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hanatiny · 3 years

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Perfect Illusion

a/n: this fic is inspired by this post (although I modified the idea a bit)! for those interested, I even made a spotify playlist to hopefully enhance the experience~

pairing: royal guard!San x royal guard/spy!f!reader

genre: smut

word count: 2113

warnings: royal AU, weapons (knives and daggers), brief mention of infidelity (which I do not condone), swearing, teasing, dry humping, hair pulling, name-calling (they keep insulting each other... oops), enemies with benefits, implied enemies to lovers (kind of), slight knife kink, implied pain kink, exhibitionism, unprotected sex, no clear dom/sub roles

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Despite excelling at undercover work, you weren’t known be incredibly ‘out there’ in the way you executed your tasks, so this particular mission you had been given must have been the one you disliked the most as of now, not to mention that you despised the tactic of seduction.

You did your best to attract as little attention as possible in order to carry out your information gathering in peace. Although it seemed that in doing so, you had become a little too suspicious for one of the guards. You heaved a sigh, meeting his eyes while most of his face remained covered by the hood and the mask he wore to not look like the odd one out at the royal masquerade event. He nudged his head towards a nearby balcony after asking for one of his fellow guards to watch his spot, signalling you to follow.

Albeit slowly, you did what was asked of you - your beliefs were much too deeply rooted in obedience not to. Once outside, the guard closed and locked the door behind you. Shrugging off his hood, he took off his mask while you did the same so the two of you were equally bare to each other.

“San?!” “Y/n?!” You both gasped aloud in equal shock and surprise, slapping a hand over each other’s mouths to prevent anyone from hearing how casually you spoke with each other.

Prying your hand away from his face, although still holding it in his own, San quirked an inquisitive eyebrow at you, “What, pray tell, are you doing here at this party wearing that?”

Your voice was teasing as you spoke and he gestured towards the black dress you were wearing, “Oh, this old thing~?” He rolled his eyes at your playful tone but allowed you to continue, “As much as I didn’t want to, His Highness requested me to keep my eyes and ears open for anything or anyone suspicious... and had the bright idea of having me use seduction to get the job done.”

Despite knowing how much you hated the technique in question, San thought it fun to tease and rile you up about it, “Do I classify as suspicious then? Cause you’ve definitely caught my interest and seduced me...~”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing him and pulling him close by the tie he was wearing before whispering in his ear, “With how flirty you’re being, definitely. I might have to arrest you now, sunshine~ But if you play your cards right, I might let you fuck me, pretty boy.”

It was your turn to cock an eyebrow when San nonchalantly turned the situation around on you and pinned you against the wall roughly, both of your wrists above your head in one of his own while an almost bored grin danced across on your face at the act. “That all you got~?”

“Not at all, sweetheart...~” “Show me then,” you challenged without hesitation, hooking one of your legs around his hip to draw his body closer and flush against yours, “show me what you can do, unless you want to admit that a woman could dom you~”

Bullseye. You hit him right in his sore spot, knowing him to be much too competitive to let such a cheeky comment slide. You saw something shift in his eyes, something dark, and you knew you had him right then and there, “You asked for it... don’t complain if you limp afterwards.”

“Wanna bet~?” San effectively shut you up by melding his plush lips to yours, your hands tugging greedily at his already messy hair while the grinding of your hips against his coaxed a soft moan from his lips.

“You really don’t intend to make it easy for me do you, little vixen...” He whispered against your lips, his voice low and raspy as he did so, causing you to give him a casual shrug, “You know me, I always want to be the one who comes out on top. Whether that is in the physical sense or not couldn’t matter any less to me, frankly.”

San huffed softly, he knew you were competitive but so was here. However, the difference between the two of you was that you were willing to play dirty to get what you want.

As such, you couldn’t prevent a slight smirk from tugging at your lips when his breath hitched audibly after he pushed the hem of your dress up to your hips and spotted the daggers strapped to one of your thighs. “Staring longer won’t make the image imprint itself in your mind any faster. And in case you haven’t noticed with how much you want my daggers on your body, I’m worked up and hereby telling you to hurry up and fuck me. Right here, right now.”

“Getting feisty and demanding, are we? Two can play that game, Y/n...~” Reaching into the inside of his jacket, San pulled out a knife and held it to your throat while the cocky smirk never left your face, “Are you just gonna keep threatening me with a good time so that I’ll walk right back in there and tell everyone you’re my bitch, or are you actually gonna do something about that obvious boner in your pants?”

San’s eyebrow twitched at your audacity, the discovery of the fact that you had foregone underwear tonight not helping his dwindling patience in the slightest, “Pathetic how desperate you are for my cock, you minx. Needing to cover it up with such a tough girl act...”

He trailed off, watching you closely as he pocketed his knife and used his now unoccupied hand to quickly unfasten his pants and free his aching length from its confines. He stroked himself a few times, the seconds passing torturously slowly in your eyes as you licked your lips in anticipation before throwing your head back against the wall with a strangled gasp when he fully inserted himself inside of you without warning.

“You son of a-” “Shush doll, don’t want anyone to hear what we’re doing out here do you~?” You huffed as he interrupted you, pretending to think for a moment before shaking your head with a smile, “I actually do, imagine the surprise when they’d hear that two of the royal guards are all over each other...~”

San’s eyes darkened once more before narrowing them at you, “You asked for it, then... Be prepared to scream.”

“Such big words from the man who’d let me spit in his mouth~” You weren’t having it though, only mewling and moaning softly while San repeatedly snapped his hips into yours. His pace was rough and quick, eager to get both you and himself off, “Won’t even, fuck- won’t even scream for me... am I not fucking you hard enough?”

“Mmh... nope~!” You replied with a toothy grin, gasping sharply when San thrusted inside of you particularly harshly. “That better?” “Much~” He continued to move at the harsh pace he had just set, his breath hitching when his hand accidentally brushed against the leather garter still fixed securely around your thigh.

He felt himself twitch violently when you spoke through low pants, his thrusts stuttering, “Wouldn’t you love to have me trail one of those daggers over your sensitive skin, sunshine? Perhaps even pierce it a little here and there to show who you belong to~?”

Those last words came out unintentionally but you didn’t feel the need to correct yourself, considering that your possessiveness appeared to be the last straw for San judging by the warmth that filled you as he came, your own orgasm washing over you shortly after. Once you had both caught your breath, he carefully pulled out of you and helped you straighten out your dress after doing the same to his own clothes.

You implying that he was yours was undoubtedly a matter to be discussed, but for now, you two had a masquerade to return to. As such, San handed your mask back to you after having previously stored it in one of his jacket pockets. You both secured your masks back on your faces so that your identities were concealed once more, although San decided to not pull his hood back up.

He unlocked the balcony door before turning to you with a teasing albeit charming smile, holding his hand out for you to take, “Will you let me have this dance, m’lady~?”

You found it amusing how quickly he could switch back to his professional persona, placing your hand in his own regardless, “It’d be my pleasure~”

He led you back inside of the large, well-lit ballroom where no one was any the wiser of what had transpired mere minutes ago, your dress swaying slightly while you danced with San, a small grin painted on your features.

You ended up getting to bed incredibly late, almost stumbling out of it the next morning before quickly making yourself presentable after being requested in the throne room by His Highness himself, wondering what it could possibly be about.

You ran into San on the way there, finding out that he had been called to see the prince as well. Pushing the heavy wooden door open, you weren’t particularly surprised to find it empty besides the presences of you, your companion and Yeosang, who had placed his crown on a pedestal near himself.

Letting his emotionless facade crack a bit, he gave a small smile when he saw the two of you kneel before him as it was custom for the subordinates or the royal family.

“Those who want to wear the crown need to prove they are able to bear its weight.”

Yeosang’s voice rang out through the room, causing you and San to look at each other questioningly and then back up at him in confusion. The older male had never been more glad to not have any other of his court officials or guards besides the two of you inside of his throne room, relieved that he could be blunt about his message.

“I’m sure you both are aware of how I came to be where I am presently, yes?” You both nodded in response. “Then you know my mother was not a true queen and slept her way to the throne. Hell, I’m even a bastard child - her husband was not my father. In short... she was a whore.”

San gasped quietly next to you in surprise at the word choice, causing you to nudge him gently to remind him to focus and listen.

“I don’t want to keep the two of you here any longer than necessary,” the unrightful prince leaned forward, his weight still resting on the arm he had previously propped himself up on, “My coronation is set to be held eleven days from now. Whichever of you comes up with the better plan to cover up my ‘coincidental’ disappearance by then gets to claim the throne.”

It was a tempting offer, that much you had to admit, but it sounded almost too good to actually be true.

“Your Highness-” “Please drop the formalities Y/n, you’ve known me since I was a little child.” The young man in question corrected softly as you cleared your throat with an understanding nod, “Are you sure this will work out as you intend it to? I’m not sure anyone would believe one of your royal guards to be allowed to inherit the crown just like that...”

