. Gregor won't let the subject rest until you talk to him openly about it.

"Love, this is my baby too, it's our baby. You trust me, don't you?"

"That's not the point"

"Then what is it about?" he inquires gently but firmly.

Gregor listens attentively, trying to understand you, and he quickly realizes that a lot of work is needed here, and perhaps professional guidance. You are surprised when you see him smile, unperturbed, and he strokes your cheek.

"Okay, so we've discovered a problem. Let's set out to find the solution, together."

He's in good spirits, he won't give up that easily, it's not in Gregor's nature. He is sure that together, with a little willpower and cooperation, you will find a solution that is right for both of you.

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@allsystemsblue

@palliateclaw

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

@hunterxcrosshair

@malicemercy

@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@cpnt616

@dangraccoon

@jediknightjana

@pb-jellybeans

@starwarsnerd111

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sencity · 1 year ago

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yan! botanist content? i am eating this up, we are so well-fed. but dare i present, yan! botanist x entomologist darling?

hear me out… as a botanist, he does happen to dabble in fieldwork from time to time. prior to meeting you, he’s always gone out alone, but that won’t be necessary anymore, not with you around of course. and, oh, how perfect it is that you too, partake in nature research.

conducting fieldwork with him is so wonderful! he’s so knowledgeable, and surprisingly even a bit in entomology; plants and insects are crucial for their environment and one another, you know. he’s showing you all the beautiful flora, even informing you about their histories and roles in the ecosystem. while you’re studying the insects, he offers to help catch them in jars for you! no matter how many bug bites he gets, it’s all worth it for you. and how his heart swells with absolute love and adoration when you patch him up with bandaids and kisses afterwards.

nothing beats bonding over two people’s passions that co-exist perfectly–– especially when you’re in a grand field, of tall grass and little visibility, miles and miles away from any type of civilization; no one to bother the both of you, no one to take you away from him, just you two.

RAHH this man has awakened something in me…

you don’t understand how i’m tittering in my covers reading ts. my mind FLOODED with ideas bro. just… let me add onto this thought. your mind is WONDROUS.

nightmare fuel: none, unfortunately. except me not proofreading.

sen’s statement(s): link to the rest of my yandere!stinkers, let alone the yandere!botanist because why not?

it was a given that mother nature had finally answered his prayers; of course his love interest has an adoration towards insects! could life get any better!? insects are essential to plant life and vice versa. it’s the universe telling you that he needs you, and you need him! the two of you will soon flourish under each other’s love, why wouldn’t you become the butterfly to his pistil?

although you’ve forgotten about the times when he’d try to act cool for you or a little uncharacteristically, he surely goes out of his way to assist you on your projects. whether it’s collecting blister beetles in jars for your research despite the seething pain emerging in his palms or leading you into secluded fields to chase butterflies with wings that match the colors of your guys’ eyes, he’ll be there! still, you do tend to question his motives when he asks what a certain flower reminds you of and comes up with some poetic, philosophical answer to impress you. jeez, save it for the yandere!poet…

“is that right? hm, i’d assume that wisteria reminds you of your dreams… or that little starfish you’re so fond of—”

“the ochre sea star! yes, they’re nowhere near as perfect as you, but they’re lovely—oh! or plums and grapes! i love purple!”

there’s the sencha you love, the one who rambles about his simplistic passions and dislikes since he’s easily (dis)pleased. you’re here to listen to them all, even if they’re a little irrational and aimless like stick bugs…

goddamn, he can’t stand stick bugs.

even though he alters his personality to your liking sometimes (and fails horrifically, of course) he sometimes manages to appeal to your interest… by being himself. there was a time when you fixated on fireflies, wanting to study the patterns and language of their little light bulbs or what genetics causes some lightning bugs to not glow. sencha of course ran with this information and wanted to help to his best ability by insisting on you to sit your pretty self on the porch while he fetches a few for your research. you weren’t too fond of the idea of him doing the job for you, also potentially taking the fun out of it, but you allowed it this once…

you were going to go retrieve him since it seemed that he disappeared, but it just took him so long to collect so many. you would think he used the jar method again but decided that that’s not enough to truly get you to believe that he loves you, therefore he attracted fireflies with his bare hands…

…by coating his hands and forearms with sugar water in order to please the ravenous lightning bugs. primary his sticky hands were coated with tiny gleaming lights since he started off catching them with his palms, and it’s only natural for the rest of them to follow in pursuit.

“i uh, made a few friends along the way…?” he would titter unsurely as his arms expressed ethereality. he was referring to the random moths or flies that were also interested in the treacly treat, but that was the last thing you were fixated on since you were ordering him to not move so you could take pictures…

the two of you were truly an inseparable duo, a nature fusion much like leaf bugs or orchid mantises…

while we’re on the subject of orchids, the flower is one the both of you are very fond of, even though the both of you are suffering from a silly case of synesthesia.

when y/n hears the word orchid she sees a fuzzy yellow that resembles a bumble bee ever so faultlessly. she could never forget how he managed to get his hands on a bee orchid just to prove that his field of study compliments yours greatly. his point has only been proven even more when you giddily bring up that “orchid mantises” exist somewhere in the wild…

when sencha reads the word orchid, your honey-imbued lips drip onto his taste buds which awakens his sweet tooth and sends him into a sugar rush. you were a gift from mother nature, handcrafted by the goddess psyche herself. he even grew different species of orchids just because he cares for the flower so much!

normally you would adulate the bed of vibrant orchids and laborious pollinators that sprawled across the fields while pondering about those simple facts, whereas he would adulate you like how the tides adore the sand. it’s very hard to wrap around that the two of you were a match-made in heaven; he was sure to make you his once the fireflies began to coruscate …

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ownedbythescribe · 2 years ago

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Sumeru | Lost In You (Part 1)

ıllı Synopsis: Lost in your eyes, in your voice, and in your touch. Even with a simple turn, these men are captivated. For them, there is only you.

ıllı Genre: Fluff, Romance

ıllı Notes: Gender Neutral Reader

ıllı Part 2: Sumeru | Lost In You (Part 2)

ıllı A/N: A re-edit of Lost In You (Sumeru Edition)! I had to separate the two because of some uploading error.

🍁 ALHAITHAM — VULTUR VOLANS

Writing papers could take days to finish, and sometimes, people would spend doing them without an ounce of sleep. Others found this righteously wrong, while some wished to accomplish it immediately to gain free time. The Akademiya worked their students to the bone, but with the recent changes, things had slowed down a little bit.

“Input the findings on elemental sights, and we’re done.” You muttered, placing your quill back in its place. A tired sigh escaped your lips, eyes beginning to close from the exhaustion catching up with your body.

A knock on the door jolted you awake. With a weak ‘Come in’, the infamous Scribe let himself in. He was not one to interrupt people with their work, but you had been holed up in your room for hours now. The smell of breakfast signaled you that it was already morning.

“You’re finally done?” He asked. You nodded the wobbled over to him. He noticed your tired self and carried you to the couch. When times like this, he knew that you rather energized yourself in his lap while he read than take the bed. It was strange at first, but he got used to it.

Without question, he sat you in his lap and read his book. His left hand rested on your hip as you doze off, shutting down after squeezing your brain of ideas. Soon, solace found your mind which made Alhaitham smile. He continued his morning with you in his arms.

“Alhaitham! How dare you report to Lesser Lord that—“ The door was slammed open which made you whimper at the sound, eyes remaining closed. Alhaitham silenced Kaveh by throwing a barrage of pillows and using his vision to chase him out. Nobody was allowed to interrupt his time with you, not even his annoying roommate.

“Sleep well, Flower.”

🍁 KAVEH — PARADISAEA

��That’s why I told you not to touch it! I can’t believe we barely made it out of that.” You huffed, looking back at the temple that had already closed. Whirring sounds could be heard inside, and you feared that this was another case similar to that of the Court of Desolation.

“Sorry! I thought nothing would come out of that. By the way, did you get pictures of the walls and columns? I only got a few.” Kaveh inquired. You took out the device and nodded. The intricate designs lent to each portion of the temple amazed you, not to mention the technology the desert hid. It was simply what made your blood excited.

Kaveh could see the excited look on your face and lightly chuckled. It was adorable. Discoveries like these often make you irrational, but the pure joy in your eyes was something that drew him in. He loved how you babble about the desert’s technology, culture, and even history. People in the Akademiya might deem you a weirdo, but isn’t that institution full of them? Take Alhaitham for example. He admitted that the man was smart, but he had yet to recognize true humility. Not to mention, his radical ways made people question his sanity.

‘Ugh… Why am I thinking of that idiot?’ The blonde huffed. With a shake of his head, he asked that you two find an oasis to rest. You nodded.

It took about an hour to find the nearest one in the area. Luckily, there were no Eremites to handle and only a few monsters were in sight. After settling down and eating dinner, you took out the pictures as well as your thesis paper. He could see your excitement as you drafted your findings, and he was pulled in.

‘I must have used my whole year's luck just to have you be with me.’ He joked to himself. You turned to him, talking about the energy amplifier you found inside but stopped when he stared at you so intently. Tender crimson eyes illuminated by the soft glow of the moon.

“Why must my boyfriend look this ethereal?” You pouted. Kaveh’s eyes widened before he laughed out loud. You huffed then pulled him down for a kiss.

“I love you.” You whispered, adornment donning your face.

🍁 TIGHNARI — VULPES ZERDA

The crisp scent of morning air in the Avidya Forest was nothing new to the residents of Gandharva Ville. However, they embraced the tranquility it brought. A new day meant another chance to continue the tasks that were unfinished the day before, while for some, it was their awaited day off. This was the case for you and Tighnari.

With how busy the forest rangers had been last month, you basically forced Tighnari to rearrange his schedule and take one day off after checking that this week’s patrols were going to be light. It was not easy trying to coax the Forest Watcher, but he gave in after a few puppy eyes from you and Collei. He could not let sadness and disappointment ever coat your bright eyes. He promised that when he courted you after all.

The smell of freshly cooked mushroom hodgepodge and pita pockets wafted through the air. Tighnari opened his eyes and saw you plating the breakfast. His eyes twinkled in amusement at how adorable you looked, humming a soft tune that would surely bring him back to dreamland should you sing it and run your hand through his hair.

With a yawn, Tighnari rose from his sleep and trotted towards you. The warm hug startled you, but you lightly laughed at how clingy your boyfriend had been. He was holding on to you that you ended up dragging him around your shared home while you finish setting the table. Once you were done, you gently placed him in his chair and went to yours to eat.

“I added new mushrooms in the fray after your recent research. I can’t believe it went well with this dish! It’s so good! Ah! This sauce too!” You grinned. Tighnari could not help but stare. You looked so divine, enjoying your food to your heart’s content.

‘Ah, I love her so much.’ He thought to himself. He may not express his affection in normal ways couples would do, but he knew that he had his own ways to tell you that he cared. In his eyes, there was only you.

“Here, try this one, Love.” You reached out for a piece of the meal you made for him. Tighnari wasted no effort and bit on it.

“It’s delicious. You should make this more often.” He stated, making you smile even more. Times like these were rare, and you will treasure them.

Please do not copy or repost my stories, but notes and reblogs are always appreciated!

#genshin impact #alhaitham #kaveh #tighnari #cyno #wanderer #sumeru #genshin x reader

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monstaxdirtywonk · 2 years ago

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Heaven is a place in hell with you pt. 7

Member: San as Hades X Persephone reader

Synopsis: It's based on the myth but I've done some changes to fit my narrative

Genre: Fluff, Angst, eventual smut

You thought about it, you really did. What was left for you to do at last was to explain to Nefeli that you were gonna leave. You'd miss her so much but you felt like there was no other way. Artemis wouldn't wanna see you after you chose Hades over her, and you wouldn't be allowed to join the fellow nymphs again. But just like biological kids make their own decisions on how to navigate life, you wanted to do the same. You'd come back and talk to her eventually. But currently your foggy brain was full of his thoughts, and you couldn't make a plan on anything other than to meet him. You heard a knock at the door and concealed your little bag that you were preparing.

