#proclamation band

[descent-angel]

Californian hunger

[canyourlawnmowerdothis]

breaking news: guy who needs an inhaler uses an inhaler and can breathe easier

[waugh-bao]

Now look at that gif where Charlie telepathically knows to reach for Keith’s hand behind his back and tell me Charlie didn’t have the best bum in the Stones! Mick and Ronnie? Flat. Nothing there. Charlie? A cute little caboose.

And no, I am not secretly Keith Richards doing an anonymous ask!

Sure, sure. I believe it’s not you…

Keith.

[ortegavi]

good charlotte is so real. “motivate me... i want to get myself out of this bed.”

[dooberific]

Damn that angst Harumasa oneshot was smth else 😭

Could you perhaps write an alternative happy ending? 💔

❝ 𝘚𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘏𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 ➸ 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘝𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 ❞

harumasa x afab!reader

genre: hurt w comfort, fluff, you lived bitch 😎

summary: it was supposed to be a routine mission, it's a good thing you are there to help pickup the pieces

wc: 3.2k

this is a hybrid work, the start of new content will be marked with colored text!

There was a ring cut to your size. A thin and silver little band that lacked grandiose ornamentation. Diamonds and frills were never your thing after all, he could still see the little quirk in your lips at the memory of your colleagues rushing in with stones so large you thought them better fit for paperweights than proclamations of their belonging to another under the banner of love and marriage. “Practicality above all else,” you had claimed some months ago, thumbing at the simple band around your index finger. Your late mother’s ring.

He hoped you were the sentimental kind, your voice warbled over the line from the outpost in his ear as he smiled. “I’m just saying to be careful is all.” He asserted, fingers running aimlessly over the silver band resting in his palm. Your initials and his were cut into the inside. 

It was supposed to be your day off, the first you had taken in several months, but when H.A.N.D phoned you that they needed your section of the HSO to assemble for a rescue mission after a Defense Force team had vanished inside of Hollow Zero, well….you didn’t get the luxury of saying no, even if you were the Chief. 

“When am I not careful? Remember which one of us you’re talking to here, Haru.” You chided, the smile on your face so present he could hear it change the lilt of your voice. 

“Right, right, I’m talking to my beautiful, kind, intelligent and all around perfect girlfriend~” Though he hoped that title would be changing very soon, as he held the ring up to the light, the sun filtering through the window of your shared apartment dancing enticingly over its surface. 

You giggled in his ear, the sound warming him to the soul. He could practically see the way the corners of your eyes wrinkled in delight.  “That’s much better.”

The interference in the background of the call amplified, faint callings of your name cutting through the static. You sounded disappointed. “Sorry Haru, I gotta go.”

“It’s okay baby, duty calls. Just try to be home for dinner.”

“Wouldn’t miss a date night for the world, you better not peek in the closet while I’m gone! I want that dress to be a pleasant surprise later.” 

You fell quiet again as you pulled the receiver away from your mouth, yelling a response into the background. “They’re about to have an aneurysm over here,” you huffed. 

“I love you, Haru~”

“I love you too, (y/n)~”

That was a little after noon. It was now nearing midnight and the outpost was crawling with H.A.N.D uniforms and HSO stragglers. Countless outpost scientists shouldered through the crowd, chiming off readings and acting as if they just had a some great scientific breakthrough.

But you were still inside of Hollow Zero.

And H.A.N.D was beginning to withdraw. 

Even flashing his Section 6 badge failed to get him answers despite his insistence, earning little more than the shake of a head and a “this is above your paygrade, kid.”

They threatened to court martial  him if he kept accosting them. But they didn’t have you inside the Hollow like he did. The epitome of his happiness, the one he swore hung the moon and stars, his most constant companion, and the only one he could imagine waking up beside of until the day he expired. 

They didn’t have you, but they had the version of you that made their actions palatable. The “good soldier” and “valiant leader”. The slave to a public that didn’t care to know your name even as you shouldered their burdens as ceaselessly as atlas held the heavens. The one who signed up for a death job.

A chorus of shouts erupted, the flash of the medical units blazing to life under the white spotlights. 

Survivors.

He shouldered his way through the swell of the crowd with little regard for those he pushed aside. In a perfect world he would break from the crowd and see you standing there, a little worse for wear but alive and smiling like you just cheated the world. You would push past the medic teams as they chased you down to throw your arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his lips as you gloated playfully.

“See? What’d I tell you? Safe and sound.” 

But you weren’t there. A cluster of five soldiers stumbled through the outer bounds of the Hollow—no, those weren’t soldiers, they were members of your faction carrying the torn uniforms of Defense Force operatives. They dripped with blood and grime, corruption marring their skin as they limped out, half-dragging others.

“Hey!” He yelled over the roar of the crowd as he grabbed one of them by the shoulder. His name badge shined under the lights. Kimura.

 “Where’s your chief?”

The man shoved his hand away, “Get off me man!”

He didn’t know where he got the strength as he grappled with Kimura before taking two fistfuls of his collar. “Where’s your fucking Chief? Where’s (y/n)?!” 

Multiple pairs of hands tore at his uniform from behind as they hauled him off, legs kicking as he wrestled against their pull.

“Where is she?”

“She’s stayed behind!” 

Kimura’s face was blank, his eyes distant and foggy as he stared at the ground. There were tears streaming down his face as he drew a ragged breath. “I’ve never seen so many ethereals, we were overran so quickly…Chief (l/n) and Deputy Chief Kato created a diversion to draw them away so we could get out.”

Kimura looked up with red rimmed eyes.

“I am so sorry.”

Hollow Zero had mutated. Or that was the story they were telling everyone now. The sensors at the outpost had registered a dramatic spike in etheric energy about 30 minutes after Section 2 had infiltrated, and by the next 20 the bangboo that accompanied you had stumbled out with fried circuits, the carrot it followed now expired as the interior of the hollow rearranged. 

It was supposed to be a standard recovery operation. You had done them hundreds of times in the past.

“I’m sorry, Asaba. My hands are tied.” The officer said with a shake of his head. “No one’s allowed in unless they are operating with their faction. You’re the only one from Section 6 here.”

He gripped his bow tighter. “Then I suggest you turn around and pretend you didn’t see me.” 

~

It felt like an electric current thrummed under his skin as he breached the Hollow. He didn’t bother to call the proxy or wait for the association to form a new carrot. There was no point, even as desperately as he clung to the idea of you being unharmed, alive, there was still a rotten crawl of doubt in the back of his mind that made the thought of wandering forever as an ethereal within Hollow Zero a more palatable choice than leaving here without you. 

He didn’t know how long he had wandered through the hollow, hair matted to his forehead from sweat as he cleared another broken wall, trying to survey as much of the warped landscape as he could. He doubled over, hands braced against his knees as he tried to catch his breath. He had overextended himself already, his chest constricted tightly as his breathing became shallow, a sharp ringing in his ears. He screwed his eyes shut, focusing on getting his lungs back under control.

In and out.

In and out.

There was a distant cry that met his ears with the sharp and hollow sound of clashing metal, one that twisted his gut in an iron grip as his head shot up.

You.

He didn’t know what he hoped to find when he fumbled over the rubble in your direction. Finding you was the sole focus of his mind for the past few hours, the rush of adrenaline carrying his mind past rational thought.

You. You. You.

It urged his tired legs forward, kept him standing as he rounded the corner and saw the torn back of your uniform jacket fluttering in the etheric breeze. 

You, despite all odds, were still alive.

A Hati screamed as your blade plunged between its armored plating, the etheric shell shattered at your feet as the creature collapsed alongside it, your body pivoting with deadly precision to bring your blade down upon the blazecrawler that leapt into your blindspot before an electrified arrow whistled past your face and knocked it from the sky, it’s body disintegrating before it even hit the ground.

“Haru?”

You looked utterly exhausted, your face smeared with grime and hair matted with sweat, but you’d never looked more alive and perfect than when the veins of acute ether corruption made the healthy pink of your cheeks and lips glow. 

“Haru, what are you doing here?” Your voice cracked, tongue fuzzy in your mouth from dehydration as you limped in his direction, tired eyes blazing with anger. “The ether is too strong, you shouldn’t be--,”

Any ounce of wrath or concern at his lack of prudence died on the tip of your tongue when he swept you up in his arms, face burrowed firmly into the column of your throat. His body trembled unnaturally against you, skin feverish. He clung to you like you were his lifeline, hands fisted into your torn jacket and hair as if he were afraid you would vanish at any moment if he loosened his hold even a fraction. 

His shoulders heaved once, twice before he pushed his face from your neck, hands cupping your dirty cheeks with his own dirt-caked nails. From this close you could see the ether burning under his skin, the fogginess that dimmed his brilliant golden eyes a matte honey as turquoise veins burst within the sclera and seeped into the pupil. His lashes were wet and caked together, face twisted in some hybrid of pain, anguish and relief as he kissed you like you put the very breath in his lungs to do so. Hungry and sloppy, more teeth and whispers of affection burning in millimeters of space seasoned with sweat, tears, and the sharp iron flavor of your split lip nipped and tugged with a tenderness that boiled in the depths of your belly as you cradled his own face in the state of desperation he rendered you in. 

A sharp stink pricked the skin just above his choker, his head snapping back with a hiss as the syringe in your hand clicked with completion. 

“Anti-ether serum,” You reassured, throwing the empty syringe off into the rubble before slipping another from your belt bag and sticking your forearm, lip pinched between your teeth. “Got lucky and found an old H.A.N.D cargo container. It’s old, but it works.”

You tossed it aside, offering him your hand with a smile.

“Let’s get outta here, Haru.”

~

It was a pure stroke of luck that you made it out of the hollow. No bangboo, no carrot, only the whim of walking in one direction and hoping the fissure you happened upon was the way out. The last recovery party stared at you like you had grown a spare head when you came stumbling over the rubble together, your face drawn tight with strain as you muscled the weight of Harumasa, the ether finally having worked him over to the point that his knees gave out and he couldn’t see, his consciousness spotty. How your own body had yet to give in was some blessing of genetics, the roots of corruption seeding deep and black as it began to pierce out through your skin. 

The wet kiss of the morning dew and the blazing of the rising sun warmed your skin despite the electrocharged sensation that left your hands trembling. You watched helplessly as the medical team swept him away from your side, your own strength finally giving out as you crumpled on the concrete before a flurry of hands hoisted you up and onto a stretcher, an oxygen mask forced over your nose. You watched as they shut the door of the ambulance across the way, a flash of dirty orange sneaker soles vanishing behind a thick metal plated door. 

