#GIVE ME THE ANGST THE SCENARIO

[movedto-mastcrmarksman]

[ INBOX / accepting ] ⸻ @darehearts sent in ⸻ ❝Clint? there's something i want you to do for me.❞ (you wanted angst? i have an idea here, just you wait— ST verse obvs)

CLINT ⸺ gets him searching for Kirk, eyes looking to meet the other man's. The security officer gives a somewhat lopsided smile paired with a look of surprise in his eyes. ❝ Name anything, I'll do it. ❞ It was without question, that's the kind of loyalty that his friends got from him. It's born of years being in space together, of the things that they had been through, a handful of crises that some may sooner forget. Additionally, Clint's found a brotherhood among the friends he has made. Kirk is a brother, and so he doesn't need to know what Kirk needs from him for Clint to go any lengths he needs him to go.

[spamgyu]

BACKBURNER // PART 3

DESCRIPTION: She had grown tired of being on his back burner, the person that he had kept warm until he gotten the girl he has had his eyes set on for years... And with a little help from her friend, maybe... just maybe she'll finally be the first choice. PAIRING: Seungcheol x Reader | Mingyu x Reader GENRE: Angst & Fluff PART 2 | SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

She wasn't in deep slumber, but she wasn't awake either.

Y/n had allowed the soft sounds of the waves crashing on the shore and indistinct conversations around her lull her into a light sleep – only to be awoken by the sudden lack of warmth that kissed her skin and droplets of water hitting her bare stomach.

Squinting her eyes open, she was greeted by a drenched Mingyu standing above her – a smile on his face. "Hey Stink, wanna get lunch?" He sat on her towel, feeling his soaked swim trunks cool her thigh.

It has been a while since she had eaten and the thought a bowl ahi poke did sound nice. "Sure." She sat up, stretching her hands above her head.

Y/n took a glance around her and noticed that the group she had originally had been lounging around with were gone; some cooling off in the water and others playing a game of volleyball.

Except Seungcheol and Sunhee, who had his head on her lap while she had her nose deep in the book she had brought down from their hotel room.

Sickening.

"You have fun out there?" She asked rhetorically as he shook his head to get the remaining water out of his ears.

"Come out there with me later, yeah?" Mingyu reached up to fix his hair, slicking it back away from his face.

It was going to take a while for her to get used to this new tone of voice he used around her. She wasn't used to the deep octave he used, mixed with some sweetness in his tone – something she had heard only when he was around the women he was dating.

It sent her chills down her spine, thinking how cringy it was for him to use all his tricks he had done to make all those other girls fall at his feet with her.

"Maybe." Y/n leaned over to move a strand that he had missed.

She too used a tone that he hadn't heard of.

Not directed to him at least.

Their customer service voices.

"You guys are cute when you aren't fighting." Sunhee's voice caught their attention.

...And Seungcheol's, who let out a puff of air as a laugh.

Up until now, Mingyu and y/n had thought he was asleep – his sunglasses hiding his eyes.

"Give it until tomorrow, they'll be fighting again." Seungcheol sat up, pushing his sunglasses up to rest on his head.

Y/n chose to ignore his comment, standing up from where she had been sitting – reaching for her shorts and pulling it up to cover her bottom half. "Can you guys watch our stuff? We'll bring back poke in exchange."

"No."

"Don't listen to him." Sunhee waved him off. "Have fun!"

"Thanks, Sunhee." Mingyu smiled, reaching down to hold y/n hand – allowing her to guide him towards the main road.

"He's irked." He leaned down to mumble in her ears

The walk to the market was a short one, the two not bothering to let go of each other's hands as she once again allowed him to talk her ear off – babbling about tomorrow's trip to the North Shore.

He went on and on about how excited he was to try the shrimp truck he had seen many youtubers rave about; spending hours on end watching vlogs to prep him for the trip.

"Do you talk this much when you're with your girls?" She was genuinely curious, in shock with how he seemed to never run out of subjects to talk about. It was as if he was on a mission to reach a word certain count by the end of the day.

"No, just you." He shook his head, bringing his arm around her shoulders; pulling her closer to his body.

Weirdly enough, she preferred this more than holding his hand – it was more comfortable this way.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

"So when did this happen?" Jeonghan motioned to the space between the two, catching y/n's attention from across the table.

After a long day of spending their time at the beach, they had decided their first night all together called for a group dinner at the hotel's restaurant – all at the expense of the best man's card.

Seungcheol.

Sunhee nearly choked on the cocktail she was sipping on, quickly shaking her head. "Oh we're not– no." She laughed.

They could have fooled anyone... just as well as Y/n and Mingyu had been.

They had spent the dinner picking off each other's plates – even showing up in coordinating outfits that Sunhee had sworn was not planned. Y/n had to fight the her brain from making a face when Sunhee had profusely declined the groups teasing when they first took their seats.

"Oh." Jeonghan blinked. "I just figured–"

"We're not." Seungcheol shutting him down, instantly silencing Jeonghan who then turned his body to the direction of y/n and Mingyu.

She had been thankful for the various conversations taking place around the table, allowing her to pretend that she hadn't been listening in to the short interaction happening a few feet from her.

"What about you two?" Jeonghan nodded at them, stopping Mingyu mid-setence while he conversed with Minghao about tomorrow's plans.

"What about us?" He asked, confused with the question being asked.

"When did this happen?" Jeonghan repeated.

"Valentines day." Mingyu replied without a second thought, almost as if he had the story ready for anyone who would ask.

He was quick at his feet, able to muster up a lie with a heartbeat.

She made a mental note to thank him later.

"I think I just realized that I always had feelings for her and I wanted to see if what I was thinking was real, or just– I don't know. Minghao convinced me to go over to her place and just let it all out." He continued, shrugging off the story as if it was the most casual thing that left his lips.

If she wasn't a part of the lie, she would have bought it.

Like Jeonghan, Y/n looked over to Minghao who had nodded in confirmation as he swirled the wine in his hand.

They were great liars.

"Didn't know you had a soft spot, Mingyu." Soonyoung whistled.

"Me neither." Y/n whispered only for the two of them to hear, earning a poke on her side from him – causing a small laugh to escape from her lips.

"Oh my god, they're actually in love." Chan gagged, catching the small interaction that had just unfolded before him.

"You guys should see what I have to put up with at home." Minghao grumbled into his wine glass before taking a long sip.

The teasing? The bickering over which show to watch? The hour long debate over a movies plot? The impromptu karaoke sessions in their living room? Yeah, Minghao did have to put up through a lot.

"I guess the next to walk down the aisle will be Y/n and Mingyu." Jeonghan joked.

"Mingyu? Yeah right." Seungcheol chuckled.

Thankfully the rest of the group had managed to drop the topic and redirected the conversation back to Jeonghan – catching up on all the events that has been happening in his life.

Y/n took the opportunity to excuse herself to the restroom as the energy died down, looking down at her feet as she made her way to the back of the restaurant – she had one too many Mai Tai's and did not want to accidentally trip over air.

"Y/n!"

Turning her head to the voice at the end of the hall, she was once again cornered by Seungcheol – with no place to run.

"Can we talk?" He stopped within a foot of her, his voice much softer than the snarky voice he had been using every time he would make a snide comment earlier in the day. "Please?"

Y/n stared at him, unable to come up with an excuse to avoid him.

"Five minutes." She swallowed.

Seungcheol nodded, motioning him to follow her through the doors that lead to the beach – wanting to converse in a much quieter atmosphere.

Once they were at an enough distance from the restaurant, away from the eyeline of the others, Seungcheol came to a stop turning to the girl.

"You guys may be fooling everyone but you're not fooling me." He spoke slowly.

They were caught.

"Did you just bring me out here to pick a fight?" She hugged her arms around her, feeling the cool breeze hit her bare arms.

"Y/n, drop the act. Do you really think that I'd believe you're dating, of all the people in the world, Mingyu? You guys are best friends, yeah I get that- but please, I know you guys don't love each other–"

"Not like how you and Sunhee love each other right?" Y/n snapped back.

Seungcheol licked his lips, shaking his head.

If he wasn't letting up, neither was she.

"You guys have always been at each other's throat, you really think I believe that one day you guys just decided to stop?"

"He knows me better than anyone, Cheol. He knows what makes me happy, what makes me tick. He has wiped every tear that you have caused. He picked me up whenever you left me stranded. He has always been there, more importantly when you weren't."

She wasn't lying.

Behind all the small fights and teasing, the two had always leaned in each other for emotional support.

Just as Mingyu had done for her, she has also always been the one person he called when he was having a tough time – remembering the time that she brought food over to his dorm for a week straight because he had refused to eat after his first girlfriend had broken up with him.

They had their moments, but at the end of the day, she genuinely did love Mingyu.

They have been together through all the season of their lives and she couldn't imagine going through any heartbreak or failed job interviews without having him by her side.

They were each other's person.