"Yes?"

"It's me" Nefeli said. You'd recognize her lovely voice anytime, anywhere.

"Come in". You answered and here she was in all her glory.

"Please take a seat" you gestured.

"Why are you making your bag?" She squinted her eyes suspiciously although she probably knew already what you were up to. Sometimes you were too similar for your own good.

You sighed. She wouldn't approve of your choice and you knew. It was beyond logic but isn't love irrational by default? It makes us care and cherish someone more than we should and that person has so much power over us but we allow them to do that because we trust them that they won't break our hearts.

"I wanna leave"

"I figured that out. I think I know where you want to go too but I wanna hear it from you first"

You turned around and nodded.

"I'll go to Hades". You said and flinched a bit because you were waiting for her to start scolding you till the end of time.

Nefeli just sighed. She didn't have the tough love part activated today it seems like.

"You know that you don't know him long enough for such a big decision, right?"

"I do. I also know that there's no coming back because Artemis won't allow me back in ever again. But at the same time I feel like I can't even breath properly when I'm not around him. Sometimes I think to myself, how did I do that before meeting him? I was so lucky to not have found someone to make me feel such intense emotions. Due to my love, my heart is fragile and easy to break. I give up so much power for him to use, even my vulnerable self can't make peace with that thought, but I'd rather have him break my heart than not have him at all. Even a heartbreak would be less painful by his own hand".

Silence was all you could hear in the room. That uncomfortable one which occur when you dropped a bomb of words. Nefeli couldn't stop you from living the life that you wanted, but at the same time she was overly worried for you.

"No matter what happens, with Artemis or Hades, know that I will be here for you. Where I am, you'll always find a home, a sister, comfort. I don't want you to think that you're alone. I'd say I'd help you as much as I can but I'd rather say I'm gonna help you as much as you want. Even if it's not possible, I'll make it that".

Tears were running down your cheeks, you felt a sense of relief because she was right, you felt alone after thinking of the terrible scenario of Hades and you not working out.

"Thank you. The first chance I'll get I'm gonna come and see you" you said and went for a hug that she gladly returned.

"When are you gonna leave?" She asked and looked around the room for something you might forgot.

"At dawn. I wanna be as discreet as possible after all"

"Hold on, I'm gonna bring something for you"

You felt slightly confused as to what that might be but kept on folding your dresses. You didn't have many but they were kept in great condition as you took care of them.

"Here". She said, out of breath slightly because she was running.

"You didn't have to run to your house" you said, making her take a seat again.

"I was too excited to bring it to you"she answered

You opened the box, two little pearls sat inside the jewelry holder.

"Those are for me?"

Nefeli nodded.

"Brides take a dowry usually and that won't be too much for Hades but it's gonna do."

You laughed at her light hearted humor. You thought to yourself that she was so sweet to give away a pair of the few earrings she owns.

"It's not anything high end but I'm sure you'll look lovely in them".

You smiled at her.

"Well since you gave them to me they are precious to me"

"Don't be so cheesy for once" She looked at you disapprovingly.

"Hehe sorry" you said and went for a hug again. You wanted as many as you could before your departure.

"I trust you. Have faith in yourself too"

