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kusanagihaku · 19 days ago

Text

and i will hold onto you

⭢ haku x mc, 9.6k

n is for new year's day. ˖⁺‧₊⟡ alphabet series | ao3 thinking always about this headcanon; also i know graduation is usually in march but like, artistic license, haha…?

The cheers in Tokyo Dome are deafening.

You watch as families stream down from the corners of the dome to the field, swarming their loved ones in congratulations as graduation caps are knocked to the floor with the force of their hugs.

There is a vague current of wistfulness in the air, amidst the celebratory cheers, as is common in most graduation ceremonies. As you stand alone looking around at all the families, you wonder how much of that wistfulness is your own.

It’s been a little over three years, after all, since you’ve entered Darkwick. Three years since the curse was placed on you and consequently broken, three years since you’ve last seen any of your family. Three years since you’ve found a new one, strange as they are, and two years since they’ve left you, one by one, to take on the world outside Darkwick.

And now it is your turn to leave.

“Honour roll,” comes a familiar voice, from behind you, and you turn, hand on your cap, to see Leo’s smirk and the camera in his hand.

Despite yourself, you laugh. “Leo.”

His smirk melts into something gentle, genuine. “Congratulations. Really. You’re free from this hellhole, once and for all.”

You dip your head at the Vagastrom captain, “Can’t wait for it to be your turn.”

“One year to go, then,” Sho says, appearing behind Leo. He grins, waving a sunflower stalk at you. “One year without our precious senpai coming to bother Vagastrom.”

“You better appreciate that one year.”

“You bet we will,” Leo says, without any real heat, and you share a laugh as Sho presses the sunflower into your hands.

Its stem is wrapped with a stiff yellow ribbon printed with the name of their house. You rub it between your fingers. “Which poor first year did you torture into doing this for you?”

Leo shrugs. “Bunch of ‘em. Said it was for the seniors, and they jumped at the chance.”

“Uh-huh,” you say, unconvinced, but before you can probe further Sho’s eyes flicker somewhere behind you.

A smile unfurls across his face, large and mischievous, and he bobs his chin to your left. “Someone’s waiting for you.”

You turn around, eyebrows furrowed – who is there left in this school who would look for you, Ritsu, Ren? – but then you see him.

He’s holding a small bouquet of sunflowers and white roses, laced with baby’s breath and bells of Ireland. There are whispers from some of the students around you, a gasp of recognition from a Hotarubi student or two as he steps forward. The purple Darkwick tie, never once worn when he was still a student, is loosely tied around his collar, slanting slightly to the right like he has tugged on it more than once under the dark grey suit he has chosen for the occasion.

You don’t notice the pinpricks in the corner of your eyes until he blurs into a mess of green and white and grey. “Oh,” you gasp, and he is there instantly, fingers brushing traitorous tears from your cheeks.

He laughs, palm still cradling your cheek, and even though you knew he was coming, the aw-shucks grin he gives you still puts an all-familiar lump in your throat.

“Congratulations, princess,” Haku says, soft and warm. “Well done.”

December 29 - Darkwick Academy Distance left to destination: 464km

It is eight thirty-four in the morning.

Haku stands, hands on his hips, in the middle of your dorm room. There are two duffle bags by his feet.

For what amounts to two years of living in the cathedral, you have fairly little belongings.

You’ve given most of your items away, of course, in preparation for your move cross-country. All that are left are your clothes, stuffed neatly into a nearly-bursting medium-sized suitcase waiting by the door, and the gifts from various ghouls you’ve accumulated over the years.

“Ready?” Haku asks. He gathers both duffle bags in one hand. In one of them is a notebook, given to you by Zenji before he, too, left.

You turn to survey the bare room. You wonder, for a moment, who the next person to inhabit the room will be like - what they will be cursed with - before you turn back to face Haku.

He is glowing, almost, in the morning light. His grey Hotarubi sweatshirt is rumpled, sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms and creased slightly where his overnight backpack is hung on his left shoulder. He looks at you, head cocked to one side, fond, sleep lines from where he slept on your pull-out sofa the night before etched into the soft of his cheek.

If you haven’t already been planning this road trip for the past two months over text you’d think he came straight out of a dream.

“Ready,” you say. You pick up your winter coat and his, and sling your backpack over your shoulder. The bouquet he gave you the previous day peeks out from the top.

Haku nods. He holds the door open for you as you wheel your suitcase over the threshold of the room. The door clicks closed behind the both of you.

He takes the suitcase from you, then, carrying it easily in one hand down the rickety old staircase. The third step from the bottom creaks beneath his weight like you knew it would.

It creaks beneath your weight, too. You fish the key to the cathedral door out of your pocket as you reach the first floor. You leave it on the side table leading into the kitchen – the worker cats will retrieve it later today – and head towards the front door.

You expect something to change, then, some shift in the air that tells you your time in Darkwick is over, but nothing happens as you emerge out into the watery grey sunlight. You wonder why you expected it to.

Haku’s car is parked, slanted, on the driveway outside the cathedral. The bright yellow permission slip you obtained from Professor Hyde the week before for Haku flaps flimsily in the wind, held back by the wiper on his windshield.

He unlocks the car, loads your belongings into the trunk. The wind brushes his bangs away from his face.

It is eight forty-three in the morning. He looks at you, again, patient, understanding, like he always does.

You exhale. You look back at the cathedral, one last time.

Then you walk over to where Haku whisks you away from Darkwick, as swiftly and as kindly as he did whisking you in.

December 29 - Hakone, Kanagawa Distance left to destination: 365km

It starts snowing a little before Haku pulls into the parking lot.

Being in Darkwick for most of the year means you’ve forgotten what the weather outside is like, sometimes. The powdery snowfall encases the both of you in silence as you shake out your winter coats and trudge up the stone steps, bowing your heads as you pass under the red torii.

The shrine is deserted. Whether it is because of the snow or the time of year you’re not really sure; after all, why come out to a shrine a few days before the end of the year when you’re going to visit again on the first day of the new year?

But it is peaceful and quiet, something you have no complaints about, and before long you’ve made your way up the long stairs and are standing in front of the main hall, heads bowed in respect.

This is the reason why Haku suggested a road trip instead of taking the Shinkansen down to Kyoto – to bring you to all his favourite shrines around the country on the way down. Your stops, carefully mapped out over Wickchat and Google Maps, are few but meaningful to him, planned out so that you’ll move into your new apartment before Subaru’s first performance of the year at Minamiza Theatre.

Haku hasn’t told you the reason for any of the stops, but you can more or less guess his reason for this one; as you descend a different set of stone steps, a tall red torii comes into view, half-submerged in water. Snow drifts into the darkness swirling around the feet of the gates, blurring into the red paint before disappearing on contact with the lake. What lies beyond the gate has been shrouded in mist, a white haze obscured by the oncoming snow.

It looks like some path to the afterlife, almost. Maybe some sort of adventure into the unknown. God knows you’ve had enough adventures to last a lifetime, though.

You hear Haku exhale. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

You nod. Perhaps it looks like something out of a myth.

He points, off to the side, at a strangely shaped rock a distance away from the main path. “Remember when you asked about the scar on my knee? Scraped it right there, running away from my grandfather.”

You huff a laugh at the image of a little Haku, eyes alight with mischief, dancing out of the grasp of adults. “Didn’t manage to run too far, I guess?”

Haku laughs. He retracts his pointer to rub at his ear. “Not at all. Cried all the way back to the shrine before they bandaged me up.”

You stuff your hands deeper into the pockets of your coat so you will not reach for where his fingertips are turning red with the cold.

“I haven’t been back here in a while,” Haku continues, softer. His eyes are fixed on somewhere beyond the gates. “Not since he passed away.”

You watch as his breath clouds in the cold air. You stay silent.

He glances at you, eventually, small smile tugging on his lips and blinking the snowflakes out of his eyes. “Let’s go?”

After a second of thought you take your hand out of your pocket to loop your arm through his. You feel him shift in surprise, before he presses himself against your warmth. “Yeah.”

December 29 - Shimizu, Shizuoka Distance left to destination: 295km

It stops snowing a little after Haku pulls out of the parking lot.

The rest of the car ride to your next stop is filled with idle chatter and green grape gummies that you picked up from the general store on your way out of Darkwick. Haku keeps his eyes on the lightly frosted road as you feed him, lips barely brushing your pointer and your thumb. You keep your eyes on him.

You just finish telling him about a mission you did with Ritsu before he slows down, turning off the highway into Shimizu.

“We stopping for lunch?” You seal the pack of gummies.

He hums. “Sort of. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

You wince, and finger-comb through your hair. “I’m dressed for a car ride, not for meeting people.”

Haku sneaks a glance at you. “You’re beautiful, princess, don’t worry.”

You flush. “That- you-“

He laughs, light and warm, as he makes a right turn. “Just as easy to tease, after all this time.”

“Shut up,” you say, but his offhand compliment has already burrowed its way under your cheeks and heated them up the same way they always did back at Darkwick. Damn him and his smooth tongue.

You watch as the train stations flash by – Sakurabashi, Kitsunegasaki, Mikadodai – before he slows down next to Kusanagi Station. You glance at him in surprise. Are you heading to the Kusanagi shrine?

Before you can ask, however, he stops next to a nondescript beige building, throwing the car into park.

“We’re here,” he announces, and laughs again when you peek doubtfully at your reflection in the side-view mirror. “You look fine.”

He reaches over to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

If his fingers linger longer than they should on the shell of your ear, you pretend you do not notice. You pretend your ears do not blush, pretend your breath does not catch.

You exit the car.

There is an old, stooped lady by the restaurant counter when Haku slides the rickety wooden door open, back turned to you as she mops down a wooden table with a bright yellow cloth. All you can see is the checkered bandana resting atop a mop of curly white hair, and a faded red apron sash around her waist, wrapped tight around a stout figure.

“Miyami-san?” Haku calls out. His voice is soft, reverent.

“Ah?” There is obvious shock as she turns around. A startled delight washes over her face the moment her eyes alight on Haku, and she hobbles over immediately, hands outstretched and eyes waned into teary crescents.

“Haku, my dear boy,” she cries. She reaches forward to clasp his hands in her own, wrinkled and gentle. “My, my, you’ve grown taller, haven’t you?”

Haku half-laughs. “I haven’t grown since I last came back.”

The old lady laughs, too. “Perhaps it’s me who has grown smaller. And who’s this?”

“A friend, from Darkwick. I told you about her over the phone, remember?” Haku’s hand is warm on your elbow through your coat.

The old lady turns to you, peering kindly. “Yes, I do remember…”

You wonder briefly what Haku has said about you, but under the scrutiny of the old lady you hurriedly introduce yourself, bowing.

She claps, delightedly. “You both must be hungry, coming down from your school. I’ll whip something up for you real quick, shall I?”

“Anything you make will be delicious,” Haku intones, and he shoots her a charming smile that would have turned half of Hotarubi silly.

It works on her as well, evidently, as she pats his cheek and makes her way to the back of the room.

“I used to come here all the time to hang out with her grandkids,” Haku says, removing his coat. His eyes follow her as she disappears into the kitchen, humming brightly. “They moved away when I was fifteen, though, but I just… kept coming. She’s more like a grandmother to me than my own grandma.”

He sweeps his fringe behind his ear, and rolls up the sleeves of his sweatshirt. His earrings brush the line of his jaw. “I stay here, sometimes, when I don’t want to go back to my family.”

You blink, looking around the restaurant. There are wooden panels lining the room, black ink on rectangle blocks to indicate the menu, but little else by way of decoration. “Here?”

Haku chuckles. He points to an entrance hidden by an egg-white curtain, tucked quietly into a corner by the back. “She has guest rooms, upstairs. She usually lets them out, but there tends to be no guests, at this time of year.”