"So yeah, sue me if I realized I may have been in love with my best friend too." Y/n continued. "Mingyu has always been there and it's nice being taken care of someone who actually knows me."

"I know you." He defended. "Your favorite color is green, you hate that you're in the medical field because but you chose to go through with it because you didn't want to disappoint your parents, you hate the sound of utensils rubbing together. I know you, Y/n."

"Those are shallow facts." Y/n countered. "Minghao knows those things about me too."

"I know that you had never once thought of Mingyu the way you thought of me." He continued, taking a step closer to her. "What you and I had– have, that's never going to measure up to what you think you're trying to pull off with Mingyu."

"So what? Is this your way of saying you chose me all along?"

"There's no need to choose, y/n." He raised his voice, growing frustrated with her question. "I care about you, and you should know that!"

"How? Huh? You have some crazy way of showing you care." She exhasperated.

"Just because I don't show it the way your little golden boy shows it, doesn't mean I don't care. It doesn't mean I don't want you."

"So do it then, pick."

"I'm not picking." He shook his head. "Just please, just drop the act and–"

"Is everything alright out here?" Mingyu's voice boomed from the steps of the restaurant, jogging over to where they stood.

"Yeah, we just finished talking." Seungcheol brushed past Mingyu, his shoulder hitting him as he bounded back to the well lit building – a stark contrast to the darkness that enveloped them.

She could hear her ears begin to ring as she let out deep breath she didn't realize she was holding in.

"You okay?" Mingyu asked in genuine concern, scanning her face to see if there were any tears that fell from her eyes. He noticed that she was gone for far too long, instantly putting two and two together once he realized Seungcheol was missing from the table. Mingyu had quickly excused himself from the group, not wanting whatever Seungcheol had in mind to ruin not only y/n's night but everyone elses.

Y/n nodded, taking a step closer to him – silently asking for his arms to wrap around her. Both for consolation and to shield from the wind.

"I don't want to go back in there."

"Then we won't." He replied, resting his chin on her head.

"He knows we're just pretending." Her cheek pressed against his chest, her voice in pure defeat.

"Should we take some acting classes?"

Looking up to meet his eyes, she couldn't help but let a small laugh escape her lips. "Should we call it off?"

"I mean, everyone else already bought it." He shrugged. "Why don't we just pretend until the end of the trip. We wouldn't want a break up and a wedding all in one trip."

"Jeonghan would kill us for stealing the attention from him if we announced a break up." Y/n agreed. "Just, chill out on the fake sexual tension okay? It gives me the creeps."

"Whatever you want, stink."

The two stood in silence, Mingyu patiently waiting for Y/n to calm down from the high emotions. She had always hated confrontations, avoiding it as much as possible.

And when it can't be helped, she needed to take a few minutes as a breather to ground herself back to reality – after she had finally processed what had finally happened.

She tended to allow her emotions take full control whenever she was forced to confront a problem; in this case Seungcheol. It wasn't until moments after when she is able fully grasp what had truly happened.

Almost as if she had an out of body experience, watching the scene unfold from afar.

"Do we fight a lot?" She asked, taking a step back from him.

"Just an enough amount of times, why do you ask?" He chuckled.

"That's why he's not buying it. Because we fight a lot."

Mingyu licked his lips, thinking of all the times that they would openly bicker and argue in front of their group. It wasn't in any intentions to hurt each other, it was all out of pure fun. It was just who they were.

"I mean, what if I tease you because I like you." He reasoned.

"What are we, teenagers?"

He shrugged. "Don't let him get in your head. If he doesn't buy it then he doesn't. Let's just enjoy the trip."

She nodded. "One more."

"What?"

"What's my favorite color?"

"What?" He tilted his head in confusion.

"Answer it."

"Well, for clothes; black and white. For little trinkets, green. For other things, pink. For men, red." He listed, a smug smile appearing on his face when he said red.

Laughing, she gave him a playful shove. "Let's go."

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

"Shit." Mingyu quickly sat up in his bed, looking over to the other side of the room where she was buried deep under the covers on her own bed. "Y/n wake up!"

"Mm..." She grumbled, pulling a pillow over her head.

"We woke up late, everyone's headed up to the North Shore already." Mingyu scrambled around the room, gathering all his belongings needed for the one hour trip up to the northern point of the island.

"Fuck!" Y/n shot up, grabbing her phone to check the time.

7:42 am.

They had all agreed on leaving the hotel by 6am, a few of the boys wanting to catch the morning surf before the waves died down. They had been so tired from the day before and had forgotten to set an alarm before bed.

The group chat had been actively making jokes just an hour ago about how the two most likely have forgotten because they were far too busy doing..... other things the night before, deciding to head up without them.

"I'll text them that we're leaving soon." Y/n typed away as Mingyu slipped into the bathroom to change and wash up.

She was sitting on the bed waiting for her turn when a knock on the door pulled her out of her trance. She wasn't a morning person and it took her some time to finally wake her body up.

To her surprise, Seungcheol was behind the door. "I woke up late too." He grumbled.

"Morning." Mingyu nodded, walking out of the bathroom "Stink, bathroom's all yours."

"I'll wait for you guys in the lobby." He turned his heel.

Just what she needed. An hour ride with Mingyu and Seungcheol.

Fun.

The were in the car in no time, neither one of them uttering a single word to another as Mingyu cruised along highway.

There wasn't much to talk about, and she was more than happy to take in the views of the lush greenery that surrounded them – pulling her film camera out every once and a while to capture the beauty.

"Can we listen to more calmer music, the bass on this thing is making me car sick." Y/n groaned, reaching over to grab Mingyu's phone out of the cupholder – unlocking the device with ease.

He had been using the same passcode for nearly ten years and had yet to change it. Claiming that he'd just forget it.

"Here." Seungcheol's hand stretched out from the backseat, his palm opened with a single candy resting. "It's ginger candy. Helps with motion sickness. Figured you– we would need it."

Y/n hesitantly grabbed it from his hand. "Thanks."

Popping the hard candy in to her mouth, she went back to scrolling through Mingyu's endless playlists – unable to find the right one to match the current mood.

A particular one had caught her eye, letting out a laugh. "Is this– oh my god." She flashed the screen to him, earning a laugh from him as well. "Why do you have my getting ready playlist saved?"

"It has good songs!" He defended. "I listen to it when I work out."

This sent her into more fits of laughter, clutching her stomach as she imagined him bench pressing while the City Girls blared loudly through his headphones. "You're so dumb."

"Maneater keeps my reps on pace."

"Stop– oh my god stop my stomach hurts. Don't talk." She wiped the moisture from her eyes, using another free hand to hit his shoulder.

"If you're not going to pick a playlist, can I have the AUX?" Seungcheol wasn't entertained.

In fact, he didn't find a single part of the interaction funny.

Y/n sat back up, clearing her throat once she had finally calmed down – passing the wire that was once connected to Mingyu's phone over to him.

Within seconds the voice of her favorite artist played loudly in the car.

Supercut by Lorde.

This was also her playlist.

The one she had shared to him months before.

She knew he was staring at her.

She could feel his eyes.

As the beat began to pick up, she felt Mingyu's hand rest on her knee – his fingers drumming along to the song.

"In your car, the radio up. We keep tryin' to talk about us. I'm someone, you may be my love." He nodded, looking over at her – waiting for her to join in.

He also knew this was her favorite song – the two having their fair share of blaring this loudly in his car back home, singing at the top of their lungs as they sped through the road.

"I'll be your quiet afternoon crush. Be your violent overnight rush. Make you crazy over my touch." A small smile crept on her lips as she followed his movements, swaying their bodies to the side.

Moments like this was when she appreciated how well he was able to pick up on her body language and silent thoughts – easily distracting her from any thoughts that could cause her to feel uneasy.

"I should have stayed back." Seungcheol shook his head as he watched the two make fools of themselves – his fingers hovering over the skip button.

He didn't skip it. He allowed for the queue'd music to play on, opting to look down at his phone as they went on singing every single word of the song.

"I'm hungry." Y/n sighed, as the next song played.

"They're gonna meet us at the Sunrise Shack, can you hold off for a thirty-five more minutes?" Mingyu asked, glancing at the navigation.

"I packed some spam musubi's from last night." Seungcheol offered, digging into his backpack to pull out a small tightly wrapped rice and ham combo.

Shaking her head. "I don't like–"

"Y/n doesn't like cold warm food." Mingyu replied at the same time.

"What he said."

Maybe he really didn't know her.

And maybe, they weren't acting.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

Y/n watched from her towel as the boys caught one wave after another, laughing whenever one of them lost their footing – sending them tumbling in to the water.

She was beginning to grow bored of sitting in the same spot, but considering the only other option was to walk around the stores a few miles down with Sunhee and Eunji, Jeonghan's fiance, she decided to stay back. She was in no mood to pretend to be close to the girl.

Not after last night.

In the moment of silence, the girl began to replay her and Seungcheol's conversation in her head.

She couldn't believe she was stupid enough to allow Mingyu to talk her into pretending to date him.