You nodded and hugged her once again.

~~~~~~~~~~

Time seemed to be even more endless than it usually is for Hades. He didn't need a method to calculate time here, because such constructions that humans used to measure the day, weren't needed in the after life, but he knew for a fact that he couldn't wait to see you again. Longing for someone makes time to pass slowly, but when you're together, you simply can't get enough.

He also had his doubts. You told Thanatos that you'd come here to talk, but you didn't say you'd stay. Maybe you'd come to reject him but at least he'd be able to see you for one last time. The power a little mortal girl held over such a powerful God would have to be laughable at least. But he didn't even consider all that because he didn't view you as such, you were his equal, someone he wanted to keep by his side and shower with love.

While he was lost in his thoughts he heard sounds coming from the portal area and quickly rushed to check what was going on. There, he could see you throwing rocks in the lake in order to be noticed by him. You looked absolutely adorable and his dimples finally showed up after weeks of being hidden in his cheeks. Oh the delight he felt now that you'd finally meet.

When the stairs opened, you ran down the stairs as fast as you could, which lead to you not so gracefully almost falling to the floor, if it wasn't for Hades' fast reflex. He got to you before you embarrassed yourself and you were beyond grateful for that.

He smiled at you and you felt your heart bursting. Is this how love should feel like? An endearingly annoying feeling, a mixture of anxiety and tranquility you'd say.

"I got you this time but don't run like a maniac next time, okay?"

Your grasp on him tightened and you spoke.

"There'd be no next time though".

Hades' eyebrows furrowed. If he had s heart, it'd be beating like crazy by now. Here it is. You arrived to tell him that you won't come back again to him. But why would you run to say that and why would you not let him go? Maybe you wanted to make the most out of that last encounter you two shared.

"No next time?" Hades asked as he gently pushed your jaw upwards because this conversation needed you two to look at one another.

"Yes. I took my decision and I'm gonna stay with you. "

It was comical how fast his expression changed from worried to cheerful, you couldn't help but laugh.

He lifted you up and started swirling around, almost making you dizzy, from love mostly, but his movements might have played a role there too.

"Let me gooooo...I haven't touched the floor since I arrived".

"I'm scared you might leave if I'll do that".

"Never! You'll grow sick of me, don't worry" you smiled, looking at him in the most gentle and loving way anyone has looked his way. He was receiving the most love he's ever experienced by a single glance.

"We're gonna see about that". He laughed again, forming little lines around his eyes.

"Can I get a kiss?" You asked, surprisingly bold for your standards. But you were dreaming of that moment for so long, it was your consistent daydream and the theme of your night dreams too.

You saw those dimples again you've grown to love so much, you definitely gotta kiss those too one day.

Hades came closer, his hands were placed at the back of your waist, always gentle and respectful towards you. You placed yours against his chest, feeling the muscle underneath his clothes, making those butterflies in your stomach activate again. His face moved closer but you didn't panic, despite this being your first kiss, it felt safe and non judgmental. His lips danced slowly against yours, and you followed along. It felt like home, like a sunny day during May, like a summer night by the sea. A simple, intimate act that made time stop, something so casual and small, that held so much value to you.

"Welcome home, my love".

#ateez #ateez san #ateez smut #ateez san smut #ateez san fluff #ateez san angst #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez imagine

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ardienothesieno · 1 year ago

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OC Writing

idk im bored and procrastinating and the guys wont get out of my head

uhhhhhh tw mildly suggestive

lesbian robot and their cool girlfriend have a conversation and some not-so-cool shit happens

angst angst angst angst angst--

They were interrupted from their writing by the sudden entrance of someone into their chamber. They dismissed the screen hovering in front of them, spinning towards the access shaft to find--

"Hey Ash," Fireflies said, head poking out of the tunnel.

If Ashes from Above had been built with a mouth, they would be beaming. They slowly released the zero gravity in their chamber, gently lowering Fireflies to the floor, and brought their puppet in close. Fireflies laughed, grabbed the sides of Ash's face, and booped the tip of her mask against their forehead. "Morning, love."

Ash let out a giggle, and threw their arms around her. "You haven't come to visit for 4 cycles! I was starting to get worried." "Your overseers follow me constantly! You could have checked in any time." "I did!!" Ash huffed. "But you said you don't like being watched all the time, so I tried to leave you alone. Mostly."

They pulled away from the embrace, wheeling away to hover over Fireflies. "So what brings you to finally break your solitude?" They teased. "Ran out of groceries? Wanted to come lecture me on my lack of work as of late?" "Am I not allowed to just come talk to a friend?" "Friend??" Ash kneed Fireflies in the side of the face (gently) and spun away to a higher height. "We're just friends now, you say?" Fireflies laughed. "Sorry. Best friend." Ash scoffed, causing Fireflies to laugh even harder. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Best of best friends who is such a bestest best friend that I commit unthinkable karmic sins for them." "Better," they responded, looping around their mechanical arm in mid-air.

"But seriously, why today? I thought you usually took the first of the week to paint." "Um. Usually, yes. But, I, um... I... I'm just having a bad day."

Ash stopped spinning and immediately brought their puppet up to her, reaching behind her head to unclasp and gently lift off her intricate golden mask. Fireflies did look more tired then usual. Dark circles surrounded her drooping eyelids, and her lips were dry and cracked. Ash took her face in their hands, tenderly. "...Is this about Blanket?"

It had been a little over one year-cycle since the mass ascension, when their friend and Fireflies' cousin A Blanket, 32 Stitches per Row had ascended with the majority of society. Ash had tried to convince him to stay behind. They had tried to convince all of them to stay behind. Only 152 of their citizens had listened. Who had trusted in Ash's abilities to care for them after the collapse of society. And they were doing a mighty fine job, if they were to say for themself!

"I... Sort of. It's partially about Blanket, but there are some... some other things." "Do you want to talk about any of it?" Fireflies looked away, pursing her lips. "Maybe later." "Can I do anything, then? To make you feel better?" "Just... sit. And talk to me. Please?"

And so they did. They curled up with Fireflies in a corner of their chamber, Fireflies fidgeting with a pearl, Ash talking about everything that had happened in the past 4 cycles. They talked about their conversations with Lingering Fog and Smoke upon Droplets of Rain, their ongoing argument with East of Eden. They talked about how Calling Voids had been rambling about philosophy in the group channel, and how it had gotten so annoying they had to mute it. They talked about their remaining citizens, and all of the weird things that they had caught on their overseers.

"I've noticed some people acting a bit strange. Not noticeable enough to be a concern, but a good portion of my inhabitants have been... quieter, lately. Some of them have been visiting the temples more often. I know it's irrational... but I do worry that some of them intend to ascend sometime in the near future."

Fireflies tensed, hand curling around the pearl in her grasp. "I... will admit that there are... rumors." "Rumors?? Of people wishing to ascend????" "Yeah. Some... some people have been talking about how you don't have the resources to keep the colony going. That we need to ascend before it's too late and we all starve to death." "But that's nonsense!" Ash cried, sitting up straight, Fireflies sliding off of their lap with a grunt. "Did no one read my sustainability proposals?? I have solutions for all of that!! There are enough stores to last two and half year-cycles, and I have plans for when they run out! Purposed organisms, to hunt lizards and other wild creatures in lower altitudes! Factories that could be repurposed into greenhouses and mills! I have everything planned out, and backup plans for if those plans don't work!!" Fireflies grabbed Ash's hands, lowering them and squeezing gently. "I know, I know love, I'm sorry. I trust you. I know you'll keep us all safe. But not everyone has the same faith in you as I do." "I just don't... I've worked so hard..." "I know. I know. I'm so sorry. It's going to be okay." "Should I rewrite my proposals? Make them clearer, make my ideas more palatable? Make sure there's nothing I missed, that I can keep everyone happy and alive and safe and--" "Ash!" Fireflies grasped their hands tighter and yanked their attention to her face, her dark eyes, the small stripes on her snout. "Shhh. It's okay." There was a beat of silence. "Promise me," Ash whispered. "That even if everyone else leaves, that you won't. That you'll stay with me until you can't anymore." Fireflies paused. "I... okay. Yes. I- I won't leave you behind, Ash."

Ash stared at Fireflies before slowly nodding and slumping back against their arm. "Let's... talk about something else. Anything else." Fireflies whispered, snuggling up to Ash's shoulder. "Anything?" "Anything."

Ash thought for a second. "Um. I have a routine maintenance check today? My two remaining mechanics should be going through my structure around now, and will send me any repair orders that need to be executed in the future." "Mmmm. Anything else?" "My overseers have reported 72 yeek sightings over the past 20 cycles." Fireflies chuckled. "That is pretty random." "You said anything."

They laid there for several minutes in silence, enjoying each other's company. Quietly holding each other close. Ash received 17 alerts while they were lying there with Fireflies, of which they all ignored. The only thing more important then this moment would be something completely catastrophic, like a system failure. And the chances of that happening were so slim...

They were beginning to think that Fireflies had fallen asleep when her citizen drone beeped and she sat up with a start. They turned away as Fireflies opened her messages. One of the main rules of their relationship was privacy. Fireflies didn't want Ash peeking through her private conversations and files, and Ash didn't want Fireflies wandering through their memory complexes without permission.

"I. Um. P-probably have to go soon." Ash turned back to Fireflies, and noticed how panicked they looked from reading whatever message they had gotten. "Are you okay?" "Yeah. Uh- yeah. Just... have to go to a meeting. Sort of. It's... complicated. I don't know." Fireflies looked more and more stressed with each passing second. "...Alright. You should probably get going then." "No!! No, I- I have a few more minutes," Fireflies blurted, grabbing Ash's hands again. "...Besides, there's something else I want to do first." "Oh?"

Fireflies pressed her lips to Ash's face. "Oh..." Fireflies laughed, breathily, and wrapped her arms around Ash. "It's been too long since we did anything like this." "Agreed," Ash whispered, burying their hands in Fireflies' hair-tentacles and pulling her forehead against theirs.

Another alert popped up. They dismissed it.

Fireflies made a small noise and pulled Ash even closer, pressing them against her. Her breath was warm and fast on Ash's artificial skin as she frantically whispered, "I love you. I love you so much, Ash. I love--"

- - -

13 Fireflies Amongst Falling Leaves let out a sob as Ash's puppet went limp in her arms. As the chamber lights went out. As the structure around her shuddered and went silent.

She clutched the avatar of the person she loved as the machinery that made up that person deactivated. As the temperature around her started to drop. As Ashes from Above died.

And Fireflies cried.

Her sobs were broken minutes later by a hand on her shoulder. She looked up to see Hundreds of Birds Trapped in a Vortex, one of Ash's mechanics... and the ringleader of the shutdown.

Ash had been right in their suspicions. A good portion of people were worried, and wanted to ascend. Almost all of them did, at that point.

Many of the remaining citizens had spent the last hundred cycles working on raising their karma. Slowly packing things away, shutting down factories and machines, desperately trying to avoid Ash's notice. It would break their heart to see them all to leave, the ringleaders had said. It was kindest for them not to know, the ringleaders had said.

Fireflies was told to distract Ash while the mechanics shut down their systems. And here she was, Ash's puppet lying dead in her arms.

She would have stayed. If they hadn't made the decision to kill Ash when they left. She would have stayed with the iterator she loved until the day she died.

She had no choice, now.

"I'm sorry," Vortex whispered. "I'm so sorry, Fireflies. It was the kindest thing we could do." He grabbed her arm and pulled her to standing, Ash's body falling to the ground with a clang. "Come on, we should get going." "I-- but--" "They're in a better place now, Fireflies. Perhaps we will meet them again in the Great Beyond. Come along now." "W-wait."

Fireflies twisted out of his grasp and stumbled over to Ash's body. She knelt down and shakily removed her scarf, wrapping it around their neck. Their hands trembled as they reached up to slide Ash's metallic eyelids shut. She pressed one last kiss to their forehead, choking out a goodbye to unhearing sound sensors.

Fireflies stood back up and walked over to Vortex, who was standing by the main access door.

The rest of the city was waiting in the mines, ready to venture down to the golden ocean at the bottom of the world.

13 Fireflies Amongst Falling Leaves left the puppet chamber of Ashes from Above for the last time.

Goodbye, my love. I'll see you in the Great Beyond.

#dont worry ash doesnt actually die #they're too cool for that #plus they have too much potential for trauma from this. im not gonna pass up on traumatizing my blorbo!!#also i should probably get back to writing my actual essay for school instead of this now #enjoy the lesbian robot angst #rain world #rain world oc #rw oc #rw iterator #iterator #rw iterator oc #rw ancients #rw ancient oc #writing #ashes from above #thirteen fireflies #oc #ashflies

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chemicalpink · 1 year ago

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ଘ(´•×•)⊃━☆ a (not so brief) life update

In case you've been wondering where I've been cause by now we all know I tend to just disappear.

A few days ago I felt like oversharing a bit for anyone interested, I feel like getting to this point of sharing is due and will allow me to stop this irrational fear of the internet that I have somehow developed as it tallies to my accountability on this blog.

So hang tight! Cause this is about to be a wild ride...

I'm not regressing to the very beginning cause this isn't about to be a therapy session but I will go back to the near beginnings of this account during the pandemic.

A little before lockdown as I was asked to collaborate as a customs specialist for a pop-up store (which then I found out to be BTS') so I got into them after my job was done. A bit after going down the rabbit hole I started this blog, without very much planning into it, just merely creating a safe space for the people with whom could potentially like the same things I did.