You grabbed the medic nearest your side, his uniform collar bunching at his throat as you pointed and hissed.

“Make sure I’m there with him.”

~

If it was your own physical and mental exhaustion or a pharmacologically induced sleep, you weren’t sure, but the sterile ceiling of a hospital room expanded before your weary eyes like a blanket of snow, the rhythmic beeping of some monitor just out of sight keeping tune with your heartbeat. Your entire body felt stiff and tight, muscles screaming as your fingers twitched into a fist. You rolled your head to the side, staring at the empty bed a few feet away.

The nurses had to restrain you from how wildly you fought, ripping lines from your arms as you pushed yourself upright despite the lancing pain that seemed to ignite every nerve in your body, grappling with them as you demanded to know where he was, how he was, if he was even still alive as hot, angry tears stung at your dry eyes.

You didn’t stop fighting until the bed at your side was filled by a familiar body, albeit worse for wear. You were quite the pair, both looking like absolute shit as tired eyes and pained smiles passed between you. He had about ten more monitors and drips running than you did, his pale face gaunt and covered in a sheen of sweat. But his eyes were clear and dripping with adoration every time he woke up and saw your own scuffed face grinning back at him as if flaunting how you had cheated the world once more with a simple, “Good morning, sleeping beauty” easing past your lips. 

When he weakly reached his hand out to you, you weren’t about to refuse his invitation as you swung your legs out of bed and shuffled like your body had aged 80 years across the few feet that stood between your bed and his. You clasped his chilled fingers, pushing some of the many lines and wires that ran from his body to the side as you readjusted his arm, sliding up in the bed as you cuddled up against him. 

You felt his body relax, hand skimming your back through the thin gown you wore as you pressed your cheek against his chest. His heartbeat was strong under your ear, his lungs expanding and collapsing with a steady rhythm under your splayed fingers. 

“Haru? I don’t want you to dive into a hollow like that after me ever again.” you asserted.

“And I don’t want you going into hollows ever again, period.” Came his cool response, fingers drawing little circles along the curve of your spine. You felt him press a kiss to the crown of your head. “But we don’t always get what we want, so we’ll just have to trust each other to make the best decision, whether the other agrees with it or not.”

You didn’t want to admit that he was right, fearful still of his weakened constitution and the report you received on his care. 

He’s lucky to be alive.

It made you cling to him a little tighter, nestling closer to his side as your eyes screwed shut and you willed yourself to focus on the living, breathing and warm Harumasa and not the weak, confused and fearful one that gripped you with such ferocity even as his senses fled him in the bowels of Hollow Zero.

He played with your fingers for a moment before pressing something warm and circular against the meat of your palm, folding your fingers over it. Your eyes peeked open curiously, head lifting off his chest. 

“What’s this, Haru?” The question tumbled from your lips before you unfurled your fingers, staring at the item nestled in your palm before a harsh breath sucked past your lips.

It was a ring cut to your size. A thin and silver little band that lacked grandiose ornamentation. Diamonds and frills were never your thing after all, he could still see the little quirk in your lips at the memory of your colleagues rushing in with stones so large you thought them better fit for paperweights than proclamations of their belonging to another under the banner of love and marriage. “Practicality above all else,” you had claimed some months ago, thumbing at the simple band around your index finger. Your late mother’s ring.

“I had planned to give it to you somewhere a little more…sentimental than a hospital room, but I’m tired of waiting.” He cupped the back of your opened hand, thumb brushing against your knuckles. 

“I shouldn’t have waited in the first place.” He said with a rueful laugh. “You’re my person after all. Always giving the world your best, always thoughtful and selfless and so, so strong. You’ve never ran from your responsibilities, from yourself, toughing it out all on your own even when you had to shoulder my problems too.”

His thumb pressed over your pulse, his lungs stuttering for a moment as he caught his breath. “You’re everything I’m not. Every strength to my immeasurable weakness. My perfect reminder that the world is worth fighting to be in even when my body begs to give it up. It’s not much, but consider this me begging you to keep being the best half of my existence.”

You rolled the ring between your fingers, tracing the initials carved inside the band before peering up at him from under your lashes.

“In sickness and in health?”

He smiled feebly, his lips chapped and rough against the tender skin of your forehead where he pressed them, a promise whispered quietly into your flesh willed to be shared intimately and only with you.

“In sickness and in health.”

.

.

.

Your favorite coffee cup sat beside the pot in the kitchen, the rim stained pink from your choice lipstick. Your toothbrush sat in the cup beside his, your shampoo in the shower, your shoes by the door. Your picture was perched on the bedside table, your face radiant as your hand rested against his chest, his arm around your waist in front of the New Eridu Janus Quarter courthouse. 

Any more perfect and he would begin to question if soul mates were really determined at birth, given names that matched together like the pieces of a puzzle as beautifully as yours did when you assumed his surname and the title of the only family he ever truly had.

You still glowed, hair tousled and cheeks creased from sleep under the golden light of another morning. You sought out his warmth under the covers, flopping unceremoniously into his chest, your forehead pressed against his sternum as your weight relaxed into his body, sleepy murmurs of “good morning” tickling his skin. 

“What happened to, “good morning my handsome, perfect husband” hmm?” He mused as he threaded his fingers through your own, admiring the matched silver bands snuggly around your ring fingers. 

“ ‘S a mouthful,” You whined, lifting your head as you leaned in and nipped at his lower lip with a lazy, lopsided grin. 

Your eyes blew wide as he flipped you onto your back, trapping you beneath him on the mattress as he straddled your lap. “Well then my beautiful, perfect wife, we’ll just have to work something out then.”

There was a ring cut to your size, and it felt like a perfect adornment on your skin as he drew your hand up and pressed his lips against it with a grin. 

Rey 2025

[holyjongs]

taste. jyh

genre: best-friend!yunho, inexperienced reader(?)

warnings/topics: kinda a lot of plot? oral sex, fingering, praise

a/n: this is my first story posted on here! slightly proofread but there might be small errors. regardless, enjoy! likes & reblogs always appreciated

wc: 967

you and yunho had been best friends for 3 years. there wasn't much that went unspoken between the two of you. your relationship knew little to no boundaries.

that's why yunho was stunned when you had feebly admitted to not having ever been eaten out. it came up during a conversation while he was at your house; the two of you lying down on your plush king-sized bed just talking.

although you were experienced in bed, you had admitted that you had always been on the giving end of it all. this confused yunho seeing as he adored your body. he was already imagining everything he could do to make you feel good.

you would never have been able to guess that he thought about you in this light so often. although the two of you had talked about sex, this conversation was starting to reach uncharted territories within your friendship.

he looked up at you to meet your eyes as his eyes almost darkened. he sharply inhaled before declaring,

"let me help you y/n"

you slightly cocked an eyebrow looking at him innocently while humming in question.

"let me help you feel good"

you were taken aback by this proclamation. you were also surprised he wanted to do this for you, like nobody before him. you couldn't imagine that he would be eager to pleasure you and only you.

he sighed deeply as he silently looked into your eyes for a minute. he couldn't stop thinking about how good your wide, curious eyes would look as they were looking at him filled with desperation. need. lust. he blinked a few times realizing that he had gotten lost in thought. you smiled lightly and hesitantly nodded, not being able to resist his oh-so-innocent request.

honestly, yunho hadn't been with as many partners as he let on. with some more experience and the filthy thoughts he had imagined about you so frequently he was able to guide you through what was to come.

he slowly got on top of you as he pushed a strand of hair out of your face. he took in your beauty; basking in it even. your slightly parted lips a beautiful hue of rosy pink. your eyes looking at him with desire and interest. his lips carefully met yours, with this, your souls interlocking. you felt a connection with him that you hadn't ever before.

as you got a feel for each other, yunho gradually increased the tempo and power of the kiss. he grabbed your cheeks with one hand, the other trailing down from your waist to squeeze your ass. he swiftly removed your shirt as your hands continued to explore him in entirety and your kiss deepened.

every layer of clothing that yunho snaked his hand under reminded him of unwrapping a present. he looked at you as if you were the prettiest gift he had ever received, and that he's had to wait eons to get to this point. he ever so slowly, almost carefully even, made his way under your white lace panties. he hooked the band with his index finger as if he were waiting for an invitation.

you broke the kiss with a slight gasp and he looked at you in question as if he was asking for the green light with just his eyes. you nodded almost too small to notice. he took this as a go to continue taking in all of you.

he reconnected the kiss with a rough pace as his fingers made their way down to your cunt to explore your warmth. the initial shock from the sensations made you grab yunhos hair even harder than you had been. he pulled himself away from the kiss once again to slowly lower himself, meeting his hands.

although tenderly and slightly cautious, yunho ate you out like you were his first and last meal. the way he lapped up all of your juices and kept his fingers pumping in and out of you at a steady pace was too much for you to handle. he kept looking up at you with his brows raised making sure you were enjoying it just as much as he was. the lewd noises escaping your mouth told him everything he needed to know; humming into you with satisfaction every time you let out a moan slightly louder than the last.

you took handfuls of his hair in your hands; gasping for air like every breath would be your last. you couldn't help but let out growing whimpers and moans with every pass of yunhos tongue.

the feeling at the bottom of your stomach was getting too overwhelming to handle. you moaned loudly "yunho... im close... please oh my god....". you started desperately grasping anything around you for stability as yunhos pace increased. the vibrations of him groaning inside you sent you over the edge.

yunho continued to savor your cum, riding out your orgasm. he took his drenched fingers out of you and held them up as if he was admiring them as they glistened in the light with your slick.

"you did so good princess" he purred. you were still trying to catch your breath from the past happenings. yunho brought his fingers towards your face and you promptly opened your mouth; beginning to suck on them. he looked at you with such admiration that you had never felt before. he smiled at the sight of you enjoying yourself.

he cleaned you up with a small hand towel before cuddling you in your bed. as you wrapped a blanket around the two of you, he put his hand on your cheek lightly.

"hey y/n?" yunho asked softly

"hmm?" you replied as you laid your head on his chest

"i think i'm im love with you."

[nateezfics]

I am now CRAVING and I mean CRAVING some extremely domestic, husband!joong smut. I must have him immediately. Like imagine this hongjoong as your husband? This you come home to? I mean???? Pls???