“Y/n. Surely you’ve noticed how desperate the people are for a ruler who stands with them, even with all the time you spend working? They’ll accept just about anyone. As long as neither of you exposes the truth about any part of my family... do we have a deal?”

San looked at you and met your eyes, lingering for a few beats before getting up from his knees with you following suit as you looked up at the prince and spoke in unison, always up for a challenge - especially if it just so happened to come with a high reward like this one did, “We have a deal.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Now off you two go, there is work to be done~” Yeosang hummed, you and your ‘companion’ bowing respectfully and nodding before turning on your respective heels.

San pulled his hood back over his head and glanced at you with a smug grin that you happily mirrored, both of you making a run for it out of the throne room.

After all, it was only a matter of time and of who created the most perfect illusion, aware that only one of you would come out on top.

----- Taglist (tell me if you wanna be added):

@atinykitty @cometoceantrenches @ddeonghwva @galaxteez @latte-fairytaekwoon @little-precious-baby @multidreams-and-desires @nightqueennyx @twancingyunhoe @vocalyunho @yunhoiseyecandy

Network tag:

@8makes1teamnet

#8makes1teamnet #ateez royal au #royal au #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #san smut #ateez san smut #me coming out of my figurative writing cave with this: hi did u miss me #hanatiny writes

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realcube · 4 years

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CRYBABY (1 / 2) | tsukishima k

♡ alt fluff ending (1 / 2) of jealous — alt angst ending ( 2 / 2 )

♡ tw crying, unspecified injury, reverse hurt/comfort, mentions of violence, swearing, rude nicknames & set in a hospital

“Kei, hello? I know I’m probably the last person you want to see right now but Yamaguchi told me that you were here and..I just wanted you to know that I, uh, am really sorry and I hope you get well soon.”

tsukishima felt like shit. he woke up with a splitting headache, which was only worsened by the bright beam of the LEDs which hung right above his hospital bed. it took him a few moments to become fully conscious but when he heard the irritating beeping of the ECG, his first coherent thought was, ‘wow, i can’t believe a fist fight with the king still has me hospitalised. how embarrassing.’

little did he know, kageyama was in the infirmary room right next to his own, being treated for his broken ankle and nose.

tsukishima wasn’t spared another second to pity himself as his sore head snapped around to meet the gaze of whoever was lingering at the door, “hello?” he called out, squinting to try make out the looming figure before feeling around the side table for his glasses, “come in.”

That voice was unmistakable.

his blood ran cold, suddenly feeling extremely dizzy and sick. “(y/n).” he muttered under his breath in disbelief, as he was finally able to get a clutch on his glasses and push them up the bridge of his nose, easing his headache slightly.

“oh, thanks.” he croaked, his throat dry from both waking up and your presence. if he being completely honest, he hardly processed a word you said; as soon as he realised it was you talking, his mind was just flooded with emotions, feelings and memories alike. hardly any of them were bad — except for the more recent ones — yet he still felt an overwhelming wave of sadness which he had no choice but to hide.

“so are you just going to stand there or are you going to come in?” he inquired, concealing his regret with sass, which was all to convincing since it was a usual practise for tsukishima by now. in fact, that’s exactly what had gotten him into this situation.

you inhaled sharply, shocked by the fact that he actually wanted you to stay as you’ve been under the impression that he hates you, which is understandable considering his recent actions. hesitantly, you emerged from behind the curtain that separated the bed he lay in from the door, your heart sinking upon seeing the state he lay in; out of the many years you had been friend with him, this is the worst you’ve ever seen him. pasty, chapped lips, bloodshot eyes, messy hair and extremely scrawny, yet you couldn’t help but admire him for pushing through none the less. in your eyes, he’s still beautiful — but he’d never believe you if you told him — and he thought the exact same about you.

“how, um, how are you?” you stuttered, shuffling awkwardly as you took a seat in the chair that was already placed beside the bed. the same chair that his brother had sat in yesterday and him mother the day before that.

“what do you think?” he scoffed, gesturing to his current state and injury that was highlighted by the thick, white cast.

your eyes widened, being hit once again by the harsh reality that he was no longer your friend. “i- i don’t even know why i asked.” you murmured, voice meek and shaky enough to catch the attention of tsukishima, who also forgot that he was supposed to dislike you.

his comment wasn’t intended to be rude but in context, he could completely understand why you thought that — however, that’s just the type of guy he is. looking at your disheartened expression, he felt his own fall to resemble it. maybe kageyama did knock some sense into the blonde as he was now able to thinking clearly, recollect on how poorly he treated you and wonder why he did those things.

truly, he wanted nothing more to apologise. to tell you how awful he was and that he doesn’t hate you, quite the opposite actually! he needed to let you know that you did nothing wrong and everything bad that happened was his fault and he was willing to take full responsibility. but of course, his pride didn’t let him. all he was able to utter was, “did you check up on kageyama?”

it was a harmless question, or so he thought. just innocently inquiring about the wellbeing of his teammate and your ex, so why were tears rolling down your cheeks? and why did he feel the urge to cry too?

“yeah, but it was really awkward.”

tsukishima cheek heated up with both annoyance and at the fact your hand was now resting upon his, “why are you crying then?!” he snapped, angrily intertwining his fingers with yours, not thinking much of it, “you made it seem like he died or something!”

“why are you crying?!”

“i’m not fucking crying!” he was crying. crystalline tears running down his cheek tickling his pale skin.

outstretching your arm, you brushed your finger against his face to wipe away his tear then proceed to show him how the pad of your index finger glistened under the intense room light. “yes, you are, crybabyshima!” you half-cried, half-laughed, resulting in tsukishima hunching over to cackle at the nickname.

“i’m crying at how stupid you are!” he tired to hiss but he really couldn’t take himself seriously, involuntarily punctuating each word with a chuckle or wheeze.

“watch it, kei. the stupid one of us is in a hospital bed.”

he quirked a brow, breathing frantically from having just laughed his lungs out, “uh, yeah. because of stupidest one’s boyfriend.” he didn’t even know if what he was saying made sense or not, as his main priority was trying to catch his breath.

“ex boyfriend.” you corrected, both of you becoming uncomfortably aware that you were still holding hands at the same time, yet neither of you dared to move an inch. you sniffled while wiping your cheek with the sleeve of your jacket, “kageyama told me what happened. it was vague but he said that you attacked him because he cheated on me, is that what really happened?”

his memory of the event was as hazy as that description. although, that sounded about right but now that he heard it aloud, he realised how pathetic it sounded so obviously he didn’t want to admit to that sort of behaviour. “i don’t remember.”

“it doesn’t sound like you.” your voice was hushed, as if he was going to scold you if you spoke up. “so what do you remember?”

the headache that was previously preventing him from doing any deep thinking had now somewhat dissipated, allowing his to avert his gaze onto the hospital floor as he hummed in thought, “the last thing i remember clearly was walking to school the night after you-” he gulped, the horrible memories suddenly flooding into his mind, making his lips twitch into a frown as he recalled all the nasty things he said to you, “the night after you called me.”

you nodded, the memories not treating you kindly either as all you were able to do was mouth an ‘oh’.

“listen, (y/n).” tsukishima started, the sight of your dejected aura prompting him to finally, partially, speak his mind. “i’m sorry about what i said. i don’t even know why i said it so i don’t have an explanation..i’m just sorry.” he didn’t expect forgiveness, in all honesty. if the roles were reverse, he was unsure as to whether he’d forgive you or not. well, he probably would but still, that’s just because he’s fallen so he doesn’t expect the same leeway from you.

but to his surprise, your expression softened as you cooed, “it’s fine, kei.” with a shrug, absentmindedly stroking the back of his hand with your thumb. “i somewhat forgive you.”

his eyes basically popped out of their sockets, “what?” he almost instantly blurted out, looking at you as if you had gone mad. “why?” there was slight disgust laced in his voice, but that was as expected of him so you didn’t read to much into it.

“because you’re hot.” you joked with an eyeroll, taken back by the audacity he had to question your decision, “why do you care? just be thankful that we can be friends again!” you chirped but his grimace wiped the smile clean off you face.

he genuinely would’ve been more content if you had just stopped after your first statement. i mean, you looked at him like he was your world, even when he was laying beaten on a hospital bed, and the way your thumb gently stoked the back of his frail, calloused hand like it was treasure resulted in butterflies erupting in his stomach. was that just you being friendly?