A few months into it, as a last year International Relations student on my way to law school, and with a bit of sleep deprived courage, I applied for an internship at BH online, not expecting much since I barely knew Korean and was most definitely stuck at home in a whole different continent. But things surprisingly worked out, I didn't get paid at all but it was a great learning experience. BH became HB and I got to experience that from the inside, my day went like this: school from 7am to 5 pm and work from 9pm to 3am (sometimes more)

I obviously never got to work directly with any idols, my work was merely global and very much law related. Customs, contracts, negotiations with international enterprises. When the lockdown was done with, I was asked to move and become a permanent worker of theirs, so I did. However, it involved a lot of moving around so I wasn't exactly based anywhere and living costs are quite a thing. During this time I was also profiling myself as a diplomat, so it was in all of our best interests that I became outsourced.

Which brings us to a timeline closer to the present, the person that was in charge of contacting me for the gigs that I used to do for them suddenly quit and while I'm sure they were doing whatever was best for them, left me fending for myself during may-june. I came back home with my parents during june-july and networked for a bit– at least enough to regroup my possibilities so during august-september I was allowed to staff and collaborate (on a lower level) on some big concerts/tours.

During this time however (july-september) I was mostly reliant on my parents and coincidentally, their work slowed down by a lot. The rather small amount of money I got from working here and there was spent on my medical treatment (during july my doctor let me know that I needed to get diagnosed properly for lupus and by august my treatment costs were up by a lot) I tried picking up freelance tutoring (a pain, truly) and other small hustles that didn't require me to tire myself out too much since most of my days I spent aching all over, while also caring for my mother who had to have an emergency glaucoma surgery.

Oh and I cried and felt miserable during my birthday so.

I believe that's where we are at. I can't exactly get a job since I need to apply to an unpaid internship in order to graduate law school but I can't apply for an internship because one of my teachers just suddenly decided to fail me in their class (which means I need to pass it first) so I try to get by with small, low commitment hustles and now I'm picking up more seriously my ko-fi content. Which is why, I haven't been on here.

Those damned retrogrades hit me good ngl.

I do want to say though, I am not in a state of emergency, however, I am not living comfortably, but I'm trying my best to pick myself up and be nice to myself with the decisions I make and actions I take by the minute. While also trying to save up to go visit my 17 year old sister that has just moved away to study medicine.

I am grateful for what I have and I cherish you all that have remained close to me (even in this infinite nothingness that is the internet) and I hope you've been treating yourselves kindly during this time. If you'll have me, let's navigate the rest of the year together.

If this gains a lot of traction, I'm privating it lmao. I have no issue now talking about it since I'm no longer working there but I made those NDAs myself so I know what I'm up to.

#wow look shes back #life update

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ed-recovery-affirmations · 1 year ago

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This is a little bit of a vent so if that’s not ok please just ignore :) tw for mentions of dieting, irrational food fears, and restricted eating

I have suspected BGE, which is inflammation of the brain. (Don’t worry, I’m pursuing diagnosis & have professional help) Earlier this year I went into a huge flare & developed some really awful restricted eating patterns because I was so unwell mentally. BGE causes a lot of irrational fears & a lot of mine center around food; I was afraid to eat and sometimes my brain wouldn’t “allow” me to eat for hours at a time. I’m now on medication that is helping me recover from the flare, and I’m fighting really really hard to recover from the eating disorder. But I’m really frustrated, because my family and friends keep telling me that I should go on a special diet to reduce the inflammation in my body. Logically I know that diet does play a big role in your physical health, and I agree that if I could maintain a healthy diet, it would help my symptoms, including my irrational fears surrounding food. But ironically, one of my symptoms is an eating disorder! And forcing myself to make a huge change in my diet when I’m already struggling to eat in general, doesn’t make sense to me. I’ve explained to them that I’m struggling to eat and that my focus right now is to eat enough food to keep me well, but some of them just keep telling me that I should diet. It’s really frustrating to me and I feel like they aren’t appreciating any of the progress I’ve made. I used to cry every time I ate because it was so hard, and now I eat three meals a day plus snacks and it’s not always the healthiest food, but it’s food and that’s what matters to me. So idk I just wanted to express some frustration about that, hope that’s ok. I love your blog btw!

Hi there. I say this a lot, but I'm sorry it took me so much time to get to this. I hope you've managed to get some answers. I know what hell it can be to have a mystery chronic illness. I also know what hell it can be when you have an illness that exacerbates your eating disorder.

It sounds like your family and friends have some pretty serious boundary issues. I think that, whether or not you have pulled further out of your flare, you need to work on developing some boundary statements to use with these people. These might help them understand more of the risk they cause you when they try to push you toward dieting, but maybe they won't help with that - the point of boundary statements is more to help people understand the consequences of ignoring your personal boundaries.

Perhaps you could consult the professionals you're working with and see if they can help you construct some easy-to-remember boundary phrases you can have handy!

So you could try to start with "You might think it's a good idea to give advice that my medical professionals have deemed dangerous, but I'd request that you didn't."

"I have inflammation in my brain and it's affecting the part that creates fear. Your advice creates more fear and is unhelpful."

"When I want advice, I'll ask my medical team."

But the thing is, it sounds like these people have consistently broken your boundaries before. So what consequences can you enforce in order to remove their access to you when they do this, thus removing their ability to violate your boundaries?

"Dieting and even diet talk is a threat to my condition according to my doctors. If you continue to put my health at risk I am going to stop talking to you."

"If you continue to put me at risk medically I am going to have to spend less time with you."

"I can see that you're trying to help, but you're not listening to me when I say this is unhelpful. I'm going to cut this conversation short now."

Remember, the goal isn't to prevent them from feeling frustration, it's to prevent them from having sufficient access to you to do further harm if they simply cannot understand why their behavior is harmful in the first place. This unfortunately may be an isolating process. Chronic illness will teach you all kinds of painful truths about who actually has what it takes to provide the kind of empathetic, ongoing, unglamorous support that a chronically ill person needs. Best of luck in taking care of yourself and in getting well.

#chronic illness #diet culture #toxic family #toxic friends #boundaries #long post #advice

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mental-health-advice · 1 year ago

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Sometimes I become painfully aware that I have all of these thoughts in my head and there’s a bunch of wave lengths and a bunch of my thoughts overlapping and I get upset with myself because I imagine things and then my head disagrees with me. Does that have a name?

And also, I just have random thoughts about those around me that I probably shouldn’t and it’s scary and makes me awkward and usually sends me into this spiral of zoning out and feeling really low and just hopeless. Does that have a name as well? If not it’s okay I just wanna know whether kr not this is an actual thing or not ya know?

-🪿

Hey there,

I am not sure if there is a name for what you are experiencing but I can assure you that you are not the only one that has such thoughts. It’s quite normal and especially if you are struggling with say depression to have racing thoughts that feel never ending and overlap with one with one another. When I experience things like this, I find it helpful to write down whatever thoughts are going on/ through my head at the time. Now, this doesn’t have to make sense, what you write down, it may even seem even more chaotic down on paper and jumbled up and just a mess. This is OK and normal. The point is though to empty your mind of those thoughts to hopefully help you to think a little clearer and enable you to then figure out what thoughts are rational and what of those aren’t. This can also help you to challenge those thoughts that are irrational or one’s that you know are not to be true, helping you to then refocus your attention on the good things about life.

In regards to having random thoughts about other people that you feel you shouldn’t be having, I find that again it can be really helpful to write down the thoughts as it can allow you to better be able to challenge them or try to figure out where they are coming from/ if they have been triggered by something that has happened. Writing a journal can also help at times to pin point if there is a cycle or particular trigger that may come up which then translate to them being thoughts about others that you feel as though you shouldn’t be having.

It also sounds like you are putting quite a lot of pressure on yourself with all these thoughts that you have been having and that go around continuously in your head. Sometimes when we put a lot of pressure on ourselves with something that we cannot always control, it can exacerbate things. For this reason, please try to be kind to yourself at this time, you have done nothing wrong and nor can you always control what you may be feeling or thinking. The important thing is that we do not act on thoughts that may be damaging/ harmful for both ourself or others and it sounds as though you have been able to avoid doing just that. So, try to be proud of yourself and give yourself some credit. Yes, these thoughts are and can be quite scary and intense but you are doing the best you can and doing a fine damn job at that! I’m proud of you!

I really hope that this has helped a bit and please do let us know if we can help to support you in any other way!

I’m thinking of you and hope that you are going well!

Take care,

Lauren

#mha-lauren #advice #advice blog #mental health advice #🪿#racing thoughts

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222dadon · 2 years ago

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Partying W Anxiety Lol

I went out for the first time in almost 2 years this past weekend. It’s crazy to me how in high school and a little bit after that, there was never a weekend that I was home. Once I became a mother, it seems that I let that be the only thing that I was. I let go of everything else. Don’t get me wrong, I love being a mom. I just hate that I can’t seem to tap into any other parts of me without feeling guilty or overwhelmed.

My anxiety has never been as bad as it is now. I can’t go to the store by myself. I can’t run ANY errand alone. I can’t even go to a drive thru to grab a drink alone. I want to. No one has any idea how badly I want to. I want to be independent again but my fucking anxiety refuses to loosen it’s grip on me. But recently I’ve been on a mental health journey and have been trying to move past the restrictions that my irrational fears have set in front of me.

I started to meditate again and really often. That’s really helped me get rid of the constant feeling of uneasiness. It’s still there, but it’s just not as loud as it usually is. My close friends have been asking me for years to come out with them. I normally say yes and then last minute I come up with some sort of excuse or lie to tell them so that I don’t have to go. But this past weekend, on a whim, I said yes to friends I haven’t spoken to in a very long time.

At first it confused me how I was able to say yes to people that have become almost strangers but have turned down every friend that is close enough to be deemed a relative. But after my night ended and I woke up the next morning I finally realized why.

The friends I went out with, haven’t seen me since before I gave birth to my son. They don’t know me as a mother yet. All they know is the Sila that loved to have fun and wasn’t drowning in anxiety. They know the Sila that was confident in everything and didn’t think twice about dancing on tables. They know the Sila that conversed with strangers with ease. They know the Sila that allowed herself to forget about responsibility for a couple of hours just so she could let loose. They know the Sila that didn’t care if all eyes were on her because she didn’t notice. They know the Sila that I miss. They know the Sila that I let go of long ago. They don’t know that I’m not her anymore and haven’t been for a long time. They don’t know the mother that barely survived post partum. They don’t know that I prefer the shadows now because that’s where I feel safe. They don’t know that I shy away from crowded places because I’m afraid of eyes that don’t belong to the people in my house. They don’t know that I’m so self-conscious that sometimes it makes me feel sick. They don’t know that sometimes I can’t leave my room because my anxiety is physically crippling. They don’t know who I really am anymore and for some reason I found that comforting.

When I went out with them I didn’t have to explain anything because they didn’t know anything. They treated my like the Sila that they thought I was and it was like a breath of fresh air. For once I could be the person that I’ve been dying to be again without anyone there to ask me about the person that I am. I got to go back in time for just a couple of hours and it was the most fun I have had in a really long time.

That night gave me hope that I can be something other than a mom. I let myself tune out every other side of me for a long time and that resulted in me forgetting that I am also so much more. Listening to my inner child/teen self has helped heal the adult me and I’m grateful that I listened. I’ll never shut her out again.

My friends don’t know how big of a milestone this past weekend was for me but I’ve silently thanked them every day since. You really never know how big of an impact you can have on other people’s lives. I encourage everyone or whoever this is, to check on your friends or reach out to old ones. You never know what someone’s going through or how much your presence can heal someone.

Love,

Sila (the adult one)

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silverinkbottle · 3 months ago

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The Affair between Hawk and Dove-Chapter 6: Adjustments

Summary: It's time to wake up, but sometimes that takes effort.

Pairing: OC x Mihawk