Sex with a man who claims you as his WIFE?

Nat I'm feeling weak I need to lay down.

ugh, this😩

listen i live for rough, nasty possessive sex but let’s talk about slow, passionate, and loving possessive sex???? hongjoong who claims you soooo lovingly i cry 😭

imagine. it’s a night like any other; you’re in the kitchen preparing dinner when your husband hongjoong arrives through the front door. he takes off his shoes, his coat, and leaves his things by the door. he makes his way to you, lured by the smell of food and the desire to see your pretty face. it’s so routine, the way he makes his way to you and places a kiss against your cheek with his usual “hey baby” but no matter how many times he does it it always makes you feel so giddy, butterflies fluttering in your tummy at his touch and the smell of his cologne. you’ve been married for some time now but you never grow tired of him or this little routine you’ve both settled into. it’s comfortable, it’s familiar, it’s perfect. and just as predicted, he remains near you long after his kiss against your cheek, his arms snaking around your waist and pulling you against his front. he hangs onto you while you cook, his lips attaching to any open skin he can find. his hands are all over you and you try your best to stay on task, but as usual he’s persuasive. you spin around to face him and suddenly you’re not hungry for the food anymore. you crave him in every way, the sight of his bare face and tussled hair making you weak in the knees and bracing against the counter. hongjoong’s kissing you hungrily in seconds, and you’re caught up in the passion quickly. there’s no time for breathing, you simply breathe each other. he only stops kissing you to take his glasses off, flinging them onto the counter carelessly before he’s devouring you again. it’s not long before you’re on the counter with your knees bent over his shoulders while he pushes himself into you, over and over and so achingly slow. he’s deep, cockhead kissing your cervix in a way that has you arching so prettily over the granite surface. he’s purposeful with each thrust, dragging his cock out languidly before gliding right back in. he’s in no hurry, not trying to get you or himself off just yet; he doesn’t care about that, about finishing. he wants to soak in the moment, in his love for you. you’re already a mess ofc just from his slow motions. really you can’t help it, it’s him. he takes your hand and kisses the back of it, his wedding band shimmering in the light. a reminder that he belongs to you, and you to him. lots of love bites on your skin while he takes you over the kitchen counter. you leave love marks of your own in the form of red streaks down his back. the passion and the pleasure are overwhelming, and you swear you’re the only two people in the universe. his forehead against yours, his eyes and yours locked. breathy laughs. whispered proclamations of love.

“you’re perfect, so perfectly mine”, “my beautiful wife”, “does my little wife feel good? yeah?”, “i love you, i love you, i love you”, “so good to me, baby”, “gonna fill you up, gonna give you a baby. my wifey would look so pretty with a round belly”, “taking me so good. you’re amazing”, “all yours, baby. you’ve got every last bit of me”

[alexlwrites]

from my notes app:

Just picture it: Yoongi who just... never had a crush. Sure, he has felt attraction that sometimes evolved into something more through dates or other encounters. But a crush? Feet kicking, face blushing, giddy giggles? No, he couldn't say he ever experienced that.

Until you.

Until you showed up, a new manager at the company, and left him shaking in his disconcertingly large boots. You were bright, witty, charismatic and hard working and he stood there, arms hanging by his side awkwardly like a damn emoji, hovering around you unsure about what to do, what to say, how to act.

It was so frustrating! He never felt this way before and at 30 years old he felt as if he was going through a late puberty: voice cracking when he tried talking to you, waking up sweating from a dream way too realistic, poorly timed boners when he saw you walking around the office with skin tight pencil skirts.

His so called friend weren't making it any easier for him: Yoongi had officially become the butt of every joke as the members collectively regressed back to the 5th grade, murmuring everytime you showed up "here comes your wife, hyung, here comes Mrs. Suga".

Thankfully, you seemed unaware of their jabs, even as yoongi's pale cheeks blushed fiercely at the name.

He didn't know whether to be greatful or resentful for your obliviousness. On one side, you didn’t seem to hear the constant on going teasing from the other 6 raccoons he shared a band with, which saved yoongi from the swift death at the pearly hands of embarrassment, ripping his dramatic soul from his even more dramatic body.

On the other hand, you couldn’t seem to take a hint! He tried all of his best moves: standing there silently next to you, offering you a single tangerine, playing the guitar when you walked in whilst offering absolutely no explanation or context, even wearing his most scandalous, whorish outfit: a white tshirt that showed his collarbones instead of his usual 37 layers of clothing.

He didn't know how to make it any more obvious! Should he just take you against the wall of his studio (he totally should!, his lower brain unhelpfully provided as you once again strutted past him leaving him sniffing after your perfume like the fucking dog he was)?

He even tried asking his friends for advice, the lowest form of humiliation possible: Jungkook offered only baby oil and told him to lose a couple buttons. Hoseok made him couple matching beaded bracelets. And Namjoon, scorpio venus horndog, told him to actually go through with the wall taking idea.

Funnily enough, Jin was the one with the most plausible idea: give her a gift, bake her something! Homemade goods would show her how much you care.

So there he was, at thirty years old, holding onto a plate of cookies like a lifeline, cold sweating in front of your office, ready to flee the building and suck up those cookies like a hungry Kirby and mop in his own lameness like the international grammy nominee celebrity he was.

And then you opened the door and his body just reacted on his own, thrusting the plate towards you silently as his eyes screamed pure panic.

"For me?" You asked and he just nodded "Thank you so much, you are so sweet!"

Yoongi felt his lips curving and even without a mirror he could tell he had a dumbstruck smile on his face.

"What's the occasion?"

Ask her out, he urged himself. Tell her how you feel, how you can't stop thinking about her face, how her smile fuled his daydreams and her perfume haunts his days, bleeding into his psyche and sinking its claws into his heart, turning every song he wrote into a proclamation of adoration and lust, tell her how...

"Hm, for all y-your hard wo-work" he sputtered, mentally face palming himself at his own words.

Bugger.

Bugger it all to hell.

(Part 2>>>)

[wood-white-writer]

“Didn’t mean to make your heart Blue” || [1/…]

- OPLA!Buggy x F!Reader

“So, I don’t blame you if you want to bury me in your memories,”

— Mitski, "Goodbye, My Danish Sweetheart"

Pairing: Buggy the Clown (Live Action) x F!Reader

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Summary: You were an apprentice of Gol D. Roger’s crew in your youth, long before his eventual demise. Along with the Red-Haired Shanks and Buggy, you were a formidable trio; the embodiment of a new generation of pirates yet to come. But times changed, and so did you and your friends. Years have passed since you last saw Buggy following the dispute that you thought ended your friendship. When you finally reunite with the blue-haired menace you once considered your closest friend, it’s under less than “friendly” circumstances.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Canon Typical Violence, Slight Canon Divergence, Buggy is an asshole, The reader used to go by "Cross-Hairs" in the past.

A/N: I’m basing this primarily on the LA! version of “One Piece”, as I’ve just recently begun to watch the Anime.

Luffy, for his unyielding devotion towards his dreams of becoming the King of Pirates, evidently lacks the sense of foresight required of a pirate to successfully navigate the seven seas. Then again, it's nothing new.

You’ve always known. The kid's been a hazard to society even in his youth; no filter between his brain and his mouth despite the ungodly amount of food he pushes between his jaws. You used to watch him make his proclamations in front of Shanks' merry band with little more than vaguely piqued interest, indifferent to the youthful albeit naive optimism he exhibited.

Shanks, meanwhile, always used to find his demeanor endearing - “He’s a good kid. Let him dream,”

And so you let him. You watched him dream for the next ten years, making sure that his dreams didn't catch the wrong kind of attention until he was old enough to hold his own weight.

However, back then, Luffy's actions seldom warranted any real consequences. Save for the incident with the Bandit and the Sea King, he's rarely been in any real danger prior to his debut as a pirate.

An unruly child spouting declarations of desiring to become the next “King of Pirates” hardly would’ve caused more of a ripple effect than to make other people shake their heads and laugh. And if it did, you were there to make sure it didn’t.

Now, not only has his actions earned you the ire of the Marines by stealing the Map of the Grand Line, but it has also garnered the attention of other opponents. Far more dangerous ones than the likes of Alvida or even that Axe-Hand Moron.

It was only a matter of time.

So when you find yourself waking up in a wooden cage with the rest of your reluctant crew mates, accompanied by a head-throbbing headache at that, your first instinct is to heave an exasperated sigh.

"Goddamn it."

"Oh, you're up." It's Luffy. He looks unharmed, albeit disoriented, not too unlike yourself. "How're you feeling?"

"Like I just snorted a bottle of rum through my nostrils." You get up into a crouching position, eying your surroundings, which doesn't leave much up for inspection considering your cage consists of broad wide planks. "What the fuck happened?"

The last thing you recall before being knocked out was a Jolly Roger in the distance, too far away for you to make out properly. So, not Marines, but pirates.

You can't tell if that's a good or a bad thing.

"Think we wouldn't have told you if we knew?" The swordsman - Zoro - replies with a deadpan look of boredom on his face as he attempts to peek through the cracks in your confinement. You have half a mind to tell him where to shove it but opt for a more quiet approach.

It's during moments like these when you realize you actually miss that scrawny pink-haired kid with the glasses - Koby. He never spoke to you like this. Granted, he was probably intimidated by the way you were always hovering behind Luffy like a silent guardian, but he didn't provide unnecessary comments like Bounty Hunter over there does.

Small blessings and all that. Very small.

You provide a solid kick to the plank on Zoro's right side without warning, catching him off-guard and earning you a short-lived glare. The planks loosen considerably, probably not meant to contain you for long.

Meanwhile, you listen half-heartedly to Luffy and Nami as they discuss the potential identities of your captors.

"They're not marines," Luffy assures her. "Before I got knocked out, I saw a Jolly Roger. We've been captured by pirates."

You glance at him from over your shoulder. "What'd it look like?"

"I don't know, it looked ... like ..." he pauses in thought. "A skull with crossbones, and a red ... dot? It almost looked like a nose, if bones could have noses, but they don't."

The blood in your veins freezes up, as does the rest of your body until their voices blur into nothing.

You've been keeping occasional track of him in the years that's passed since you parted ways, and when he amounted to a considerable bounty on his head, his signature Jolly Roger was hard not to miss on his wanted posters.