You both agree on taking your overnight bags out from the car while Miyami-san is cooking, if only to save time. Haku stands, as if to help you, but you swat his hand. “Stay here. If she comes out and finds us both missing, how will that look?”

Haku just laughs, sitting back down in acquiescence, and looks up at you, chin in hand. He looks adorable, like this, adoring, and you are suddenly filled with a desperate wish that you could capture this image, forever. “Like we ran off like a couple of hormonal teenagers?”

You flush, and leave him without a response.

It doesn’t take long for you to gather his backpack and your duffel bag from the car, and as you slide the wooden door closed and toe off your shoes you hear murmuring voices low enough to make you still before the entrance curtain.

“Are you going to show her the shrine, then?”

A pause. “They’re going to be too busy preparing things for the New Year’s ceremony.”

She hums. “That’s true.”

“Miyami-san–” Haku starts, but she hushes him.

“I know, I know,” she says. “I won’t tell them you stopped by.”

Haku laughs, then, something soft and young and grateful. “Thank you. As always.”

There is a beat of silence, and you prepare to move, but her voice sounds again. “Who is she, to you?”

You hear the grin in Haku’s voice. “Why?”

“You know… you’re of age… it’s about time you bring someone home for me to meet.”

There is a rustle as Haku shifts around in his chair. “She’s one of the strongest people I know,” he says, slowly, “but she hasn’t had much control over her past few years. Now that she’s free of all that, I’d like to leave as much up to her as possible.”

You tense. Your heart hammers in your chest, tight and painful, as his words trip over themselves, over and over in your brain. Does he mean–

“–she’s also listening around the corner, so I refuse to say anymore.”

You don’t think your cheeks have experienced this much blood-rush in a while. You poke your head out from behind the curtain. “How did you know!”

“The door isn’t exactly silent,” Haku points out, and the three of you dissolve into laughter.

There is something light and warm, there, born in the small of the room. It expands, a golden sort of feeling that stretches beyond the four wooden walls and settles, stardust-like, in the space between Haku’s hands and yours; it collapses, cools under your tongue into a memory bright and sweet and precious.

If you don’t give it a name, you think, perhaps you can continue pretending that being by Haku’s side does not feel like home.

December 30 - Shimizu, Shizuoka Distance left to destination: 295km

There is a saying – what is a handspan away feels most like a world apart.

Haku sits, two handspans away. He is looking up at the ceiling, squinting against a lightbulb he changed prior to breakfast. It’s a different colour from the rest, a cool white against the warmth of the other, older bulbs in the restaurant, and it washes him in a faint crisp light.

“Well, at least it’s not blinking anymore,” Haku says. His elbows rest against the table.

Miyami-san sighs, forlorn. “I’ll have to write down the model number so I can buy the correct bulb next time. What time are you planning to head out?”

Haku leans over to you, taps the screen of your new phone you both spent an hour setting up last night. It lights up, displaying a blurry photo of Haku trying to take a selfie with you, overlaid by the time in white.

“In about twenty minutes? I’ll wash up before we go,” Haku insists, getting to his feet. “You’ve been more than lovely making us breakfast.”

He sweeps everything up into a pile before she can protest, and disappears, whistling, into the kitchen.

“Haku’s a good boy,” she sighs, as you watch him go. She stretches, and leans backwards. “Before he left for school he always helped me with all the odd jobs around the house. Changed all my lightbulbs for me, too.”

You laugh. “Sounds like Haku.”

She adjusts the strap of her apron. “He’s so smart, too. Made the top of his class whenever he put his mind to it.”

You suppress a smile. If you didn’t know better you’d think she was a grandmother eager to market her bachelor grandson off to the next available singleton.

“And responsible, too,” she continues. “Good thing he is, what with the shrine business.”

She peeks at you, and you quickly school your widening smile into something more presentable. “Has he told you about the shrine?”

You nod. You can hear Haku, more than a few handspans away, soft humming barely audible over the sound of running water in the kitchen. “The Kusanagi shrine.”

She hums. “He’s going to take over from his family one day. He’s going to be a better leader than his father is.”

A silence lapses over the both of you. They’re both true statements, you know, and yet there is something nagging at you about the mention of his father.

“Miyami-san,” you start, carefully. “If I may ask… what’s his family like?”

“His family?” She turns her head thoughtfully to the curtain that hides the kitchen from the restaurant, and is silent for so long you wonder if you’ve overstepped.

You are about to mumble a hasty apology when she turns back to you.

“They expect a lot from him,” she says, softly. “There’s a great many responsibilities that fall your way when you inherit a shrine. His father had to shoulder it, and his father before that, and so on. He may be running away from it now, but eventually it’ll have to be his turn, and I think in the back of their minds they all know it.”

You want to nod, but it feels like the wrong thing to do. Running away… except he isn’t, not really. Everything Haku did at Darkwick, every skill you’ve seen him practise and every responsibility you’ve seen him manage in Hotarubi, felt like he was building himself to take over the shrine – from his artifact to the research for his missions to all the summer festivals he helped manage. Even now, from what you understand of his work, it seems like what he has chosen to do is in preparation for him to take over.

“He’s more prepared than they think,” you say. “He works hard, even though he acts like he doesn’t.”

She looks at you a little more sharply, then. There is a cool appraisal behind her squint, before it melts into something like approval. “He does, doesn’t he.”

Before you can respond, though, Haku emerges from the kitchen, running a hand through his hair. “Talking about me?”

“You wish,” you say, and are rewarded immediately with the sparkle of his laugh.

He pauses next to your seat before picking up his backpack. His hand nearly brushes yours. “Ready to head out?”

You stand. Your hand nearly brushes his, a world apart. “Ready.”

December 30 - Nagakute, Aichi Distance left to destination: 175km

“Hard disagree – we turn left here – you’re only saying that because my name is Haku.”

You squint at the alleyway in front of you dubiously. It’s bathed in the last rays of evening, a dying honey from the setting sun that does nothing to ward off the winter chill, and it seems to lead to yet another street that looks oddly similar to the one you’re about to leave. “Are you sure?”

But Haku is already stepping forward, Google Maps winking into sleep on his phone screen, and so you follow behind. The thrift shop he is searching for is supposed to be a mere ten minute walk from where you left the warmth of the Ghibli Park, but you swear you’ve been wandering around for at least twenty minutes.

“Anyway, no, it’s because he’s a river spirit–“

Haku glances at you, eyebrow raised. “I’m not a river spirit.”

“-and he’s supposed to know a lot about the spirit world.” You huff at him, and he laughs in acquiescence. You reach the end of the alleyway; Haku squints against the reflection of sun on his phone and directs you to turn right.

“And he spent a lot of the movie using that knowledge to protect and save Chihiro, didn’t he?” you continue. You look down at your feet even though the evening light is no longer shining directly into your eyes. The worn grey of the road winks at you as you cross residential street. “Like you did with me.”

Haku is silent for a beat, before he says, lightly, “I think I’m much more like Howl.”

You cannot hold back your snort. “Because how he gets all the girls?”

His responding laugh is startled and bright. “C’mon now, princess. Howl only ever loved Sophie, in the end.”

He looks at you, brows raised, like there is something you are supposed to understand, but after a moment of expectant silence too laden for you to consider you swallow the whiskey-burn of his eyes and turn away.

“Is it nearby?” you ask, instead. You push the ice blocks you used to call hands deeper into your coat pockets, and push your gaze back down to the grey asphalt under your feet.

Haku unlocks his phone in response. “One more block to go. Sorry, you must be tired.”

You shake your head.

“We’ll get dinner after this, then crash out,” he decides, anyway. “We had an early start today, and we’ve done a lot.”

(You stopped earlier in the day at Atsuta Shrine to pay your respects before heading down to Ghibli Park, and briefly heard a guide explain about the great Kusanagi sword supposedly stored in the halls.

“Oh, my Kusanagi sword is great, alright,” Haku snorted under his breath; you smacked him on the shoulder and dragged him, holding back giggles, towards the exit before you got struck down for blasphemy.)

After two more minutes of sleepy residential buildings, you spot the orange signboard of the thrift store, hanging from a black rod above a shuttered flower shop. There is a chalkboard leaned against the side of the flower shop with carefully scrawled yellow letters and arrows directing you to a staircase around the back. Going up the concrete steps leads you to a wooden door with a heavy handle.

Haku tugs the door open, and gestures for you to go inside.

The store is swathed in yellow and orange, thanks to the narrow spot-light beams installed on the ceiling. The wooden shelving look old but well-cared for under carefully stacked clothes, a small contrast to the adjacent metal frames sagging with hangers of coats and jackets. There are mirrors gently leaned on the walls at strategic places throughout the store, reflecting the warm light from the ceiling and making the space look bigger than it actually is.

A man in a beanie looks up from where he is slouched over the cashier, and waves a silent welcome that you both acknowledge.

“One of my seniors told me this place has a good curation of sweaters,” Haku says, turning to study the racks. He picks up a bomber jacket in olive green, inspects it, then sets it down. “You’ll probably need more winter wear too, now that we don’t get climate control. But we’ll also stop at another place when we get to Kyoto, just so you can get some new clothes to wear around Subaru.”

You nod, and dutifully turn your attention to the racks, fingers running across the soft fabrics draped neatly on dark metallic hangers.

You’re looking at a cardigan the colour and texture of dawn clouds when Haku appears again at your elbow. “Look at this one.”

He holds up a sweater in washed out sage. It’s slightly fluffy, sleeves softly melting into a cream. When you reach out to touch it it’s impossibly softer than it looks.

“It’s cute,” you say. Its sloped shoulders are wide; you hold the pale green fabric up to his shoulders. “It looks your size, too.”

Haku hums in agreement. He takes the sweater, gently, from your fingers, and turns it around, lining the edge of its shoulders up with yours.

“I think it looks cuter on you,” he says. The honey of his eyes sparkle with mirth as he nudges you to face the mirror. “Like you’re stealing your boyfriend’s clothes.”

You feel a fire climbing up your cheeks immediately, and you glare at Haku, heatless and helpless, as he bites back a laugh. He shifts away, grinning brightly, and leaves you staring in the mirror with the sweater folded between your hands.

There is barely any evening light left over from golden hour, the last of the sun’s rays having died shortly before you stepped indoors, but the green of Haku’s hair is still dyed a soft copper by the warm lights of the store. He stands, turning glasses frames over in his hands, under a spotlight beam and the drifting strains of jazz, blurred only slightly by the fingerprints in the mirror and the irregular bump of your heart.

The scene is so mundane it feels almost unreal – this Haku, suspended in glass and glow. His long fingers are not wrapped around his flute or dusty research tomes, but between folded jeans; his movements are slow and languorous, no longer bound by the urgency of missions or threat of curfew.

You could stare at him like this forever.

It is suddenly easy, so easy to imagine him elsewhere, you think – sorting through vegetables at a supermarket, folding laundry on the floor of his bedroom, doing anything and everything far and away from the drizzle of Hotarubi.

This Haku has all the time in the world.

So do you. So do you.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath.

“How does this look?”

The heat of his vowels slide across the shell of your ear, and you jump slightly, eyes flying open.

You are vaguely aware of a chunky grey frame, translucent acrylic that slips low on his nose bridge and blobs shadows on his cheeks, but his eyes have locked onto yours in the mirror as he leans down over your shoulder to peer at his reflection, cheek dangerously close to yours, so close that if you just turned, if you just—

It sends your heart crashing, thundering painfully, cruelly, through your throat, a weight and an untethering from the hypnosis of the moment all at once—

“You look stupid,” you say. Or think you do, anyway. You can barely hear yourself over the thunderous rushing in your ears. “Try– try this one.”