Fandom: A mixture of content from both the Live Action and Manga. Spoilers will be WARNED once chapters go beyond the current timeline of OPLA.

Rating: EXPLICIT (18+). Please be aware that there be sexual content, references to non-con, prostitution, graphic violence etc.

Chapter length: 6K

Previous Chapter

AO3 Link:

A/N: The latest chapter in the ABHWD series..and the next chapter may be happening sooner than you think dear reader. I had so much fun creating a bit of non canon backstory for our lovely Warlord..and plenty more is to come.

A vast, unending void sprawled out before Iris as she tried to steady her breathing. Shame and anger intertwine like creeping vines on a wall at the childlike fear. Unable to move like she was back in her childhood home on a stormy night as the wind howled with the guttural calls of unseen creatures in the dark wanting to drag her away. That irrational fear evolved into something more practical, the fear of the unknown. What if she stepped forward into the inky void and something happened? What things lurked in the unnatural dark?

"Move. Come on. Move." Iris snarled under her breath as she stared down at her bare feet.

The ink-like substance of the 'floor' washed over them like sea foam with a single twitch of her left foot. Ink-like droplets dripped from her heel as she took her first hesitant step forward, as the dark substance stained her pale skin with each measured step. The echo of her footfalls whispered around her with growing volume. The cautious steps turned into a sprint as another sound roared about her, the inexplicable crash of waves. It all happened so quickly as the ink-like liquid lashed against her form, knocking her to her knees as the bitter taste flooded her mouth. Half gasping and half gagging, Iris bowed forward with a retch, tears streaming down her face from the force.

Raising her stained hands to her dark lips, another violent spasm shook her form as a wave of nausea forced her to expel more of the dark fluid. A mere drop in the bucket as the strange liquid gradually rose as Iris tried to raise her head to look forward. Still the same endless void. Was there a point in this little venture if only darkness awaited her?

No.

No. No. No.

The words whispered in her head like a siren's sweet call as she couldn't find the will to stand up again. The once tacky sensation of the 'ocean' turned into a familiar feeling, almost like a blanket to lull into sleep. It's what she wanted, right? Peace and quiet? Then why did it burn her throat so as she took one final breath?

A ragged gasp burst from her lips, followed by the harsh burn of stomach acid, as Iris retched over the side of the bed with what little she did have in her stomach. Salt, salt, and bile as she pressed her face against the soft sheets. Nausea turned in her guts as if she couldn't remove her sense of smell from the faint scent of sweat, sickness, and the ocean. Followed by the raging headache that came to the forefront when her blurred vision tried to focus.

"Where the fuck am I." Iris croaked as she wearily glanced about the bed.

The thick curtains blocked all but the small crack of candlelight, allowing enough light to see and avoid getting sick in the bed.

"My ship."

A flood of embarrassment sent a harsh shade of red to her cheeks as she couldn't help but jump at the unexpected voice. Followed by the realization of her pathetic state, stripped down to a sweat-stained nightgown and the almost itchy sensation of salt water covering her skin. The bed curtains were gently opened as she blinked owlishly up at her 'guest.' Said host was quick to shove a bitter-smelling cup into her hands as she couldn't help but flinch from the unexpected move.

A sigh followed by a far gentler touch brushed her forehead as Mihawk's dry expression didn't seem to shift. The strange hue of his eyes looked all the more amber in the darkened room as Iris tried to find her voice, but it was like the low rasp of some cat. Hastily using one hand to rub her throat, she wordlessly stared up at Mihawk, who gave another long-standing sigh.

"How much do you remember?"

Iris's hand tethered side to side with a shrug of her shoulders. It was like a heavy fog still clung to her mind as she winced when the throb of the headache reminded her of its presence. The disastrous meeting, the deck, her heart seized for a moment, the bodies. Gods, how many people had died because of her temper. Mihawk quickly intervened as the visible alarm appeared on Iris's face. He hastily took the cup from her shaking hands to set it aside as he continued evenly.

"Easy, most of the crew made it out with minimal injuries. A bit waterlogged, but Iris-"

His low, comforting words sent a burst of emotion through Iris as relief swept through her. She leaned forward on her knees as she wordlessly pressed her face to Mihawk's form, the faintest shudder shaking her shoulders. The taste of salt on her tongue was almost sweeter from the tears that dripped down her cheeks. She could feel the nearly phantom-like brush through her hair as if Mihawk had stopped to remember to not touch the coarse strands.

"You were the worst; Cooke did what she could with the limited medicinal supplies I have here. At least she thinks you didn't suffer a concussion from the falling debris. Just a few stitches in the back of your head. As for everything el- Iris."

His continued explanation was low and steady, and it edged into a growl of disapproval as once more Iris was on the move. She scrambled from the bed, half catching her hands on Mihawk's right arm before letting out a slight hiss of shock. She caught sight of herself in the full-length mirror in the corner.

A dark bruise took up much of her right cheek as she wordlessly brushed over the splotch of purple. Shaking fingers struggled with the tie of the nightgown as the pale fabric fell to the floor with little ceremony. Fuck, she looked like a beaten stray as with each twist of her nude reflection, she found the impression of a boot. Her knees reddened from being dragged up onto the deck as a faint noise of disgust slipped from her lips at the clear, uneven shearing of a patch of hair on the back of her head.

"You were bleeding; she couldn't exactly take her time, Dove," Mihawk said dryly as his right hand curled over her right hip bone.

Was it to steady her or to allow himself a bit of selfishness since he had evidently treated her like a fragile paper doll. His expression was guarded, but his eyes told all that Iris needed to hear, including the slow inspection of her body. Lingering over every yellowed bruise and boot imprint, he pulled his gaze from her form to press his lips to the side of her head. The brief tightening of his hand on her hip sent a jolt through Iris as she felt a pang of guilt that she had caused him this much worry.

"Now, back to bed. Drink, it's a tonic that should help with the headache..according to Cooke.." Mihawk ordered as he lightly tugged her away from the mirror. Ushering her back to the plush bed again, she found her nose assaulted by the bitter concoction that tasted as bad as it smelled with the first sip.

"She said that once you woke up, it would be fine for you to shower. But to avoid getting the stitches, we-damn it, Iris."

The allure of a hot shower was Iris needed to take a deeper drink of the tonic. A mistake as the bitter taste threatened to overwhelm her empty stomach. Her free hand hastily covered her lips with a spasm of her form, a silent dry heave that mercifully didn't return the swallowed liquid. Her watery eyes stared up hopefully at Mihawk, whose expression was less than amused but kept his sharp tongue to himself.

"Must you behave like a child when suffering from any affiliation?"

"Shower." Iris croaked out; Mihawk rolled his eyes but offered his hand nonetheless. Iris was quick to take it with a bat of her eyelashes.

Slowly pulling herself up, Iris glanced about the room. While the vast bed occupied most space, a few other things caught her attention. Scattered books here and there, and a large wardrobe that had scraped the ceiling with its height. Two portholes allowed her to see that it was still at least daytime, judging by the pale hue of the ocean passing outside the vessel. Yet, most notable was the chest that sat haphazardly packed, its lid ajar from the press of the overflowing contents.

"Joan managed to salvage some of your things; I never took you much for sentiment, Dove. She was quite adamant that I didn't jostle it.." Mihawk muttered as Iris leaned down to open the hopefully dry box.

Dresses, around two, a collection of jewelry, a tangled strand of ribbons, underthings. Her hands became almost frantic as she shifted aside fabrics and riches, heaving a heavy sigh of relief when she caught sight of the bottom of the trunk. A small, dented, almost rusted lockbox equivalent in size to a frying pan sat waiting for her. Fingertips brushed over the stained surface before flicking the broken lock open with the edge of her nail.

"I'll have to thank her next time our paths cross again. I couldn't replace these.." Iris muttered warmly as she traced the crudely crafted tobacco pipe's handle. Next to it sat a copper brooch, no larger than her thumb, the chipped painting of a fish's scale on it.

Finally, the third object was carefully tied in cloth as Iris quickly checked the knots that concealed the cylinder-like item. That was the last thing she needed to break in here.

"Reminders of your parents, I understand, but what is-"

"Something I hope I never have to use." Iris smoothly cut over his curiosity, punctuated by the loud creak of the lockbox closed shut.

She quickly pulled a ribbon from the tangled mess before sloppily piling her hair in a messy bun. At least she could shower adequately without it getting in the way. Iris couldn't help but feel a flicker of annoyance with each strand, roughly coated with the remainder of her impromptu swim. It was like gritty sand but somehow worse.

"Well, it's not like secrets between us have caused trouble before.." There was an edge of sulkiness in Mihawk's voice, followed by a hint of amusement when Iris’ eyes went wide, an apology ready. Said apology was quickly changed to a silent scowl at the unexpected teasing.

"It must be private if you consider it important enough to put it there. I won't ask, Dove." Mihawk soothed as he moved an errant strand from Iris's pink-tinted cheeks. Her flushed skin was from embarrassment and irritation as she wordlessly waved away the intruding fingers. Indigent grumbles as the gentle touch turned into a soft tug, giving her heart another flutter as he gave her that rare sliver of a smile.

"Shower."

"I wasn't aware I bought a parrot aboard instead of a woman."

"Mihawk, I am covered in salt, dried blood, and gods know what else. I have a thundering headache; now isn't the time for-"

Her plausible fit turned from the darkening clouds of a storm to a mere breeze as Mihawk lightly pulled at her left hand, pressing a gentle kiss to the inside of her wrist. Amber eyes that could drown Iris came all too close as his other hand tilted her face up.

"Now, most of you are covered in all those things. Are you feeling better, or do you want me-"

The low purr was immediate bait that, on any other day, Iris would have willingly fallen for without a second's hesitation. However, she steeled herself with a rough pat on her lover's cheek before inching her way past him through the open doorway. Doing her best to ignore the alluring 'hm' feeling skin prickle from the way eyes raked over her naked form. At least she knew that even battered and bruised, rude or pissed off, something drew the Warlord to her.

"It's the door to the left. Linens stashed under the sink.." Mihawk directed

As confident as Iris had marched into the room, she had found herself standing dumbfounded in the center of the secondary room. Much more extensive than the bedroom, circular instead of square, as she took in the mismatch of 'rooms' crammed into the space. A small larder tucked into the back near the ladder that doubtlessly led upward. The once-appealing scent of spices made her mouth water with aversion as she roughly swallowed. Familiar, almost comforting scents of ink and parchment as a half-finished chart of some kind sat open on the large table behind a dark velvet settee. A few pillows littered the floor before the furniture; something told her that the insomniac was fond of catching a few moments of sleep on it when he could.

On the right side of the room were two tall bookshelves stuffed with literature, maps, and other things. Almost too full by her standards, Iris could feel her fingers twitch at the sight of the mess. Despite her poor show of organization during his unexpected visit, Iris was quite apt at effectively curating her workflow. Yet, it was the strange circular object that sat next to the mess of parchment that piqued her curiosity in earnest. It was like a globe made of glass but had the stanch strength of something metallic. A haze of blue over its surface aside from the singular hourglass-shaped object that sat in the center of the top.

"All that complaining, and you seemed all too willing to stand here, gawking. Not that I'm unhappy about the view." Mihawk mused from the doorway as he lazily glanced up at her form.

Her cheeks had once again turned a shade almost as red as her hair. She hadn't meant to be so distracted, but it was difficult to stifle her curiosity. Somehow, the infamous Warlord's ship was as big a mystery as he was.

"I'll explain later, Dove."

"Really?"

"To save me the headache of your curiosity somehow breaking it later. It's beyond fickle, even with all my complaints. All I receive back is that the invaluable genius of Vegapunk's invention wasn't to be questioned by lesser minds."

"Really, some poor clerk you doubtlessly pursued for answers responded with that.."

"In far politer terms. Now, go." Mihawk dismissed her with a flick of his hand. Iris rolled her eyes but did as she was told.

The interior of this room was smaller, but still, she couldn't help but jump at the loud echo of the door shutting behind her. The whirl of machinery was all the more prominent here as she would put more than a few beli on the idea that the ship's core lurked beyond tile walls.

It also made water heating quite simple as she couldn't help but feel her tired muscles sag in relief as the gentle spray of water from the nozzle overhead dripped down her. Another luxury was the design of the nozzle itself, allowing it to fall in a waterfall pattern in a pleasant flow. An unexpected giggle slipped from Iris's lips as she dipped her neck to let water drip down her salt-covered chest. It all made sense with Mihawk's indulgence with water; the man had more avian qualities than he would admit. He was one of the few people she had met who would willfully spend the money on a human-sized birdbath.

Another burst of giggles trickled from her lips as her laughter pitched from the echoing quality of the shower. The heavy steam dampened the overall volume as she lazily soaped, rubbed, and washed the tacky sensation of filth from her skin. Iris felt refreshed, indulging for fifteen minutes before reluctantly turning off the hypnotic flow. Half blinded by clouds of steam, she plucked a toward from the linen closet outside the shower, wrapping it around herself with haste as the warmth of the shower was replaced by the colder air. Chewing on her lower lip, Iris caught sight of the disaster atop her head, untouched by the blissful water. She would have to figure out something with it.

Half poking her head outside the door, she tried to be as quiet as possible in closing in behind her. The faint click pulled Mihawk's attention from the map and scribble of his quill; the pause was evident as another voice boomed out from the small Den Den Mushi in his ear. Loud enough that Iris could hear it.

"You're certain those coordin-"

"Yes. Now, about that favor I'm owe-"