Even stupider to believe it would even work.

He was right. He did know her.

He knew when she was lying.

He knew that she wouldn't have dared considered seeing Mingyu in the same romantic light she had seen him.

But that was as far as it went.

He only knew her the same way the rest of their friends did.

Y/n began to think that maybe, if she would have waited it out longer instead of making him choose – things would have been different.

She would have gotten what she wanted.

"You okay?" Jeonghan's voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

Digging his board down into the sand, he took a seat next to her – looking out into the distance where the rest of the guys were slowly paddling back in.

"Yeah, just thinking." Y/n pulled her lips into a tight smile.

"You made the right choice, you know." He spoke.

"What?" She turned to face him.

"Picking Mingyu." He continued. "He's always had some weird soft spot for you. And I know I don't know much about what you and Seungcheol went through– but– You deserve someone who's willing to drop anything to make sure you're happy. You're Mingyu's Sunhee"

She felt guilty.

Aside from Minghao, Jeonghan was someone who she had grown close to within the group. She found many nights confiding all her secrets to him during their late study sessions at the library.

He was easy to open up to and it broke her heart when he had decided to take a job offer across the country – losing that one person she was able to make a genuine connection with.

She wanted to tell him that it was all a lie, that they were pretending just so she could get a rise out of Seungcheol in hopes that he would realize what he was missing.

But she couldn't.

She was embarrassed.

"Snorkle time!" Mingyu cheered with Seokmin, placing their boards right next Jeonghan's.

"Hi." Mingyu smiled down at her, leaning down to place a kiss on her cheek; just missing her lips by a few centimeters.

Taking both of them by surprise, their eyes wide once he had straightened out – luckily for them, no one had seemed to catch on to this.

"Can we slow down on the itinerary, I'm exhausted." Minghao whined, dragging his board behind him – dropping down on to the sand.

"I second that." Jeonghan sighed, laying down. "I want to nap."

"No none of that." Mingyu shook his head, grabbing either one of their arms to pull them up. "Come on let's go go go go!"

"Please tell your him to shut up." Minghao groaned, plopping back down once Mingyu had let go.

"Bug, chill." She laughed as she watch Minghao curl into a ball – groaning about how his body will be feeling sore until next month.

"Boooooo!" He gave her a thumbs down. "Boooooo!"

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

"You almost kissed me earlier."

"My bad." He yawned, keeping his eyes on the road.

After a long day of water activities and going around the shops of the North Shore, they were finally making their way back to the hotel. Y/n couldn't be more glad at the thought of being able to wash the salt water and sand off her skin and laying down on the soft mattress.

She was also grateful that Seungcheol didn't need to ride back with them – hopping into the Jeonghan's rental after they had finished off eating at the local shave ice stand.

"I was shocked too, I was too hyper at the time." Mingyu continued, fiddling with the nobs of the A/C unit when he noticed her shiver from the corner of his eyes. "Better?"

Y/n nodded. "No kissing okay? It's weird."

"You're a bad kisser, huh?" He teased.

"I don't know. Ask Seungcheol."

"Gross." He stuck his tongue out.

"Besides, pretty sure you have rabies."

Playing along with her joke, Mingyu rolling up his sleeve to flash her his bicep. "I got my shots up to date."

"Stupid." She snorted, going back to scrolling on her instagram – liking all the posts her friends have uploaded from today's activities.

Y/n felt warmth bubbling in her heart as she saw each and every carousel containing some sort of group pictures. She had missed this – when their group was complete, with no care in the world.

It brought her back to the time when they were all blissfully unaware of the real world; making the most of their college experience.

Before jobs, feelings, and schedules complicated their lives.

"Wanna hear something funny?" She asked, keeping her eyes trained on her screen.

She was looking at Sunhee's post – holding a bowl of shave ice nearly the size of her head with Seungcheol smiling widely in the back.

"Don't I ever?" Mingyu replied sarcastically.

"Jeonghan said I was your Sunhee."

Mingyu remained silent.

"Isn't that hilarious?" She turned her head to face his profile. "You would never put someone through what Seungcheol put me through because of me, right?"

"I'm afraid of commitment but I'm not an asshole, y/n." He glanced at her.

"I'm not Sunhee then... right?"

"I mean, in a way–"

"What do you mean in a way? We're nowhere near like them."

Their dynamic was a stark contrast to Seungcheol and Sunhee's.

Sure, they were very close – knowing each other better than they know themselves. But they knew boundaries.

They knew when to draw the line when it came to friendship, refusing to tread into dangerous waters because that's all they were.

Friends.

Two people, of the opposite gender, can be friends.

"Look, you're my best friend. We have our moments, but yeah- if you being my Sunhee means I'd do anything for you, then maybe?"

"You wouldn't do anything for me."

"Yeah I would." He defended.

"Mingyu, let's be real here." Y/n pressed.

The thing was, she didn't want to be Sunhee. She would never want to be the reason why her best friend's significant other felt insecure – the reason why they would come second best.

She would never wish her position on anyone.

Especially not someone who Mingyu loved.

"I am!" He chuckled. "Maybe I won't cancel on my date last minute for you for a little headache, but if it came down to making sure you're okay, yeah– I'll do anything for you."

He was being serious.

His tone matching his words.

"But I'm not Sunhee." She pressed.

She had her mind set on not wanting to be Sunhee.

She was y/n. She knew Jeonghan was simply making an analogy earlier, but the girl didn't want to be her. Not to Seungcheol, and defenitely not to Mingyu.

"No, you're right. You're y/n. My best friend" He sent her a warm smile, reaching over to give her knee a squeeze. "We're, as you would say, for lifers."

What the girl in the passenger seat didn't know was that she was his Sunhee.

She was the girl that he had fallen in love with.

The girl that he searched for in every other person he tried to date.

If she was his Sunhee then he was her Seungcheol.

taglist:

@thepoopdokyeomtouched/ @scuzmunkie / @yunjin0 / @morkswatermelonnnn / @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan / @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken / @naturelvrgfstealer / @bettybotterboughtabitofbutter / @musingsofananxiouspotato / @f4iryjjosh / @gatorgirl007 / @girlwithimaginarybiaslist / @daisawa / @ttragiquee / @luchiet / @loveforred /@vannabanana1995 / @uniq-tastic / @porridgesblog / @haolistic / @bbl32 / @calumsfringe / @alsktudy / @chansbaybygirl / @alwaysalmostthere / @listxn / @soupbinlily

(tag list closed)

there are some who asked to be tagged but tumblr is being weird and not allowing me to so i am so so sorry!

[revasserium]

hi! I've been reading your opla!zoro stuff and I wanted to tell you your writing is so gorgeous! it's truly breathtaking, you're really talented ❤️ i've looked through your prompts tag, im not sure how requesting works, but could I ask for "edge of falling" or "the spaces between us" (whichever one you like the most) with zoro and fem!reader? i'm a goner for longing and feelings realization and the prompts give me those vibes, but i'm sure anything you write will be lovely <3

reqs are open!

the edge of falling

opla!zoro; 7,475 words; fluff and angst, hurt/comfort, passing mentions of: cult!, physical violence, & trauma/cult-programming, ex-cult member!reader, strawhat!reader, traumatized!reader, protective!zoro, healing from past trauma, learning to trust etc, angst with a happy ending!, a metric TON of plot

summary: "Lie to me," Time said to Love; Love smiled and said, "I promise, I'll never let you slip away."

a/n: thank u for the request anon!!! i uhm idk what happened with this fic tbh. there's def uh -- longing of SOME kind here??? welp. pls read the tw list! there's some dark-ish content in this. but i promise it ends well u__u

prelude: in which a fox teaches you to speak

Time is the greatest liar, so you are told, over and over and over. For the longest time, you think it’s the only truth you’ll ever know.

But we will live forever…

So long as you do the things you’re told. So long as you make the Fox happy. So long, so long, so long.

There is no way to mark the passage of time in the compound; with no sunlight to guide the way, you are left to other, more primal ways of keeping track — that elusive, silver-fish creature — time — always slipping through your fingers when want to hold on most.

You measure it in wounds, in the time it takes for a fresh wound to seal over, for the scab to break and reveal the soft, tender pink flesh beneath. You measure it in gulps of water, in bites of cold food, in the droplets of artificial rain that they let fall through the ceiling sometimes. You measure it in rewards too, in long baths and hot meals, in the evenings when the Fox would tell you stories in his low, lilting voice instead of leaving you in his seething silences.

And he is ever so good with stories. If you stay still and keep quiet, and let his voice wash over you like a hungry tide across a rain-starved beach, you can feel the words seeping into your bones, ringing out till they feel like nothing but god’s given truth.

As long as you’re good… I promise I’ll make you live forever.

Like this, you learn the weapon of words, the power of speech, how to listen for lies, and how to tell them, and tell them, and tell them.