“you really are stupid.” he tutted, averting his gaze from your watery eyes as it would do nothing more than evoke unneeded and unappreciated emotions within him. “i think i’ve made it exceeding clear that i don’t want to be your friend.” despite his efforts, his words still sounded unsure and a light blush kept creeping onto his features.

a gasp escaped your lips, your eyebrows furrowing as you immediately felt a surge of impenetrable rage shoot through your body, “why not?! i thought we were getting on like old times.” after the initial rush of adrenaline subsided, you found yourself sulking, slumping back in your chair and crossing your arms over your chest like a child. you just wanted things to go back to the way they were before, was that too much to ask? or did he truthfully detest you? and if that’s the case, why was he holding your hand so tightly, refusing to let go?

“idiot, i mean i want to be your boyfriend.” the last word was spoken meekly, as if it was a curse. “i didn’t think i’d have to spell it out for you but i guess i shouldn’t have overestimated your intelligence.” ironic, considering that you didn’t have to be a genius to figure out that he was joking. you had known him for long enough to be aware that he was physically incapable of giving a compliment without following it up with sarcasm or an insult.

it was as if someone had lit a blast furnace underneath your chair as you felt your whole body heat up to an uncomfortable extend, instantly aware of your hand in his you felt your palm become clammy — or perhaps that was his — either way, you were quick to yank away, leaving tsukishima extremely confused and oddly offended.

“kei..” you breathed, mind completely blank, “why?”

“what do you mean? i don’t know why.” this whole week has been a roller-coaster of emotions for him and now he was trying to finally bail himself out but you weren’t making it any easier, but at the end of the day, he only had himself to blame as you’d probably be a lot more forthcoming if it wasn’t for his past attitude.

there was a part of him that was ready to gush on to you about how warm you make him, how your touch sends butterflies through his body, how your general demeanour makes him feel as though he could entrust his whole life to you but his pride wouldn’t allow him to express said thoughts.

but fortunately, he didn’t need to elaborate as your finger found his jaw, tilting it upwards so he’d meet your reassuring gaze, “i’d love to. we could go to that dessert place near your house and get that couple’s discount! well, when you recover, of course.”

poor, simp tsukki didn’t even try to resist the smile his lips curled into as your minty breath tickled his skin. “i ask you out and the first thing you think about is dessert? typical.”

smirking, you leaned in to pinch his cheek but immediately jerked backwards when he winced, “ah, i’m sorry! old habits die hard.” you chuckled awkwardly, feeling a resurgence of the previous heat when he kissed the back of your hand to show no hard feelings.

“it’s fine. but as an apology, stay with me for a while.” he said, his eyes fixated on the window by his bed. his hand subconsciously finding it’s way into yours once again.

#haikyuu x gender neutral reader #tsukishima scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima oneshot #haikyuu x gn!reader #tsukishima imagine #tsukishima fluff #hq tsukishima #tsukishima x y/n #tsukishima x you #tsukishima x reader #hq fluff #haikyuu!!#👾fluff

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soonwellbefoundfic · 7 years

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when you took that ring off...

marlee.

“Marlee, what's wrong with you?” His voice was calm – too calm. “You hear me talk?”! He bellowed when I remained silent.

I didn't want to talk. I didn't even want to be in his presence. I wanted to go home, drink two bottles of wine and forget that this day – hell, this past year even happened.

“Marlee!” He yelled, fed up with being ignored.

“What, nigga?! I don't wanna talk to ya ass. I don't even wanna see ya fucking face..” I snapped, glaring at him through narrowed eyes.

“What you do is so stupid – I not even believe you.” He spoke, ignoring every thing I'd just said.

“Can you please not talk to me?” I hissed.

“I don't even know you anymore.” His tone and the shake of his head pissed me off more than the words he'd uttered.

He didn't have the right to be disappointed in me when he was my biggest disappointment. Everything he'd done to me this past year canceled out even the slightest bit of anger, or disappointment he could harbor towards me.

“Maybe because you spend all your time under another woman.” My words were fire and his flesh – a highly flammable material.

He scoffed. “You bring her up for what? Don't talk about her.”

“You so quick to defend her,” I shook my head in disgust. “And Erin. You fucked her too? That's what she said – that you tried to when you were at her place. I'm not even surprised. Y'all both trash.” My tone expressed that I didn't care but I did. I cared so damn much it hurt to breathe.

Erin saying that shit to me sent my world into a state of darkness and my fist right into her mouth. I'd wanted to send those words back down her lying ass esophagus to sizzle to nothingness in her digestive acids. I'd wanted those words to be the last she ever uttered.

“Now you quiet? You wanted to talk a few minutes ago! Well, let's fucking talk, Larry!”

“I not talk to you like this. You talk stupid for nothing.” He scoffed, gripping the wheel tighter than necessary. “And you look stupid too.” His eyes slit me down the middle.

I seethed as he eyed the cut on my lip, remembering the expensive ring that'd put it there. “You fight, get arrested and fuck you face up – for what?!”

I balled my fist up, needing to expel the anger I was feeling.

“I can't stand ya ass!” I fumed, glaring out of the window at the Brooklyn homes we passed. “I'on even wanna be with you no more.”

“What you said?” He barked though I was sure he'd heard the muffled declaration. “Say for me again.”

Knowing he hated to be ignored I did just that. I fiddled with my nails and silently willed the car to move faster. When my nails grew to be a bore I went back to looking out of the window.

DUMBO. Outside of TriBeCa we'd also looked here. The lofts had been beautiful and new but the lower Manhattan apartment we resided in now had won our hearts.

I scoffed, remembering Larry's statements about moving to Brooklyn when our family grew too large for our TriBeCa loft. That shit ain't ever happening, I thought not knowing which was more unlikely – me having kids or Larry and I having a future.

"Say it!" He bellowed.

His face was crimson, his veins were creating a vine like texture beneath his skin. His nostrils flared and his chest heaved as he watched me – glared at me.

"I don't want to be with you." Mt voice was flat but clear. Crystal.

In a milli-second he was in my space. His frame dwarfed mine even in a seated position. His heat worked to melt my flesh but instead my own heat counteracted it.

My heart stuttered forward as he lowered his face to mine. "That make two of us, ma belle."

"Get the fuck outta my face!" I shoved him away, pissed that he had the audacity to feel how I felt. “Drive this car or let me the fuck out!”

“Bitch,” Larry muttered under his breath, earning a sideways glance from me.

“He cut you off because you're driving like a old lady.”

He instantly cut his eyes at me and frowned even as his gaze was one of amusement. “You wanna drive?”

“Nah.”

“Then shut up.” His smirk added a playful energy to his words.

“Alrighty then, Mabel.” I hummed, casting him a final glance before looking out out the window.

“Who is that is?” His confusion pulled my lips into a smile. His terrible English boggled my mind.

“The old lady your driving reminds me of.” He gasped and then reached for me running his hand over my hair.

“Stop, Larry!” I laughed, as he continued to threaten the sleekness of my ponytail. “You're fucking up my hair!”

It was when my hand met his twists and tugged that he stopped, shooting an alarmed look my way. “I drive! You try to kill us?!”

“Imma kick ya ass when we get out of this car.” I half threatened, smoothing my hair.

He smiled. “You crazy. I like that.”

The throb on the right side of my face was slowly extending upwards towards my head, triggering a nasty headache. The concept alone had me ready to whoop Erin's ass all over again. I was tired and achy but somehow I knew that if I saw her again I'd find the energy to stomp a mudhole in her face.

Having never been in a physical fight my strength surprised me. The fact that even after I was pulled off of Erin I still possessed enough anger to fight ten men too surprised me.

Shock consumed me when after seeing her swollen and bloodied face I felt nothing. I'd expected remorse but all I felt was satisfaction, and rage.

I huffed aloud thinking about it.

“Are you dumb?! Why would you take this way?! It's dumb traffic because of construction.” I hissed as red-hued glow from brake lights clouded my vision.

“If you wasn't so dumb and fight people this traffic would not be a big problem for you.” He shot back, refusing to spare me a glance.

Disgust curled his lips downward and he gripped the wheel tighter as though the sound of my voice alone triggered his anger.

“Fuck you doing all that for?” I snapped, unable to fathom how he could feel a way towards me.

Instead of a response I received muddled french and flared nostrils. And everything I was barely fighting to contain blew the fuck up.

“I didn't fucking ask you to come get me so you can lose the attitude!” He said nothing so I went on. “You wanna sit over there huffing and puffing like I did something to your stupid ass. Fucking loser ass nigga.”

The traffic seemed to thicken further annoying me. All I saw was the red of brake lights and I felt the exact same way. I was seething, and I couldn't quite put my finger on what bothered me the most – Erin or Larry.

“You know, it's crazy that this whole time Erin disliked you. She hated your ass before she even met you – I wanted her to like you so bad, to see what I saw. But now that I think about it her 'not liking' you was probably a facade to confuse me because she more than liked you. Y'all probably been fucking for yearssss.” I laughed manically even as what was left of my heart shattered at the thought.

I glanced at Larry, catching the tick of his jaw and whitening of his knuckles as he gripped the leather bound wheel.