The voice was familiar to Iris, followed by the controlled exasperation in Mihawk's tone as he wordlessly urged her to leave the room with a flick of his eyes. Right, world government business wasn't for the ears of pirates. But she couldn't help but feel her ears perk up at the mention of the word favor. What sort of favor would be so important to involve the Vice Admiral in. However, that question would have to wait as Iris rummaged through her trunk, with her hope dimming every passing second. It was lit anew with a glint of silver as she pulled the prized brush from the depths of the trunk.

A fleeting victory as she did her best to be gentle with a mess of hair with each pull of the brush. Now she could feel the faint tug of stitches as she set the brush down to lightly prod through her locks. There, her expression flickered from relaxed to concerned as she could feel the thick string pulling the skin together like a trussed turkey. At least she had been unconscious during that particular process, or at least she couldn't remember it. Her memory was still a mess of disjointed pieces or sensations. Had she been struck that hard? Drumming her nails against the gilded frame of the mirror, she tried to focus on the jagged flashes of memory. A flash of bright green, a crack of wood, a burst of pain and shouts. Ice, salt, and something slapping at her face, a hint of peppermint. That must have been Cooke; the older woman wasn't known for her bedside manner.

"Feeling better?" The warm notes, followed by the brush of Mihawk's solid form against her back, dragged her back to the present.

"Much, smelling better, too, I imagine. I am burning that nightgown, Mihawk.." Iris joked as goosebumps rippled down her back when his nose brushed against her throat.

His low hum vibrated against her bare shoulder in disapproval at her scent. Did she forget a spot? Her concern was shoved aside by the hot kiss against the sensitive skin and a single swipe of his tongue that sent heat to her core? It was too simple for Iris to pull his face up a mere inch to kiss him properly. The rough brush of his beard was something she was surprised that she had missed. Rough, calloused fingertips stroked over the edge of her rib cage, provoking further goosebumps as her hazed mind caught onto his intentions. Iris quickly caught the seeking hand by the wrist as he grazed the damp curls of her mound.

"Feed me before fucking me. Besides, don't forget that explanation you owe me. I may have forgotten some things, but not that conversation from fifteen minutes ago.." Iris mused as Mihawk pulled away with a roll of his eyes.

"It was over twenty. Besides, were it not for that charming call, I would have rushed in to rescue you from drowning yourself by mistake after passing out in the shower," Mihawk retorted as Iris arched a brow at him. Somehow, she could see that rescuing turning into something else entirely, despite his good intentions and the obvious potential consequences of a probable concussion worsening by elevating her heart rate.

"What was that all about anyway?"

Iris kept her tone light and conversational as she dressed in something other than her bare skin. There was a rustle of fabric as she retrieved a set of black trousers from the trunk, complimented by a stolen shirt from Mihawk's wardrobe. Her fingers possibly took too long to indulge in the fine quality of fabrics and colors as her digits whispered over them. She smiled sheepishly at Mihawk's scoff from her inquisitive inspection.

"Surprised I have other attire in colors other than whites and browns.."

"Only slightly."

"We'll try to bolster your own attire after our little stop.."

"Which is..-" Iris's words trailed off as she wrestled to put on her right boot. It was a bit snug against her right calf, but beggars couldn't be choosers. She knew the hazards of wet feet on the sea. It had all but been drilled into her by her father since she had learned to toddle aboard the deck.

"That favor."

"That isn't a-Mihawk.." Her retort fell flat as Mihawk had swept out of the room with annoying grace. Even in the enclosed space, she struggled to hear the footfalls of his boots. Did he have to maintain that mythical mystery of a Warlord at all times, or was it sheer habit after all this time? Pulling on her left boot, Iris was sure to break in its snug fit with each loud thump against the floorboard. The theatrical effect was dulled by the plush rug of the seating area as she kicked her boots up on the tea table with impatience. Her stomach contributed to the urgency with a low growl as she didn't expect her appetite to return so quickly.

"Open."

Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back and opened her lips. The sour, sweet scent of citrus peel hit her nose, followed by the delicate sweetness of fruit on the tongue. The soft flesh burst with juice as she thoughtfully chewed with a low sigh when she swallowed. Perching another slice of the tangerine between Iris's lips, Mihawk placed the half-peeled fruit into her hands.

"Where did you get fruit, much less fresh fruit." Iris quipped as she greedily ripped into the thick skin of the delicate treat. Hunger overrode the irritating sting of acidic juices sinking into the minor cuts on her hands.

"The Conomi Islands. It was the least the island’s tangerine farmers could do for the Warlord that graced their villages to thoroughly investigate the once territory of Arlong Pirates.."

An air of annoyance threaded through Mihawk's words. He loathed the attention of the general public, mobbing him with mindless praise, petitions, and the like. Iris had heard plenty of it as he would have preferred 'dueling' a hundred sellswords in a row than hear one more utterance from helpless townsfolk.

"Things must have been tense with the Marines if they came clambering to you instead of them.." Iris muttered as she finished the last bit of fruit.

A hint of a smile graced her lips, as did the deep sigh from Mihawk at her comment. All but confirming her suspicions, she did her best to hide her amusement when she walked past him, evidently failing as Iris could feel his stare when she washed her hands in the small sink. An insistent tug on her waist impeded her path back as she found herself in the Warlord's lap.

"Eager for your reward?" Iris teased as she curled closer to him with a gleam in her eyes.

Forcing herself to ignore the faint whispers of pain from her bruises as Mihawk's hands slipped underneath the thin shirt. He stilled them as a wince flickered over Iris's face as another sigh slipped for his lips. The intruding touch went from her body to her face as he lightly tilted her face to the side. His observation was silent, but his eyes were another story. Mihawk hastily smothered the anger, disappointment, and something else with a blink under her appraising stare.

"I'm fine. A bit banged up, but I've been in worse shape-"

"That isn't the point, and you know it. It shouldn't have happened in the first place if you had to"

The start of disgruntled 'discussion' was hastily stifled by a searing kiss as Iris pulled him close. Nails dug into the collar of his shirt as she tried to express everything that her hesitant tongue was afraid to speak. I know I'm here now; I'm sorry; all those words seemed to pass with each gentle brush. Seemingly reaching the irate swordsman, the tension eased from him with a fond brush through her hair. The intimate gesture would have been welcome, but all it did was remind Iris of the less-than-ideal state of her prized locks as she ended the kiss with a huff.

"Is your hair bothering-"

"Yes, I have half the mind to..-Mihawk, where we are exactly right now." Her words trailed off, a mixture of worry and hope curdled together in her mind.

"Somewhere in the East Blue, why-"

"Wonderful, we aren't too late then," Iris hummed as she pulled away from his loose grip with a wink. Softly laughing at the rare expression of surprise, he wordlessly followed her up the ladder leading to the upper deck. It led out through a remarkably disguised trapdoor after Iris struggled to open the metallic hatch, ignoring the quiet remarks below about turning it a bit to the left first.

"If you have to do that, then I think it's time you oiled the damn thing instead of brute forcing it." Iris snidely commented as her irritation was blown away by the quiet caress of the sea breeze against her face.

A fond smile on her face as the gull cried out their greetings at their fellow seafarers. Little did the birds know that it was about to be their lucky day.

Bunching her dark locks, Iris hastily twisted them in a makeshift braid, tying off the top with the ribbon. It hadn't been cut this short since she was sixteen. How much different would it feel now? Going from mid-back to upper shoulders would still be a dramatic change, as she could all but hear Mihawk's silent question.

"I can't manage it well enough if we are going to 'pirating.' Don't you know I'm spoiled, Mihawk? My hair is a fickle mistress even with help..besides it needs to be even out instead of looking like a half-sheared sheep.." Iris explained as she drew the knife stashed on the side of her right boot.

The faintest tremble in her hand as she saw the first few strands give way to its sharp edge. A strange lump of emotion in her throat made her pause in her cut.

"Honestly, I didn't think you were that hapless with a blade. A shaking hand will never make an even cut. Don't you want it to look better, not worse?" Mihawk's voice was low and teasing as he quickly pulled the blade from her reluctant hand

"Close your eyes; it'll be over in a second, Dove." His words were a gentle command as Iris blinked back the sting of tears, swallowed that dreadful lump, and closed her eyes.

The faintest gasp slipped from her lips at the distinct sound of a blade drawing across something and the strange 'lighter' feeling from her scalp.

"Open."

Her eyes wearily looked down at the bunched remains of her hair. It was just hair; it would grow back; the mantra ran through her head in a rhythmic sing-song tone like a familiar song. Even as a child, she was so proud of her hair; its dark red hue was a singular reminder of her mother. Even then, she pitched fits when her mother had to cut something from entangled locks—mud, seaweed, something or other that her daughter had gotten into without thinking.

"Give me some of the locks and indulge me. It's silly, an old fisherman's superstition."

Mihawk passed over one of the bunches with a curious arch of his brow. Iris's fingers carefully passed through the tangled strands as the sun's rays turned the dark shade of red into a lighter tone. The long hair caught in the breeze as she waved them at the overhead gulls, the bright colors catching their attention as she allowed the strands to fall into the gentle waves.

The contrast of color was like a lure to searching birds, who quickly dove into the salty foam. Emerging mere seconds later, prizes clinging in their beaks, the seabirds took flight once more. A faint warmth spread through Iris's chest as the birds willingly accepted her offering.

"Sea birds head to land eventually to rest, find mates, build nests, and raise chicks. It was said in my village that if a sea bird accepted your offering, it would lead to good fortune for the remainder of the voyage. That the vessel will see land again." Iris explained quietly as the bird's feathered forms became smaller and smaller on the horizon.

"I didn't take you for someone who believed in such things.."

"Well, I'll count that surprising you for the first time in quite a while. What an honor.." Iris hummed as she reached for the second bundle of hair.

Only for Mihawk to pull it out of her reach as he wordlessly pulled her towards the trapdoor. Now, her curiosity led her back down below the deck. Sitting on the settee, Iris watched Mihawk move about the room purposefully. First, he stoked the low flickering flame of the grated fireplace, coaxing its meager spark to life with a few flicks of his wrist. It soon greedily fed on a sprinkle of dried plant matter that emitted an earthy scent, the mellow scent hastily overtaken by the sharp notes of warm spice.

The heady notes washed over the room, and Iris couldn't help but feel herself lulled into a sleepier state by the scent. Or was it from the gentle warmth of the fire? Even at this distance, she could feel the comforting heat. The sharp crackle of the flames being fed something else made her sit up straighter as she watched the flames consume the red strands like hounds tearing into a haunch of meat.

"You'll collect the ash in the morning, once it's cooled, and combine the rest of it in the box atop the mantle. It's said that if the ash can be touched by the bare skin of a new crew member, the ship has accepted another passenger in its hold and will protect them on the seas." Mihawk explained as he soon joined Iris's silent vigil in watching the flickering flames. The light brush of his fingers against her wrist urged her to unclench them as she looked down at the small indents from her nails in surprise.

"So, a sacrifice will bring us luck? How morbid." Iris muttered without a hint of hesitation as Mihawk chuckled at the blunt statement. His finger lightly tipped her chin from inspecting her hands to his inquisitive gaze. She tried to find the right words to apologize for her carelessness.

"Well, then, you could call it that. There were seafarers back on my home island who considered hair an insult; offering blood or flesh to the flames was better. To provide life to the vessel to accommodate another."

"Animal blood, right?" Iris asked weakly as she blanched when Mihawk's mouth slightly ticked upward.

She couldn't tell if his words were serious as she rolled her eyes at the non-answer. Far worse superstitions still loomed in the back of some seafarers' minds as she couldn't help but think of the rumors of what some vessels were said to do to female crewmates in moments of panic. The offering of an 'innocent' woman to sate the appetite of a raging storm or the bout of bad luck that seemed to cling to feminine forms like a second skin.

"Are you still hungry?" Mihawk prodded lightly as he lightly brushed a strand of hair from her face.

His low chuckle curled around Iris like a blanket as she wordlessly pressed her face to his collarbone, her hands pulling at the fabric of his shirt for a brief moment in a wordless request and answer simultaneously. Tired, lay down, not hungry; it was simple for him to accommodate as Iris lazily sprawled herself atop her living pillow, eyes growing heavier and heavier with each soothing thump of her lover's heart.

"Conomi Island, what's there that we need? " the words came out in a low whisper, half smothered by drowsiness in Iris's voice. She couldn't help but stiffen when his fingers lightly grazed the thick stitches.

"Well, for one, a hopefully qualified doctor can remove those, and if we're lucky, we can collect that favor from the stalwart Vice Admiral. As long as that little rat takes the bait.." Mihawk's voice edged into a hiss of distaste as Iris quickly bolted upright in surprise.

"What was that?" Iris asked flatly as her hands cradled her lover's face with barely concealed impatience.

"You heard me, Dove. How would you like a little reunion with a certain rat-faced bastard? It wouldn't be long if the Vice Admiral kept his word to turn a blind eye. Who's to say how poorly the dear captain is underneath the uniform and brave face. Rumors are all but circulating about his standing, crumbling with each passing day, that he and his crew are failing to capture the remaining Arlong Pirates that still plague the East Blue. Why wouldn't he be putting on airs after the misfortune of a sinking vessel, a humiliating encounter with a certain straw hat-wearing pirate? The last thing he would expect was your charming presence in the office of the Vice Admiral-"