-------

"I didn't know there were so many pirates."

You tilt your head at the wall decorated with various wanted posters of different pirates, some more torn and discoloured than others, some more dead than others. You can't find your own amongst them in Shells Town, but then again, it has been some time since last you were on the Marines' radar. More likely than not, your poster is hidden somewhere underneath the several layers of—

"Hey, there's yours!" Luffy damn-near exclaims in wonder and points at— Oh yeah, there it is, right above Foxy's poster, a little yellow around the edges but still holding strong.

WANTED Dead or Alive "Cross-Hairs" 25,000,000

"Oh, wow, a 25-million bounty. That's a lot of berries."

The image is well over a decade old, taken back in your early twenties, and you were much more easy to identify back then. You were sharper in some angles, softer in others, compared to the present.

You look different now. Less robust, a little older, but no less dangerous in the grand scheme of things. Your sharp eyes remain the same, a trait Gol D. used to remark upon with a mischievous glimmer in his own eyes.

"You have eyes sharp enough to cut through steele," he'd say and ruffle your hair. A sense of loss perforating your being at the memory.

Despite being in your thirties, age tends to alter the appearance of most people, and you consider that a pretty good advantage right about now as you're standing surrounded by an army of Marine officers. Given the fact that you've spent the last couple of years away from the sea without a trace or clue, the World Government probably assumes you've died or gone into hiding.

Be that as it may, they didn't even bother to decrease the bounty since last time. How odd.

While Luffy spends a few moments admiring your old picture like a child that just learned their relative is some kind of famous celebrity, Koby is less than enthralled by this revelation.

"T-That's one of the highest bounties in the East-Blue." He is hesitant to look up at you. "What did ... What did you do to earn it?"

"A little here, a little there. Kicked a few asses, stole a bit of treasure along the way. Nothing too bad." You admit with a half-assed shrug as you continue to inspect the various posters.

For the boy's peace of mind, you won't go into the less ... child-friendly details regarding your reputation. About the way you used to fight to the blood with most of your opponents, Marines and pirates in equal measure. How you'd stand victorious atop a pile of broken limbs and pleading sounds from the defeated crowd.

"Yeah, yeah ..." Koby agrees with a feeble nod. "There are way worse pirates on the Grand Line."

Your gaze happens upon a particular wanted poster, and your demeanor stiffens. Not enough to notice from an ordinary point of view, but it does nonetheless.

His sharp cerulean eyes and bright red nose seem to mock you from his picture, and a heavy feeling settles in your heart. A feeling of hurt and betrayal you've long since thought abandoned in the corners of your heart. Not even the loss of your old captain could hope to compare to it

You snap back to Luffy, your voice a little strained as you speak though you desperately try to cover it up. "Are we done here, Luffy?"

------

It's your fucking luck it had to be him of all people to come after Luffy first.

Why him?

Fuuuuuu—

"We don't need to fight." Luffy's voice snaps you back to the present. "I can talk to them, pirate to pirate."

"Not with this one," you whisper more to yourself than anyone else. The only one who seems to catch onto this is Zoro, but the moment he opens his mouth to ask, Nami beats him to it.

A discussion regarding the duality of piracy quickly causes you to lose all interest in the following sequence.

You don't trust either the thief or the bounty hunter as far as you can throw them, and the feeling is mutual in both parts. Sure, they proved useful in getting rid of the Axe-Hand, and have had thus far been tolerable enough for you not to throw them overboard.

Still, Zoro recognized you on the spot where the Marines failed to, and though Nami doesn't, your status as a pirate is enough reason for her to distrust you.

As mentioned, you don't trust them, but Luffy does, and his lead is the only one you'll follow. This is his voyage, and you’re not here to keep him from making mistakes unless you consider them particularly vital. If this bites him in the end, then you'll be there to keep him afloat.

After all, you made a promise to your old red-haired friend.

"Look after the lad for me, will you? Help him achieve his dream."

With no patience left to wait to get the fuck out of here as quickly as possible, you prepare to kick through the planks. Just then, the top piece of your confinements unfold, and what you're greeted with is the pinpoint definiton of a fever dream on acid.

Tightrope walkers swinging in the air, acrobatics performing acts of impressive feats, someone fire-breathing, and-- was that a guy juggling on a unicycle passing you just now?

A circus troupe. You've been captured by a fucking circus troupe.

"Oh, what the actual fuck?" Is all you can manage to mutter, a sentiment Zoro surprisingly agrees with if the nod he adds serves as any indication.

The troupe has an audience, you come to observe in the distance. They're clapping and cheering on cue with the sign being held in the air, yet they look ... wrong. Forced. Puppets with strings embedded in their limbs, so to speak.

You narrow your eyes in distaste at the view. The hell has he been up to as of late?

In the midst of the enforced round of applause, a voice gradually makes itself more and more prominent through the masses. Deeper and huskier since last you heard it, but yet painfully known to your ears.

"No, no, no, NO! Stop clapping!"

And then he appears. The ringleader himself, exasperated as he throws his arms out to each side and effectively silencing the crowd.

"No, stop! This is all wrong!"

You momentarily forget to breathe as you watch him come into view from behind the audience. He's taller than the last you saw him, that's for damn certain. Must've hit a second growth spurt in your absence because, while you were relatively on equal foot in your youth, he now seems to have grown a head or so taller than yourself.

And like yourself, he's changed, and not inherently for the better. It's a relative statement considering that the life of a pirate is oftentimes a hard one, but it's a fact nonetheless. The years have not been any kinder to him than they've been for yourself. He still has the same hair, the same general appearance, but he's changed.

Out of the three of you, Shanks seems to have had it the easiest in recent years, appearance-wise. He never lost his smile or affinity for the brighter things in life, even when he had his damn arm chewed off.

Meanwhile, you lost your dreams, and he seems to have lost everything you recognized about him in your youth. His smile, his laughter, and even his stance had been replaced by some replica that fails to hold a candle to the original one.

This is a show master, not your friend. Then again, you haven't been friends for a long time now.

Still, changed as he may be from an outward point of view, Buggy's eyes have not. They're clear like the seas, just as they were long ago. (And his nose, of course. How could you forget?).

You can't tell if that's a relief yet.

You're not a fearful person by nature, having lost the distinct ability years ago. Now, however, you feel the tremors vibrating through your ribcage at the sight of him. That's why you decide to turn your face slightly to the side for now, hoping to prolong the inevitable.

Fortunately, your presence evades Buggy's notice for just a while longer as he berates his crew. "The spotlight was late! You completely missed my entrance!"

The sound of said spotlight changing its focus can be heard.

"And where, oh where, was the dancing lion?"

Good! While he's occupied, maybe you can find the right moment to grab Luffy and get the hell--

"Hey! I know you! I saw your wanted poster in Shells Town!"

... You want to dig a hole in the sand and bury yourself right about now.

"You're the clown guy! Uhm ... Binky, right?"

Buggy, you scream inside as you suppress the urge to yank Luffy by the shoulders and shake him until all of his limbs drop down on the ground. Fuck Shanks and fuck the promise. He's Buggy the fucking Clown, and you did not have to go out of your way to pinpoint that fact!

In your internal state of dismay, you settle with trying to locate potential escape routes. Maybe a hole in the walls of the tent, or an absent-minded guard by the entrance. You're stronger than most, with years of experience behind you, but you're not capable of fighting your way through a crowd with three tagalongs so seamlessly.

"Buggy," the man of the hour states as he approaches, still having failed to notice you. "Buggy the Clown."

No one says anything, which he takes as a sign to continue on with - what you personally regard - as a moronic long line of titles.

"Buggy, the Flashy Fool." Still nothing. He raises his arms, like a lost puppy begging for scraps of recognition. "Buggy, the Genius Jester."

Seriously, what's with him and all the names? He’s always been … overdramatic, but this cuts the cake even for him.

"Wow," Luffy seems genuinely impressed, a stark contrast to his companions, who would rather be anywhere than here. "You have a lot of names. I bet everyone in the East Blue knows who you are."

A range of gasps echo from the unwilling audience, and you finally snap your head to the front in alarm. Fuck, he couldn't have used a better word than that. Granted, Luffy didn't mean it in that context, or even that word, but it doesn't matter.

Another thing that hasn't changed about Buggy... And that very same thing might as well be what snaps him out of his theatric act.

You thought Buggy finally would've noticed you by now, seeing it as you're finally willing to face him, but his eyes remain eerily glued to the kid.

"What did you just say?" Buggy asks, calmly.

Way too calmly for your liking.

Oh, no.

Luffy blinks in confusion. "Just that everyone knows who you are?"

You notice the clown lunging before Luffy does.

In the span of a second, you plant yourself between them, the only barrier between him and the clown's rage. You don't move an inch even as Buggy closes in with his gloved hand outstretched towards the boy, having not yet registered your sudden appearance until his fingers are inches from your face.

Your eyes finally lock, the blue in his eyes more prominent now than ever. Almost two decades since the last time you saw each other, and Buggy ceases his attempted assault as though time itself freezes.

At first, there is nothing in his eyes but surprise. Anger. Maybe even a trace of admiration towards the one who dared stand against him. Hot and burning beneath his irises, like glowing embers left behind in a dying pyre.

Finally, there is recognition, and the fire reignites warmer and scorching more than ever before.

He doesn't say anything at first, and neither do you, but the glare in your eyes conveys the message loudly enough that even the performers and troupe members alike know not to interfere.

"Leave him be."

You think of what to say, what you can say, after years of being silent. A simple “Hi” will not suffice, and considering the way of which you parted, there is little room for confessions.

Then, Buggy begins to laugh.

It starts out as a whisper of a chuckle, then gradually develops until he's full-out holding his stomach in wheezes, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes and smudging his make-up.

He points his arm up as he tries to contain himself, and the guy holding the APPLAUSE-sign picks up on the subliminal message. Everyone in the place begins to laugh, both the captives and the captors, so loudly this time that it makes you feel small in a way you haven’t felt since you were a child.

You glance cautiously around yourself, sharing brief looks with your companions before the noises abruptly stop, having most likely been forced to do so.

When you look back at Buggy again, he's smiling wider than ever, but his eyes hold no genuine humor. No, there's an unidentifiable emotion swirling in the depths of his blue eyes that you fail to decipher before he speaks.