“Who was better? Luzy or Erin?” The question dismantled me and sent Larry's foot heavily onto the brake. My body rocked forward but I recovered quickly.

“Stop talking.” He warned, his voice tight and gritty.

“If I had to guess, I'd say Erin – she's Jamaican and all. Bitch always talking about pelting waist and whining and shit.” I laughed softly – coldly. “Then again the white bitch probably did everything you wanted her to. I bet she sucks a mean dick – I hear they good at that.” My voice cracked and to mask it I chuckled. “They must've both had some bomb ass pussy. Like, out of this world because why else would you throw our shit away.”

“Marlee – please, just stop talking.” His voice was a muted rasp. It crackled like wood in a fiery fire.

“You was so busy fucking with them you dried out.” I raved. “No baby juice left for Marlee!”

“Shut the fuck up!!!” He roared, finally looking at me with venomous eyes.

His glare sizzled my flesh, leaving nothing but bone and connective tissue.

“Fuck you! Don't tell me to shut up! Pussy ass can't take the truth.” I ranted, scrambling internally as I tried to reel myself back in.

I was always so careful with words. I knew and respected their power. I was the silent one during arguments – I never said too much out of fear that I would say the wrong thing.

Words packed so much force. A few recklessly placed together syllables could sever siblingships, friendships, marriages... It was so easy to spit them out and impossible to take the back. Once they left the tongue they couldn't be chewed and distorted. Once they left the mouth, they grew legs and skittered towards the brain of whomever was around to hear them where they lived on forever.

I never wanted my poor choice of words to be the spices that marinated Larry's brain. Most times when we fought I walked away from it, giving myself the time and space to pull my thoughts together. And I didn't speak to him until my words were prim, proper and perfect. I didn't speak to him until I'd argued with him in my head, saying everything I thought I wanted to say. It took me mentally saying the wrong things to figure out what the right things were. That method had worked for as long as we'd been an us but now–

All the wrong things were at the forefront of my brain and on the tip of my tongue. The more I tired to care and reel myself in the more my tongue continued to lash.

I'd always worked to protect Larry's emotions. I knew his vulnerabilities and triggers, usually avoiding them with great caution and care. Now I was doing the opposite, and frankly it scared me.

Why didn't I care?

Why was it so easy to stop caring?

What did this mean for us?

I knew the answers to those questions yet and still I asked them, hoping to be pacified by at least a small part of my brain.

“Marlee, you don't know what is the truth so stop talking.”

He was too calm – too careless. He was supposed to react, to be passionate, to fight for me – and he didn't.

“I wish I never married you.” I seethed, seeing fifty shades of red.

“I wish I never meet you!” He bit back, sinking his teeth into my jugular.

He gave me the fire I so desired and it burned me to a crisp, leaving nothing but resentment.

“I hate you.” My voice was quite – so quiet I hadn't realized I'd spoken until I closed my mouth.

Internally, I battled. Half of me hoped he'd heard me loud and clear while the other half wanted him to never hear those words – from me.

But when his hands dropped limply from the wheel and his bleak eyes centered on me I knew he had. My words had hit him like a missile, destroying him.

He didn't blink or move – he stared, dragging my soul from my trembling body. His desolate glare and lifeless body consumed my lifeforce, making me feel nothing but regret. I hadn't exactly meant it but I wanted him to feel the pain that I felt. Instead, I felt more anguish than I'd ever experienced in my life as a result of hurting him.

My ability to feel remorse for hurting him when he never seemed to feel any when he hurt me injected me with a sensation of rage I'd never experienced before. Fury laced my tongue with ammo and I fought with everything I had to swallow it – even if the poison killed me. But I couldn't.

The sounds of honking horns should've acted as a warning. The fact that the red of brake lights no longer clouded vision should have acted to clear the toxic haze consuming my brain. My love for Larry and the vows that I'd taken should've prohibited such thought to turn to words...

“Maybe I shouldn't've gotten that abortion so I could see the look on you face when the baby came out looking exactly like Pierre–“ His fingers were around my throat before the statement could come to completion.

I gasped out as he slammed my upper body against the passenger side door. His fingers pressed into the flesh of my neck as my hands flailed at his forearms in search of release. My closed fist connecting forcefully with his left eye was the root of my freedom.

I gasped glaring at him before swinging at him again.

“You putting your hands on me now?” My voice cracked as my trembling hands went to my neck, feeling for tenderness that would confirm that my husband had really violated me.

“You know what,” I inhaled a large, ragged breath, trying to replenish my lungs. “This is over. We're over.”

My words meshed with my actions as I removed the ring that not only connected me to my husband but to my mother, tossing it at him. Next was my seat belt and then the door.

The horns that had been muffled by the interior of the car were now loud and clear and it took a mere second for me to realize that they were all aimed at Larry as the car had been stagnant for a while.

“I'm done with you.” I spared him one last glare, hoping it was the last I saw of him.

“I remember this place.” I grinned as we were led by the hostess to plush, neutral toned booth.

“What you remembered?” Larry asked as the hostess whirled around, leaving us with menus that were as posh as the rest of the décor.

“We came here after I found out I was pregnant – the second time.” I spoke, making sure to keep my voice leveled. I wanted to exude ease and confidence but when Larry's eyes softened with caution I realized I'd failed. “I also remember that the orange juice is $9 here...” I rambled on.

“Is so good though.” He smiled, silently promising not to delve into what I'd just spoken of. I was grateful.

“Meh.” I shrugged. “It's aightttt.”

“Marlee, last time we come you ask for a to-go cup and get mad when they say no.” He chuckled.

“That's cause it's $9!”

“Say whatever – I know the truth. I remember.” He teased, tapping his temple.

I waved him off and raised my menu, visually diving in. Though I remembered coming here I didn't remember what I liked from the menu, minus the decadent ass orange juice.

I scoffed at the prices even as my interest peaked at the descriptions. I must've really liked it here if Larry brought me back, I reasoned.

Tired of browsing the hefty selection, I lowered my menu only to find his gaze on me. He smiled and I blushed.

“You like the french toast with the cheesecake and ice cream stuff.” He told me before I could ask.

Using his description, that I was sure was wrong, I glanced down at my menu. “Donut Ever Go There French Toast?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure I don't like the crepes?”

“Yeah, I sure.” He smiled – arrogantly. “You only eat mine.”

“And maman's”

“Mine better. You say this to me but she never know.” He insisted.

I rose a brow. “Are you lying to me because I don't know better?”

“Never.”

“Swear it.”

“I swear to everything.” And to add validity to his words he signed a cross, starting at his forehead and then going down to his chest.

The waitress appeared before he could make it to his left shoulder. Because he was dramatic he completed his cross, not acknowledging her until his hand dropped from his right shoulder.

He placed our orders with a smile and after confirming the weirded out waitress hurriedly made her exit leaving the both of us cackling.

“Heeeey, Mar–“

“Where Erin?”

“She in the office,” He waved his marcel towards the curtained french door. “Damn girl, whats wrong with yo ass?”

Though I adored Ryan, I couldn't be bothered with him or anyone else in this salon today.

With quick, determined steps I headed for the office Erin called her own only to come to a slow stop when the door opened and she stepped out.

“Aight, Dawn you can come from under the dryer now.”

As Dawn muttered her complaints about her the dryer and being under there for too long Erin's eyes found mine. With a solemn expression she knowingly turned back around and went into the office with me following behind her.

I watched silently as she shut the door, leaving Dawn's protests and the chatter of the salon to be muffled.

“Erin,” I started, praying for the ability to stay calm. I needed to stay calm.

“Look, let's not do all the back and forth shit. You did ya nigga dirty and he brought his annoying ass around pressing me so I told him the truth. I ain't mean to but the shit slipped.” She shrugged.

I nearly choked on my own fury. “Slipped?”

Shrug number 2.

“Bitch, are you dumb?!” I nearly laughed. She couldn't be serious.

“No bitch, you're dumb!” She retorted, casually grabbing her water bottle off of her desk and taking a sip.

“Bitch, been feeling sorry for herself for 3 years and ain't done shit about it. All you do is cry about Larry's bum ass and forgive his bullshit. He cheated on you with a whole notha white bitch and ya dumb ass stayed. Fucking bozo.”

She spoke as though she were thinking aloud yet every single word was a dagger aimed at the center of my soul.

My fist clenched and nostrils flared and brows knitted.

This is your best friend, I reminded myself, she's merely talking out the side of her neck. Yet, even as I mentally reasoned with myself I found the distance between up closing, and it was my feet that were bridging the gap.

“Nigga dick is bomb though...” She chuckled, taking another sip of water.

My world froze and I replayed her words in my head, wondering if I'd missed the 'must be' part.

I hadn't.

“Fuck you just say?” I was I front of her.