Your fingers scrabble for the closest frame on the shelf next to you, and hold them up to the mirror.

Haku laughs, a gentle huff that blows by your cheek as he lifts the frame out of your hand, and straightens back up to slip them on.

It’s gold-rimmed, this time, a thin wire frame that catches the warm spot-lighting of the store and soaks a glow into his skin. The rounded rectangular shape sits well on his cheekbones, faded gold temples disappearing into his messy green hair.

You blink, and there is a fleeting glimpse of sun-spots and crow’s feet, of salt-and-pepper hair melting into green, of laughter creasing itself into deep-set wrinkles in the corners of his smile. He is looking at you, still, in the way he always has, this old-man-mirror-Haku, and something blooms, choking and sweet, in the hollow of your ribs.

Something shifts, then.

Eddies of a future you’ve never thought possible sing like the wind through the holes in your heart; they crash into you, a merciless tangle of relief and frustration and hope that steals the breath from your lungs you didn’t realise you were holding since leaving Darkwick.

The tremble of it’s over and your curse is well and truly over courses through the map of your veins, and winds its way across where your eyes meet Haku’s through the mirror. The words crack themselves in half, split to show you a future so wide and open and yet so certain it threatens to swallow you whole – of you, alive and un-cursed and getting to grow old. Of you-and-Haku, hand-in-hand, getting to growing old together, looking up at the same sky.

“-what do you think?” Haku is saying. His eyes are crinkled up in something you think might be fondness or affection, or something equally hopeful and terrifying.

It looks good on you, your mouth moves on its own accord, you should get it, but that is as far as you get before he blurs together in a sear of tears.

Haku moves immediately, hand on your elbow spinning you around to face him. His eyes search yours in alarm and concern and confusion, but to both your surprise a laugh bubbles out of you, quiet and free.

You raise a hand to brush his bangs away from his forehead, and he leans into your touch, in spite of his bewilderment.

“It looks good,” you say again, and you mean it.

(He buys the glasses, of course, and three sweaters you said you liked. You leave the thrift shop with paper bags in hand, yet somehow feel a lot lighter than you did going in.)

December 31 - Kuwana, Mie Distance left to destination: 99km

The numbers on the dashboard read a glowing ten thirty-eight.

The highway stretches before the windshield, a wide belt that melts into the distance. It is empty, save for the occasional cargo truck Haku passes, and the glare of the noon sun reflecting off its smooth grey surface is enough to turn every travelling vehicle into a mini-oven despite the season.

Haku adjusts his grip on the steering wheel. He reaches, slightly, to wind his window down to let some of the cool winter air in, but his fingers pause before they reach the switch.

He peeks at where you are asleep, head resting on the passenger window and eyelashes brushing the soft of your cheek. He retracts his hand.

He reaches, instead, with his other hand to the air-conditioning controls, and turns the dial towards “COOL”.

The numbers on the dashboard wink into ten thirty-nine.

The packet of strawberry gummies on top of the winter coats folded in your lap crinkles slightly, then slides from where your grip has slackened. It has long since been emptied, with you taking turns to tuck the candies between your lips and his, and its lack of weight slips it neatly between your seat and the centre console.

Ren recommended them, you said, an hour back, holding one up to his lips. They’re good, aren’t they?

Haku smiled, tamped down the familiar knot that swelled with any reminder of the years you spent at Darkwick without him by your side, and nodded. They’re pretty sweet.

You grinned and tapped the large yellow zero printed atop ruby-red strawberries. No sugar, too!

No, he thinks, now – perhaps the sugar had been in the brush of your fingertips against his lips. Perhaps it had been in the glitter of your laugh as you listened to him tell you some work story or another, or in the way the sun had bounced off the dashboard and lit you up all over, all soft glow and contentment as you slipped another gummy between the pink of your lips.

For a moment, he wonders if you will taste like strawberry, if the curve of your smile will be just as sweet as it looks when pressed against his own–

He shakes his head, to clear it.

Haku is a patient man. Ceremony is in his bones; he is good at waiting his turn, good at calculating consequences, good at following the rules.

Except for when he isn’t. Except for when he texted you, midway through your last semester, to ask which branches of the Institute has offered you a job in hopes that he can persuade you to take up some position near his own. When he asked you, two months before graduation, to drive down to Kyoto with him instead of taking the train, just so he gets three days with you by his side after so many days apart.

When he took one look at you, that night on the train from Kisaragi Station, and took your hand and held it all the way to Darkwick.

Maybe it is selfishness, maybe it is impulsivity. Maybe it is irresponsibility, and maybe it is the reason why, try as he may, they will never deem him ready to take over the shrine, but oh, when he looks at you–

He is a patient man. He will be a patient man. He has waited two long, excruciating years without you, and he will continue to wait, for as long as it’ll take until you’re ready.

The numbers on the dashboard wink into ten forty-three.

Haku reaches over, again, to turn the air-conditioning dial further down.

His gaze brushes against the new air freshener you bought him the day before at the gift shop. It smells of “clean” and “fresh”, whatever that’s supposed to mean, and he can barely catch its scent, but you unwrapped it the moment you got into the car and hung it neatly on the rearview mirror, and he cannot help but feel some fondness for something that brings you joy. Even if it’s just a small piece of cardboard with a white dragon and a girl printed on it.

He would have chosen a different one, himself. He would have picked the one with Howl and Sophie - someone who learns how strong she really is, and someone who has waited a lifetime to love her.

You stir in your sleep, shifting slightly so your head is no longer pressed against the passenger window. The numbers on the dashboard wink into ten forty-four.

Haku takes the next exit off the highway, and wonders if you remember that in the movies, Chihiro saves Haku, too.

December 31 - Uji, Kyoto

Distance left to destination: 21km

“Haku!”

The guy that emerges from the shrine’s prayer hall has a smile only one shade dimmer than the sun. He waves energetically at Haku and you, hands padded in red gloves a stark contrast with his navy blue haori, and bounds over to you.

“Thought you weren’t coming back for another two days!” the man says, beaming. “We’re prepping the omikuji right now, like you told us to.”

Haku chuckles, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “That’s good. I’m not back for work, though, I’m just here to show my friend around.“

The man looks at you curiously, and he looks so oddly familiar you could have sworn you’ve seen him somewhere before. He tilts his head to one side, like he’s working through the same puzzle you are, before it clicks–

“Honour student!” he exclaims, and claps his hands. “Didn’t expect to see you here!”

Haku laughs, and shifts closer to you. “Darkwick just had their commencement ceremony, so I’m helping her settle into her new apartment soon.”

Koji – the name comes to you in a flash, a vague impression of a Hotarubi general student floating to the top of your mind from when he helped Haku on a mission once – wiggles his eyebrows. “Will it be near to us?”

Haku looks at you, thoughtfully. “The Institute put her in Kyoto, near Subaru, but I suppose…”

Before he can finish the thought, however, a soft holler comes from an open window in the back of the sales hut. “Oi, heartbreaker!”

A man sticks his head out of a back door. He looks pleased to see Haku, and disappears for a few seconds before emerging from the wooden doors, wrapping himself in a warmer coat.

He waves a sheath of papers at Haku as he walks over. “We’re more or less ready for tomorrow, but I need you to sign a couple things–“

Haku moves over immediately, head bent over the documents, and leaves you in company of Koji.

“Heartbreaker?” You murmur, and Koji beams.

He nods his head, fluffy hair bouncing in his enthusiasm. “That’s Haku! Didn’t he tell you? When he first joined, half the local girls who came up to pray during Lunar New Year instantly fell in love and we had to barricade the shrine and defend ourselves with swords so our Haku wouldn’t get overrun–“

“Koji,” the other man says, severely, “stop making things up.”

Koji pouts, and you have to bite your lip to keep from smiling. “Anyway, he’s built up quite a following among the locals. It’s good for business, though.”

“I can imagine,” you say, and you can–

Haku, looking out the sales window next to the shrine, chin in hand and head slightly tilted as people come up to buy omamoris. The way the honey of his eyes will crease, slightly, as he smiles at their approach. The soft of his hands as he counts out their change, and wishes them a good day.

Haku, head bent over a candle box before he reaches in to select an appropriate one. The curl of his long fingers over theirs as he presses the candles into their palm, a blessing, a benediction, conferred with intent. The soothe of his voice as he comforts them, wishes them well, after.

Haku, this Haku that belongs to the people, whose heart swells with their aches and whose words are carefully chosen to quell them. This Haku, who works for the people by day, and works for them still by night.

Haku looks up from where he is flipping through documents, pen in hand, and grins as he meets your eyes. “Maybe we should spread word that my heart already belongs to someone else.”

Your cheeks burn immediately, and you open your mouth to stutter out a reply, but Haku’s senior beats you to the punch.

“Disgusting,” he mutters fondly, barely louder than Koji’s awww, then flips a page for Haku. “Sign here, then get out of my sight. Word from HQ is that you’re on four concurrent missions in January, so make the best of your break.”

Haku groans. “Best go pray for my own damn safety, then.”

His senior rolls up the freshly signed document, then raps him smartly on the head. “No cursing on shrine grounds. Come on, Koji, you’re still not done with the omikujis.”

Haku grins, rubbing his head where he got tapped, then turns to face you as Koji is dragged, mumbling in protest, back to the hidden back doors. “Shall we?”

The rest of the shrine is fairly quiet. Sunlight dances through the bare branches as you cross the courtyard and duck around some gates to the main shrine. There are rabbits printed on cream-coloured lanterns attached to the gates, faded slightly by the elements and swaying in the wind. They look like they are dancing in greeting as you pass them.

The main shrine Haku comes to a stop at is up a set of steep stone stairs. It is covered with wooden slats, painted warm by the noon light. If you didn’t look too closely you’d think the structures inside were glowing by themselves.

Haku fishes out coins from his pocket, and hands one to you. He leans forward to shake the thick rope after you toss your coin into the wooden offering box, then you both bow and clap twice.

You have so many things to wish for that you almost don’t know where to start, but the words flow out of your heart faster than you can think, afloat with intent and hope – for Haku to be safe. For Haku to be happy. For all the ghouls you’ve helped and been helped by to be happy and healthy. For all the anomalies they’ll run into to be a little less fatal, for the anomalies themselves to be safely captured and treated well. For all their futures to be a little less perilous, a little more secure.

For your future to be a little less dangerous, too. For your future to hold warm soup and cosy evenings, for your days to hold laughter and ease and familiarity, for your nights to hold home and sighs and moonlit dances across the kitchen floor with Haku–

Your eyes flutter open, and you bow, quickly.

Best to not hope for too much.

You sneak a glance at Haku. His head is still bowed, hands still pressed together. He is washed in the bright of sunlight unshaded by winter’s branches, and in the silent sun-stirred dance of dust motes around him he looks almost like a painting.

His bracelets shine a radiant translucence as they catch and absorb the sunlight, nearly covering most of a scar underneath. Your heart twinges slightly – you were there when he got injured.

It was to save you, really, some tiny anomaly or another changing directions and hurtling towards you with a vengeance. If Haku didn’t knock it off its trajectory with the back of his hand… you can’t imagine what would have happened.

Instead, you’d brought him home to Hotarubi and carefully cleaned his cuts and wounds, and stayed with the soft glow of his smile and the even softer glow of his words, well into the night. He’d murmured gentle reassurances into the quiet of the night, thigh pressed up against yours as you sat side by side and looked out onto the still Hotarubi gardens; yet the feeling of guilt has never gone away, cementing itself into the cracks of all that you owe him.

I’m sorry, you said, again, for the fiftieth time that night. If it weren’t for me you wouldn’t have gotten injured.