"Well, well, well! Isn't this an unexpected surprise?" He raises his arm to gesture to you, as if you're an exotic exhibition behind a display case for everyone to behold. The spotlight is now aimed at you, momentarily blinding your vision.

"Ladies and gentlemen! It is my honor to present to you, the one and only, the myth, the legendary 'Cross-Hairs'! The Beast of the East!"

Applause rings again in the air as Buggy continues.

"She was famous throughout all of East Blue for her many endeavors, with a bounty greater than even yours flashy truly." Admitting that fact looks like it physically hurt him, but he prevails. "And then, almost ten years ago, after her biggest heist yet, she just POOFS!" He snaps his fingers and lets them slowly decline for dramatic effect. "Vanishes out of the blue. Leaving the seas for an unforeseen amount of time."

It would seem like you were keeping track of each other all along.

The next words Buggy utters are so hushed that only you hear them, and his smile is gone.

"Then again, you do have a track-record of leaving things behind, haven’t you?"

Oh, the fucking nerve of this guy. You take a step forward, clenching and unclenching you jaw so much your teeth feel on the bring of cracking. How dare he? How fucking dare he?

You’re about to shout back at him, argue, throwing every caution to the wind just to correct him and scream:

("You're the one who left me, remember?")

Before you can, something taps your right shoulder. Thinking it's Luffy, you turn around, and the last thing you recall before it all fades to black is an air of red dust clouding your vision.

[thepixelelf]

warnings: coarse language. mingyu is jealous but doesn't know it. fake dating; roommates; childhood f2l. wc: 902

love triangle au requests

read part 1 first

[who's this guy who's everything I'm not? 2] There's a universe out there where Kim Mingyu is able to understand himself perfectly, knows exactly what he wants, and figures it all out right on time instead of when it's already too late.

But that universe isn't this one.

No, in this world, Mingyu blinks like an idiot when you go, "This is Jihoon. I've probably mentioned him before." He blinks and he straightens up and in his mind, he's kicking himself because of course he knows who this guy is.

He wishes he didn't, but yeah, he knows about your friend Jihoon.

Jihoon is the guy who wrote you a handmade valentine in eighth grade, well after most of the boys decided that kind of stuff was gross. (Although you're certain he has no idea you know it was him.) This, you told Mingyu with a smile on your face as you walked him out of his company's Valentine's Day Ritz. You recounted that sweet little childhood friendship story with your arm looped through Mingyu's while he smiled and nodded and chuckled, but mostly he kept glancing at the shiny rings on both of your fingers. They're simple bands, his a little more worn since he takes it to work every day, yours exactly the condition it was when he surprised you with it. "You're in too deep, Mingyu," you'd said through a hypnotic laugh when he went down on one knee in the kitchen you share -- before agreeing to go along with his ruse anyway.

Your ring stays pristine because when you're not playing his better half, it lives in this little ceramic dish in the cubbyhole near the front door. You love that little dish -- it stole your heart when you spotted it and its black cat pattern at the local art market you went to together. Mingyu might like it too, seeing how he smiles at it (or maybe the ring) every time he leaves or comes home.

Which could mean anything.

This guy in front of him bristled at Mingyu's proclamation of "husband," metaphorical hackles raised, like a... black cat.

Fuck.

"Haha, uhm, anyways..." Mingyu had put his hand out instinctively, but when the guy doesn't reciprocate, it's fine. He didn't want to shake your friend Jihoon's hand, really. "Did you want to come in?"

Your touch on Jihoon's arm becomes preemptively supportive, like the guy could keel over at any moment, and for unknown reasons, Mingyu wants to be the one who's gone pale. To be the one you're touching while your friend Jihoon watches on from the sidelines.

Which could mean anything.

Because your friend Jihoon is only the guy walking into his home -- your home, yours and Mingyu's home, the home where his and your wedding/non-wedding bands live in a cute little dish in the cubbyhole near the front door. He's only the guy who had a weird depressive/ghosting episode the last time you were in a completely fake relationship to save some guy's ass. You told Mingyu this with your brows furrowed and a cute, confused pout on your lips as you wondered why your old friend was acting that way back then, right after you agreed to come to Mingyu's high school reunion with that ring on your finger.

Of course, Mingyu would normally never ask you to join him for an event outside of his company -- and you actually only agreed to pop in for a few minutes -- but one of his coworkers happens to be in a relationship with someone from his graduating class, and word got around and...well. He just likes when you're with him.

Which could mean anything.

Internally, when you told that one story about "my friend Jihoon" (one of many, many anecdotes), Mingyu was sure he knew exactly why the guy went oddly quiet after you started "dating" someone he wasn't, but he didn't comment on it. Instead, he asked what food from the reunion you'd want him to save for you when you show up.

Now, Mingyu doesn't have the luxury of brushing off some friend from your past who may or may not have absolutely definitely no-doubt-about-it had a thing for you. He can't just blow past it because that childhood friend is standing in his kitchen, eyes locked with yours over the huge glass of water he's chugging because you asked him to.

And you're laughing, endeared and with a sparkle in your eyes that Mingyu isn't sure if he's ever seen before.

You pat your friend Jihoon's head. A silent, good job, which Mingyu can't help watching.

He thought that was his and your thing.

The habit must've come from when you were younger...

Mingyu stands there, off to the side and feeling out of place in his own home.

My old friend Jihoon hates this stuff, but I'm obsessed with it. Jihoon, my friend from my hometown, once said I made the best belgian waffles, so you can trust me with the iron, I swear. You don't drink? My friend Jihoon doesn't either -- but not because he's sober or anything -- he's just got a major sweet tooth.

Oh, this is Jihoon's favourite song.

You go to the fridge to find something for your friend to eat, and while your back is turned, Jihoon looks over at Mingyu.

It's like an x-ray. Somehow, Jihoon's eyes land on him, and he feels bared to the world.

Mingyu knows Jihoon is in love with you. Could tell as soon as he saw him.

But, he realizes as your friend furrows his brow and looks at him with thinly veiled jealousy...

...Jihoon knows Mingyu is in love with you, too.

[warlocksoup]

── .✦ FULL: IWAIZUMI HAJIME ── .✦

CHAPTER FIVE: changes

Iwaizumi constantly feels like the rug is about to be pulled out from underneath him. 

She’s sitting cross-legged under the sun that pours in from her window, and she looks beautiful. Iwaizumi can’t stop looking at her, and thinking about whether or not she’s going to leave him. It taints the way a light summer breeze flows in through her window, how the cicadas chirp, and the way her skin looks under the sunlight, but he can’t help himself. She’s been gone before, he figures, she could be gone again. 

Half-full boxes are littered about her room, filled with old childhood books and mismatched socks and bottles of cheap perfume. Iwaizumi wraps one of them closed with packing tape. 

Her and Akaashi had talked, a lengthy conversation that Iwaizumi was not a part of, and decided it would be better if she moved out, lived with Yukie for a bit, got away from him. They don’t know if they’re going to stay friends. Iwaizumi can’t decide how he feels about this, if her eagerness to step away from him is a good sign, or if her inability to be near Akaashi is something that should make him worried. 

He decides not to think about it too much. 

“Thanks for helping me move,” she says to him, breaking the soft silence that settled between them. She stacks a few hardcover books into a box, and Iwaizumi knows he’ll end up carrying it. “I really appreciate it.” 

“”S no problem,” Iwaizumi replies, his eyes watching her hands. “Oikawa’s been wanting to go furniture shopping, so it’s a good excuse to say no. And, y’know, I just wanna help you.” 

She smiles, eyes briefly flashing up to him. “Yeah, I know you do.” 

He was needy, for a while. It was probably too much for her to put up with, but she put up with it. The texts he sent late at night, asking if she was sure about him. The cloying way he would grab at her, holding her close to his side like someone was coming to take her away from him. Constantly asking her to repeat herself, to tell him she loves him, and really, truly means it. 

But she put up with it. She watched the way insecurity would wash over him, tensing him, making him recoil, and she would take his hand, rubbing circles into his palm until he eased. She returned every text, fell into every embrace, told him repeatedly and eagerly that yes, she does love him, and yes, she means it. 

And even still, he doubts her.

She stands, and she interlocks her fingers above her head and leans back to stretch. Iwaizumi watches as the bottom of her shirt lifts to reveal her midriff. “I’m gonna go bring some of these out to the car. I need to stretch my legs.” 

“Save the heavy boxes for me,” Iwaizumi remarks, and she bends down to pick up one, filled with posters and picture frames. 

She smiles. “You know I will,” she tells him, and takes carefully placed steps out of her bedroom, heading for his car that’s parked on the street. 

And then Iwaizumi’s there, alone, sitting on the floor of her bedroom. He looks around. It’s bare now, free of photos of her and her friends, free of posters of bands she likes and shows she’s been too, free of her. It was like this the first time Iwaizumi was there, too. 

She had just moved in, when Iwaizumi first met her, and hadn’t left her mark on the walls yet. When he had kissed her then, for the first time, he thought he had never tasted anything like her. Maybe it was then, that first night, when Iwaizumi knew she was it for him. 

Iwaizumi stands. The wooden floorboards creak when he moves. Iwaizumi loves her, he’s always loved her, and he starts to wonder, surrounded by her packed up belongings, when it will be enough for him. 

It wasn’t enough to spend almost every weekend taking up space in her bed, leaving trails of kisses down her neck. It wasn’t enough to be the one that she called when she needed someone. It wasn’t enough to have her stay with him. And it’s not enough now, even with her constant proclamations of love, to ease the ache in his chest, to quell his desire for more.

He looks down at the boxes beneath him. Things are changing for her, now. And now that his thoughts are in a downwards spiral, he asks himself if they’re going to change with him, too. If it won’t be enough for her, if things will have to change, if she’ll disappear again. There’s this knot of dread that settles in the bottom of his stomach, and he thinks about it again. Her leaving him, what it would look like, how it would break him.

“Haji.” 

He turns. He sees her standing in the doorway for just a second before she approaches him, taking long strides until her arms are around his waist and her head is resting on his shoulder. His arms go around her automatically, hand splaying across the center of her back. 

She’s warm in his arms, and it makes his heartbeat slow down, feel at ease. “I love you,” she says into his chest, unprompted, just because she wanted to. 