“Nigga was whining, asking me if I was sure and shit. All that came to a halt when I sat on his dick.”

Her wail as my fist plowed into her mouth was music to my ears. A symphony.

“I feel funny.” I declared as Larry started the car.

“Is maybe because you just eat ice cream and cheesecake for breakfast.” Concern lined his eyes even as he teased.

“Shut up, “ I waved him off, buckling my seat belt. “It's not that – it's just,”

“Whats wrong?”

“You don't feel nervous about this – not even a little?”

“Not really.” He tilted his head. “Why you do?”

“The last time we tried marriage counseling it didn't go too well.” I shrugged feigning casualness.

“I not want to go back then – if I can be honest.” His voice was light as he spoke. “I think it's stupid then and in my head I wasn't mature for that.”

“And now you are?” I asked despite the fact that it had been his suggestion.

“Yes.”

I shrugged and shook my head. “I don't know why I'm nervous – I just feel... funny.”

“I not know either. This not even real appointment.”

“Maybe it's the fact that we have to go in to get a fucking referral that's making me nervous cause that's weird. Ain't that weird?”

“I not really think much of it.”

“I did. Like, why couldn't she just fax over the name and number of the best suited doctor?” I pressed, annoyed that I had nothing solid to blame my finicky nerves on.

“Marlee,” He rubbed at my thigh. “Everything will be good. We good.”

I wanted to believe him but the knots in my stomach wouldn't allow me to.

The car ride was silent as I found myself nose deep in my thoughts. Between the hard work Larry and I had ahead of us and my hectic recollections I was a mental mess. Partnering that with the uncertainty I felt speaking to counselor about our problems led to me being in shambles.

I'd been more than shocked when Larry suggested we go this route again and even more shocked when I instantly agreed. Our last bout with a doctor trained to mend marriages had been a nightmare. The appointments Larry failed to show up to were some of the first indications the he didn't give a fuck and was checking out of our marriage. That component alone made marriage counseling a trigger for my angst.

The idea of lifting rugs and yanking off old bandages made me nervous as well. The doctor would delve and we'd have to divulge to eventually heal. But healing was hard. It literally took stripping yourself down to your very core, exposing everything, to reach a certain level of vulnerability in which healing began to occur.

It was easier to give up than to fight.

And we had both done that only to find that the easy route wasn't rewarding at all. It was actually paved misery.

I sighed, and for the millionth time today my fingertip grazed the scar Erin had left me with. Frowning, I rolled my eyes. That bitch.

Remembering how brazen she had been had me ready to lay hands on her all over again. Sure, I was missing tons of puzzle pieces needed to form the complete image of our relationship but turning on me the way she did just didn't make sense. She'd been proud to say the things she'd said. It was as though she'd recited the lies and wanted to see me break.

When had our friendship gone to shit on her end? She was argumentative but she'd always been loyal and mostly supportive of me.

Her telling Larry about the abortion I'd had was a total shocker, and I could remember thinking she'd done it in an effort to get him away from me since that's what she'd always wanted. But when she started running her mouth about fucking him and how good the sex was I knew that her actions, as shitty as they were, weren't designed to emancipate me from Larry like I'd thought. Her actions, and words, had been self-involved and malicious.

I didn't regret fighting, destroying her salon or smudging my record. What I did regret was the warmth and love I'd greeted her with at the super market a few months ago.

That bitch had stood in my face, exchanged numbers with me and made plans to dine all while knowing what she did. She'd violated me for the second time and deep down I wanted to return the favor.

I knew the anger that I harbored for her would get me nowhere but being taken advantage of when you're damn near powerless is a major blow to the spirit. I wouldn't let it hinder me though – I had to move forward. Resentment was pointless and poisonous.

The car coming to a permanent stop was the remedy needed to dead my thoughts.

“Ready?” I looked over finding his eyes on me.

“Damn,” Erin huffed from across the table, pulling me away from the task of wrestling the tail off of my shrimp.

“I hate when restaurants don't cut off the fucking tail. It's not edible!�� I whined, annoyed that there was a hindrance between my food meeting my mouth.

“Bitch, just bite the tail off.”

“Nah, cause then I would have to spit it out and like wipe my mouth and shit.”

She waved me off, glancing at the table to the left of us with a scowl..

“ The hell is wrong with you?” I quizzed, finally forking my shrimp into my mouth where it should've been seconds ago.

“This fucking baby won't stop crying.” She complained.

“It's a baby – they cry.” I deadpanned.

The baby had been crying for a while but it hadn't bothered me any.

“True, which is why they should have stayed their asses at home instead of ruining everyone else's peace with the screams of that thing.”

“Thing?” I chuckled, rubbing my protruding belly. “Hate to see what you're gonna call yours.”

She scoffed. “I'm not have fucking kids. They're terrible.”

“Girl, please.”

“I forreal.” I smiled at her slightly broken English that always exposed the roots she tried so hard to hide.

“Well, you know your role of a godmother is to take on all motherly responsibilities of my baby if something is to ever happen to me, or Larry.” Her eyes bulged and I laughed.

“Well, I'm gonna have to turn down the position, sis. Glad I didn't sign shit!”

“Bitch,” I laughed. “You're gonna love my baby.”

“Not if it look like it's long faced ass daddy.” She murmured, plucking a shrimp off my plate.

“My man is fine and jealousy will kill you.” I supplied as she smirked at me. “And if you bring your ass over here to my plate again, I'll kill you.”

“Pregnant?”

“How?” Larry and I quizzed simultaneously.

“Well,” The doctor started with a wry expression. “No method of contraception is completely 100%. The Natazia pill is 91% effective when taken as directed – and that's a good number but it leaves room, though small, for conceiving a child.”

“I,” My sigh was inward and used to calm my nerves. “When I left to go to Paris I didn't take my birth control. I haven't taken it since then.” The admission depleted me and I bowed forward in my seat.

Larry's hand met my back just as mine covered my face.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” I groaned out, frustrated. “I have to be the most fertile woman on the planet and I can't have fucking kids. What a fucking curse!” I cried, tugging my hoodie over my face in an effort to hide my tears.

“How you know this?” Larry asked the doctor, rubbing my back with more fervor. It was to calm him – not me.

“Well, when Marlee came in last week for her annual exam we did a normal urine sample just for testing as a part of the exam. Because there was no concern of pregnancy we didn't expedite the sample testing. When we did run it and get the results a few days after your visit they came back positive – for pregnancy.”

When neither of us said anything she went on. “I know given your history and the fact that you were just prescribe a new birth control that this may not be the best news. I'm sure you guys need time to grasp this information and make a decision about this pregnancy.” Her voice was soft, cautious. “What I can say is that medicine has advanced immensely in the past few years – even the past few months. I'd love to tell you about it when you're ready just so your options don't seem so black and white.”

“What option?” Larry all but chirped.

“Lar,” I croaked, feeling his hopes float to the heavens.

His eyes dropped down to mine and when they connected his shoulders dropped. I didn't want him to get too excited about anything any doctor could tell him about new methods. We'd been there and done that. We'd been told that our baby was healthy and our pregnancy was normal. We been told of methods and options and new medicine and fucking advancement. Yet we still didn't have a child. I refused to believe that this time would be any different.

I refused to fail him again. I couldn't take it.

We wouldn't survive it.

"I can't believe we're here." I took in the endless blue before turning to face Larry, my husband. "I can't believe we're married."

His smile was gentle and his eyes warm. "I can."

"Yeah?" My grin stretched proudly across my face.

"Yeah." He approached me, leaving my body meshed between him and the balcony railing. "I plan this from the first day I know you."

"Nigga, please." I cackled, waving him off.

"I do. When you go crazy on my brother for try to take your camera I know." His arms threaded around my waist.

"You knew what?"

"That I marry you, and love you every day for the rest of my life."

"I'm so lucky," I breathed, burrowing my face in his neck just to make sure that this was real, that we were here and in love and married. "You're so right – it scares me."

His brows met. "Why?"

"All I really know is wrong." I admitted, playing with a lone twist that refused to stay with the rest.

"Now we change that." He pressed his lips to mine. "We ride this til the wheels fall off and when they do we fly."

and now, you’ll never be happy..

#swbffic #lt fanfic

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butter--they-them · 4 years

Text

If you think I'm not going to use this account to post useless vents about my day to day life then you are dead wrong.

This was probably immature of me, but shit happens. Basically, my dad and brother were sparring (my bro is into boxing, my dad knows karate). My dad asked if I wanted to watch, I said sure. I got down, said hi, made one or two jokes and got ready to just watch. The ONLY thing my brother did was tell me to be quite, dont detract him, not to even speak at all. He went on and on about it, and when I tried to tell him to fuck off because he is being a rude bitch, he just repeats himself but louder. So I got up and went upstairs, saying "fuck this".