He had laughed before a ghost of pressure landed against your temple, so soft you think to this day you’d imagined it. Anything for you, princess. Stop worrying about it.

It sent your heart racing, back then, his words wild fireworks popping in your throat.

The same way his words send your heart racing, now.

Maybe we should spread word that my heart already belongs to someone else.

You exhale. Haku has never hidden his affection for you, not really – whether it was proclaimed in front of a beaming Zenji or murmured into the drizzle of Hotarubi, the flirtatious comments you once believed were just part of his personality or simply lavished onto everyone you eventually realised were only ever directed to you.

And you understood it, back then, the same way you understand it now. Haku has never been shy about you. How much of it was guilt over bringing you to Darkwick and a burgeoning sense of responsibility for your curse, you will perhaps never know, but this is what you know now, after two years of turning the thought of Haku over and over in your mind:

That you never agreed to start because you were always afraid of the end. That you perhaps wished he would forget about you after his time at Darkwick, if only to make things easier for him after your transformation into the Kyklos; that you wished to forget about him, too, after his time at Darkwick, if only to avoid the real possibility of Haku finding someone else.

But now your last page has been ripped out, a future of a curse torn out by your very own hands and shredded into the wind… now that you’re out and free (albeit still working for the Institute) and ready to rewrite your own ending…

Haku looks up from his hands, and bows. He turns to you, smile fond and sweet, and extends a hand to help you down the steps. “Ready?”

You take his hand, lace his fingers into your own. The word on your tongue turns into a candle turns into a lantern turns into the sun. “Ready.”

December 31 - Uji, Kyoto Distance left to destination: 19km

You cradle your hot cup of tea in your palms.

The cold of the bridge railing beneath your elbows seep past your coat and into your bones. The last of the sun’s rays cast a glow on the trees on the opposing shore, turning them into a sea of reddish-gold, but they do little to warm you as you watch the sun sink below the horizon.

Haku rests, one handspan away, identical cup nestled between his hands.

“This is my favourite place to watch the sunset,” he says. “You can see the train tracks and the Uji Bridge from here.”

A train rumbles by in the distance as he says it, slicing the scene in half. It takes a few seconds before the sky meets the river again.

“I think about bringing you here, all the time,” he says, quietly. He shifts the cup to his other hand. “I come here after work sometimes, and stay until the sky is dark and I can see the stars. Then I wonder about whether you’re looking at the same stars, too, in Darkwick.”

You both watch the sun creep steadily downwards, meeting its wavering counterpart in the water.

Haku exhales. He does not look at you. “I’m glad you’re here.”

His words wrap around you, hushed and gossamer. How much you’ve thought about him, too, looking up at the night skies as you dragged yourself back to the cathedral.

Whenever you walked out from Hotarubi, shutting your one-person umbrella and looking up at the moon, you’d think of him.

The way he’d walk you back, shoulder to shoulder as if you were still sharing an umbrella. The way he’d look at you, moonlight tangled into his eyelashes and the arc of his hands, the way he’d smile like the night was a secret only the two of you shared. The way he’d sit you down on the campus stone benches to talk about your missions with other houses, the way he’d reassure you, again and again, that whatever you were doing was enough. That you were enough.

The memories twist themselves onto your tongue. You do not look at him, either, when you say, “Me too.”

The last sliver of sun slips away, and then it is gone.

The conversation turns to seeing Subaru on stage in two days and what flowers you plan to get him, then to your new Institute-funded apartment, a small place buried near a Galaxy Express station, and the furniture you plan to get.

You wonder out loud how long the Galaxy Express would take to get to Uji if you and Subaru were to come visit, as compared to taking the regular train from Kyoto Station. It’s already a very short distance, you think, but maybe it’d take half the time.

“It takes sixteen minutes from Kyoto’s HQ,” Haku says. He taps the top of his now-empty cup with a long finger. “Or twenty-two, if you count the time it takes to walk back to my apartment.”

“Damn, these cats really know how to run a railway line.”

Haku laughs, quiet and breathless, before he says, “Move in with me, instead.”

You pause, cup halfway lifted to your lips. You lower your hand.

“It’s only a slightly longer commute,” he murmurs, “and you won’t have to buy new furniture.”

He looks at you, eyes full of morning sun. You read in them something that feels a lot like a future.

You won’t have to spend your nights alone in a drafty old room anymore. We will not have to untangle ourselves at the end of the day, and pretend we do not want to stay. Now that I’ve spent three whole days with you I don’t know how I’ve ever managed without; it feels like I’m never going to be able to go back.

You exhale.

This is how it has always been - this is how the two of you are - him building a bridge between you both and reminding you that if you ever want to cross it, if you ever need to cross it, he will always be on the other side, waiting.

He waits, now.

For a moment, you think you are brave.

Ready?

But the moment passes, and the words that have swelled up on your tongue are familiar and terrifying and comforting and too heavy and mean too little and too much, all at once, and you swallow the waves that rise up in your lungs, and you close your eyes, and you pretend you are not in love with him, have not been in love with him since he held your hand in the dark of a train carriage three-odd years ago.

“Imagine the paperwork,” you say, instead, and Haku leaves it at that.

December 31 - Uji, Kyoto Distance left to destination: 16km

Haku’s apartment is small, but homey.

It is much more modern that you expect it to be, and feels infinitely more Haku than any Hotarubi dorm could. The kitchen you step into is tiny but sleek, with just enough space to fit a boiler, a tea set and an induction cooker before ending at a large fridge. The green glow on the microwave tucked onto a shelf a bit higher than eye-level reads eleven forty-two.

He lucked out on the Institute lottery, he tells you, setting his keys in a bowl on the kitchen island and flicking on the kitchen lights – where others only get a studio apartment he at least gets a bedroom attached to the living and dining area. Ghoul perks, perhaps.

Where you expect a kitchen island is instead a mountain of books, shuffled neatly into piles not unlike what you used to be greeted with in his old dorm, bookmarked full with post-its covered in his chicken-scratch writing.

You pick out a barely-used blue post-it pad from a pile of neon-yellow ones, and run your thumb over the winking tanuki in the background. “Is this the one I bought for you, back on that shrine mission?”

Haku peeks over your shoulder. His laugh brushes your ear, soft and warm, before moving away to roll your luggage into the living room. “Yeah. I can’t bear to use it much, though. It feels as though I should treasure it.”

You snort, looking up at him. “I can always buy you another one.”

“I’m not opposed to that.”

(You’d buy him one set everyday for the rest of his days, if he’d let you.)

Haku tucks your suitcase next to a soft grey sofa set opposite a plain white wall, and sets your duffle bag on a small wooden coffee table in between that looks like it hasn’t been dusted in years. “There are fireworks bound to start in about fifteen minutes. Wanna watch those on the balcony?”

You blink – you’ve almost forgotten that today is New Year’s Eve, what with all the sightseeing you’ve packed in today around Uji.

Haku tugs the pale blue curtains apart, revealing glass doors to a small balcony overlooking residential neighbourhood. The night is quiet, still, buzz of the city conspicuously absent from the streets despite the celebratory date and even though most households have their lights on and curtains pulled open in anticipation of the fireworks, you don’t hear much beyond the whistling of the wind when you step outside.

You settle against the railing on his balcony. “It’s so nice, here.”

Haku joins you. “When everyone’s lights are off, at night, you can see the stars.”

You tilt your head up. Haku’s apartment is high up enough the street lamps that you do not have to shield your eyes from their orange glow, and as you peer up at the heavens you see constellations slowly starting to take shape. “Wow.”

Haku shifts, closer. His shoulder is pressed up against yours. “Any New Year’s resolutions yet?”

You laugh. “Other than learning how to survive outside Darkwick?”

“That’s enough,” Haku says, softly. “Sometimes surviving is tough enough, on its own.”

You bite your lip, and look down at the street below. A stray cat dips in and out of the shadows.

“I’m going to be brave this year,” you tell him.

I’m going to be brave enough to face what’s coming. I’m going to be brave enough to decide what I’m going to do with my life, instead of obeying missives from a corrupted Academy and existing at their beck and call. I’m going to be brave enough to tell you what I really want to say, to build my own side of the bridge, to finally meet you on the other side.

Haku tilts his head to look at you, then. He raises a hand from where his arms have been crossed on the railing, long fingers tenderly tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

It sends daylight swirling down your spine, leaves you breathless and August-warm when you catch his gaze.

“I think you’re already plenty brave,” he says, quietly.

Before you can respond, however, the street explodes with noise. Windows are pulled open and chanting spills out onto the street, a clamour of three, two, one–

Tiny lights hang themselves across the sky, a mere flash before tightly packed colours dazzling as the sun explode across its inky canvas. Brilliant reds and blues and yellows and greens burst into bloom over and over again; they paint everything on the street with their glow. The distant booms and whistles of their journey travel through the neighbourhood, wind their way through the festivities and laughter and cheer.

It is at once so extraordinary and normal, this celebration of the Earth making its way around the sun yet again, that you find yourself giddy, smiling, joyful. You turn to look at Haku, tinted a faint red from the vivid glows in the sky, only to find he is already looking at you, gaze warm, fond.

You learnt once, on a mission with Jabberwock, that firecrackers and fireworks set off during New Year were as much meant to scare away the bad things as they were to celebrate the good.

I think you’re already plenty brave.

In the bright of the night his words soak into your skin.

Perhaps you are.

You lean up, and press a small kiss to the corner of his lips. This is me, building my side of the bridge. This is me, ready. “Happy New Year, Haku.”

His palm catches your cheek as you pull away. The spread of his smile, wide and bright and delighted, sends stardust settling into the hollow of your throat, sets its own fireworks off within the hollow of your ribs, pulls a smile onto your own cheeks. The gold of his eyes shine with something more than the pyrotechnics, something full of devotion, full of beginnings.

“Happy New Year,” Haku says, and leans in to kiss you again.

#tokyo debunker #haku kusanagi #tokyo debunker x reader #bangs pots and pans LONGFORM ROAD TRIP FIC IS HERE #SORRY this was meant to be in time for new year's but like #in my usual fashion im late lol #so have this in time for lunar new year #warnings i guess for canon divergence - mc doesn't die from the curse! as u can tell from the blurb asdjlkjsa #also i am AWARE this is my second haku fic in the alphabet series but like . i love haku can u rly blame me #also (lmao i have so many postscripts) this was written specifically with that one line in mind from new year's day #'don't read the last page but i stay when you're lost and i'm scared and you're turning away'#me with my haku lens on: idk i think it's very haku!#lin writes #anyways this is less a relationship pining fic than it is just me expounding on why i love haku #alphabet series

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liibility · 2 years ago

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könig!!! again

—

Every single cell in König’s body worked just for you. He belonged solely to you. His very existence depended on you.

His hands, scarred and calloused, touch your bare skin in reverence. His eyes, haunted with the past and present, rest on you and he thinks maybe it’s all worth it. You were the only thing worth living for, the only reason he breathed. His heart continued beating through the night and into the morning just so he could hear his name falling from your lips in greeting. Words flowed from your mouth and he lapped them up like a parched man. You pull him into a hug after a long time apart and he‘s trembling in elation that you’d even want to touch him, much less let him wrap his arms around your entire frame. In his endless selfishness, he wants to stay like this forever.

He was wholly yours, and nothing would stand in the way of that.

#can someone tell me what genre of man this is please #thanks #i have to write feral könig soon also because #believe it or not #i don‘t just like pathetic men #i desperately need tips on how 2 write feral könig tho #(rewrites the same thing as my last blurb #hey guys very new and original post🤗#the way this is written is so wonky to me tbh #könig #könig x reader #mw2 #könig cod #cod x reader

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mistress-of-malevolence · 8 months ago

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📖 its me again 😈 do u mayhaps have any more ideas,,,

Sure do!~ here's a few more!