The Fox is good at lying; you’ll just have to learn to be better.

act i: yet another sad, desperate soul

Roronoa Zoro has never been a man of many words, but it would be remiss to say that he isn’t a man of his word — you see, when he does speak, he speaks with intention. And always, with conviction.

“Hey. No one’s gonna hurt you anymore.”

This, then, is the first lie he tells you.

“Liar.” You spit out the word, drawing back, your body a tangle of livewire nerves, your eyes darting back and forth, an entire life’s worth of fight and flight caught on the hair-pin trigger of his breath as he jolts back slightly and blinks at you.

“Y-you — you can’t know that,” you say, your voice still ragged. But Zoro sees it for the attempt it is — an olive branch, however tentatively extended. And he takes it, wordlessly.

He nods once, reaching out to help you up. The compound crumbles around you, and you unconsciously wrap your arms around yourself, as if to hold yourself together, to keep from shattering into a hundred million tiny little shards of pain and mistrust.

“The fox-guy’s dead! But it looks like this whole island’s gonna blow!” Nami races out of the massive, temple-esque structure just as it starts to collapse from the inside out.

Luffy slingshots passed, cackling as Sanji and Usopp bring up the rear. On the Merry, Robin and Chopper are waiting, and the second Zoro manages to hoist you onto the main deck, the ship careens off into the dark tumult of waves.

You skitter away the minute Zoro’s arm slips from around your waist, and he turns to find you pressing yourself back against the railings, staring at them all with wide eyes, your expression caught halfway between fear and consternation. He takes half a step back, crossing his arms just as Luffy bounds forward with a bright, unassuming smile.

“Don’t worry! You’re safe now!” He makes to slap one of your shoulders but you duck out of the way, chewing on your bottom lip.

Robin clears her throat gently and offers you a smile, “We’re not going to hurt you.”

You narrow your eyes, your gaze darting between them like a trapped animal, but after another beat of stillness (punctuated only by Nami swearing softly to herself as she steers the Merry around a particularly difficult formation of rocks), your entire body seems to soften, and Zoro uncrosses his arms again, resting a hand casually on the hilt of his blades.

“Th-thank you…” you bob your head once, swallowing hard passed chapped lips and a raw throat. Your white linen dress is stained with blood and dirt, a tear at your collar making it slip from your shoulder.

“’S alright now, darlin’ — how bout we run you a nice, hot bath? I could cook you just about anything y’like. Fancy a drink as well? I think a bubbly would be good for a —”

“Lay off, cook.” Zoro cuts Sanji off with a scoff, barring Sanji’s approach with an arm in the gut.

You watch them with dark eyes, your expression curiously blank.

“Will you let me look at your wounds?” Chopper offers.

You jump a little at his voice, piping up from your left side. You glance at Zoro once before looking back at Chopper and nodding.

Sanji tucks his hands into his pockets and watches as Chopper leads you beneath the deck, Zoro following a few steps behind. He lights a cigarette as soon as the trap door clanks shut.

A beat of silence, and then —

“Wow, that island really, really sucked!” Luffy says, turning back to his crew.

Sanji lets out a puff of smoke as Usopp slumps down against the main mast with a groan.

“You can say that again.”

“What happened?” Robin asks.

Sanji sighs, shaking his head, “Trust me, you don’t wanna know.”

Below deck, Chopper dabs at your wounds with expert ease as you sit very still on the kitchen island and Zoro watches from the sofa, arms crossed loosely over his chest.

“These surface wounds aren’t that bad but…” Chopper trails off, his eyes running over the network of old scars that mar your skin, layers and layers of them — down your arms and along your torso.

“It’s fine,” you say, your voice smooth as polished marble, “I’m —” you swallow, “I’m fine.”

And if it weren’t for the hiccup, the slight hitch in your breath, you would’ve been utterly convincing. Your expression is flat, your voice, even more so.

Across the room, Zoro makes disbelieving noise, “If it hurts, just say so. Chopper’ll fix it.”

“I’m… I’m fine,” you say again, tugging at the sleeve of your torn shift, your tone now a bit more honest, your words tired and resigned. Zoro looks to Chopper, who gives a faint nod of acquiescence before Zoro stands up and jerks his head towards the door.

“Cook’s right — you should wash up before dinner.”

You follow him down the hallway, through a small door that leads into a washroom that’s much cleaner than one might expect a ship’s bathroom to be. A large, wooden soaking tub sits in the middle of the room, and a clean change of clothes has already been laid out on a bench next to the bath.

Zoro grunts after he takes a once-over of the room, satisfied that all’s in order, and makes to leave.

You tug at his sleeve, head lowered.

“Can you…” you lick your lips, “can you stay?”

Zoro glances down at your fingers curled into his shirt sleeve before his eyes flick up to find your face. You’re looking at some indiscriminate point over his left shoulder, but your lips are trembling and your jaw is set.

He lets out a long breath, slowly twisting his body towards the room and you.

“Sure.”

He makes a show of turning around to face the door as you slip off your clothes and sink into the steaming bath water. A long exhale and the light slosh of water is all the indication he gets that it’s safe to turn back around.

He leans himself against the door, his swords propped on his shoulder, his head lolled back, his eyes closed.

He listens to the soft sounds of the water, to the faint splashes as you rub the grit and grime from your skin, inch by inch.

“We were only allowed to bathe as a reward for doing a good deed.”

Your voice makes him open his eyes, his gaze focusing in on the shape of you, nearly submerged in the bathtub, your hair slick and sticking to your pale shoulders. Even in this dim lighting, he can see the patterns your scars make against your skin. Water glimmers along the contours of your face as you run your palms along your cheeks, rubbing at them till they’re ruddy with color.

Zoro ticks his tongue against his teeth, “Quit bein’ so rough,” he moves forward without thinking, reaching out a hand to help you with some of the more stubborn pieces of dirt but he pauses, realizing how utterly still you’ve gone.

You stare at him for a long moment before relaxing back into the water and shifting towards the edge of the tub to allow him better access.

He runs a callused thumb along your cheekbones, wiping away the remaining dirt there.

“What was a ‘good deed’?” he asks, letting the tips of his fingers skim the warm water’s surface.

You shrug, “Mostly anything that made Mr. Fox happy… so all of us would —” you take another breath, your hand opening and closing beneath the surface of the still bath water, “we’d spend all our waking hours trying to think of something — anything — that’d please him. No matter how small… no matter how… terrible.”

“This Mr. Fox… what was his deal, anyway?”

You stare down into the dark water, now rapidly cooling from warm to lukewarm.

You take a deep breath, lifting a hand out of the water to distort the image of your ghostly reflection.

“He… was a liar. Except… he could make all his lies sound like the truth.”

“It was uncanny, really,” Sanji says, now at full throttle in the kitchen prepping for dinner service, Usopp lounging on sofa, his feet propped up on the hanging table.

Chopper and Robin both frown.

“What do you mean?” Robin asks.

“It was like… the guy could say anything and make it sound like the truth — even though you knew somewhere inside you that it can’t be real. Like — he could tell you the sky was green and every single part of you would believe him, even though you’re outside and starin’ up at the sky.”

“Yeah! Like he said I’d never be able to beat him and… for a second, I kinda almost believed him!” Luffy offers, munching on a bushel of apples and spitting out the seeds.

Robin’s brows furrow, tapping at her chin with a thin finger.

“It sounds like the Uso-Uso no Mi…”

“Ugh, what a weird, scary power…” Chopper shudders, shaking his head, his tiny hooved hands coming up to cup his cheeks, “I’m sure it’d mess with people’s heads!”

“It sure did. But he also used it to feed false information to the Marines,” Nami says, slipping through the half-opened door to join the rest of the crew on the sofa, “ran a series of taverns that just so happened to be situated in major Marine towns.”

Sanji glances up from a huge, steaming pan of paella, a cigarette caught between his teeth.

“So what was his end goal then? Just to fuck over the Marines?”

Back in the bathroom, you run your fingers along the edge of the tub as if playing an invisible piano.

“Power, domination… I don’t think he had a goal or purpose… I think… he just got off on it…”

Your voice is light, conversational, almost as if you were talking about the weather. But Zoro sees the glazed look in your eyes, the tightness at the edges of your lips.

“You called me a liar,” he says, reaching into the tub and flicking you lightly with a bit of water.

You blink, a smile threatening the corners of your mouth.

“Yeah… guess I did.”

“I wasn’t lying.”

He pulls out his hand and wipes it on a towel, leaning back to stare at you.

You shrug, “Sometimes… people lie to others, and sometimes, people lie to themselves. It’s the ones we tell ourselves that are always the most convincing.”

“I don’t lie. ‘Specially not to myself.”

You let out a tiny laugh, “But I guess… sometimes, if you believe in something hard enough… it’ll just start to be come the truth.”

There’s a note of… something in your voice that Zoro doesn’t like, but he can’t put a name to the feeling so he stays quiet as you continue the laborious work of scrubbing your skin clean, till all the water in the tub’s gone cold.