Each word sent a flicker of emotions through Iris's mind as she could feel the burning flicker of her anger, shame, and another cacophony of emotions bombard the thinning strand of control. It made all the worse when Mihawk's hands slid up the sturdy fabric of the fabric-covered thighs. The maddening flicker of muscle in his smirk, her sharp nails squeezed a bit harder against his face, and she leaned closer to him, almost afraid that she would mishear his following answer.

"This isn't some elaborate joke, is it? Because I won't be-"

Her eyes blinked owlishly with surprise as his laughter made her grip loosen. It was rough but charming, with a strange hoarse quality, as if he was out of practice.

"I'm being serious." Iris hissed in a low voice as she tried to tamp down the distracting sensation of his hands squeezing at her inner thighs.

"Have you ever known me for jokes, Dove? We're talking about serious matters, aren't we?" Mihawk drawled as Iris's stare could set him ablaze if she had the cursed fruit to do it.

A muttered curse slipped from her lips as there was a harsh snap of buttons. Her hands pulled from his face to fight with the stubborn buttons of her blouse as she could feel the blood race from her face to her now heated skin, feeling all too warm in the thin fabric.

Her knees reflexively tightened against Mihawk's hips as all the aches and pains seemed to be far away in the back of her mind from the hot heat spreading in her core. Still, she didn't pull away from him as she once more commanded his attention with a tap of her nails.

"Fuck me."

It wasn't a request but a demand that came from her mouth without hesitation. The thought of revenge and bloodlust sent a hum of energy through her veins, while Mihawk's touch twisted that malevolent energy into a threatening beast of lust. If she couldn't sate the thirst for blood, she would be pleased to quench the secondary component.

One that her plotting Warlord was more than willing to appease as his hand curled around her neck to pull her down to his demanding kiss.

#opla fanfiction #silverinkwrites #one piece fanfiction #opla mihawk #mihawk x oc #one piece mihawk #hawkeye mihawk

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zumek0 · 1 year ago

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draft 02; dazai, o.

↪︎ suggestive, only a little bit sad, dazai has trust issues (same tbh), dazai is whipped.

↝ i wrote this at 2 am and i don’t even know if it even makes sense.

he sometimes wondered if you had used your ability on him —an irrational fear, sure, but a valid one nonetheless.

he had seen you take out entire squads; war veterans, foreign ex-soldiers, secret agents, none of them were strong enough to face you and come out sane. sometimes he could relate to those poor souls whose minds you’d broken.

your ability allowed you to manipulate someone’s will. this made you capable of controlling others’ actions, emotions and even their wishes.

dazai knew that as long as he touched you, he had nothing to worry about, he could nullify you skill after all. but having that knowledge made him even more unnerved.

because it meant that everything that he was feeling was real.

dazai had thought about it before: would he kill for you? die for you? would he burn cities? destroy organizations? would he be willing to let his walls down? to bear his heart out to you? would he be willing to get better? to let himself be loved? to become human again?

the answer was yes.

and that terrified him.

“…are you listening to me?”

his gaze remained fixed on the ceiling for a few seconds, then he looked at you.

“not really.”

you sighed and got up from his chest. he followed your moves and you sat on top of him, straddling him. his hands instinctively moved to caress your thighs and then found themselves underneath the oversized shirt you were wearing.

“i was saying that after we finish this mission, maybe we could go to that pastry shop yosano has been talking about.” you put your hands on his his shoulders and then slide them down to his chest.

even if all the emotions you caused inside of him overwhelmed his brain to the point of exhaustion, he would not trade the feeling of your hands running across his body for anything in the world.

“of course, my love.”

you lean down and kiss his forehead, then his temple, then his cheek, then his jaw and finally you go back up to his lips.

but you don’t kiss him.

because that’s something else about you that drives dazai crazy. you make him work for it. if he wants to go out with you, he has to finish all of his paperwork. if he wants to stay over at your place, he has to clean up his first. and if he wants to kiss you, then he has to close the space between you two.

and so he does.

#땡땡! han’s works #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #dazai smut #dazai angst #dazai bsd #dazai osamu bsd #dazai x you #dazai x y/n

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literaila · 2 years ago

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calm before the storm

spencer reid x reader

summary: gradually, spencer lets down those walls he’s been building. it works, for the most part.

abc’s masterlist.

warnings: ah... i can’t even warn you about most of it. anyway. angst, fluff (lots), its spencer, so, anxiety, commitment issues

a/n: can you tell how excited i am to get through this part?

(this gif makes me want to throw something at a wallsjfh)

there was no irrational thought that would allow spencer to even imagine this.

someone like you, walking with him to drop off a letter.

a letter which you didn't even ask about. no, you assured him, you were just happy to walk with him. just wanted to hang out.

you missed him, you'd told him with a wide smile when he answered the door.

you hoped you weren't intruding.

spencer didn't have the sensibility to say that you could never be an intrusion. that he felt like he was taking up so much space when he was around you, and he didn't want it to stop. he didn't have it in him to whisper that he was glad you were here, that he was just going to walk--alone--to the mailbox, and that he'd been thinking about you all day.

that he'd been thinking about you, and all of your complexities, since he was just a kid. daydreaming.

he was still just a kid. he often had to pinch himself, to make sure he was actually awake.

and then wash his hands immediately after.

but spencer didn't have it in him to tell you any of this. he didn't want to bombard you with the infinite galaxies that rummaged around his brain, cluttering any space there might've been.

no, he wanted to keep you smiling. didn't want to scare you away.

because there was no rational thought that could get rid of that fear.

so he took your hand--held out for him in a simple gesture of trust, affection, and something spencer couldn't quite place. he smiled at you.

didn't say anything else. hoped you understood.

"you're quiet today, dr. reid," you say to him later, when dusk has approached and spencer's scared to let you go. "something wrong?"

with a quirked lip, spencer merely uses his other hand to tap his temple, waiting for you to smile.

you comply.

"ah," you say with a knowing nod, "someone as simpleminded as i could never understand the intricacies behind your silence."

spencer snorts, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

"i get it, spencer, don't worry."

but he shakes his head. clears his throat. "i've just got a lot on my mind."

your smile falls, only marginally. spencer wants to smack his hand to his head, curse himself for saying anything at all, for getting rid of his favorite thing. a masochist, he's always been.

"your mom?" you ask him, voice a bit lower. "school?"

you walk forward with him, keeping up with his pace. you don't even comment when his hands start to get clammy, only squeezing tighter.

spencer smiles. "a bit of both."

"do you want to talk about it?"

not really, spencer knows. he doesn't want to voice his fears, the little secrets tucked under the penalty of his mind. he would rather keep them to himself--if only to save you from the reality behind his eyes.

but you've already seen so far. you understand him far more than he's willing to admit.

and he enjoys talking to you. no matter what it is.

"the doctor thinks her medication is working," spencer looks over, to carefully scrutinize your reactions. "better than it was, at least. her letters are consistent. she misses me." spencer smiles a little bit.

"of course she does," you say, only slightly teasing. "so what's wrong?"

"it's just hard to be away, sometimes," he whispers to you.

"because you miss her?"

"because this isn't what she wants. i know she misses me, but she misses her independence more."

when you look at him, spencer feels the weight on his chest increase tenfold.

it's your eyes. the gentle understanding behind them, the comprehension that he doesn't even have for himself.

he's read about beauty, flaws, about every type of person, and all types of deities. he's never read about anyone like you.

"spencer, you can't feel guilty about that," you say, and it's a gentle chiding.

he tries to look away and finds that he can't.

you stop walking, slowing down to face him completely. he's immediately distracted by your proximity. by your hands coming to rest on his face.

you look at him closely, searching for something.

"but you do," you say. "you feel guilty?"

spencer nods, the movement small, cheeks warm. "i'm the reason she can't live at home anymore. i left to go to school, and she couldn't be alone."

you're frowning now. spencer tries not to relish in the sight. the cute jut of your lip. "that's not your fault."

"if i had stayed..."

you throw your head back, sighing almost agitatedly. "spencer, you deserve to have a life of your own. you came here for school. it's not like you completely abandoned her or wouldn't go back as soon as she needed you."

spencer looks away from your eyes. he's told himself all of this before, but it sounds different coming from your mouth.

"right?" you press, trying to get him to look back at you.

"right," he relents, softly.

"she wouldn't want you to give up your life to take care of her, spencer, you know that." you smile at him, almost flustered, frustrated.

this comfort is different. no consolation, only tough nurture.

spencer wants to smile at the realization. he wants to smile because he's told you this, and that seems like an achievement of its own. because he's been guilty for a year, and you still haven't run away.

how glorifying it is to pull you in a little bit closer.

"say it back to me," you tell him, still scolding.

spencer laughs, shaking his head from your hands and taking them in his. "i know that."

your brow and lip quirk. "good," you say. "i'm sorry."

spencer frowns. "for what?"

"berating you. you can have whatever emotions you want, but..." you say with a small smile. "i'm gonna tell you when they're wrong."

spencer laughs again. he leans a little bit closer to you. "wrong?"

you roll your eyes, pulling back. "you write your mom literally every day, genius."

your hands have traveled to his neck, playing with the hair you can reach. you're so close to him that spencer is almost sure he can feel your heart against his.

beating in a gentle metronome.

he would like to listen to it, to feel it, until he can’t feel anything else.

unfortunately, he doesn't get the opportunity. you press a quick kiss to his cheek, pulling away.

spencer only whines a little bit.

you laugh at him, taking one of his hands in yours again and starting to walk. "c'mon. let's drop this letter off and then go home and watch doctor who."

"how did you-"

"you have comic books on your bookshelf. i know all about the lore, spencer."

he doesn't correct you. prefers to just let you pull him along.

"plus," you say, a bit lower. spencer quirks a brow. "i've never seen it.”

and then he blinks at you, hurrying to slow you down. "you've never seen-"

and it's later when spencer has the realization.

spencer's sitting on the opposite side of the couch, carefully watching you for any reaction you might have. he's seen it all before, so he doesn't even need to watch to know what's going on.

and besides, he'd much prefer to watch you. to count the wrinkles on your skin, all of the smile lines and things he's seen you try to hide.

he'd much rather watch your eyes flash with the lights, and observe the different kinds of smiles in different succession.

honestly, if you'd suggested to just sitting and staring at each other for three hours, spencer wouldn't have complained. he'd do whatever you wanted to, willingly.

and he hasn't gotten bored yet.

you clear your throat, looking over at spencer, then back to the screen. "you know," you say, voice just loud enough for him to hear. "you don't seem very interested in this, spencer."

"i love doctor who."

you look over at him with an eyebrow raised. "then how come you're not watching it?"

spencer pauses. watching your eyes. he doesn't have time to answer before you say: "is it boring after you've already seen it?"

at that spencer scoffs, shaking his head.

you laugh at him, turning back towards the screen. your eyes glance over at him every couple of minutes, just to be sure that he's still paying attention.

he's not. spencer won't deny that.

"this is like scooby doo with aliens," you tell him.

"it was released six years after the original doctor who, so it's more like scooby doo is doctor who with teenagers."

you don't even acknowledge that, just point to the screen accusingly. spencer laughs.

"why do they always split up? you'd think they'd have figured it out by the tenth episode."

"they haven't died yet, so it works for them," spencer nods along with his lips pursed.

you look over at him, dubious. "they've confessed their love for each other on the brink of death at least seven times now."

"it was twice."

"point still stands. they're both idiots."

"arguably, the doctor is the smartest person in the universe..." you just stare at him blankly. spencer doesn't have it in him to wipe the smile off of his face.

"where's the proof?" you say, pointing to the screen again. you're laughing now though, maybe at the dumbstruck expression on spencer's face.

his face is glued to a sort of delighted expression. he feels like he's waiting for you to unpause him.

and somehow, he doesn't want you to. he'd rather sit here, just watching you, than ever feel sane again.

a strange sort of occurrence. a weird recognition hits him with every smile you send his way.

you increase that weight on his chest with a devious smile and he doesn't care at all. he'd suffocate under the burden of emotions as long as you're there with him.

spencer's lost looking at you when you look over at him again with a tiny smirk. "spencer," you whisper.

he shakes his head, trying to put his brain back together. "what?"

"this blanket is cold."

he tilts his head. "the... blanket is cold?"

you nod. "and lonely."

spencer frowns.

and then you laugh at him and he looks up. "will you just come here?"

"over there?"

you nod.

spencer's brow furrows, but he moves closer, somewhat confused. "why?" he asks as he nears you.

"cause i wanna cuddle."

and then his eyes widen. he looks down like he's going to find a camera somewhere. "you-" he swallows. "you want to cuddle? with me?"

you're somewhat amused, somewhat bewildered. "is that okay?"

spencer feels himself nodding without even thinking about it. he moves closer to you, feeling even more sweaty now that he's right next to you. "of course," he says. "that's okay."

but he doesn't know where to put his hands. doesn't know what he's supposed to be doing, how he's supposed to feel in a situation like this, and he doesn't know how to shield himself from the pure adoration that fills his body every time you laugh at him.

like right now.

you're shaking your head at him, face illuminated, when you move closer to him. "c'mere," you say to him and press your body to his so that spencer can't feel anything else.

he is absolutely freezing, and going to die of heat flash and a heart attack, and he’s also so so content.

as soon as you nuzzle into him, face right on his chest, body so warm, so soft. as soon as you're next to him, and he's holding you in his arms, it's all okay.