1: (Untitled) A Red Son x Reader LMK arranged marriage/rivals to lovers where Princess Iron fan and DBK are unconfident in their son's ability to do anything right- including finding a spouse worthy of carrying on their great family line. so, they pick one for him. you are the finest soldier in the demon bull corps; smart, strong, capable- you have never failed an assignment, and that's not about to change anytime soon. they assign you to their son's side so that you can grow closer under the guise of you being his aid in attempting to retrieve the monkey king's staff- killing two birds with one stone. Unfortunately, you aren't exactly Red Son's biggest fan, finding his haughty attitude beyond irritating. this wasn't fair to either of you, like hell you would let it go forward. Since Iron fan and DBK hadn't told their son what they were up to or straight-up forced him to tie the knot with you, you guessed that they wanted him to choose you of his own free will- something you are certain would never happen. Your plan was to put everything you had into getting that staff back and absolutly nothing into getting red son to like you. Of course youll have to fake some sort of repour when prying eyes are watching otherwise the jig is up and your bosses will find out your disobeying orders. But it should be fine, your confident that you can manage. You can beat up one measely deleviery boy. You can tollerate Red son for as long as you need to. You can get him to cooperate with the neritive without clueing him in. You wont lose.

2:(Untitled) A Micheal Afton x OC FNAF. Ronnie moves in with her grandparents after getting kicked out of her old school for getting into a bad fight with the principals daughter. she hates it. she liked her old school and her old friends just fine, most of all she liked her old house. but she doesn't have must of a choice in the matter, her mom cant drop everything to drive her two hours every morning with her hospital jobs hours, so moving in with her grand parents who live within walking distance of her new school is the next best thing. her first night in town, she goes boarding and accidentally knocks some guy off a bike. they don't make a great first impression on each other, but they'll have to learn to get along as long as they're classmates. the more time they spend together, the more they begrudgingly realize they have in common. this leads to a lot of rivalry, fighting and an unrealized awkward tension between them. also, they meet right before Even/CC dies so... yeah :) angst. :)

3:(The Right Path) a Laard Nar x Navigator Invader Zim fic where Nav saves the massive from sailing into the Florpus at the last second by going against the Tallest's command. everyone lived! however, the tallest we not too pleased with his disobedience. so, they had him thrown in a holding cell and scheduled for a Pak wipe. of course, having literally been born to pilot the massive, he knew the ship like the back of his hand. he escaped to a random planet on a stolen voot cruiser. on that planet he wanders, until he comes upon Resisty HQ by complete coincidence.

BONUS! 4: (All Hail Queen Bee!) a Miraculous Ladybug Re-write/Fix-it where Chloe gets to keep the bee miraculous and her character development because I'm bitter & petty. i... i could give a run down about it but there's just so much and yet not nearly enough to talk about. if i tried, id just end up ranting, it honestly needs its own post but i just wanted to let ya know it exists in my brain.

#shit that 1st one was long sorry about that #so was the 2nd one but yeah...#i mostly just gave ya blurbs this time instead of short synopsis whoopsie!#i know from the last one you said that you weren't really in fnaf or iz but they're my biggest fandoms for fic and i was really proud of em #i did purposefully give you an LMK one first tho so i hope that makes up for it.#micheal afton #red son lmk #laard nar iz #lard nar #navigator iz #navigator #chloe bourgeois #chloe miraculous #micheal afton fnaf #mike afton #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #miraculous ladybug #invader zim #micheal afton x oc #laard nar x navigator #red son x reader #i still have more. not much more- but some more #i have adhd. my creative process never ends! even when i would prefer it too!#like fr dawg my brain be throwin' half raw fettichini at walls just waiting for sum to stick.#these all will (maybe get written) at some point! i dont like giving up im just slow i swear!#malice writing◉

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al-mayriti · 2 years ago

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how come these fictional characters i have created have such a chokehold on me

#remember this show i was writing about an international school in an alternative world??? well today i wrote a bit more #i'm nearly done with season 1 i'm thinking i could post it here when i'm done with it. it'll be in the form of blurbs for episodes i think #no fully written episodes cause i don't know how to do it and it's too much work #but yeah 🥺 i love my blorbo sons and daughters #i was inspired to do this after watching sex education so you can imagine the vibe of the show #i could talk about the blorbos for hours #if you want to send asks about it please do!!!!#the main character is called adewa and i love her very much #there's basically a girl group and a boy group. both of 3 people each #and they are the main core of the show #so the girl group is adewa from nigeria gracie from england and genca from albania #and the boy group is mo from south sudan (adewa's li) daudi from west tanzania and doweiya from nauru #there's more characters but those are the core #for example this last bit i wrote centered about thiri (genca's gf)#who is from kawthoolei (idk if that's written correctly. it's where the karen people live)

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fairyceridwen · 1 year ago

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fun times ahead

#its getting there #ive written a fair bit in the last couple days #[ramble ramble]#[blurb]#i dont even remember my tags properly

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wanghedi · 2 years ago

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Just learned today my dad has been trusting chat gpt for medical advice. i cannot emphasize this enough we as a species are on our last legs and we are not gonna make it to 2060

#and he got all grumpy when i told him chat gpt doesnt know anything its just saying literally whatever the fuck it wants #he was fine asking it about medicine and taking whatever it said at face value with NO sources like HELLO ARE U CRAZY??#at least on google u can tell if it a blurb is written by thesame compeny trying to sell u the supplements #im way more worried about parents being phone short form content addicted than babies like they have no natural defense against it #they didnt grow up expecting everything online to be a lie or someone trying to sell u shit they just believe whatever #last year my dad sent us a video of fireworks that was so clearly badly edited and he was like wow i cent believe they can do this now #sidney talks shit

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ratatoastwrites · 6 months ago

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Victoria’s secret

Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

nsfw, 18+ MDNI

a/n: munch spencer, we all say in unison 😫 i wrote this cuz i was bored at the mall lol, does that count as public indecency? haha jk, but that is lowkey what this blurb is about ✨😮‍💨 also special challenge, take a shot every time i use the word lace lol

cw: oral (f receiving), tiny bit of fingering, bit of rough kissing yum, lingerie (obvi), umm kinda public indecency tbh lol, borderline exhibitionism ig but it isn’t really mentioned just subtext ig, uhhh what else, oh yea friends to lovers kinda (or fwb if u fancy, it is kinda vague), no written aftercare cuz again i just couldn’t be bothered, also this is an unedited & no beta & english is my second language mess as per usual mwah 🧚‍♀️

also also special shout out to @apple-pie-and-impala for never getting annoyed with me about the way that 90% of our text msgs revolve around this man 🤭 love ya, my little enabler 🫶

When you first asked Spencer to go lingerie shopping with you, he didn’t think much of it

He honestly believed that it was just going to be a normal hangout between two friends, because really, there wasn’t anything inherently sexual about the prospect of an adult person wearing underwear

Well, that thought lasted until about five seconds after he stepped into the store with you

It was hard not to let his thoughts wander as he watched you running your fingers across the lace fabric of a matching lilac set, his breath catching in his throat as he imagined you actually wearing it

He watched you pick out a few sets, his heart hammering in his chest as his head filled with more and more sinful thoughts

So when you coyly asked him if he wanted to accompany you to the back (your excuse being that you didn’t want to get bored all alone back there), he didn’t even hesitate before nodding vigorously

As he sat in one of the chairs just outside the fitting room you were in, he contemplated that this might be his purgatory

He could hear the rustling of your clothes, and he knew that you were wearing those torturous sets of lace, and yet he couldn’t do anything about it, forced to sit tight and listen to your chatter through the curtain, trying to will away the painful hardness in his pants

“Spence, could you come in here for a second? The straps are a little loose, and I can’t quite reach the clips.”

He froze for a moment at your seemingly innocent request, before standing up on shaky legs and pulling the curtain to the side just enough for him to slip inside the small, closed space next to you

When he finally turned to look at you, he almost collapsed on the spot

You were wearing a white set with intricate lacing that left hardly anything to the imagination, your hands cupping your breasts to keep the bralette from slipping down, the straps hanging loosely over your shoulders

As soon as your eyes locked together, the air seemed to crackle between you, and he wasted no time pushing you against the nearest wall and kissing you like his life depended on it

He was a needy mess in just a few seconds as his hands glided across your skin, mapping every inch of your body that he could reach, while he familiarised himself with your taste

Your hands pulled on his hair as he sunk to his knees in front of you, and you had to bite down on your bottom lip as you watched him pull the dainty panties you were wearing to the side, his puppy eyed gaze making you weak in the knees

You gasped as you felt him press a tentative kiss on your clit, having to slap a hand over your mouth as he immediately followed it up by lapping at your wet folds enthusiastically

He had you shaking in a matter of minutes, eating you out like your pussy was his ambrosia and he had been starving for years

You had to balance yourself on the wall as he put one of your legs over his shoulder, his tongue exploring your insides, the new angle making his nose nudge against your clit with every move

He replaced his tongue with two of his fingers, his lips wrapping around your clit, sucking on it like it was his favourite dessert in the world

You gripped his hair tightly as you came with a loud gasp of his name, rutting against his face, the vibrations of his whimpers making your eyes roll back in immense pleasure

His tongue worked you through it all, licking up your juices languidly, until you had to push his head away when your eyes started tearing up from overstimulation

It was safe to say that you ended up buying that set, walking out of the store hand in hand with Spencer, before leaving the mall to go back to his place, eager to return the favour

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #cm spencer reid #spencer reid #criminal minds smut #friends to lovers #18+ mdni #mdni

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sc0tters · 16 days ago

Text

Be a Brat and Find Out | Quinn Hughes

summary: there is only so much of bratty you that Quinn can take before he teaches you a lesson.

request: yes/no

warnings: mature themes, p in v, swearing, cock riding?

word count: 0.95k

authors note: hello and welcome to the first part of the one shot wonder event! this was so much fun to write, I am not someone who usually writes blurbs let alone smut ones so I really do hope that this is enjoyed by you guys. the idea for this one stuck in my brain for a while so it was about time I got it written out!

This was a sight Quinn swore would have been in his dreams.

Your whimpers echoed off of the walls of your bedroom “fuck baby you could have had such a good night.” Quinn sighed keeping his hands on your hips, making sure that you couldn’t stop your movements.

You sat in nothing more than your Canucks scarf tears stained your cheeks with your lipstick practically gone now. The folds of your pussy wrapped around his cock “please Quinny.” You begged cutting yourself off as he brought his hand up to tug at your scarf “don’t make me out to be the bad guy doll.”Quinn shook his head.

The captain raised his free hand up to smack your ass “ahh.” You whimpered feeling him massage the area of your skin that he had hit.

You had pushed him over the edge that night after particularly rough game. It toppled over the tower of close interactions you had with Cole McWard over the last week. Quinn swore that he was close to killing his younger teammate if you laughed at another stupid thing that came from his lips. But now it was you that felt the brunt of Quinn’s anger.

That’s how you ended up on his cock because after a long ride home where you were dangerously close to pulling his cock out in the car, when your hand edged dangerously close to his upper thigh. Quinn refused to believe that you deserved to be properly fucked, that’s why you weren’t sat with his cock inside of you. You had fucked yourself on his thigh before, in fact it was one of your favourite things when you craved his attention.

But now Quinn sat watching how your folds swallowed his cock, desperately rubbing your clit against his length. It was selfish, even you knew that but god were you loving how the hunger in your stomach felt.

Your eyes screwed shut feeling his cock throb against your clit “shouldn’t even fucking let you cum.” Quinn scoffed as he wrapped his arms around your throat slowly the blood flow to your brain “no!” You yelled shaking your head.