The rest of the evening passes as most evenings on the Merry do after a big fight — with a lot of food and even more booze. With music and laughter, and new crew member, sitting in the corner, watching mostly and smiling occasionally. No one pushes you, though Sanji does make a valiant effort in getting you to admit to your favorite foods, and Luffy tries two or three times to drag you into the more raucous celebrations (mostly involving way too much meat being roasted on a spike).

No one questions the way Zoro never wanders too far.

No one questions the way your eyes track him around the room, or how, even when Robin and Nami finally get a laugh out of you, you still instinctively searched for Zoro’s figure till you’ve found it in the other corner, a bottle caught between his lips, his eyes half-shut but his gaze caught on you like a fish to a seaman’s hook.

act ii: everything and nothing

A week passes, and then another. And you slowly, but surely, come out of your shell — it’s a strange sort of blossoming, the way you reveal yourself in shards and pieces, jagged and jarring. The shrapnel bits of your personality peaking out amidst the flotsam and jetsam of all your manifold defense mechanisms.

You’re a brilliant liar, but even better at spotting a lie, and it’s a thing that none of the crew had ever really thought about until you’d come along, casually poking holes in their daily deceits.

“Mm! These pancakes are perfect! Just the way I like them!”

“The new dress looks beautiful, Nami.”

“I absolutely did not finish the last bag of popcorn… Luffy did it!”

You clear your throat.

“Okay fine… the pancakes were really good but… but I like them… sweeter.”

“The dress is… well, everything looks gorgeous on you, of course, you know that Nami! But — the color… clashes just a tiny little bit with your… hair.”

“I might’ve uh… taken a few bites out of the popcorn bag… last night… but I was keeping watch and I needed to keep my energy up!”

Robin titters, a sphinx-like smile spreading across her lips.

“Apparently, 60% of people lie at least once every 10 minutes,” she says, casually taking a sip of orange juice as Zoro runs through his daily training regime, seemingly unbothered by the chaos currently taking place on the main deck regarding the “popcorn incident”.

“Dunno why people bother,” Zoro says, working through a set of single-armed burpees.

“I suppose it’s just human nature. We want other people to like us… so we say what we think they might want to hear, instead of what we really think. It’s harmless, mostly,” Robin remarks, leaning back against a white planter box, basking in the shade of the tangerine trees.

“Till it isn’t,” Zoro says, finishing up his workout and pushing himself up for a long stretch. He casts his eyes once more towards where you’re now laughing as Usopp tries to think of some new tall tale to tell.

It only takes you half a second to turn your head, and Zoro wonders at the kind of life you might’ve led to make you so sensitive to another person’s gaze. What must’ve happened to warrant this kind of alertness? But then again, he’d been a hunter long enough to know exactly what being hunted looks like.

He caught a glimpse of it at the compound but — still, his fingers itch toward his swords, his jaw clenches tight enough for Robin to cock her head and raise a brow.

“Yes… until it isn’t…” she echoes, her eyes also trailing towards you.

Zoro holds your gaze for a second before rolling his shoulders and looking away, squinting at the far horizon.

“Oi. Looks like trouble.”

Robin straightens, and a second later, Chopper sounds the alarm from the crow’s nest.

“Marines! Marines!”

There is the shink of swords being drawn, the gentle echo of Robin’s voice as her arms multiply. There’s canon fire and a lot of yelling. But at the end, there’s only bodies and blood and the tattered remains of the Marine’s ship, bobbing in the stained sea below them.

“Should we go after them?” Sanji asks, lighting up a cig, watching as the tiny emergency boat rows off into the distance.

“Nah. We’ll be alright!” Luffy says, wiping a hand across his nose.

Zoro turns towards you, sheathing his swords.

“You alright?”

“I’m fine,” you say, your voice immediately taking on an unctuous sheen that makes Zoro take a step closer.

“You hurt anywhere?” he runs an appraising eye down your form and nods in the knowledge that at least you don’t look hurt.

“No… I —” you chew down on your bottom lip, fingers digging into the bare flesh of your arms. But you back away from him the moment he tries to take a step forward.

“Hey — quit that,” he taps at your wrist with the hilt of his sword, the touch hard but not harsh, forcing you to pull away.

“It’s — I’m — I’m alright,” you say, insistent and mollifying. Zoro runs his thumb against the hilt of his blades and scoffs.

“Liar,” he says, tossing the word casually back at you in a way that makes your breath hitch. Then, he turns, and marches below decks to tend to his own wounds.

A deafening silence rings out around you as you stare down at the ships blood-drenched planks before Robin places a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“C’mon now — lets get your back looked at.”

Below decks, you find Zoro dabbing gingerly at a large slash on his right arm.

“Here, you’ve missed a spot —” you reach out to take the iodine soaked cloth from Zoro’s hand, only to have him jerk away. You flinch back, wide-eyed.

Zoro softens, if only ever so slightly.

“I’m fine,” he says, a harsh edge to his voice as he goes back to trying to twist around himself enough to see the spot he’s missed. You purse your lips, watching him for a second, two seconds, three — before you glance back at the place Robin had been only to realize that she’d gone.

“May… I?” you reach out your hand, palm up, tentative and imploring. But you hold yourself still, waiting for Zoro to make the next move. And he does, eventually, sighing as he turns back around to drop the piece of cloth into your palm.

You reach forward as he turns to his side, offering up his arm as you slowly start to wipe away at the bits of dried blood caking his skin to reveal the raw, red gash, the angry, raised flesh around it. You lean forward, blowing slightly as you daub at the wound, making your way down his bicep till the entire cut’s been coated in iodine.

“There. All done.”

You lean back to toss the cloth into the sink but Zoro stops you. He catches your wrist in his good hand and with a slight tug, has you toppling forward towards his chest.

“Turn around.”

His voice is soft, but firm. And it leaves no room for protests as you stare at him for a long moment before sighing and resigning yourself to your fate. You turn to show him your back.

A disgruntled huff is all you get before you hear the distinct sounds of Zoro rummaging around the first aide kit for a fresh piece of cloth, and the pop of the iodine bottle opening again.

“Who did this?” he asks as he slowly reaches out to tug a thin spike from your skin, small as a needle and just as sharp. You bite back a wince.

“The porcupine guy…” your voice trails off as Zoro grunts.

“Right.”

He tugs out another spike; it tinks against the metal of the sink as he tosses it away. A brief sting, and then the cooling feeling of the iodine cloth.

After a few minutes of working in silence, Zoro sighs.

“Geez, he really got you bad, didn’t he?”

“Not really,” you say, and you feel Zoro’s hands pause.

“No?”

You shake your head, “I’ve… been through much worse… and lived to tell the tale so…”

Zoro doesn’t need to ask to know that you’re talking about your past on the island, inside that windowless compound. He can see it in the scars that mar nearly the entirety of your back, the criss-cross lines of what looks like knife-wounds, the occasional puckered marks that look suspiciously like burns. He steels himself then, and continues to work — plucking out a spike and cleaning out the wound.

“You were right,” he says, when he finally finishes cleaning up your back and you both straighten to face each other. He wipes his hands clean and winces slightly as he flexes his newly bandaged arm.

“Right about what?” your voice is innocent, but the flash in your eyes tells him that you know exactly what he’s talking about.

“That first day — I couldn’t protect you. I couldn’t… make sure that no one ever hurt you again.”

His fingers curl into fists at his sides and you can see the muscle ticking in his jaw as he clenches his teeth.

You reach out, tracing a thumb along his jawline. When you pull back, there’s a small daub of blood on your finger and you wipe it away without breaking his gaze.

“No, you couldn’t but… you tried.”

Zoro scoffs, “Tryin’s not good enough.”

“No,” you jerk up to glare at him, your voice harsh in a way that he’s only ever heard right after they’d rescued you, the edges of your words raw and ragged as a serrated blade, “trying is everything.”

interlude: truth or dare

It gets better after that, and you grow and bloom and grow some more. Zoro does too, though in his own way — he gets stronger, gets faster, hits harder. And though you two never quite agree on anything, he is always by your side, and you’re somehow always by his.

“’M not even a lil drunk —”

“Liar~” you singsong, giggling as Zoro shakes his head, tipping the remains of a bottle of sake back down his throat before wiping at his lips with the back of his hand.

“Mm… ‘s that all I am to you? Just another guy who lies?” Zoro swings lazily on the hammock hung on the main deck, his eyes half-lidded and alight with the dancing firelight.

“Stupid question — drink,” you answer, bringing our own bottle up to your lips.

Zoro laughs, quiet and pleased as he reaches for a new bottle.

“Alright then — truth or dare?” he asks, uncorking the new bottle and reaching out to offer you some. You bat him away, your movements languid and heavy, your back pressed against a heavy wooden barrel, one leg propped up to support your arm, the other stretched out long and lithe in front of you.

“Truth,” you say, your voice easy, your smile even more so.