Honestly I'm so sick of him. After spending most of my money on getting him a xmas present, he still treats me like shit. I'd expected him to be at least a little bit grateful, but he still wants me seen and not heard. I'm loud, I've always been loud, and the reason for that, quite honestly, was born out of spiteful rebellion of my brother's insistence that I be silent. Eventually it was just part of who I am. I think that's pretty immature tbh.

He has always acted like everyone is here for the Hayden show. We are all side characters in his movie. It's always been that way. I know he thinks of me as the golden child in our parents eyes, but even my parents have admitted that Hayden took up so much of their time that they just didnt have time for me at all growing up. Its because of their dislike of him that my peers bullied me, by their own admittance. It's because of him that my parents were at best barely present. And still, he takes out the bitterness of not thinking of himself as the "golden child" on me.

I didnt have a fucking childhood. I spent every moment living by his rules, and by his own admission being manipulated by him for his own amusement. I spent every day being bullied and cast out, being told that no one related to Hayden could be trustworthy. I spent every night resenting my parents for forcing ME to be the adult, forcing ME to be mature, where he wasnt. I had to compensate for him constantly. I had to prove myself academically because HIS record cast doubt on my own. I had to deal with teachers disliking me because of HIS behaviour. His shameful shit followed me like a shadow, and I'm not even aloud to say hi and crack jokes? I HAVE TO BE SILENT IN MY OWN FUCKING HOUSE? BE SEEN AND NOT HEARD?

I wouldn't even care, if he was nice to me now! That's the horrible truth. I wouldn't care. If he didnt call me a liar every time I say anything. If he didnt try to gaslight me. If he didnt say "why do you care? It's in the past." After ADMITTING to manipulating me, after ADMITTING that he only stopped becuase I have nothing he could possibly want anymore. If he didnt act like my words were worth less than his. I hate him. If he'd made any effort to improve, I would have forgiven him. But we are beyond that. He destroyed my childhood, he fucked up my teenage years, and now he has the AUDACITY TO DARE SPEAK TO ME AS IF IM LESSER?

HE HAS THE FUCKING NERVE TO LOOK ME IN THE EYES. HE HAS THE FUCKING AUDACITY TO PRETEND MY VOICE IS BELLOW HIM. HE HAS THE CONFIDENCE TO LOUDLY COMPLAIN ABOUT HOW BORED HE IS WHENEVER I BRING UP MY INTERESTS.

AFTER EVERYTHING HE HAS DONE. AFTER EVERYTHING IVE LOST TO MAKE HIS PATHETIC LITTLE LIFE BETTER. THIS IS THE SHIT HE PULLS.

I'm going to make his life worse in any way I can. I know it's incredibly immature. I know it's going to affect my family. I know. And still, I've never wanted anything more than for him to suffer right now. I want him to be in pain. I want him to be lonely.

Because the worst part of it all? He has friends. He has a life worth living. He is mental illness free. He has my parents. He has everything I've never had. I want to take that away from him. He's always gotten everything, while I've gotten nothing. And I wouldn't care, if he didnt enjoy that so much. If he didnt act like the victim.

I want him to die. I want him to just be gone. When he briefly moved out for a couple months, it was the only time in my life I didnt feel unsafe in my room, in my house. So I hope he chokes on his arrogance and dies. Its cruel and immature, but it's how I feel

#vent #family #personal vent #personal #anger

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solohux · 7 years

Text

a fox hux fic for @heyitsemeraldorbs, i hope you like it! ✨ (also on AO3 here).

If Kylo weren’t so used to being followed around by a fox, he would’ve made more of an effort to turn around and look at the one that’s currently trailing a few steps behind him rather than thinking it’s Hux and carrying on with his walk home.

It’s only when he gets to his apartment building and turns to allow Hux to trot in first that he finds that the fox has disappeared, but having had a rough day in the office, Kylo merely shrugs, guessing that his mystical lover has some kitsune business to deal with. With Hux now on his mind, Kylo makes his way up to his top floor apartment, absently wishing that Hux would be at home and not wherever he’s ran off to.

Key in the door and a sigh on his lips, Kylo enters his apartment, only to be met with a fierce hug as soon as he’s over the threshold.

“I missed you,” Hux whispers, his bushy tail wagging back and forth quickly, his breath warm against Kylo’s cheek before he kisses it.

“Weren’t you just following me home?” Kylo asks, enamoured by Hux’s affections but confused nonetheless.

“I haven’t left the den all day,” Hux frowns. And by the mess in the living room, kitchen and bedroom, Kylo knows Hux is telling the truth. “Why?”

“There was a fox following me home. I just presumed it’d be you.”

Hux’s demeanour changes suddenly, eyes flashing with something darker and more primal. His ears flick and twitch for a moment before darting to the window in their bedroom to where there’s a stunning view of the city skyline but the fox’s sharp gaze darts to the street below, growling lowly when he obviously spots something he dislikes.

“Hux,” Kylo calls out, following him. “What’s gotten into you? It’s just another fox. It could probably just smell you all over me and wanted to know why.”

Kylo reaches out and rubs Hux’s back before kissing his cheek, ushering him away from the window and towards the bed.

“Mm. Yes. Another fox,” Hux says in a trance-like tone, eyes locked on the window despite Kylo’s efforts to get his mate’s attention.

But Kylo doesn’t give it a second thought, too busy wanting to delve into the deepest throes of passion with his precious fox and forget about the stresses of his day. But even three days later, Hux is still distant, distracted, never focussing on what Kylo is saying to him but rather looking to the window or to the door, always alert. The other fox continues to follow Kylo around; to and from work, to the grocery store, even to a restaurant down the street where he takes Hux on a date.

When Kylo settles down in bed on the fourth night of the new fox’s appearance, Hux kisses him on the cheek softly, keeping their foreheads pressed together before Hux leaves the apartment, telling Kylo that he’s merely going out to feel the night air on his fur, but the same fierceness is in Hux’s eyes; a fire, blazing with an intense hatred that Kylo doesn’t understand.

Kicking off the blankets, Kylo dresses and grabs his bag, running downstairs and out of the door just in time to see Hux—in his animal form—disappearing around the corner, catching only a glimpse of his busy tail fade. Kylo runs to catch up with him, following him as stealthily as he can manage, wondering what his little fox is up to, seeing as the new fox is nowhere to be found.

But Kylo suddenly gets a glimpse of something bright sitting across the street from him, it’s beady eyes locked onto him.

It’s the other fox; its fur is a lot lighter than Hux’s, almost white compared to the bright copper of Hux’s, and it looks as though no one else can see it.

Kylo blinks, feeling drowsy all of a sudden, but finds himself stepping onto the road to cross and meet the other fox. Mind hazy and fingertips tingling, Kylo follows the fox all the way into the empty park, feeling the wind starting to pick up and rustle the trees around him.

“Stop there,” a dark voice says and Kylo does, boots skidding on the icy ground. “Let me look at you, my boy. Let me see what makes you special.”

Kylo groans as he feels something in the air shift and the wind howls at him, beckoning him to look up to where the fox should be standing, only there’s a man in its place. His skin is pale, ashen, and deathly. His face is heavily scared, the rest of his lean body likely the same if it weren’t covered with a grey, old robe. Kylo shivers, noting the three fox tails that swish forebodingly behind the man, like the heads of a hydra waiting to strike.

“A kitsune is forbidden to mate with a human,” the man says, speaking aloud and straight into Kylo’s mind. “But you seem to have captured the attention of the fiery one, haven’t you? There’s something fierce inside your soul too, isn’t there? Vehement and blazing. No wonder you have stolen Armitage’s heart. But I shall have you for myself, human. You are what I need to strengthen my embers into infernos again. Become ruler of my kind. I shall be Supreme Leader Snoke, and you, my queen. You are my mate from now on, Kylo Ren.”

“Hux…” Kylo whispers his mate’s name, feeling entranced by the man in front of him.

He can’t move, feet locked to the ground and his heart pounding wildly in his chest as the man—Snoke—approaches him as though floating, fog pooling around his feet as he moves. The kitsune’s face is much more gruesome close up; old scars healed awkwardly causing disfiguration, and Kylo wishes he had the strength to fight. Instead, his body feels as though it’s drugged, wanting to submit underneath the hand of this intruder, when his mind is screaming for Hux—

There’s a flash of something from behind him, a rush of wind, and suddenly Snoke is knocked backwards with a shout, and Kylo finds himself free of the spell and collapses onto his backside, and an orange fox is standing in front of him.

“Hux,” Kylo gasps, so happy to see his mate come to his rescue, but stops, stares.

There’s fire at Hux’s paws, tiny embers burning away, confined to his body and doing no damage to the grass beneath him. Hux turns, trotting back to Kylo and licking his cheek before turning back and growling when he obviously hears Snoke getting back to his feet.

“Armitage,” Snoke bows mockingly. “Prince of the forest. Charmed to meet you again.”