The boy cocked his head “you think that’s the right attitude to get what you want?” He asked squeezing his hand “please Quinny.” You begged almost wondering how coherent words came from your lips.

Quinn smiled, you were on the right track, “please what?” He pushed your buttons now feeling his strength wavering “wanna cum so bad.” You pleaded with a soft sniffle.

Your body jolted feeling the head of his cock brush against your let, his precum spreading against your sensitive bud. His hand forced your hips back down, you weren’t allowed to get off that fast “even after you were such a brat all week?” The captain taunted you, using the hand that stayed around your throat to keep you upright.

You tried everything to rest your head against his shoulder “sorry.” Was all that escaped from your lips “for what?” Quinn chewed at his lip seeing how your slick coated his cock.

It shone like it screamed to actually be fucked, to be given the chance to feel the walls of your cunt stretch to allow his cock in “just wanted your attention.” It was no secret that the Canucks weren’t doing their best, but Quinn was on edge because of it.

Quinn frowned at your words “and you thought that this was the best way to get it?” He shook his head watching you drive your hips with even more desperation now.

You nodded gnawing at the inside of your cheek “please Q.” You begged refusing to let yourself cum into he said you could.

The boy felt his eyes flutter “you promise you’re gonna behave?” The question stuck to your skin like sweat.

You were never going to listen to that, like Quinn shouldn’t have been surprised if he was hoisting your ass over his knee next week “promise.” You nodded watching Quinn bring your face closer to his.

His lips pursed together “open that mouth f’me love.” This was the first time that night he said something with love.

So naturally you clung to it, your jaw went slack as your tongue rolled out. But what you didn’t expect was that Quinn would let a glob of saliva go from his lips. It landed in your tongue and he swore he saw stars watching you pull your tongue into your mouth as you swallowed what he had deposited into your mouth.

A grunt escaped from his lips “make a mess sweet girl.” He cooed sending you a nod. That was all it took for you to drive your hips harder, feeling how the very inch of his cock felt against your clit. You were desperate to fuck him but this was all he said you deserved.

Your eyes screwed shut when your mouth fell open “right there baby.” Quinn grunted taking over as he began to feel his own high coming fast at him.

It was almost pornographic how your moans mixed into each other as they painted the walls. Quinn didn’t know who exactly came first as his cock shot warm sticky ropes against his stomach. Your legs shook as your cunt gushed against his dick, not letting your thrusts stop because it was unclear if it was you or him controlling your pace.

You had barely come down from your high as you kissed at his shoulder “shit!” You groaned feeling his cock thrust into your cunt.

Quinn laughed pressing a kiss against your head “you really thought that you’d get away with all that this easy?” The captain asked, flipping you both over so he could remind you who was really in control.

#ambers one shot wonder #quinn hughes blurbs #quinn hughes x y/n #hockey blurbs #nhl blurbs #hockey smut #nhl smut #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes imagines #quinn hughes x reader #amber writes blurbs

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 8 months ago

Note

heyy, I just saw the first episode of season two and I’m completely destroyed. I need to read something with Jacaerys in which reader gives him a hug after what happened 🫶🏻

Request: Helloooo! I saw you were open to requests sooo with this episode- how about instead of Baela being the one to take Jace to Rheanyra, its reader who had been waiting for him since he landed? Jace x reader relationship is up to you!

I have written this a few weeks ago, but let's do a small blurb. Seeing Jace break was just so sad. Grab your tissues 🤧

Warnings: mention of character death, grief

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

On the journey back to Dragonstone, Jacaerys swallowed back his tears. Vermax could feel that his rider was in pain, but he stayed focused on flying home.

Although you couldn’t predict when they would arrive, you knew Jacaerys would fly home immediately upon receiving the letter.

You greeted him outside when he landed, but Jacaerys refused to meet your eyes, focussing on princely duties because he could not bear to face his role as brother and son in that moment. He spoke like a prince, asking to be taken to the Queen so he could give her his report.

Without speaking a word, you walked him to Rhaenyra’s chambers. The guards opened the door for you, nodding their heads at the prince. As you stepped inside, Rhaenyra turned at the sound of your footsteps on the stone floor.

You bowed to the Queen, casting a last glance on Jacaerys before you left the room. ‘’You know where to find me,’’ you whispered to him, your voice barely audible.

He didn’t respond.

While he spoke to his mother about the Vale and the North, Jacaerys was trying to remain professional and keep his composure. He needed to stay strong for her. His voice was steady until he mentioned the North. The name of Cregan Stark brought back the images of the northman delivering the news of Lucerys’s death, causing Jacaerys to choke up on his words.

Rhaenyra held her eldest and they cried together.

When he thought the tears were over, Jacaerys left his mother’s chambers. Servants were politely nodding their head at him on his way to his own chambers, a veil of sympathy on their faces. But Jacaerys paid them no attention as his emotions were threatening to spill again.

As promised, you were sitting on his — your — chambers when he stepped in, waiting for him. You stood when hearing the door, and he broke down completely, his body shaking with sobs as he collapsed into your arms.

You held Jacaerys tightly as he sobbed uncontrollably, his grief pouring out with each shuddering breath.

You always knew him as the strong son of Princess Rhaenyra who held his head high and never let anything affect him. The strength he usually exuded was gone, replaced by the vulnerability of a boy who had lost his brother. It was gut-wrenching to see him cry, his hands clutching at your dress to anchor himself through the storm of his emotions.

‘’He died because of me,’’ he whispered between sobs, his voice raw with pain. ‘’It was my idea to go on dragonback instead of sending ravens.’’

Guilt laced his voice, and you pulled his head back, seeing his eyes red and swollen. You knew no words would stop his guilt. He would have to live with his for the rest of his life. But you could try to show him he was not entirely at fault. It was Vhagar at the commands of Aemond targaryen who killed Lucerys. Not him.

‘’Mayhaps it was your idea, but you couldn’t have known Aemond would be at Storm’s End asking for support from Borros Baratheon. He is the one responsible for this barbarous act,’’ you said, holding his gaze.

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios @lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale@mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden@memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08 @mymultiveres @secretsthathauntus @puffycreamcakes @thirsty4nonlivingmen @naty-1001 @katiepie67 @moshpot24x @hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler @saturn-sas @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag @wondxrgurl @aerangi @strmborns @astridyoo15 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz @vane1999-blog @fairyfolkloresposts @todaywasafairytale07 @otomaniac @zgzgzh @thebeardedmoon @golden-library @kikyrizuki @hnslchw @camy85 @winxschester @armstrongscommentsection @withfireandbl00d @randomstory56 @JudgmentDays-Girl @darylandbethfanforever9 @darylandbethfanforever9 @aegonswife @dakotapaigelove @jays-bullshit

All and more taglist: @kenqki@hawkegfs@gillybear17@black-rose-29@fudge13 @cece05 @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade@mellabella101 @vxnity713 @bisexualgirlsblog@queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart @xyzstar @graceberman3 @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis @katherinejess @rafesgirlstuff @lafleshlumpeater @iamluminosity @Anouknani-2305 @books0fever @papichulo120627 @qardasngan @ghostlyvoidydragon @M0rgans1nterlud3 @dahlia-blossom21

#jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon imagine #house of the dragon

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pinkslaystation · 11 months ago

Text

Tulips or Roses?

John Price x reader

In which you find John's old diary detailing his love for you his teammate and you begin to question his love for you. Word Count: 3.6k -> blurb - rose meets tulips

Being a civilian to a soldier was hard enough.

And it was even harder when your husband was a commander for one of the most skillful task force. So it wasn't unusual for him to be gone for long periods of time.

So on a random Friday evening, anticipating his arrival in the coming week, vacuuming the floors, cleaning the windows, you found yourself at the door of John's study, with was decorated with a glass name plate, with the words 'Study' accompanied with a painted heart created from blue and pink fingerprints from you and your husband.

John was never the man to tell you off if you entered his study, instead he encouraged it. He's beckoned you to bring him his evening tea to him, to give him a massage, sometimes when you wanted him, he'd allow you to help him under the desk, if you get what I mean. (speaking from experience ;>)

As you stepped into his room, you noticed the ceilings adorned with sizable white cobwebs, cringing at the apparent neglect of his study. When was the last time someone had even been here?

Sweeping his desk, wiping away the dust, you find a box underneath beside his chair, which prompted you to lifting it up and placing on top of the desk. Man, you underestimated it's weight. You struggled to lift a small but heavy moving box, and it caused a few books and papers to fall out.

You cursed at your clumsiness, picking up the loose sheets, until you fingers caught the spine of a red vintage-like book, which had the word 'diary' written on the front. You didn't take too much notice, skimming through the pages until you caught your name being mentioned a phew times.

You giggle, it's a diary probably with John confessing his love to you numerous time! You know you probably shouldn't look through it, I mean privacy exists, but you just can't help it.

So you look through some of the infrequent entries, the oldest dating back to 10 years back, and the most recent one being nearly 4 years, when you and John had first met.

30th February 2010

Suffering in Afghanistan, the lads and I are stuck in the safe house for a week now. Rose is here too, I should ask her if she's okay.

Ahhh you remember this story. When the Task Force was stuck in the city of Kandahar, in the safe house. You also remember John's team, whom you are well-acquainted with, Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Roach, Rose?

You skip through the boring entries, most of which are just John documenting his work-out plan and the places him and his team had visited.

5th July 2016

Gaz's going on and on about his lass. Someone tell him to talk to her at least, he doesn't even know her name! I keep bringing it up but he keeps mentioning when I'll talk to Rose.

You chuckled, assuming the chick was Gaz's current wife. But the last part caught your attention, Rose again? You remember John telling you that she'd retired, went back north to settle with her family now, so you don't think much of it, I mean they are team mates.

19th June 2017

Saw a cute kid and her mama, wishing I had kids, without this lifestyle. Rose wants a son but I don't particularly mind. Soap overheard our conversation and spammed me lols on Whatsapp, but I thought lol meant little old lady? I am a man though.

You raise your eyebrow at another mention of Rose, why doesn't he care if Rose wanted a son? You didn't realise how close your husband was to her.

2nd December 2018

Christmas this month with my boys. Rose invited me over for a smoke. Ghost rolls his eyes when I mentioned it to him, says I need to man up and make a move.

You squinted your eyes, rereading the entry, and hesitantly skipping to the next one.

7th April 2019

Drinks with my men (and Rose haha, she doesn't like being part of the men). It's her birthday and she wants to tell us something. She's got her red lips again. I'm excited, Soap kept nudging me the entire ride, that cheeky bugger.

Then immediately below it, an update: She's seeing someone.

You're slowly piecing the puzzle, though you don't want to assume anything.

21st August 2019

She came into my room crying, seems like it's not going well, good for me. I hope she's okay and she realises there's better fish in the sea. She hugged me, she smells like roses, I love floral scents. I tried leaning in, she says I'm like an older brother to her.

Your heart breaks a bit, sniffing at your freshly washed hair, which smelt like ... like roses.

You thought floral scents were YOUR thing.

You continued, to the next entry which was marked the date you remember meeting John for the first time at the pub. You force a smile, hoping the entry would lighten your mood.

30th November 2020

In the pub and bored. Rose brought her lad... they're back together. What does she see in him? Soap urges me to find someone else but my heart is set on someone, for a long time. Won't change. He keeps gesturing to a girl on the other end of the counter, she's pretty, but like a tulip. Not like a rose. Not like my Rose.

You grip at the notebook and you try your hardest not to rip the papers out of the book and set his entire study on fire.

You remember this day, when you were dragged to the pub by your friends after being dumped by your ex for another girl. You sat at one end of the counter, with tears in your eyes but one look at that buff Englishman on the other end and your mood flipped instantaneously, 180 degrees.