“Alright then — do you trust me?” Zoro’s voice dips, and your eyes flash up. There’s a sobering light somewhere behind the alcohol soaked haze clouding his gaze and you can tell by the steadiness of his hands that he’s not nearly as drunk as he might seem.

“What do you mean?” you ask, casually evading the question.

Zoro tuts, “’S not an answer.”

“I’m asking for a clarification.”

Zoro shakes his head, taking another soft swig, “Simple question — do you trust me?”

You purse your lips, mulling over the myriad answers you could provide and make it sound like the truth. But that’s not really how the game goes. So instead, you take a deep breath.

“I — I want to,” and it’s the way your voice breaks that makes it honest, the way you can’t hold the truth in by the seams of your careful cadence, no matter how hard you try to smooth out the ragged edges.

“So… that’s a no,” Zoro says, keeping his tone even. You can’t help reaching for him — imploring.

“Not yet but —”

“Why?”

“Why… what?”

“I guess…” Zoro leans back, casting his eyes up at the wild, dark sky, careening above the ship in an ecstatic spread of stars and, long sinuous, moon-silvered clouds, “why d’you want to trust me? Doesn’t seem like something you’d be eager to do after… y’know, everything.”

You lick your lips and stare into the empty bottom of your glass.

“Honestly?” you say, “because you’re kind of a shit liar —”

Zoro lets out a soft, rumbling laugh, but doesn’t deny it.

“But… also because you’re the only person I’ve met who… who treats words so carefully — I mean…” you swallow, leaning forward slightly as Zoro drops his gaze back down to you, “it’s like — my whole life has just been people saying things they don’t really mean, and never meaning what they say, and then trying to figure out what’s really happening — trying to say the right thing, not the thing you mean but the thing you think they’d want to hear —” your breath quickens, “and — and if you don’t or if you’re bad at it, then bad things happen to you and the people you care about —”

“Hey.”

A hand presses down on your shoulder and you gasp, your breath knifing through your chest as you clasp your shaking hands to your sternum.

“Breathe. You’re okay.”

You nod, unable to say anything as Zoro sits in front of you, his hand like an anchor in a summer storm, keeping you tethered.

You breathe and take stock of your limbs — feet, legs, hands, arms. It’s then that you realize Zoro’s crouching in front of you, your drink glass resting by his side.

“Thanks,” you say, nodding as he gives your shoulder a slight squeeze before pulling away. Physical touch has never been one of your strong points, and it seems Zoro’s learned that without you ever having to tell him.

It’s strange — the sudden knowledge that somehow, his understanding of you has been wordless and implicit. Complete, from nearly the day the Straw Hats had picked you up on that island. You’d never had to explain, never had to draw your boundaries.

And yet somehow, he knew. As if he’d always just known.

“Truth or dare?” you ask him, your voice barely a whisper, shifting to make more space for him on the dark deck of the ship’s forecastle. Zoro sits down in front of you, crossing his legs.

“Dare.”

You don’t fight the grin as it lifts the side of your lips.

The quiet pulses between the pair of you like a heartbeat.

“Tell me a secret.”

“Gotta be more specific,” Zoro’s grin lilts to mirror your own.

“Any secret,” you say, “something you… something you wouldn’t otherwise say out loud.”

“Isn’t that what a secret’s supposed to be? Something you don’t say?”

You laugh, tasting the sound like a mouthful of champagne, bubbling up through you and spiraling towards the endless summer’s night.

“Quit stalling!”

“Think I wanna kiss you.”

A gasp slices through the air between you. You feel the weight of it in your throat, the white-hot flicker of his gaze as he glances down at your lips. You wet them without thinking, and as Zoro lean’s in, you can sense the night around you slowly coalescing into something warm, something solid. Like a marble clutched in a child’s palm, or a pearl held on an oyster’s velvet tongue.

“Truth or dare?” he asks.

He stops just short of your lips, his nose almost grazing yours. You can nearly taste the sweet sake on his breath —

“Dare.”

“Close your eyes.”

Your lashes flutter and for a second, an eternity revolves in the space between your heartbeats. Faintly, you register the gentle rocking of the ship as an indolent wave catches her starboard side.

You close your eyes.

For a second, there is space. For a second, there is breath. For a second, there is gravity. And then — all of that disappears. All of it eclipsed by the kiss. And then, the kiss is all there is.

All there was, and ever will be.

There’s a graze of fingers against skin, the bump of legs against legs against thighs against knees — there’s knuckles and noses and hair falling, hair being tugged into closing fists. There’s the clink-clink-clink of earrings, and the clatter-clap-clat of swords and hilts and rough, wooden planks.

There’s the dull thunk and baseline rumble of a glass being knocked over and rolling away.

But all of that is afterthought. All of that is supplement, a postscript, marginalia and footnotes.

Because there, then — there is only the kiss, and nothing but the kiss: a catastrophe of inevitability, smooth as a secret, and whisper-sweet.

When the pair of you pull away, there’s a chaos of wings against your ribcage.

There’s the honeyed, lambent light in Zoro’s eyes as he grins down at you.

“Truth — or dare,” a breathless gasp punctuates your words.

Zoro’s grin only grows as he tips your chin back between his thumb and forefinger.

“Dare.”

It’s only then that you realize his cheeks are wine-flushed, his chest rising and falling nearly as fast as yours. You swallow slow and track his eyes as he watches the pale bob of your throat.

“Kiss me again.”

act iii: fool’s gold

It takes all of three hours for Sanji to get something out of Zoro, and three days before Robin and Nami manage to wheedle something out of you.

“No seriously! Things have been different since that one party we had —” Nami presses her palm to the kitchen table, here eyes wide. Robin sits on the couch, her expression one of mixed amusement and near academic interest.

“Different how?” you reach into the cookie jar and fish out a crumbled corner of what used to be a double chocolate chip cookie.

“Ugh! You know what I mean!” Nami turns to Robin, motioning towards you, “Help me here!”

Robin laughs, tossing up a graceful hand, “I suppose something does seem… changed.”

“Something?” you ask, licking at a smudge of chocolate on your thumb.

“Well…” Robin says, drawing out the syllable and making to examine the nails on her long, thin fingers, “it’s definitely not nothing.”

You allow yourself a smile, “Something’s definitely not nothing.”

Nami lets out a frustrated groan, but she’s smiling too.

It’s been long enough that you’d learned to relax around them, and you’d since also learned that nothing is so sacred as the sanctity of sisterhood. That bonds between friends might be forged in fire and brimstone, but bonds between women are forged in cinder and smoke — in the wreckage of after, when the fighting’s been done and all that’s left is the mending.

“What’s all this giggling about?” Zoro ducks into the half-ajar door, staring at the three of you.

Nami cocks an eyebrow; Robin shrugs.

You, for your part, smile and bat your lashes.

“Oh nothing,” you say.

“Just girl-talk,” offers Nami.

“Nothing to interest a legendary swordsman like yourself,” Robin polishes off.

Zoro’s eyes narrow, his gaze jumping between the three of you before it lands on you and he scoffs.

“Yeah, whatever. We’re docking soon.”

And that’s all he offers before sauntering back out of the room, leaving the door swinging behind him, but not before you catch sight of the redness at the tips of his ears as he hurries away.

You give it a beat of three seconds before pushing to your feet and following after, humming to yourself. Behind you, Nami and Robin share a knowing look.

“Definitely not nothing,” Robin says as she stands to follow you.

The island, if it can even be called that, is nothing more than a rough conglomeration of steep cliffs strapped together by a thin band of land barely wide enough to be categorized as a beach.

“Well! This is something!” Luffy declares, his arms akimbo on his hips as he stares at the island.

“Yeah… it’s uh… something for sure,” Usopp agrees, making a face as he squints at the cluster of rocks that look more like the jagged edges of a broken bottle than any kind of proper land formation.

“We’ll just anchor here for the night… get some good rest, and then...” Sanji’s words trail off, interrupted by a ghostly wail that rises from the gathering of dark cliffs, turning them into an echo chamber until it seems to rumble through the sand beneath them.

“… gold, all gold! — no, not a liar — please!”

A shiver etches itself up your spine and instinctively, you wrap your arms around yourself.

Zoro steps out in front of you, as if to shield you from whatever might come. His thumb presses against the hilt of his swords, his shoulders tense as corded wire.

“Uh… everyone else heard that too, right?” Chopper asks, peaking out from around Robin’s legs.

“Yep. Definitely not just you,” Sanji confirms.

Luffy grins, “Seems like there’s someone else on this island! Maybe they can show us around!”

Time passes by strangely on the island — one minute, the sun is still hanging low on the far horizon, and the next, the sky is the color of a bullet wound, darkness seeping in around the horizon.

“Whoever’s here on the island — they sure aren’t making it — easy —” Sanji grunts as he hoists himself up a slippery piece of rock face, sweat glistening on his forehead as he squints into the looming blackness.

“Luffy? You sure you know where we’re going?” Nami shouts, her voice ringing back in a way that makes everyone wince and cover their ears.