Hux barks, snarls, before a light envelopes him and he shifts into his human form, fires still burning beneath his bare feet.

“You were banished,” Hux growls, still just as feral despite his change in appearance, proof that his fire comes from his soul. “Stripped of your magic and told never to return to this realm for your crimes against our kind. And yet. You even have the audacity to threaten my chosen.”

“Your chosen?” Snoke laughs, and the ground quakes. “You’re away with the faeries, pup. The stars would never bless your unity! A man! A measly human chosen by a kitsune!”

“Kylo Ren is no measly human, and I warn you not to insult him in my presence,” Hux replies, standing tall, his tail proudly behind him. “Final warning, wretch. Leave, and never return.”

Snoke exhales slowly, raising his hand and opening his palm.

“I am going nowhere without my prize.”

Hux bears his teeth, snarling, and Kylo feels a little afraid of his mate. Watching from behind, he can see just how feral Hux looks; one foot in front of the other, back hunched, and sharp nails looking like claws, Kylo suddenly realises that his fox is far from tame.

“Kylo is mine,” Hux shouts. The flames at his feet blaze ferociously, growing with his anger. “Lay one finger on him and I’ll be forced to kill you.”

Kylo swallows hard, unnerved by the thickness of the air around him as the two spirits stare each other down, neither one wanting to retreat. Finally, Snoke speaks.

“We shall see, youngling,” he chuckles, and suddenly sparks fill his hand as the clear night sky overhead becomes filled with grey clouds and the menacing rumble of thunder makes Kylo jittery.

Lightning pools in Snoke’s palm, building the energy for an attack but Hux is much too quick for the old man. Shielding his eyes from the intensity of the heat, Kylo manages to see Hux gain a fiery aura around his body, flames surrounding him as though simultaneously protecting him and fuelling his power. His eyes become pure white as his strength builds and builds into a crushing glow of pure fire, flames flickering every shade of red and orange before Kylo’s eyes until Hux lets out a primal yell and a fire blast in the shape of an angered fox’s head is sent hurdling in Snoke’s direction before the other has the chance to unleash his lightning and he’s consumed by the flames.

Kylo looks away as Snoke burns, screaming and yelling, thunder still rumbling above them all but fading away slowly along with its master, dying slowly. Only when the horrendous shouts have ceased does Kylo open his eyes to see the surrounding trees scorched and the grass burnt.

But all Kylo can focus on is Hux.

The fox is breathing heavily, all remnants of fire gone from his body, his ears and bushy tail still on his human body, much to Kylo’s relief, but his legs seem to be shaking. Kylo stands up, worry flooding his mind for his mate, the one who called him his chosen.

“Hux? You saved me, you saved my life—Hux?”

Instead of replying, Hux exhales slowly and begins to fall backwards but Kylo manages to catch him with ease, falling with him until his fox is laying in his lap, his face relaxed as though sleeping.

“I’ve never done that before,” Hux says quietly, voice hoarse, eyes fluttering open.

“You’re…incredible,” Kylo says, brushing a streak of dirt from Hux’s cheek. “I shouldn’t have followed him, I’m sorry, Hux. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Hux nods, but grimaces as he shifts in Kylo’s arms, but finds he’s too weak to move yet. “He enchanted you, you had to follow him. I felt your change of heart and came as soon as I could. Kylo…I could’ve lost you.”

“Never,” Kylo replies, pressing his forehead to Hux’s, nuzzling him in the way that he’s seen foxes do, wanting to be as much of a comfort to his mate as he can. “Like you said. I’m your chosen. Yours.”

The fox’s eyes seemingly light up, though the fire behind them this time is much softer, warmer, like the fire found in a home and not the sort that tears down forests. Gentle, not destructive. Just like his fiery soul.

Hux eventually shifts forms, both agreeing that a man carrying a fox would be much more discreet than a man carrying another man—half-naked—through the streets after midnight. Now in his animal form, Hux whimpers quietly as Kylo takes off his coat and wraps him in it before lifting him and carrying him home, nestling him in his arms and ensuring that he’s kept warm.

A fire as strong as Hux’s should never be left to freeze, certainly not against the November breeze, and definitely not against any sort of rival kitsune. With a soft kiss to the top of the fox’s furry head, Kylo promises that Hux will never have to put himself in harm’s way to save him again.

If he is indeed Hux’s chosen, then the least Kylo can do is fight back with as much fire as his mate.

Above them, the clouds part and the moon shines down on them. Kylo looks up, seeing the stars twinkling elegantly, and when Hux makes a warm yip sound, Kylo feels blessed.

#kylux #Snoke was wrong; the stars HAVE blessed their unity ❤️❤️❤️⭐️⭐️⭐️#fox hux #m:writing

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killiansbutt · 7 years

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37 with Nalu?

37: “Dance with me?” (prompt from here)

inspired because I shoved an entire bite of cake into my mouth (lol, what diet?) when you sent this so it got a bit longer than I thought.

For all his love of food, there’s one particular kind that he doesn’t love. Cake. Someone could argue that it stems from Erza’s fanatic love for strawberry cake and the constant near death experiences when someone has the audacity to mess with her cake, but, really, truly, he doesn’t like cake much. He’ll eat it, but it’ll never his first choice.

Thus, when his birthday came around the corner, he wasn’t quite sure what he expected Lucy to do. He would eat anything she made – even if his stomach rebelled at an experimental type of cooking she tried some weeks back – but he also knew that his Lucy had eyes like a hawk. She would know if he didn’t love the cake with the same gusto that he loved everything else.

Solution? Hide in a pantry. The idea lasted all of five seconds before he realized her pantry had a glass door in which his bright hair stubbornly stood out and he yanked that as an answer. From across the room, Happy watched him with interest, his tiny claws tearing up a blanket Lucy had given him specifically to avoid ruining the wood furnishings of her room. “What are you doing, Natsu?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he mumbled, pulling a hand through his hair. He could just… leave, but then his traitorous thoughts reminded him of the look on her face when they talked about the year he left and he couldn’t subject either of them to the separation again. Especially not now and especially not over something as ridiculous as not liking cake.

Thankfully, before an absurd form of logic convinced him of doing something ridiculous, the door to Lucy’s apartment swung open. Her blonde pony-tail swished as she used her hip to close it behind her, not at all surprised to see Happy and Natsu inside when she turned to face them. A bright smile crossed her face, causing her eyes to scrunch a little in the corners in a way that had him smiling back.

“Hi Natsu, hi Happy.” They waved and Happy let go of his blanket, floating up in the air. “I made sure he didn’t break anything while you were gone, Lucy,” Happy told her solemnly. “It was a close thing though. I think I should get paid double.”

Natsu squawked in protest, but Lucy set her burdens on the table and handed over a bag with two fish over to the cat. “Very well, a deal’s a deal. Thanks, Happy.”

“Bye Natsu,” the cat said, his wings sprouting on his back as he fled out the window. Lucy waved at his retreating form before closing the window after him.

“He insisted,” she explained.

“I know.” And he did. Happy liked being useful and if babysitting Natsu was one way to do it then Natsu wouldn’t complain about it. “So… what’s the plan?” He asked, trying to think of something to say; his tongue felt like lead and stuck to the roof his mouth, like he was working up the courage to kiss her for the first time again. Which was ridiculous because they had been together for months now and this wasn’t anything unusual – it was just their first birthday together. It deserved its own note on his timeline, but Natsu wasn’t sure how to do that, really.

“Dance with me?” Lucy asked, arching a brow.

“There’s no music.”

“That’s okay, c’mon, use your imagination,” she said, wiggling her fingers. Natsu relented, curling his hand around hers and drawing her to his chest, giving her a playful kiss that made her laugh.

His hands dropped to her waist and she wrapped hers around his neck, swaying gently to music that neither could hear. Natsu relaxed into her arms after a moment, tension fading away with each little rock, the warm breath against his neck as she rested her head against his shoulder settling him. His worries over cake, over milestones, faded away. She hummed under her breath, a little melody that had no rhythm or reason that he could tell, and he grinned a little, knowing she wasn’t aware of doing it. She only ever did when she was content like this and happiness welled in his chest knowing that just a simple music less dance could inspire that in her.

Her humming stopped and he found himself oddly disappointed when she pulled away. “Better?” Lucy asked, fingers playing with his hair absently.

“Loads,” he admitted.

“Good.” She rose up on her toes, kissing him in that gentle way of hers, flooding him with warmth and sensation and words that he wouldn’t ever be able to say aloud with any sort of eloquence. Her lips quirked against his when he deepened the kiss, a pleasant warmth shooting through him as his hands traced their way up her body till he held her cheeks in warm, calloused hands. He nipped her lip gently, laughing with her as he pulled away to rest his forehead against hers.

“So, do you want to have pie now?”

“Pie?” He asked, confused.