"Kelsey, look at that guy, Mr Army over there." You beckon towards John's direction, to your friend., slightly tipsy after a peg of beer.

Your friend looks at you with a raised eyebrow, then turns to the guy whose piqued your interest, "You should go for it." She encourages you.

So you get yourself 2 drinks and approach the guy, more confident that usual due to your alcoholic state. A beer would do.

"Hi, this seat empty?" You smile at him innocently.

All this time you had recalled a look of fondness towards you, when he'd first locked eyes with you. You remember bragging about how it had been love at first sight for the both of you, but thinking back, a feeling of doubt starts bubbling inside you.

"It's reserve- you know what. Take a seat."

You remember sitting next to him, passing him a drink, and telling him your name, "...and you are?" you question, although you see him wincing. At first you thought it was just an army thing, so guarded that even the slightest of movements would make him twitch.

But now you're questioning whether he really wanted to engage into a conversation with you.

The following hours, as you painfully recall, was filled with you talking about yourself and occasionally asking him after his life, though he gives you one word answers and frequent nods.

But that was just because he'd just come home from a mission right?

"...and he just broke up with me out of the blue! Like was my 12,000 followers on TikTok not good enough for you?" You chuckle, attempting to crack a joke. He smiles confused, and you note he's probably too old to understand what TikTok was.

"Sounds like an asshole, love." He replies.

"Hmm, he was...I- I just don't know what he'd leave me for her...like I gave you my everything, I was always with you through thick and thin and what, that wasn't enough for you?" You trail off, the effects of the 2nd beer hitting you.

"I understand dove, you just give 'em everything and they just find someone else. What does he have that I don't?" He spaces out, his eyes falling on his teammates sitting at a different table. You follow his gaze, smiling slightly when you lock eyes with one of his smirking subordinates, whom you know know as Soap.

"Those people, they're your team?" You question.

His eyes aren't on you though as he responds, "That mohawk, that's Soap, Ghost next to him, tough as steel but soft at heart, Gaz on the opposite, funny lad, Roach, good ol' Roach..."

You look at the woman to the right of 'Roach', taking in her beauty. Though she's sitting down, you can tell she's taller that you by least 4 inches, with a blonde pixie haircut and painted with a dark smokey eye. A deep smirk is plastered onto her plump ruby red lips as she looks at John Price finally talking to a woman that isn't her. She raises a hand, waving to the both of you, which is almost instantaneously reciprocated by John.

"And her?" You ask, head nudging towards the woman.

"Her...That's Rose. You should meet her, you would like her, but who doesn't..." His chuckle fades out and you at how his attention was fully directed to her. A sinking feeling told you that you should have backed off from the married man, but it disappeared when John pointed out her partner, with gritted teeth.

Your hands are gripping the pages at this point, as you recall memories from the diary from his point of view.

You turn the page to the next entry, dreading the words.

19th December 2020

Thought me and Rose would go back to the pub for another drink for the holidays, but she's going back to his place. Seems they're taking the next steps with meeting the families.

Soap's annoyed at how I'm 'ghosting' the girl I met at the pub, I'm once again unfamiliar with the lingo, I'm not Simon?? She's nice but, not sure I see anything further than a friendship. Gaz and him are picking out an outfit for me, she wants to meet up for bowling apparently. I just want to be with Rose...

Clenching your fist, you shut the diary and toss it aside, feeling all kinds of emotions. Upset that John had never truly looked at you the way you'd looked at him. The way he never wanted you, like you wanted him.

Every time you'd seen him online on Whatsapp, but still hadn't opened your messages, he was ghosting you? Sure after a while of being friends, his behaviour gradually changed, accompanied with rapid texts, but you felt like this relationship was built on lies.

Did he even want to go bowling with you that day? Did you win because he purposely let you, because he was bored and wanted to go home, be with Rose instead? When he asked you to be his girlfriend, did he ask you with Rose in mind?

The ding of the oven stopped your trail of thoughts, so many questions swirling around your head. You walk out of the study, slamming the door behind you, the combined mess of dust and cobwebs remaining untouched.

The glass name plate falls to the ground, the edge shattering, with shards of clear glass laying dangerously on the wooden floor.

A couple of hours go by and the doorknob rattles at 8:45 P.M. on the dot. John was never late when he had to come home to you.

He reaches base at 7:30, drives exacting an hour to your shared home, after making a quick pit stop at the florists within 10 minutes to give you a freshly scented bouquet of red roses.

Roses. So that's why he'd give them you every time...

He makes sure to leave him 5 minutes of spare time, which was designated to flipping open a small metal notebook you'd gifted him, and writing his thoughts down. And once those 5 minutes were up, he places the notepad back into his jacket pocket and practically runs towards the front door.

"Dove, I'm home!" He exclaimed, gently placing his belonging on the floor, before walking into the living floor, where you sat on the sofa with your legs and arms crossed. (MY BITCH POSE IS NASTY)

"Sweetheart, you didn't run up to me at the door, you alright love?" He sits next to you, his calloused and freshly bruised arms rubbing your knee.

The silence was deafening and you couldn't find it in yourself to look at him after all you've read.

He takes it as a cue to continue, "I got you some roses, baby. Your favourite-"

"When did I say they were my favourite?"

John blinks at the interruption, "I mean, you don't like them? It's tradition to bring the same red roses for you every time I'm back..."

"And when did I say I liked them? Are they my favourite? Or are they her favourite?" You shift towards him, anger evident in your voice.

"Her? Who? Sweetheart, what's going on?"

"I mean, come on man, you like floral shit that much that now you're making me wear it?"

"You...don't like floral scents? Did you want tulips instead, baby?"

Your eyebrows are furrowed in annoyance by his confusion.

"It doesn't matter if I wanted tulips, John, it's the fact that YOU like roses. In fact you've like Roses this entire time! Don't act like you like tulips 'cos you don't- to be honest I don't think you ever have!" You rant, handing running through your hair.

"I mean I like both honey, roses are just, um, prettier?" He sounds like he's asking you rather than telling you.

"Of course roses are prettier to you- that's all that you're fucking used to you. It's always roses, roses, roses. You're so obsessed with fucking roses, you never gave tulips a bloody chance!"

"Are we still talking about flowers-"

"And when you do give tulips a chance, you're still thinking about roses- how red they are, how pretty they are, how they need to be watered every 5 fucking minutes, even then there's already someone to water those damn. Red. Roses."

"I- I mean I like tulips too, baby-"

"No. You don't. No, you don't. Tulips are just the safest options for you, cos someone already plucked out those fucking roses. Cos roses don't want you."

You're standing up now, and John's attempts to speak are futile with every sentence you shout.

"No. In fact, roses has never wanted you, roses look better with someone else, and ol' poor John has no more roses, so he goes and waters some unwanted tulips instead!"

John stands up, towering over your shaking frame, his hands come up to stroke your biceps, but he's pushed away.

"I mean, did John ever even like tulips? Or was he faking it cos he never got roses? Was tulips just the safe option? Does John still want roses after all the years tulips have been there for him?"

You left out a pained cry, you didn't even notice the tears leaking out of your eyes.

"Does John even like tulips? Does John even love tulips?"

His hands wipe your tears away, and he brings you into his chest, and you don't attempt to push him away this time.

"Does you even love me, John?" You break down into his arms, letting him carrying you into the bedroom, where he places you gently on the bed, while you hiccup through your uneven sobs. He smells the stench of wine through your shaking breath, whilst stroking your hair, and you slowly fall into a deep slumber with your head pressed against his still uniform-clad chest.

The clock hits midnight and John gets up, trying not to wake you up, grabbing his sweats from the drawer and walking to the bathroom across the hall, in order to not wake you up, from what looked like a well-needed rest.

As he trudges out of the bedroom and through the corridor, the reflection of the broken glass catches his eyes and he squints in the darkness, squatting down to pick a small shard. As he lifts the remains of the nameplate, hooking it back to the door, he steps over the mess into the study to retrieve a dust pan and brush.

Flicking the lights on, he's met with what looks like a scene from the reality TV show - Hoarders. So starts cleaning quickly, picking up the duster and bunching up the paperwork from the floor, the pot of pens that had seemed to be knocked down, the diary he'd used to write in...hold on-

Picking up the diary, John flicks through the entries, the book naturally opening to the last open slide.

He begins reading the last entry.

19th December 2020

Thought me and Rose would go back to the pub for another drink for the holidays, but she's going back to his place. Seems they're taking the next steps with meeting the families.

Soap's annoyed at how I'm 'ghosting' the girl I met at the pub....

"Oh...my tulip, I've never loved roses as much as I loved you." He mumbles to himself, whilst simultaneously cringing at his previously written words, immediately throwing the book back on the floor.

It's past breakfast when you wake up, throat and eyes painfully dry from last night's crying session, forcing yourself to drag yourself to the bathroom. You've forgotten that John had come home last night, as your met with a familiar empty bed.

After brushing your teeth and washing your face, you walk downstairs, being face to face with the naked back of Captain John Price.

The smell of chocolate pancakes waft towards your nose, as you look around the kitchen, the room garnished with a variety of different flowered bouquets, with so many variations of plants.

Bundles of dahlias and lotuses, orchids and lilies, carnations and irises, roses and tulips.

John turns to your footsteps, smiling at his perfect woman.

"Baby, good mornin'" He greets you, placing a single rose into your hair, and pecking your forehead warmly.

"John, listen about last night-"

"It was the old diary, wasn't it?" he asks.

You nod, ashamed for your abrupt behaviour yesterday. John lifts your chin up, resting his forehead against yours.

"Rose never taught me how to love like you did."

"John, you don-" His pointer finger is pressed against your lips.

"Reading those words from the past, I can see how it may have painted a different picture of my feelings. But let me assure you, my love, that you are the one I adore with all my heart."

Your stroke his face, heart warming to his words.

"Every rose I brought home was a symbol of my love for you, not because it was her favorite, but because it reminded me of the beauty and grace that you bring into my life. And those tulips, they represent the new beginnings and the fresh start that we share together.

My love for you is unwavering and unconditional. You are my tulip, my true love, and I vow to cherish and adore you for all eternity. Please forgive me for any pain or doubt my past words may have caused."

"John..."

He hands you his notepad from from his back pocket, beckoning you to open it.

You look at the first entry.

19th February 2021

I mentioned how I journal sometimes to her, and she bought me a new notepad, it's cute how she calls it a diary. Things are looking good. Bowling's our thing, I let her win because seeing her smile means I've won too. I'm asking her out tonight, Soap cried real tears when I told him.

You turn the page.

20th July 2021

Our 6 month anniversary. Took her to a field of roses and tulips, though nothing compares to her beauty.

The next one.

17th September 2021

I seldom think of Rose, I have my tulip on my mind now. Rose retired, and the team celebrated last night. She hugged me and thanked me for being a good captain. She also acknowledged my previous feelings for her. Man that was uncomfortable, but I reassured her I'm with my tulip now. I love my tulip.

I've always preferred tulips anyway.

And the next.

5th July 2022

Our 500 day anniversary. I want to propose.

17th September 2022

She said yes!! She may be my fiance, but I've already started calling her my wife, not legally yet at least...illegally?

28rd December 2023

We married 30th November. The day we met. Xmas was amazing, I can't see myself with anyone but her. I'm getting deployed tomorrow though.

You look at the most recent entry, dated last night.

16th February 2024

Missed the valentines day with my missus. Hope these roses are enough, though I wanted to get something better. Tulips for my tulip. They ran out haha. Missed my girl, missed her like I've never missed someone before. Soap's right, deployment suck.

Tears welled up in your eyes, not from pain or doubt this time, but from overwhelming joy and love for the man standing before you.