His thumb draws circles on top of her back, and Iwaizumi figures that it’s enough. Whatever they have, it’s enough for now. 

an: special thank you to @nekozaki this is 100% dedicated to u ellie because when i say you inspired me and motivated me to actually finish this fic i mean it and i already rambled to you about it i just feel the need to say thank you again and ily <3

also i’m lowkey pretty sad to be finishing full but like i said it’s time for yn and iwa to rest and i had so much fun writing this series :,) thank you all for reading

taglist: @spicana @akaashislovee @angee444 @wyrcan @mysteriousballer1na @socoolsocoolsocool @localgaytrainwreck @kameyyy @Kr1nqu @katctm @shoujoromancelover @Geektastic84 @brilliantshoyo @nattyluvs @r4veeen @ghostreader0307 @renardiererin @bakingcuriosity @chaloume @angelichwv @amanimoon @gigiiiiilife @s777athv @acowboykisser @charlotterosea13 @mdmraz @asrichin @justtoblivious2u @exologys @kodzu-ken @scarveen @gigiiiiislife @ashyiiy @bae-ashlynn @fandomsfanficsfantasize @rowensboat @mybelovedvi @lunaarorbiter

[descent-angel]

Californian hunger

[canyourlawnmowerdothis]

why did god curse us with sentience and brendon urie

[dailyadventureprompts]

Monsterhunt: Neiglus, Slagwrought Inscriptor

Artist

The grotesque result of an attempt to use ritual necromancy to resurrect a long dead titan of fire, this corrupted elemental is more than simply a horror, it is a threat to the primordial foundations of the world.

Challenges & Complications:

Though they began as pilgrims and outcasts, the fire genasi band known as the Ashmourn raiders have become galvanized into a fanatical cult, striking across the landscape first for resources, then for the components required for their leader's ill-conceived "miracle" leaving raided druidic vaults and wildfires in their wake. The party could be tasked with finding or foiling any one of these thefts or disasters, but it will hit the most hard if the target is someone they already care about.

Despite being created to give the Ashmourn the power they long felt denied, the abomination has little interest in helping the raiders restore the glory of their ancestors, or carve out territory beyond the volcanic wasteland they were exiled to. Instead it is as much a danger to its followers as it was to the enemies they made it to fight, malformed as it was by its summoner's grandiose self importance. That same summoner, the cult's leader, now desperately searches for a means of controlling the creature before its rampages destroy their following's faith in them.

The titan that Neiglus exits in mockery of had a mastery over the oracular arts, and her future-defining prophecies were etched into the walls of her tomb. Through the distortion and desecration of these texts, the cultists were able to create a world where their titan WOULD return, though the process left her warped beyond recognition. Worse yet, the abomination they created retains the titan's ability to perceive and influence the future, and it madly scribes these rambled proclamations into any surface (or being) within reach, sowing chaos into the world with every grating scratch. Storms of molten lead, the invasion of armies from realms that never existed, If the inscriptor is not stopped and its ramblings destroyed, the threads of fate themselves may catch ablaze.

[zeroeightzeroone]

lover of mine - bang chan

genre: angst, hurt/comfort

pairings: idol!bang chan x female reader

warnings: none

notes: if this looks familiar, it was originally posted to my secondary blog @zerothreetwentyfive so i'm republishing everything here on my main blog.

wc ~3k|moodboard

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ｡ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:

"i'll never give you away, 'cause i've already made that mistake,

if my name never fell off your lips again, i know it'd be such a shame.

when i take a look at my life, and all of my crimes, you're the only thing that I think I got right."

lover of mine - 5 seconds of summer

you always thought that the next time chan would be making you cry would be at your wedding ceremony.

initially, you would try to hold in your tears, just enough so that you weren't full-on sobbing and ruining your makeup. eventually failing as the tears flow freely listening to the man tell you the moment he fell in love with you, the moment he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you and the promises he vows to keep forever. chan's eyes would never leave yours as you exchanged vows; in that moment, only you and chan existed, the proclamation and celebration of your love were the only things that mattered.

instead, here you are crying over chan. sitting in the driver's seat of your car, sobbing over the man who once said he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, now not wanting to fight for that future anymore.

…

"you're doing it again."

the sound of your best friend's voice snaps you out of your thoughts, attention now on the girl sitting across from you, "huh?"

she reaches over and places her hand on yours with a sympathetic smile on her face. no words are needed from her to make you realize what you were doing whilst zoning out; fiddling around with your ring finger. a habit you picked up after chan proposed, and a habit that hadn't changed even without the band on your finger; your fingers instinctively moving to spin and twist a non-existent ring.

"right," you clear your throat awkwardly.

your hands slipping out from under hers, sliding them under your thighs hoping that maybe sitting on your hands would work against the habit.

"how are you?"

the word 'lost' feels like an understatement. the word couldn't encapsulate even a quarter of your feelings.

you felt directionless, overwhelmed by the constant switch between emotions: anger, frustration, sadness, and denial, it left you exhausted. day by day, you only grew more emotionally drained, the desire to feel nothing only intensifying.

the mere thought of the dimpled man gave you whiplash, your heart and your head conflicting with each other and your feelings pulling you from one end to the other. you couldn't pinpoint exactly how you felt about him.

god, you wished that you didn't even think about him.

you wished that you weren't plagued by the thought of him at every waking moment. everything reminded you of him, everything brought you back to the memory of how easy it was for him to let you, the person he proclaimed to want to spend the rest of his life with, to watch them walk out the door, to just give up without a fight.

why couldn't it have been easy for you too? why couldn't you just let him go the way he did you? forget him like he meant absolutely nothing?

as much as you wished it was, you knew it wouldn't be easy to move on from chan.

your early adulthood started with chan, moving in with him almost a year and a half after you started dating. he became a part of your routine and you became part of his; there was a time when your day didn't feel complete without hearing a goodnight from him or getting that goodnight kiss. your lives were intertwined, and your future plans were intertwined.

you believed chan was your future. he made you believe that you would write the next chapters of your lives together, that you two would be side by side on the road to forever. you envisioned your future with chan, without him you've hit a crossroads, struggling to navigate where to go from here. you were scared.

scared to learn what the future holds for you, scared to take a step towards a future without him.

on top of all that came public attention.

the news about your breakup hadn't been confirmed by chan or jyp entertainment. regardless that didn't stop the speculations and rumours that came with the lack of seeing you and chan in public together, seeing you without your ring, and other proofs fans would dig up. the algorithm also working against you as whenever you refreshed social media, the first couple of posts would be news articles, headlines and what have you, discussing the speculations.

'did stray kids' bang chan and his long term girlfriend call it quits?'

'fans of stray kids speculate bang chan and his partner have called off the engagement'

'netizens react to alleged proofs that bang chan and long term girlfriend have split up'

'breaking: did stray kids' bang chan and girlfriend split up? here's why fans are wondering about the status of the long-term couple'

your comments were flooded with questions regarding the rumours, mourning fans hoping that they were baseless and haters congratulating you on setting the man free. you wondered why the news hadn't been spoken about by chan or any official representatives but the speculations drove you to log out of social media. the realization that one day the articles and headlines will change from 'speculations' to 'confirmations' the anticipation and anxiety driving you insane.

you look back up to your friend, your lips pursed together in a small smile as you reply:

"i'm fine."

…

"chan hyung!"

the boy pulls the pillow up and over his head, trying to block out the noises from outside the door. hoping that the longer he ignored, the realization that he wanted to be alone would sink in and everyone would leave him be. that hope was short-lived as the door swung open.

"chan hyung!" changbin calls from his spot at the door, "you need to eat something."

from where he's standing, changbin watches chan groan out a response from under the pillow, making no effort to get up and go eat something. changbin's eyes drift to the older boy's bedside table, a picture frame is lying face down (probably a photo of you), and sitting on top of the frame is a gold band with a large diamond: your engagement ring. the sight of the band sitting on chan's bedside table and not on your finger has a small frown adorning changbin's lips.

"hyung, i know it's hard but please. you need to take care of yourself too," the younger boy sighs, "locking yourself in your room won't do anyone good."

of course, it wasn't easy for them to see chan in such a state.

chan had always been the one putting up a strong front, walking around with his head up no matter the circumstances as the leader. but these past couple of weeks, whenever chan was out of the public eye he'd walk with his head down, dragging his feet, no words leaving him. almost like he's being forced to be anywhere outside of his bedroom.

the members in the other dorm were curious about their leader, wondering how he'd been holding up but chan stopped replying to the group chat. it got to the point where the members made a chat without chan, using that to ask jisung, changbin and hyunjin how the older one was doing.

for as long as you were in chan's life, you were also in the member's lives. the news of the breakup came as a shock to them as well. they were all curious as to how you were doing too, but were hesitant to ask you directly for fear of making things harder for you. you met all of them through chan, and seeing their names pop up on your phone may just be another reminder of your ex.

changbin's eyes are on chan as the older boy takes the pillow off his head, slowly sitting up on the bed, feet hitting the floor but making no move to stand up. instead he's slouched over, head in his hands and sighing.

"do you, uh…" chan's voice barely above a whisper, "do you think i made a mistake?"

changbin shuts the door behind him hearing chan's question, realizing right now his friend needed someone to talk to before, maybe, going to eat something.

leaning against the door, he replies, "what do you mean?"

"w– was proposing… a mistake?"

"do you feel like it was a mistake?"

chan shakes his head, "no."

"did you mean everything you said when you proposed?"

"yes."

"then it wasn't a mistake."

chan lifts his head out of his hands, head turning to the younger boy leaning at the door. even in the dim purple lighting of chan's room, changbin can see how glossy his eyes are, how the bags under his eyes have gotten more prominent since yesterday.

"was… was letting her go," chan's voice shaky, "a mistake?"

changbin pushes himself off the door, making his way to sit next to his hyung on the bed. a comforting hand moving to chan's back.

"that's a question only you can answer," changbin's lips are pursed to one side, a sympathetic look in his eyes as he continues, "did it feel like a mistake at the time?"