he doesn't even know how this is supposed to feel, but he knows that he doesn't want it to stop.

how could he?

a moment later, with your fingertips trailing across the skin of his neck, you ask: "good?"

and spencer just nods against your head. he can barely breathe.

he can feel it when you giggle at something on the screen, when your chest contracts as you inhale and exhale. he can feel every bit of movement, every slight correction, and he can see the way your body holds itself up, the gentle compaction of your skin.

he's never been so close to anyone else. he's never felt like this before.

he holds you a bit tighter at the thought.

he can feel it when you whisper against him. "are you tired?" you whisper to him, breathing right on him.

spencer looks out of his peripheral to the window. he hadn't even realized it was dark outside.

"no," he whispers back, swallowing. "are you?"

you shake your head against him. but he can feel and hear you yawn.

the tv plays on in the background, but spencer hasn't been paying attention for at least the last hour.

"do you like it, sweetheart?" he asks, against the quiet contentment of the two of you. he barely even realizes that he's saying the words.

but he can tell your smiling--if only for the sound of it in your voice.

"yes. i like that too."

"what?"

"sweetheart."

and then spencer's mind catches up to him. "oh," he whispers, pausing. "i-i didn't. i'm sorry?"

"spencer," you laugh, looking up to him--your head moves against his chest. "i just said i like it."

"okay."

you tilt your head, watch his eyes. "you don't need to be embarrassed."

"i'm not," he assures you in a bit of a lie. the words sort of just slip from his mouth.

"you're not?" you repeat, teasing him.

"no."

"okay," you say, looking away and shaking your head.

but spencer can barely breathe. he can barely swallow, can barely move when you're so close to him and he's just let it slip past his lips.

when he almost said more.

because he can feel it now--that weight on his chest--and unspoken feeling that he's never been able to name.

the kind of devotion that wraps itself around your ribcage and makes itself a home in the quietest of corners. the sort of infection that refuses to leave, even when you beg.

it's the sort of feeling that's always unspoken. that you can barely feel developing.

and spencer's almost just let it slip.

he's almost said those words so many times.

but he's only just realized it.

with you on his chest, laughing at him, teasing him in the sweet sort of way you always do.

he loves you.

he can't tell you that.

when he wakes up the next morning, on his couch, with your hand on his chest--still--arms wrapped around you in a gesture of protection, he is ceased by fear.

he is under the clutches of terror and he can't seem to escape.

when you leave later, with a pretty smile and a million different kinds of kisses, spencer can barely breathe as he shuts the door behind you.

he never wants you to go. never wants to be so far.

the fear grabs at his chest, shaking him.

when he gets a text from you later that night telling him about the donut shop down the street, the smile on his face feels pained.

he can't even stop the beating in his chest for a moment.

spencer is consumed by the idea. he is wrapped in a gentle frightening embrace that squeezes him until there's nothing left.

he loves you so much, and he doesn't know how to compartmentalize that.

should he tell you? should he keep it secret, bury it under the bodies that have developed in his chest?

should he kiss you again, just to taste that sweet ambrosia he's addicted to?

shall he turn himself into gold?

let this terror take him until he's ceased to exist?

i love you, is the first thought he has when he wakes up the next morning.

and the last, as soon as his phone rings.

part nine.

my masterlist here.

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erodasfishtacos · 4 years ago

Text

Take a Hike

Prompt: When Harry and Y/N take the baby for a hike and end up being followed by fans.

word count: 2.2 k

contains: language, sexual content

Harry was furious. He just wanted to go on a hike - like a normal family on a warm June day in a beautiful foreign country.

You were currently in Madrid - on Harry’s European leg of the tour.

While Harry had been doing press - you and Sasha had taken to the hotel pool where she could splash and enjoy the water all day.

It wasn’t without a eagle-eyed security guard who lurked in the background for shady characters and overzealous fans.

Fans - they wanted picture with you because you were Harry Styles’ wife. Not inherently famous on your own.

It was a bit odd, but you didn’t mind occasionally stopping to snap a pic with a excited fans.

However, when you and Harry were out with the baby - it was completely off limits. Neither Harry nor you would stop for fans and paparazzi if you were toting around your little love.

She didn’t like the crowds and shouts that came along with swarms of people. She would slap her little hands over her ears, dig her face into her parent’s neck, and whimper.

Harry had always been protective of you when it came to these situations. One of the major downfalls of being so famous.

Harry had nearly gotten arrested when a clumsy pap had nearly push you over while you were eight months along.

You and Harry had loaded up all the necessities for the five-mile hike on one of the trails right outside the city.

Sasha had a generous amount of sunscreen on and a little hat to protect her face. She refused to wear the sunglasses.

Harry had a pack for her - so you helped him load your two-year-old onto his back. He knew it was going to ache like a motherfucker but she was a bit too heavy for you. You opted for the backpack with everything in it.

The trail was semi-busy. Both of you donned sunglasses and hats to attempt to disguise yourselves a little bit.

Harry had even pulled on a hoodie - despite the heat - to cover his very recognizable tattoos.

You made it the two and a half miles in without any interruptions.

Sasha falling asleep halfway through the trek with her cheek smushed against her father’s shoulder blade.

You snapped a few pictures in front of the waterfalls and beautiful rock structures. But you had decided not to wake your daughter from her nap.

You and Harry had taken an obligatory kissing selfie that would likely be your new Lock Screen.

You both had made the mistake of taking off your sunglasses for the picture because you can hear muted whispers from other tourists.

“Is that fucking Harry Styles?”

“Yes. Oh my god! That’s his wife and baby!”

“Snap a video, Emilia!”

Harry’s noticeable tenses as he slides his sunglasses back onto his nose. Protective papa bear was in full-force around strangers who knew who he was.

The most important thing in Harry’s mind was his family’s safety.

“Let’s go, lovie,” Harry murmurs softly. His British accent surely giving him away if they heard it.

You nod anxiously - pointedly not making eye contact with the fans and small group that was gathering.

As you begin the journey back down the small mountain - you notice the group trailing behind you. Following you guys.

Jaw clenched, you want to scream at them to stop taking pictures of your sleeping baby. But you attempt to keep your cool.

It wasn’t more than ten teenage girls but it didn’t really matter who it was.

The girls are getting louder, more excited. When one of them squeals in joy of seeing her celebrity crush - who she had ticket for his concert tomorrow as did the rest of the group.

The noise startles the curly-haired baby on Harry’s back awake. She immediately starts crying - her hands coming to grip frantically in her fathers matching curls.

“Daddy,” Sasha sobs, grabbing at him as the girls keep snapping pictures and cooing.

Harry’s face is stone - attempting to keep his anger at bay. He was about to lose his shit and you couldn’t blame him.

He couldn’t always treat people with kindness.

“Down, want down,” she lisps, no longer wanting to be confined in her pack. It was also most likely time for a diaper change.

“Not right now, sweetheart. Please be good for mumma and I,” Harry rasps, reaching back to give her leg a comforting pat.

You look at your husband, “Please - let’s just try to make it out of here as soon as possible.”

Harry sighs, “I’m sorry, love.”

You brush his shoulder lightly, “it isn’t your fault people act this way. I just can’t stand when this happens around her.”

Harry’s slight smile from your reassurance turns into a glare when he realizes the nosy fans were trying to talk to his upset baby - who notably did not like strangers.

He’s quick to unstrap the toddler and shuffle her into your arms. You cradle her and turn you back away from the group.

“Mumma, no cameras,” she whines, her words a little jumbled but you understood.

“I know, baby. Daddy’s going to take care of it,” you coo assuringly. Her fingers finding their way into her mouth to soothe her.

Harry slides her carrier off his shoulders and tosses it next to your feet. He’s trailing over to the jumpy, overly-excited fans.

“Listen,” he states firmly, speaking loudly over their giggles, “y’need to stop following us and takin’ pictures. You’re scaring our baby.”

They chatter a bit, begging from picture and then they promise they’ll leave us alone.

“Absolutely not,” Harry states, trying to stay level headed with these immature teens who adored him.

With that, he’s headed back to you guys. The girls shouting unflattering things at him like “asshole” and “douchebag.”

He decided to ignore it and quickly allows you to strap the baby back into her carrier. His eyes study your face to make sure you’re alright and you give him a calm smile, squeezing at his bicep.

—-

The girls trailed off after a few more minutes of following us. Harry hummed and sang a few nursery rhymes to Sasha to keep her calm but she was still fussy.

Back the hotel, Sasha was freshly bathed and laid down for a nap in the second bedroom. A baby monitor sat on the bathroom countertop as you two showered off the sweat and dirt.

Harry was still upset about the incident so you decided upon a good cuddle in a warm shower. His cheek was rested in the top of you head and his arms holding you to his wet chest.

“Just want to be normal - for one fuckin’ day,” he huffs with frustration.

“We had a totally normal, fun hike. It wasn’t ruined, I promise. It’s our reality so they’re is no use in being upset about it.”

Harry loved how level-headed you were to balance out his irrational, impulsive feelings and actions.

“You’re t’good to me, I love you.”

“At the end of the day, I knew what I was signing up for when you and I got married. I also knew when we had Sasha that paparazzi would still hound you.”

“Didn’t sign up to be harassed constantly though. I just feel so bad about it sometimes. It scares Sasha and it makes me feel like a bad father.”

You knew he was about to throw himself into a downward spiral if you didn’t distract him.

“You know what else I signed up for when I married you?” I murmur into his neck, letting my lips ghost over his hammering pulse.

“Wha’s that?” He asks genuinely, a little slow on the uptake because of how deep in thought he was.

“That you would fuck me whenever I wanted,” you nearly purr, landing a not-so-gentle nip to the vein protruding on his neck.

“Is tha’ right? Put a ring on your finger and now I gotta give you my cock whenever you please?” He grunts at your teeth pinching his sensitive skin.

It’s amazing how it takes little to no effort to get this man in the mood.

“Mmm, if you want to be a good, dutiful husband,” you taunt - knowing he’ll take the bait.

“Am I not a good husband, pet? I fuck you any chance you let me. Give it to you anytime time you wan’ it. You know that.”

His hand is tugging your thigh up roughly, making your centers align with delicious pressure as he slips right between your folds.

“Harry,” Y/N groans, your head falling down to watch where he’s teasingly grinding his cock against your entrance and clit.

“Want me t’put it in, love?” He drawls like he has all the time in the world. The water pelting on his back making him pink.

“Ple-please,” you choke out, nipples harden against his chest even in the warmth of the shower. Sensitive with every brush against his smooth pecs.

“You know what else you signed up for when y’married me?” He asks, his voice as deep and smooth as honey.

“What?” I reply, whining each time he teases at pushing in.

“That when you beg for my prick - you’ll be a good girl and take it.”

With that, he’s thrusting up into you with full force. His sharp hipbones meeting the plushy, soft skin of yours.

“Ooh, oh fuck,” Y/N gasps, wrapping an arm around his neck as he presses brushing marks into your thigh where he’s holding you for leverage.

“C’mon, you can take it,” your husband goads, relentlessly hitting the spot that send licks of flames of your spine.

Your legs are feeling weak with how hard he’s pounding into you. He is so intuned with your body that he moves his hands to you backside.

He lifts you up easily, your legs wrapped around his waist, and his presses you back into the cold tile wall.

He was so fucking good. How’d you manage to marry him? Unexplainable.

“Am I good husband? Fuck you well enough?” He hisses against your open mouth as you pant heavily.

“So so good, H. Best husband ever,” you whimper, welcoming the friction from his pelvis against your swollen bud.

“Sweet girl,” he murmurs happily, “I think you deserve to come”

You throw your head back as he speeds up, fingers reaching to flick at your nerves - just on the right side of painful.

It’s just what you needed to climax. He always somehow knew what you needed. His fingers are consistent as he lets you ride it out.

It is only a few more rough thrusts before he’s cursing and coming as well. His hand grasping harshly at your jaw to bring you into a searing kiss.

“Never gonna get sick of watchin’ you come on my cock,” he chuckles, carefully placing your feet back on the ground but keeping a tight hold of your hips.

You lean in to give him a quick but meaningful kiss before going about cleaning your body again after the mess you two created.

It takes a little longer than necessarily due to you constantly having to bat his wandering hands away from your body.

—-

It dark out now, the city of Madrid illuminated through the large windows of the high-rise hotel.

Sasha was exhausted after the hike and full day at the pool - despite napping twice. She was always out like a light around eight-thirty

You were tightly tucked into Harry’s side, head resting on his shoulder. Your eyes becoming bleary from drowsiness.

Your toddler was sprawled out on Harry’s chest, fast asleep with one of your husband’s large hands resting on her back.

Harry was scrolling aimlessly through his phone when he chuckle softly, handing you his mobile to see what was on the screen.

It was a video-recording of an Instagram Live.

The video forwarded by Jeff. The volume low to not disturb your daughter.

It was a teenager girl who looks unpleasantly familiar.

“Um - yeah. So we saw him and we were hiking freaking out. ‘Cause like we’re going to his concert tomorrow.”

Then girls eyes flick to the commenters to answer questions.

“He had his baby. His wife was there too.”

“No, so he was so unfriendly! He flipped out because we wanted an autograph!”

The girl was mimicking Harry’s thick accent, “when we asked for a picture - he legit said ‘absolutely not.’”

I shake my head at the girl’s antics, “how dare you not take a photo. You’re such a dick.” You tease.

Harry smirks, taking the phone back and tossing it on the cushion. His hand rubbing gentle circles on his sleepy baby.

“None of tha’ matters,” Harry says softly, “I don’t care what anybody but you thinks ‘bout me. At the end of the day, as long as I have you and the bab - I’ll be happy.”

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