Zoro grabs your elbow a second before you slip, fingers digging into your flesh even as you steady yourself against him.

“Sorry — thanks,” you say, unsure of which one you really mean.

“Yeah! I can smell something — like a campfire! And… cooking!” Luffy’s voice calls back from somewhere in the gathering dark. Everyone shares a glance before bracing themselves and trudging on.

By the time you all catch up to Luffy, no one is certain of what time it is, only that it’s dark. But the kind of darkness that seems to cling to the skin — a darkness so dense it starts to take on shape and weight.

It presses in around you and you feel your breaths shortening in your chest.

Beside you, Zoro reaches out to brace a hand at the small of your back.

“Oh! I see a light ahead! C’mon!” Luffy’s voice rings out from somewhere up ahead, followed by the patter of sandals on stone. The rest of you follow, and then all too suddenly, light flickers to life in what seems to be a huge, subterranean cave deep within the cliffs of the island. It casts stark shadows against the slick, cavernous walls.

You frown, goosebumps rising along your arms and legs.

But before you have time to dwell on the wrongness of something there, Luffy’s voice snags your attention like a thread on an errant splinter.

“Hi! Oh, wow — that looks delicious!”

You turn a corner to find Luffy hunkering down over a blazing campfire and the silhouette of someone sitting opposite him, a sharp spike held out in front of them, turning slowly over the flickering flames.

“Oh… please… come join me — sit and listen to a story — I have so many stories — so many adventures to share!” the figure across the fire seems to quiver with the dancing flames, his voice filling up the whole of the cave, loud and boisterous and eager. But strange and hollow too.

You frown, chewing on the insides of your cheeks.

Ahead of you, Usopp and Chopper both take tentative seats next to Luffy, who had cheerfully plopped down next to the fire.

“Wow, this looks great! Are you here by yourself? I’m here with my crew! Are you a pirate too?” Luffy asks, his endless enthusiasm pouring from him like a spring.

Robin, Nami, and Sanji all hold back, but you take a step forward, and then another. Something compelling you towards the voice, pulling you closer. There’s a desperation, a loneliness with which you’re all too familiar — you inch closer, and then closer, till you’re almost level with Luffy, and you lower yourself to the ground next to him, Zoro dropping down beside you, his knee pressing against your leg in a silent reassurance.

“Come… come closer! It’s a good story — I promise!”

“Truth,” you mutter, just beneath your breath. Beside you, Zoro lets out a puff of breath, though his stance doesn’t loosen.

Behind you, you can hear the distinct sounds of the rest of the crew drawing just a step closer.

“Once upon a time… there was a city on an island where everything, and I mean everything was made of gold!”

The figure across the fire sounds cheered, elated even. Behind you, you feel Nami take half a step closer. Cold seeps into your veins despite the warm, dancing flames, and your fingers dig into the hard packed earth beneath you.

“I found it — I did! With my crew — the best sailors and seamen around! But the king… he was greedy! And he wanted his own men to take the treasures, so he forced me to lead them to the city again —”

“Truth,” you say again, but something in the tone of the figure’s voice makes you frown.

“Except… the city had gone… and there was nothing left… nothing but lies!”

You shudder back, swallowing hard. All around you, the darkness presses in with long, thin tendrils like so many loving fingers. The fire flares up, casting sparks up towards the cave’s ceiling, where stalagmites hang like broken teeth in a petrified monster’s maw.

“Oh… don’t be scared… come back — I won’t hurt you —”

“Liar!” you spit, the word scraping its way out of your throat.

Zoro leaps to his feet just as Luffy does the same. The fire flares again, a second before snuffing itself out, but in that second, you finally catch sight of the figure, hooded in shadow, sitting across from you — it has the shape of a man, tall and broad, but the limbs of a spindle-legged monster. It wears the darkness like a cloak, with beady, red eyes and a too-wide mouth.

“Don’t! Call me a liar! That’s what they called me — that’s what they called when they killed me! KILLED ME FOR TELLING THE TRUTH!”

You scramble back, Zoro nearly lifting you off the ground in his haste to pull you away. Luffy whips back his arm and swings it forward but all it catches is tendrils of shadow.

“Hey! That’s not nice!” he shakes off his fist, frowning as he stares at the bits of wriggling darkness still clinging to his skin.

“Run!” you shout as everyone bolts for the lightless path you all took to get to the heart of the cave.

“NOT A LIAR! NOT A LIAR! I FOUND IT! THE CITY! BELIEVE ME! BELIEVE ME!”

You clap your hands around your ears and race for what you hope is the exit. Behind you, you can hear the distinct sounds of Zoro’s blades whistling through the air*.*

“Damnit! How’dyou fight a shadow? There’s nothin’ to hit!”

“Quit tryna hit it and just run!” Sanji’s voice answers a second before he breezes passed you.

“Why don’t you believe me? Why?!”

“We — I believe you!” you shout, your chest a thundering mess of footfalls and scrambling bodies, and against all instinct, you turn around to face the darkness again, cupping your hands around your mouth, “I believe you! I know — I know you’re telling the truth!”

“What’re you doing?” Zoro asks, leveling himself by your side, his arm pressing against yours. Behind you, the thinnest sliver of light is creeping into the cave from what you assume is the entrance.

Morning. Has it really been that long?

Time is the greatest liar, you remember, suddenly, violently, the thought tearing through you like teeth.

“I — he’s telling the truth,” you say through gritted teeth, even as you take a few steps back. Inside the cave, the figure seems to shrink back from the encroaching light.

“What truth?” Zoro asks, his blade held aloft, his stance wide and ready.

“All of it,” you say, forcing your voice to be gentle, turning your face back towards the darkness, “I know, I can hear it — I know you’re telling the truth — about the island, the city — all of it!”

“Yes… all I wanted was to get back to the city… but… no one believe me… and I died… I died for it!”

“I know, and I’m sorry… no one should be punished for telling the truth —” your voice cracks.

“I tried!”

“I know…” you say as the figure shrinks and shrinks and shrinks and the light behind you grows and grows and grows, until you can feel the warm seeping into the skin of your back.

“And trying is everything,” you say, biting your lip as Zoro wraps an arm around your waist.

“Come with me… I’ll take you to the city — we can go together!”

You shake your head, heat prickling at your eyes as you turn away from the darkness of the cave and towards the light of the oncoming day.

“Liar…” the word falls from you like a rock, or a tear, cast off the cliff that greets you and Zoro as you both stare over the edge. The rest of the crew is nowhere to be found, but Zoro’s arm is still around your waist, and you can feel his warm breath by your cheek.

“Hey — do you trust me?”

You look up; in the dawning, morning light, Zoro, with his sun-kissed skin and dark moss hair appears to be limned in gold.

And maybe it’s the air, or the sea, or simply the angry pieces of this jagged, left-behind island of shadows like broken teeth trying to tear apart the sky, conducting his voice into a cacophony of echoes that sing and scream through the crags and eves of the valley beneath — but the whole island seems to reverberate with the question —

Do you trust me?

You close your eyes and breath. When you open them again, your heartbeat is steady. And when you speak, the rising sun streaks the tips of the saw-toothed peaks in strokes of molten gold. The valleys beneath you conduct your answer into an entire single-syllabled symphony —

Yes.

You feel his arm tighten around your waist, the wind as it tangles soft fingers in your hair. All around you, everything is light, and light, and light.

“Jump!”

You close your eyes, and jump.

-----

footnotes/appendix

uso-uso no mi translates to "lie-lie fruit"; i made it up bc it would be too op to have in the actual animanga i think

the "acts" refer to a classical 3-act structure that most movies/plays/scripts are written in: setup, confrontation, and resolution... with a smattering of other things sprinkled in for ~vibes~

in much of classical japanese and chinese mythology, foxes are associated with trickers and lies, often turning into beautiful women to deceive men, luring them into forests and mountains before taking their lives

the "figure" in the last scene is... can you guess? noland! kudos to anyone who figured it out as they were reading *\ (>o<) /*

did i absolutely take the "do you trust me" line from disney's aladdin??? HELL YEAH i did !!!! tru trust is my kink u__u

[ghostlyboysstories]

Writeblr introduction!!!

Hi!! I write original works and am happy to ramble about my ocs or writing to anyone who asks(I’m dying to share help-).

You can call me Rufus!(I swear if I get they both die at the end notes from this-)

I’m an adult, but I don’t really do 18+ content besides swearing and innuendo/dark humor. So I’d say my content is rated Mature, but not Explicit.

My pronouns are he/him!

Fun fact, my favorite color is dark neon-ish blue!

Can’t wait to post more original stories here!!

Stay spooky!

[hanaonesflower]

Iwaizumi finds himself looking at you, puzzled at the way you shy away from his touch. He doesn’t quite get it. But he doesn’t want to push. Hajime does what he knows how to do best; talks it out. Or he tries really hard to. Ever since he’s been more comfortable around you, his arms often swing behind your shoulders and his hands usually are intertwined with yours but he hasn’t stopped to notice that you don’t openly accept his touches.