"i- i thought i was doing the right… thing," chan's voice pitches higher at the end, questioning his own answer, "when i came home, an–and saw the dinner table, full of food she made for us. when she told me everything she was feeling, the look i-in her eyes."

chan loves your eyes, it's by far his favourite thing about you.

looking into your eyes had him falling in love with you before he even knew it. looking into them made it feel as if he was looking into your soul, almost like your eyes could tell him what your words couldn't. chan's day would immediately be flipped upside down just at the sight of your eyes, a shitty day becoming the best day when he caught a glimpse of those radiant, warm pools of life, your eyes sparkling with a zest and excitement for life that sent a wave of comfort over him. whenever he looked at you, that glimmer of hope in your eyes made him feel like everything would be okay.

but that night, the look in your eyes that night is seared into chan's memory. haunting him whenever he closes his eyes, whenever his eyes fall on your ring sitting on his bedside table.

that night when you told him just how lonely you'd been feeling, how you felt like he was treating you like the help and not as his fiancé; those words knocked some sense into chan. the harsh reality glaring him down: he had been falling short in your relationship. he had been so blind to that fact for who knows how long, listening to you had chan wallowing in guilt.

at one point chan felt like he was a third person watching everything go down, but it felt like he was watching you and a whole different person. he wondered why he wasn't saying anything, why he couldn't move, why he couldn't feel anything other than guilt eating him alive.

when he looked into your eyes, that's when everything came crashing down.

the eyes that once gleamed up at him, washing a wave of comfort and reassurance through his body were boring into his own. the contrast had his blood running cold. the sight of your hollow and dull orbs gazing up at him, even the sources of light around you did nothing to bring back that sparkle. the way your eyes looked incredibly sunken in, tired, swimming with distress as they searched his. he wondered how he hadn't seen the change before.

a change that happened because of him. the light in your eyes is gone all thanks to him. he wanted to be the one to preserve and make sure your eyes light up for the rest of your life, but instead he's the reason you look defeated. he couldn't handle the guilt eating him up at the sight.

"i-i broke her," chan whispers, "you could see it in her eyes how my shortcomings, the ones i was too blind and stupid to notice… that broke her. i broke her."

changbin doesn't say anything.

"i thought it would be better for me to let her go… get her away from me who was sucking the life out of her," chan's hands run through his hair, "she deserves so much more than me."

the older boy cries. his thoughts, feelings, everything just clouded with you.

"hyung," changbin's tone is soft, feeling out the atmosphere, "don't you think that it's sucking the life out of her even more, to be away from you?"

this time chan is the one who doesn't say anything.

"she wanted you to stay, she wanted you to convince her to stay."

"convince me to stay… please."

"i'm sorry."

"yes. from what you told us the day after you broke up, she does deserve better."

changbin's words send a dagger to chan's heart.

"but don't you want to be the one she deserves?"

chan's head turns to look at changbin.

"you need to work to be better, to be the one y/n deserves. that's what she wants, she wants you hyung."

"… m-me?"

"she wouldn't have said yes to marrying you if she didn't want you for the rest of her life."

…

your plan for the day was to wake up around noon, order some takeout or ransack your best friend's freezer for some food (and ice cream), chill on the couch and watch some netflix. instead you're jolted awake, at ten in the morning, by pounding at the front door.

rolling your eyes in annoyance, stretching your arm out, feeling around before grasping a pillow and clutching it over your head, trying your hardest to block out the noises and fall asleep. hoping the longer you hold out, it will give off the illusion that no one's home and come back later. a couple moments pass, a sigh of relief falls from your lips when the knocking stops, allowing you to loosen your grip on the pillow around your head.

maybe the neighbours got annoyed and kicked whoever that was out.

at the silence, you roll onto your side and shift your body around to get comfortable in the mattress. another long breath leaving your lips once that optimal position to fall asleep in is found, closing your eyes and getting ready to be lulled back into dreamland.

now you think someone is fucking with you.

the knocking starts up again, for a second you thought you'd fallen asleep and the knocking was continuing in your dreams but no. sadly, you weren't lulled back into dreamland like you hoped, the pounding in your head making it apparent that this was indeed, reality.

on top of all the things happening in your life lately, being woken up by a stranger relentlessly hammering the life out of their fist on your– actually, your best friend's– door is the kicker to a great day. a whine leaving your lips as you roll out of bed, pouting as you trudge to the door of the guest bedroom and continue your trek down the hall, towards the front door.

sure, you wouldn't have minded if your best friend, the person who lives in this unit, was actually home to answer the door. alas, she's at work whilst you're here; straightening out your pyjamas and plastering the fakest smile on your lips whilst you undo the locks, twisting the doorknob and swinging the door open.

"hello, mis—"

your jaw drops. posture immediately straightening due to the wave of tension that rushes through your veins, your mind comes up with two options: hide behind the door or run. your heart begins to race in your chest, tears threatening to spill at any moment but your feet are cemented to the ground. any urge you had to run away and hide quickly depleting at the sight of the man in front of you, a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

"chan… wh-what are you doing here?"

there he is: the man of the hour.

in front of you, in the flesh. standing a couple inches away from you clad in his usual all-black attire. you're avoiding his gaze but can't seem to pry your eyes off the bouquet in the man's hold.

a medley of red and white roses, baby's breath peeking throughout the arrangement.

"i- i needed to see you," chan's voice comes out husky.

shifting awkwardly on your feet, you sigh, "how did you know i was here?"

"multiple calls to your best friend and a long speech," he uses his free hand to scratch at the back of his neck, a nervous smile on his lips.

'she's getting a long speech from me too.'

"okay, well…" you clear your throat, "you saw me so bye."

you go to shut the door but chan stumbles forward, holding it open as he stands in the doorframe. the gush of air from his sudden movements gives you a whiff of his cologne. that along with the closer proximity has a lump forming in your throat.

"w-wait, i wanted to talk too."

"y-you spoke and so did i so, bye," you choke out, trying to close the door again but to no avail as his body blocks your way, "please chan, what more do you want from me? don't make this harder for me."

chan reaches forward at the sight of a tear falling, wanting to wipe it away but you flinch away from his touch. your reaction has chan recoiling, he shifts awkwardly on his feet. you go to turn away from him.

"i made a mistake," he states, his words coming out rushed.

you gulp, angling your body towards the man again. this time your arms crossed over your chest, your gaze still falling away from his face. chan's throat clears when he realizes that you're not going to speak.

"that night, i shouldn't have let you go," he continues, "i should've told you, said something, said anything to convince you to stay… but… fuck. i- i was scared."

your eyes glance up at his face, only to look away just as quickly.

"you're probably thinking, of what?" chan runs a hand through his hair, "but listening to everything you said, everything that i was stupid, ignorant enough not to notice, all those things that i did– or, uh didn't do… that hurt you. it scared me to tell you i wanted you to stay."

your eyebrows furrow in frustration, this time your gaze stays on his face, making no move to wipe the tears running down your cheeks.

"listening to you, hearing how much i hurt you. i- i thought it would've been selfish of me to tell you to stay," chan's voice cracks, tears falling from his eyes as well, "i thought i would hurt you more if you stayed… that you didn't deserve that, y-you deserved so much more than me."

"god, chan.…" a bitter smile on your lips, "you saying nothing, letting me leave… a-and not fighting for me, for us! fuck… that hurt more than anything."

the memories of that night have your heart aching. whimpering as the tears continue to fall, the sight has chan's gradually getting heavier in his chest. he wants nothing but to pull you into his arms and to never let go.

"i know… i know. baby, i'm so sorry," chan's cheeks are soaked with tears but he makes no effort to wipe them away, "i'm so fucking sorry. i thought i was doing what was best for you, but i fucked up, i fucked up big time."

your eyes lock with chan's. glossy, tear-filled orbs gazing into each other, at that moment the tears only build until the both of you are crying a river in the hallway.

chan quite literally launches himself at you. throwing his arms around your body and pulling you into his chest. instinctively, your arms wrap around his torso, nuzzling your head into his shirt. bodies trembling and shaking as the both of you cry in each other's arms.

chan soaks up every single thing about this moment; the warmth of your body radiating onto him, your face nuzzled into his chest, the smell of your hair, the way your hands grip the back of his shirt, the feeling of your body pressed up against his. he isn't even sure that you'll take him back. regardless, he knows he wants to work his hardest to ensure he'll have you in his arms every day for the rest of his life.

in his arms, he holds the person who has been with him every step of the way and supported him day in and day out. the biggest mistakes chan ever made took place on that day: not convincing you to stay, not telling you how he loves you with his entire heart, and holding your engagement ring in his hand while he watched you walk out.

chan wants you to be so much more than just his past and present, he wants you to be his future, his forever. he's always wanted that but he failed at showing you, instead hurting you in ways he was completely ignorant of.

"i love you," chan cries, you can hear his heart racing in his chest, "i love you so much. if you let me, i'll work every single moment of every day to show you that. when i told you i wanted you for the rest of my life, i meant it. i mean it with my whole heart. i fucked up–majorly, but i swear to you! i swear i'll show you that i'm the one you deserve, that i can give you that life you deserve."

chan looks down at you, enveloped in his arms as your gaze naturally lifts to meet his eyes.

chan's heart skips a beat.

there it is.

that sparkle.

main masterlist

[dooberific]

Hiiiiiii!! Can I ask for Harumasa x Reader angst? They are lovers and the reader is also Harumasa's colleague. Then the reader got commissioned(?) to fight hollows but she got stuck in that place and (idk if they went to fight hollows alone but for this request, they have like underlings(?) that would go with them for the mission) the people/fighters that the reader went with to the hollows came back heavily injured and Harumasa saw that the reader is not there with them. That is all hehe, it's up to you if you want the reader to be found or if they would be a hollow and Harumasa has to fight them knowing that that is the reader (I'm a sucker for angst)

Take your time doing this request and stay healthy, dear author!

Anon….who hurt you on Christmas? 😭. Hope this is close to what you were envisioning!

❝ 𝘚𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘏𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 ❞

harumasa x afab!reader

genre: hurt no comfort, major character death

summary: it was supposed to be a routine mission, now he’s left to pick up the pieces

wc: 2.3k

There was a ring cut to your size. A thin and silver little band that lacked grandiose ornamentation. Diamonds and frills were never your thing after all, he could still see the little quirk in your lips at the memory of your colleagues rushing in with stones so large you thought them better fit for paperweights than proclamations of their belonging to another under the banner of love and marriage. “Practicality above all else,” you had claimed some months ago, thumbing at the simple band around your index finger. Your late mother’s ring.

He hoped you were the sentimental kind, your voice warbled over the line from the outpost in his ear as he smiled. “I’m just saying to be careful is all.” He asserted, fingers running aimlessly over the silver band resting in his palm. Your initials and his were cut into the inside. 