"I'm sorry, John," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. "I didn't mean to doubt your love."

He smiled, a genuine and heartfelt smile that reached his eyes, pulling you into a warm embrace. "No need for apologies, my tulip. Thank you for teaching me how to love."

And in that moment, amidst the scent of chocolate pancakes and fresh flowers, it felt like you love story was just beginning, filled with trust, forgiveness, and a deep, unwavering love for each other.

That should not have taken me 2 days to complete what in the world. Also if i was tulip, that old diary is going straight into a fire! Barbecue anyone? <3 Quick Notes: I head-cannoned Rose to look like Sergeant Calhoun from Fix-it-Felix lolololol woman crush fr i get u john boy I've decided to start a tag list! -> lemme know you're interested to be tagged in my future posts! tags -> @lilliumrorum

#call of duty #cod #john price #john price x reader #captain john price #john price angst #john price fluff #task force 141 #captain price

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puckinghischier · 3 months ago

Text

Dogtooth

jack hughes x fem!reader

WARNING - SMUT!!! minors, DNI. 18+. oral!female receiving, face riding

summary: just a lil jack thot inspired by the song dogtooth by tyler, the creator

notes: this is just a repost of the little jack blurb i posted last night, i just wanted to reformat it so it’d fit in my masterlist better. but!! this is probably my favorite jack thing i’ve ever written and i’m obsessed with this song so, hope you enjoy!! 🫶🏼🫶🏼

[2.3k]

dogtooth by tyler, the creator?? that song is soooooo jack coded.

it’s the right kind of cocky but also the perfect amount of loving his woman, which is exactly how i picture jack to be in a relationship.

he’s a pretty private guy, not enjoying being in the media too much and revealing a ton about his personal life. he hates media because he doesn’t like the feeling of people assuming they know everything about him. but his girl? she knows everything about this man and he basks in the fact she knows him better than anyone else.

and when he’s down for someone? oh he’s down baddddd. i mean, pining level shit. he always wants to be around her. always calling her. always texting her. he just wants her attention 24/7, no matter what he has to do to get it.

he loves to pleasure his girl. and that’s it, really. he loves any second he can spend making her feel good, any way she wants. he doesn’t even care about the reciprocation (though he does love when she returns the favor) because knowing he’s the one to satisfy her needs is enough to put him on cloud nine all by itself.

and the second jack hears this song for the first time? oh he’s got big plans for it. (and you)

you’d be sitting on the couch, waiting on jack to get home from a mid-day skate. he sent you a text telling you he was leaving the rink around thirty minutes ago, expecting him to walk through the door any second.

no sooner than the thought entered your mind, you heard the lock click, signaling his arrival. calling out a greeting, you’re met with silence. you turn your body to see why he’s ignoring you, noticing the small white ear buds stuck in each ear.

he sets his bag down at the door, no doubt filled with his sweat soiled clothes he wants you to wash. waiting on him to look up and acknowledge you, you lay your head on the plush cushions resting against the back of the couch. you watch him, never missing an opportunity to admire how pretty he is.

finally, he looks up and meets your gaze, smiling at your love-filled eyes. he pops one headphone out while walking towards you, rolling it around in his hand.

“hey, sweets,” he leans down to place a small kiss on your waiting lips.

you savor the taste of his lips, always loving their soft feel.

“tried to say hi when you walked in, but guess you couldn’t hear me,” you gesture to the one earbud still lodged in one of his ears.

he gives you a small, apologetic look. “sorry, found a new song i really like. think you will too, actually. made me think about you.”

grabbing his phone from his pocket with his free hand, the one that’s holding the small bluetooth device brushes your hair away from your own ear, comfortably resting the earbud there.

“here’s the thing though….i want you to ride my face while we listen,” he just casually tells you, not even looking up at your face, still fiddling with his phone.

you perk up, surprised at his casualness. “i- what?”

“you heard me, before i press play i want you to ride my face.”

said face in question is dead serious, not an ounce of mischief to be found.

“you…literally just walked through the front door. what happened to asking each other about our days? or discussing what we’re gonna eat for dinner?” you ask him, not knowing how to react to the sudden proposal.

he rolls his eyes playfully. “is this your way of telling me you don’t want to? because you don’t have to. just think it’d really add to the experience, s’all” he shrugs.

you still don’t know how to react to the pure casualness of it all. by the way he’s acting you’d think he’s suggesting watching a movie, not having you ride his face in the middle of the living room.

“i didn’t say i didn’t want to. it’s just a little wild for that to be one of the first things out of your mouth when you get home.”

jack snickers at your words, walking around the large sectional to occupy the spot next to you.

“not really. not for me, at least. been thinking about it all day,” he plops down beside of you, making himself comfortable.

his words shoot excitement down to your core. he’s been thinking about it all day?

before you can think of a response, you feel shuffling next to you on the plush couch. you look over to see jack laying flat on his back, head only slightly raised to look over at you expectantly.

“so, you gonna get rid of those shorts or what?” he asks, referencing your thin, cotton pajama bottoms.

“i swear to god, if i wasn’t turned on right now i’d slap you,” you grumble, standing and removing all clothing below your waist.

jack laughs a real, out loud, laugh this time, prideful in the fact that you’ve never really been able to (or wanted to) resist any of his offers.

he burrows his body further into the couch, making sure he’s in the middle of the large surface, ensuring there’s room for your knees to rest on either side of his head.

you climb to hover over his body, looking down at his hungry eyes that are glued to your bare pussy, following every movement of your body from that landmark.

“shirt off or on?” you ask him, sitting on his toned abdomen.

“off. wanna be able to play with your boobs, please,” he flicks his eyes up to your face, an innocent smile on his own as he bats his eyelashes.

“of course you do,” you remove your (his) t-shirt from your body, now completely bare as you sit on top of him.

“swear they get bigger every time i see them,” he says in awe, bringing a hand up to massage one of your full breasts. you moan as he kneads the flesh, stomach turning flips in anticipation of what’s about to take place.

“gonna press play so we can get started or you just gonna play with my tits all night?” you huff out, loving the feeling but growing needier by the second.

it takes jack a second to register what you’re saying, too lost in the feeling of the heavy skin in his hand.

“oh! yeah, almost forgot,” he reaches up to the back of the couch where he left his phone, picking it up long enough to press play.

you scoot yourself farther up his body, resting your eager core right above his chin. all you’d have to do is relax your thighs the slightest amount to make contact with his mouth.

suddenly you hear a smooth beat ring out in one ear, assuming jack’s hearing the same.

the second you hear the lyrics “she could ride my face i don’t want nothing in return” pour out of the earbud, jack inched his face up, licking a long, deep stripe through your folds.

you allow yourself to relax, sliding your slick pussy back and forth gently, not wanting to rush.

jack’s nose brushes your clit with every movement. you sigh at the feeling, not realizing how much you needed the friction until now.

the melody in your ear continues, but none of the lyrics are registering anymore. the feeling of jack’s tongue working through you takes every ounce of your attention.

“god, fuck! jack, best idea ever,” you moan out, picking up your pace slightly.

jack groans, letting his tongue still for a moment, allowing you to work yourself over it as you please.

fighting through the bliss radiating throughout your body, you try to focus on the lyrics at least a little bit. the chorus starts repeating, but the lyrics that follow make your head fuzzy in the best way.

“she could ride my face i don’t want nothin’ in return, except for some her time and all her love, that’s my concern” is what you focus on, the words squeezing your heart and your cunt.

jack smirks into your pussy when he hears you moan, knowing exactly which lyrics elicited the reaction from your body. you’ve always been the type to get off on the sweet nothings he whispers in your ear while he fucks into you, so he knew that line in particular would be especially helpful while his mouth is otherwise occupied.

your pace increases again as the song continues on, already halfway to your release.

jack brings his hands up to hold you still, your hole mere centimeters from his waiting tongue. he guides you to lower yourself onto the muscle, encouraging a slight bobbing motion of your body.

with every depression of your cunt onto his tongue, your clit bumps onto the tip of his nose. the pressure is a delicious form of teasing, the sensation gone nearly as soon as it’s felt each time.

“please, touch me. need you to touch me, jack. so so close,” you pant out, feeling the familiar swirl of your climax forming already.

jack grunts in response, the vibrations sending waves all throughout your body and you’re convinced you can feel it in your toes.

his hands leave your hips, traveling up your body until they find your sensitive buds, pinching and playing with each pink, taut nipple.

you jolt a bit, the motion causing your clit to slam against his nose this time. you cry out at all of the various sensations all at once. full with his tongue, rough hands on your tits, and round nose scraping against your clit.

the pure stimulation of it all forces your orgasm out of you, slamming into your body with the force of a train.

“fuck!” you scream, quickly shooting a hand out to grip the back of the couch, trying to stop yourself from collapsing on jack’s face completely.

you can barely hear the words “she can ride my face i don’t want nothin’ in return, and will i ever fall in love again? i can’t confirm,” ring through your ear, the soundtrack to your release, literally.

jack continues to work his tongue in and out of your hole while you shake and convulse above him, having to chase your entrance as you move. he continues to knead your sensitive breasts, each squeeze sending small volts through your already spent nerves.

he can feel your release dripping onto his cheeks, chin, and nose. he tries to lap up as much as he can, not wanting to miss a drop of your liquid pleasure.

your taste alone was enough to form the wet spot on his grey sweats, not embarrassed in the slightest he’s literally leaking from how turned on he is. but when he looks up at you above him, skin damp and eyes half rolled into the back of your head, mixed with the feeling of your body tightening around his tongue so harshly he can’t even pull it out, he blows his load right then and there.

he can feel the last flutters of your walls around his tongue, not stopping his movements until you pull back, having half a mind to keep going and work another orgasm out of your sensitive state. he moans through his own unprompted release, the only thing keeping him from following his sudden impulse to overstimulate you.

once the tired muscles in your thighs stop shaking, and your breath evens out, you can hear the fading of the music in your ear, signaling the end of the song. you push up slightly on your knees, detaching yourself from jack’s mouth as he chases your now swollen cunt, a small whine escaping him at the action.

“jack…the song’s over,” you manage the words somehow, in awe that he made you come in only a single song’s length.

“i can hit replay,” he rushes out, already reaching to grab his phone again.

you squeak out a slightly panicked “no,” while shaking your head, worried if he started again you might actually explode. you let yourself relax fully, scooting back so you can rest yourself on his lower abdomen once again, but the feeling of something wet stops you.

jerking back up, you turn and look down, spotting the large, wet stain on his sweatpants. you can’t stop staring at it, wondering if you’re really looking at what you think you’re looking at.

“jack…did you…” you trail off, turning back around to look at him.

he smirks as he leans himself up on his elbows. “sure did, sweets. you have no clue how much i enjoyed that.”

you laugh at his pride filled face. “pretty sure i do, seeing as i just sat on the evidence.”

he simply shrugs, patting your bare ass lightly to signal you to stand. you swing your legs over his body, standing and bending over to pick up your discarded underwear and slide it back up your legs.

“so….about that dinner conversation,” you ask him as he stands, suddenly way hungrier than you were when he first got home.

it’s his turn to laugh at you, walking over and removing the now silent earbud from your ear.

“whatever you want is fine with me. i already ate,” he gives you a kiss on the forehead then turns to walk towards the bedroom.

“oh…not even right, you dick,” you huff, following it with telling him you’re ordering his least favorite take out, a punishment for his sass.

making your way to the kitchen to dig through the different take out menus, you hear jack shout your name once again.

“i was thinking, how do you feel about that being our wedding song?” he asks, poking his now shirtless, but clean sweats clad, figure out of the bedroom door.

“jack!” you shout, scolding him as his loud cackle rings out around you, causing your own amused smile to break out on your face.

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