“Well, obviously we have to fix your dislike of cake, but I figure you can get away with it this time,” she replied with a smirk that he kissed right off her lips. A breathy sort of sigh escaped her and this time, he was the one who grinned.

#nalu #fairy tail #nalu ff #lucy heartfilia #natsu dragneel #mine #Anonymous #my fic

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yogaadvise · 7 years

Text

What Elizabeth Gilbert`s New Book `Big Magic` Can Teach Us About Fear

Although I've been a functioning author for virtually three years, virtually whenever I rest down to compose something, I become Stuart Smalley's evil twin, flogging myself with the anti-affirmation, 'I'm unsatisfactory, I'm not wise sufficient, as well as, gosh darn it, individuals aren't going to like this.'

I'm not the only innovative individual who locates themselves scaling a mountain of concern and hesitancy each time they get fracturing on a brand-new task. (I desire I could state I bask in this, however I don't.) I've fulfilled many actors, artists, writers, artists, visuals designers-and numerous other individuals that desire be-who are as likewise hurt. For example, when I interviewed Reese Witherspoon concerning her recent well-known efficiency as a recouping heroin and sex addict in Cheryl Strayed's memoir-turned-movie Wild, the Oscar winner trusted that she was virtually paralyzed by instability as the initial day of shooting approached.

' Every single time I begin a new [ motion picture], I'm horrified,' Witherspoon said. 'I desire to vomit, often I have panic assaults. You get that pit in your tummy, like you're not going to be able to do it, which you're going to be asked to do something you can not accomplish.'

And when I spoke to John Taylor, bass player for Duran Duran, he stated that complying with every one of his mega success as a participant of among the largest bands of the 80s, he invested years saddled by anxiousness that he 'had not been the actual thing.'

' I keep in mind coming to be actually familiar with all those session musicians as well as a small amount embarrassed of my very own playing style,' he claims. 'It almost made me wish to go and also conceal away. Among the worst traits you could get is self-conscious.'

Turns out, Eat Pray Love writer Elizabeth Gilbert-the worldwide-bestselling writer of the beloved travel and also self-discovery memoir (and also its followup, Committed, and also the well-known unique The Signature of All Traits)- has actually additionally invested years vanquishing her own self-doubt satanic forces and also coaxing out her imaginative side. At the same time, she's come to be something of a specialist. In 2009, she offered a TED talk on locating 'Your Elusive Creative Genius', at 10 million sights, it places as one of one of the most watched of perpetuity. After that earlier this year, she took to the roadway with Oprah on the mogul's The Life You Want Weekend tour, resolving readers concerning the significance of daring to be strong, charting your very own life training course, and discovering how to overlook your fears.

' Your concern is one of the most monotonous feature of you,' she stated throughout a talk that I view on YouTube for ideas whenever I'm determined to obtain a publication cover tale or publication proposal over the coating line. 'Additionally, these are specifically the very same concerns that everybody that has actually ever before completed a book-or created anything-feels. To puts it simply, your anxieties are simply regular old mass-produced, made-in-China, sold-at-Walmart fears-nothing penalty or valuable or artisanal concerning them.' As well as additionally: 'Fear just ever before informs you one point: quit. Whereas creativity, nerve, and ideas only ever before desire you to go. I want us all liberated from the course of fear, for numerous factors - but mostly since it creates such a damn boring life.'

To that end, Gilbert has published a brand-new publication, Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear, a go-and-get-it overview that allows us a glimpse right into her very own job procedure, in addition to her thoughts on exactly how concepts and ideas are born and also materialize. It also works as a pointer that, although she's sold 12 million copies of Eat Pray Love, Gilbert coincides as us: She has a continuous friend in worry. The difference is, she's discovered to approve its omnipresence and also obtains on with business of developing her art (in this case, writing) anyhow. Below, some of her Magic concepts and also tips that I have actually located to be especially effective.

' If you are alive, you are an imaginative person.'

Reading Huge Magic, I typically found myself amazed by exactly how Gilbert had handled to occupy residency in my head as well as unpack so several of the writing-related stress and anxieties I had kept up there. There's that continuous irritating sensation that I'm a fraud. It does not matter that I have evidence to the contrary through years of published write-ups, I still often ask myself just how I have the audacity to think I can achieve whatever it is I'm concerning to do. The entire time I was composing my 80s songs narrative history, Mad World, I 'd get one songs publication after another and also admire the work of 'genuine' authors, something I never ever pictured I could ever before really be. Apparently, this is a preferred concern among innovative types (see John Taylor's tension re: not being 'the genuine point'). In advising us that all us modern humans share an ancestry of makers-' decorators, tinkers, storytellers, professional dancers, explorers, fiddlers, drummers, home builders, cultivators, problem-solvers as well as embellishers'- Gilbert emphasizes that anyone with a pulse has it in their DNA to be imaginative. 'The guardians of high society will certainly try and also convince you that the arts belong just to a picked few,' she creates, 'however they are wrong as well as they are likewise frustrating.' The next time we are falling victim to the fallacy that we have no right to call ourselves creative, 'for paradise's purpose, a minimum of protect on your own!' Gilbert states. 'Protecting on your own as an innovative person begins by specifying yourself. Stand high and claim it aloud: 'I'm an author.' 'I'm a singer.' 'I'm a garden enthusiast.' 'I'm a professional dancer.' 'I'm a developer.' Hearing this news, your heart will mobilize appropriately.'

' Imagination is a path for the take on, but it is not a course for the fearless.'

Gilbert has actually pertained to approve that creativity as well as fear are 'adjoined doubles': any place the former goes, the latter is right there next to it. 'If your goal is to be fearless, after that I believe you're on the wrong course,' she says, 'because the only genuinely courageous people I've ever before fulfilled were straight-up psychotics and a few incredibly negligent three-year-olds.' Plus, advancement has actually configured our anxiety to secure and guide us off of circumstances with unclear outcomes, for 'anxiety dislikes unpredictable outcome.' In various other words, our fear is here to remain, so Gilbert recommends we stop spending so much energy and time aiming to do away with it. 'The much less I combat my anxiety, the less it fights back,' she creates. 'If I could kick back, are afraid loosens up as well.' Additionally, stop allowing concern fool you into assuming it has superhero powers, in reality, the only power it has is the one you believe it has. Whenever fear bullies you, advise it that it's just False Evidence Showing up Real.

' You're not needed to conserve the world with your creativity.'

' You're constantly out for the gold star,' claims my pal and Mad World collaborator, Jonathan Bernstein, that never appears to have any kind of trouble writing his television reviews as well as star profiles. He consistently produces dazzling, typically cackle-out-loud duplicate, and in no time at all flat. When it comes to me, a.k.a. Ms. Perfect, Ms. A +, I compose like my life depends upon it-which, allow's face it, it does not. States Gilbert: 'Worldwide where you and also I live'- i.e., not contemporary Iraq, Nigeria or North Korea-' the stakes of our imaginative expression are low.' As the songwriter Tom Waits as soon as informed Gilbert: 'The only point I actually do is make jewelry for the within of people's minds. That's all.' While innovative failure may bruise our vanity, do not mistake that for genuine risk. And also by the method: Just what is innovative failing anyway? So we didn't market the painting or obtain that part in the play-that doesn't imply we failed. By being innovative in any way, we have actually succeeded. Which leads me to the next point ...

' Attempt stating this: I enjoy my creative thinking.'

When you're staring down a due date or have faced a relatively blockaded imaginative obstacle, anxiety suddenly changes right into Godzilla, roaring 'I informed you so!' causing you to meekly sigh: 'You're right-I needs to've never taken this on.' Anxiety desires you to believe that your creative work is a drag and also a task, it would certainly like absolutely nothing more for you to give up as well as provide up. Do not! 'I started informing myself that I appreciated my job,' Gilbert says. 'I declared that I appreciated every solitary aspect of my imaginative endeavors-the agony and also the euphoria, the success and also the failure, the pleasure and the shame, the droughts as well as the work.' Doing something could seem radical. We innovative kinds like to hem and also haw-where do you believe the term 'tortured artist' comes from? If you find yourself going down this dismal path, that's when you have to, in the words of supervisor Werner Herzog (whom Gilbert estimates in the book): 'Quit your whining and return to function.' Due to the fact that nothing prevents worry like placing your nose to the grindstone. Gilbert's book is called Big Magic, neither spells, prayers, nor finger breaks are going to help any of us reach our imaginative goals. For Reese Witherspoon, it took seeing a therapist to allow her to provide such a naked (both metaphorical and also actual) efficiency in Wild. For John Taylor, it took discovering a champ in 'Stylish Funk' producer/musician Mark Ronson to aid him regain his bass-playing prowess. For me, it takes the day-to-day heeding of the William Wordsworth quote I have taped to my computer screen: 'To begin, start.'

#yoga

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