It was supposed to be your day off, the first you had taken in several months, but when H.A.N.D phoned you that they needed your section of the HSO to assemble for a rescue mission after a Defense Force team had vanished inside of Hollow Zero, well….you didn’t get the luxury of saying no, even if you were the Chief. 

“When am I not careful? Remember which one of us you’re talking to here, Haru.” You chided, the smile on your face so present he could hear it change the lilt of your voice. 

“Right, right, I’m talking to my beautiful, kind, intelligent and all around perfect girlfriend~” Though he hoped that title would be changing very soon, as he held the ring up to the light, the sun filtering through the window of your shared apartment dancing enticingly over its surface. 

You giggled in his ear, the sound warming him to the soul. He could practically see the way the corners of your eyes wrinkled in delight.  “That’s much better.”

The interference in the background of the call amplified, faint callings of your name cutting through the static. You sounded disappointed. “Sorry Haru, I gotta go.”

“It’s okay baby, duty calls. Just try to be home for dinner.”

“Wouldn’t miss a date night for the world, you better not peek in the closet while I’m gone! I want that dress to be a pleasant surprise later.” 

You fell quiet again as you pulled the receiver away from your mouth, yelling a response into the background. “They’re about to have an aneurysm over here,” you huffed. 

“I love you, Haru~”

“I love you too, (y/n)~”

That was a little after noon. It was now nearing midnight and the outpost was crawling with H.A.N.D uniforms and HSO stragglers. Countless outpost scientists shouldered through the crowd, chiming off readings and acting as if they just had a some great scientific breakthrough.

But you were still inside of Hollow Zero.

And H.A.N.D was beginning to withdraw. 

Even flashing his Section 6 badge failed to get him answers despite his insistence, earning little more than the shake of a head and a “this is above your paygrade, kid.”

They threatened to court martial  him if he kept accosting them. But they didn’t have you inside the Hollow like he did. The epitome of his happiness, the one he swore hung the moon and stars, his most constant companion, and the only one he could imagine waking up beside of until the day he expired. 

They didn’t have you, but they had the version of you that made their actions palatable. The “good soldier” and “valiant leader”. The slave to a public that didn’t care to know your name even as you shouldered their burdens as ceaselessly as atlas held the heavens. The one who signed up for a death job.

A chorus of shouts erupted, the flash of the medical units blazing to life under the white spotlights. 

Survivors.

He shouldered his way through the swell of the crowd with little regard for those he pushed aside. In a perfect world he would break from the crowd and see you standing there, a little worse for wear but alive and smiling like you just cheated the world. You would push past the medic teams as they chased you down to throw your arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his lips as you gloated playfully.

“See? What’d I tell you? Safe and sound.” 

But you weren’t there. A cluster of five soldiers stumbled through the outer bounds of the Hollow—no, those weren’t soldiers, they were members of your faction carrying the torn uniforms of Defense Force operatives. They dripped with blood and grime, corruption marring their skin as they limped out, half-dragging others.

“Hey!” He yelled over the roar of the crowd as he grabbed one of them by the shoulder. His name badge shined under the lights. Kimura.

 “Where’s your chief?”

The man shoved his hand away, “Get off me man!”

He didn’t know where he got the strength as he grappled with Kimura before taking two fistfuls of his collar. “Where’s your fucking Chief? Where’s (y/n)?!” 

Multiple pairs of hands tore at his uniform from behind as they hauled him off, legs kicking as he wrestled against their pull.

“Where is she?”

“She’s stayed behind!” 

Kimura’s face was blank, his eyes distant and foggy as he stared at the ground. There were tears streaming down his face as he drew a ragged breath. “I’ve never seen so many ethereals, we were overran so quickly…Chief (l/n) and Deputy Chief Kato created a diversion to draw them away so we could get out.”

Kimura looked up with red rimmed eyes.

“I am so sorry.”

Hollow Zero had mutated. Or that was the story they were telling everyone now. The sensors at the outpost had registered a dramatic spike in etheric energy about 30 minutes after Section 2 had infiltrated, and by the next 20 the bangboo that accompanied you had stumbled out with fried circuits, the carrot it followed now expired as the interior of the hollow rearranged. 

It was supposed to be a standard recovery operation. You had done them hundreds of times in the past.

“I’m sorry, Asaba. My hands are tied.” The officer said with a shake of his head. “No one’s allowed in unless they are operating with their faction. You’re the only one from Section 6 here.”

He gripped his bow tighter. “Then I suggest you turn around and pretend you didn’t see me then.” 

It felt like an electric current thrummed under his skin as he breached the Hollow. He didn’t bother to call the proxy or wait for the association to form a new carrot. There was no point, even as desperately as he clinged to the idea of you being unharmed, alive, there was still a rotten crawl of doubt in the back of his mind that made the thought of wandering forever as an ethereal within Hollow Zero a more palatable choice than leaving here without you. 

He didn’t know how long he had wandered through the hollow, hair matted to his forehead from sweat as he cleared another broken wall, trying to survey as much of the warped landscape as he could. He doubled over, hands braced against his knees as he tried to catch his breath. He had overextended himself already, his chest constricted tightly as his breathing became shallow, a sharp ringing in his ears. He screwed his eyes shut, focusing on getting his lungs back under control.

In and out.

In and out.

There was a distant cry that met his ears, strangled and distorted, one that twisted his gut in an iron grip as his head shot up.

You.

He didn’t know what he hoped to find when he fumbled over the rubble in your direction. Finding you was the sole focus of his mind for the past few hours, the rush of adrenaline carrying his mind past rational thought.

You. You. You.

It urged his tired legs forward, kept him standing as he rounded the corner and saw the torn back of your uniform jacket stretched unnaturally over your crumpled form. 

Even with your back to him he would have recognized you anywhere, even as your body contorted unnaturally, muscles spasming wildly as a distorted cry pierced the air. Your hands clawed as the ground, ugly black shards piercing your skin from within, nailbeds black and bloody where your fingertips had rubbed raw in the dirt.

He knew better than to approach you, to roll you to your back as your body seized and writhed in his grasp, more warbled cries piercing the air.

Your eyes were glassy and unfocused as his hands cupped your cheeks. Your skin was hot to the touch, corruption running thickly in your veins and curling out of your skin like ugly black horns. 

He shushed you gently, cradling your head in his arms as your hands tore at his sides, teeth gnashing wildly as the corruption ate away at your humanity before his very eyes. 

“When I turn into an ethereal one day, I want to you promise that you’ll kill me.”

You lifted your head off his chest. “You sure have a strange idea of pillow talk, Haru.”

He snorted, hands tracing down the curve of your spine as you shivered. “Yeah, I know but still…I don’t want to wander in a Hollow forever like some mindless husk. That’s no way to live.”

You bit your cheek, stretching up to peck him on the lips, his hands gently brushing your hair aside as he grinned against your lips.

“Then I trust you to do the same for me.”

He hated himself. He hated that he remembered that conversation you had over a year ago, begging himself to twist the truth, to convince his own mind that you didn’t know the weight of your words. But deep down he knew he couldn’t deny it, deny you, of the peaceful passing he had asked you to offer him. 

This shouldn’t be an issue for him to face. It shouldn’t be you in the throes of corruption, screaming and tearing at him like an animal as your senses fled you body. 

You were supposed to outlive him. The scales of nature were stacked unmistakably in your favor.

Tears wet your cheeks, but they didn’t belong to you. Hot and salty tears poured down his face as his breath stuttered. Everything about this was wrong, like his worst nightmares spawning into a hellish reality as he begged any god that might exist for an easy way out, begged you for forgiveness, for you to answer him with that same gentle smile that was reserved just for quiet moments with him. 

Apologies burned him from the inside out, like venom on his tongue as he peeled your hands off of him and backed away. His hands trembled so violently he could scarcely nock an arrow, his entire body weak. His vision swam, whether it was from the ether corruption that had dinned his hearing or from the tears that didn’t seem to stop he wasn’t sure.

His lip quivered, breathing unsteady as he stared down at you, your form clawing at the earth before pushing shakily onto your knees. You moved more like a marionette than a human, the skin on your neck crumbling under a sheen of black as the core began to manifest. 

Mournful cries dripped from your cyanotic lips as a hand extended in his direction. It was a moment of lucidity, fingers flexing against the veins of corruption under your flesh.

“Haru, I’m so s-sorry.”

The arrow whistled sharply as his fingers released the bowstring.

.

.

.

There was a ring cut to your size. A thin and silver little band that lacked grandiose ornamentation. Diamonds and frills were never your thing after all, he could still see the little quirk in your lips at the memory of your colleagues rushing in with stones so large you thought them better fit for paperweights than proclamations of their belonging to another under the banner of love and marriage. “Practicality above all else,” you had claimed some months ago, thumbing at the simple band around your index finger. Your late mother’s ring.

They both sat on the table on your side of the bed, the metal cold and lifeless under his dull gaze. 

“Asaba, I know this is hard, but there are people who you can talk to. That can help you.” The voice of Yanagi echoed from the answering machine in the hallway. He let his cellphone die weeks ago. 

“We are just worried about you. Please, call me back.”

Your favorite coffee cup still sat beside the pot in the kitchen, the rim stained pink from your favorite lipstick. Your toothbrush still sat in the cup beside his, your shampoo still in the shower. He couldn’t bring himself to disturb the bag hanging in the closet, you didn’t want him to spoil the surprise of the dress you bought in excitement at the prospect of going out to dinner after all.

His medicine bottles sat empty in the bathroom trashcan, the contents lost to the sewers of New Eridu by now.

His lungs heaved tiredly, a deep wheeze whistling in the back of his throat. His vision never stopped swimming, even after he carried you out of the Hollow, an arrow embedded between your glossy eyes as your blood stained his clothes.

His thumb pressed the space between your eyebrows, your nose wrinkling, eyes warm as you stared at him from your side of the bed, hair fanned across your cheeks. 

“Haru, it’s not good for you to lay around all the time.” You whispered, leaning into his touch as his hand drifted to cup your cheek, thumb teasing your lower lip before you pressed a kiss to the pad.

 “Get up, you need to eat.”

He knew it wasn’t real, that you weren’t real, but he smiled like you were anyways. Like your lips were warm as you leaned in and brushed them against his, like there was weight behind the pull of your hands as he rolled out of bed for the first time in days.

There was a ring cut to your size, and for a little while longer he would pretend it was nestled on your finger. 

Rey 2024, crossposted to ao3