“Honey, stop.” His tone far from harsh but it still manages to stop you dead in your tracks. You turn to see him, finding your lover standing a couple feet away from you, his arms unoccupied, flinching with the itch for wanting to hold you.

“Hi? Is something wrong?” Regardless of how it may seem, Hajime is not good with his words. He opens and closes his mouth a couple of times only for hopeless croaks to escape his throat. He looks, sad. So, so sad. His arms are being brought up, holding out as if he is collecting a reward, well in this case the reward would be to hold you longer.

“Can you come here, please?” Oddly enough you don’t protest, you don’t try to question him. Instead you step towards him as if someone has possessed you, Hajime looks relieved, he doesn’t have to fight for it. Even though, we all know that he would. “Can you, can I — can you let me hold you, please?” Oh. Yeah. You think. It still doesn’t occur to you that Hajime caught onto the way you shorten every hug, halt every kiss before it gets too deep, shake your hand away from his grasp. Physical touch makes you feel queasy, and it is oh so unpleasant. The direct linkage of physical touch to sex makes you uncomfortable, feeling like each touch has to be accompanied by sexual intimacy. Why does it have to be like that?

Once the distance between you decreases he quickly pulls you close, wraps his arms around your torso tightly. Afraid of losing you.

“D-don’t pull away just yet, okay?” You stay, without saying a word. Hajime doesn’t say much either, it doesn’t take long for your breathing to sync with one another. It was peaceful, tranquil. His hand instinctively travels lower towards your waist, and just like clockwork, you pull away, resisting the strength of his arms. You should have known by now that Hajime can rage storms with his eyes but shut them down just as fast with the way his arms bring so much peace.

“Why?” He asks. This isn’t a normal look for Hajime, he looks like he is on the brink of tears. And you feel yours begin to pour. He doesn’t deserve this. You don’t get to treat him like this. Poor boy just wants to show you what genuine touch feels like and you refuse to give him a chance. “Why can’t I touch you? Why can’t I hold you?” He feels so bad. Hajime tries to rethink about all the things he might have done that led you to feeling unbearable being held by him.

Resolve crumbling at your feet. Physical touch is his way of expressing his love, it’s always something that has always bring him comfort, stability, it has grounded him in many situations. He wants to feel close to you, but he has never felt so far away. It feels like a part of himself is always missing, hiding within you. This is cruel. This is isolating.

Without saying much you crouch to reach him, arms wrapping his shoulders, snuggling your head in his neck, situating in its rightful place. You two don’t share much words in this moment, not much is needed to be said anyway. The way he’s breaking down, longing so badly for the touch of his beloved, so much it hurts. The way his neurons fire, sending chills down his back and the way his skin heats up at the moment you make contact. You hold him and you don’t let go. You stay until you both are spent from the tears you shed. “I’ll hold you like this forever if I could, Haji, I’m sorry.” You believe that you finally get it now. Physical touch doesn’t have to feel evil, it can feel just like this. His hands find your torso again, timid, but he’s willing to try. he sighs into your touch, so relieved to be reconnected with the part of himself he once relinquished to you.

[peaktora]

—ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 * ˚ ✦ : dad!satoru gojo, who isn't afraid to do imitations in public just to make his toddler laugh (especially when she's cranky).

like he fearlessly transforms into a dinosaur at the grocery store, disregarding the questioning looks from strangers. his sole mission being to elevate his daughter's happiness. with each step, he stomps playfully, his arms flailing in a “perfect” imitation. the imitation is actually extremely off, but that's what makes it so funny. his baby can't help but giggle at his goofy moves and slowly start to imitate him.

other kids in the store, who notice the performance, join in on the laughter. maybe they appreciate it, or maybe they think he’s stupid, but he doesn't put a lot of thought into it. he only puts thought into how their giggles blend with his baby’s, creating a echo through the aisles.

amidst the onlookers, gojo becomes the hero of the moment, gaining smiles and laughs from both young and old. but most importantly? his baby. he embraces his role wholeheartedly until the end, knowing that the happiness he brings to his daughter is worth every odd look and whispered comment.

when the two leave the store, he’s asking her, "you have fun?" knowing that he's created a memory that’ll be cherished by his daughter and fondly remembered by those who witnessed the dad who dared to be a dinosaur.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Consider: Vaggie idly tracing her fingers along Charlie's horns, while Charlie's tail almost unconsciously coils to pull Vaggie closer.

Consider: post-almost breakup Charlie Morningstar's separation anxiety and new habit of curling up in demon mode on Vaggie's side of the bed whenever she's feeling miserable, and maybe Vaggie needed to see that

hmm this is more like a fic outline sampler than a headcanon. ah well

they're more partners than ever before, but being partners plus the hotel thing too also means they've each got so much stuff to DO

and they can't always do it together now

the newly re-built hotel (and relationship) comes with new rituals for them, like the squeeze of hands at the hotel gate when it's a busy day and one of them has to be on one side of town dealing with Cannibal Town politeness conventions and the other has to be on the other side of Pentagram City, saying thanks to Carmine while handing over all the new weapons picked up after the battle. Thank fuck there's two of them to cover it all and a promise to meet up back there later, like how they did after the-

Charlie doesn't like thinking about that part though. They separate and she blazes through Cannibal town with a smile big enough to devour heaven, instead thinking about meeting up with Vaggie at the hotel gates again just like they did last time, and won't THAT be fun?

she laughs and sings and pulls the cannibals into gleeful choruses of bloody defiance against heaven as they have proper gorgeous cannibal dinner funerals for the slain while Rosie watches with teeth-glinting interest

and maybe Charlie rushed things a bit too somehow, because she trots up the the hotel later all exhausted and eager and

finds the gates empty

had she really thought it would go just like last time? Had she really been counting on it...?

Charlie's wooden smile as she settles in to wait. Pacing up and down, doing a few nervous tap dances, casting hopeful looks down the street towards the Carmine territory

she could just call. Text to say she's home and Cannibal town went good and check in on how Vaggie's doing. Maybe ask if Vaggie wants Charlie to run over? Maybe they could meet up and walked home together, if Vaggie needs a hand with Carmilla-

no, Charlie shoves her phone away stops herself. She's not going to repeat the day with the trust building exercises, she's not going to ask Vaggie to do something and then not trust her with it or even risk making it LOOK like that's what's happening

one time being asked to leave Vaggie alone on a roof like that was enough

Charlie can just wait this time too

time ticks by. She fixes her hair, hugs herself, and tries not to look over at the giant gleaming memorial statue to Dazzle. she tries to wait

but handling things alone has never been Charlie's thing and waiting for Vaggie doesn't count as not feeling alone, so she doesn't stay out there long in the end

half an hour finds her heading into the endless noise of the hotel where someone is bickering with someone else about something. Charlie heads past it up to their room, too tired to do anything other than curl up and wait even if it mans being back in Vaggie's empty side of the bed

she also, though, keeps their bedroom suit door open a crack so she can hear the distant sounds of swearing from downstairs

Razzle would've been there to snuggle up with her, but right after shrugging off her jacket and kicking off her shoes and calling for him Charlie remembers she sent him off with Vaggie today. She'd insisted on it- just a little just-in-case help, just until the fresh heavenly steel marks in Vaggie's flesh stopped being quite so fresh both literally on Vaggie and non-literally on Charlie's stretched thin nerves

remembering Vaggie's blood smeared on her skin makes her feel sharp both inside and out, all horns and claws as she drops into bed, spade tipped tail already lashing the bedsheets into a lather

angry hurts less than loneliness so Charlie hunches inward and let's herself be angry all over again, burning over the years of guilt she spent thinking her home and her people had hurt Vaggie, done that to Vaggie, only to find out it was heaven all along

she sinks her claws into the bed and imagines Lute's flesh and bone being punctured instead. Imagines ripping-

Vaggie's small proud smile as she talked about having shone mercy flashes through Charlie's head and she snarls, kicking it away- of all the fucking times to show mercy, the one time Charlie's life actually could have been made so much simpler from Vaggie impaling someone-

cloven hoof slams into hardwood bedframe and cracks it. Charlie curls up tighter, not noticing how the voices downstairs have gone quiet

Charlie doesn't like being angry. Worse than that she hates being alone

right now she's both

Vaggie wasn't waiting for her at the gates and it's not fair how much that scared her, when there's nothing wrong and nothing to be scared of

she tells herself that and tells herself that, trying to relax

she's a lot less scared when she blinks awake later and hears Vaggie yelling at someone downstairs

and she COULD get out of bed now, she could jump up and smooth down her shirt, fix her hair, go bounding down the stairs three at a time and scoop Vaggie up in a twirl before Vaggie can even look around from threatening whoever was messing with the hotel today. Charlie could laugh and hug her and soak in Vaggie's smile and tell Vaggie how she missed her

Charlie stays in bed

She stays on Vaggie's side of their bed with her heart pounding, listening to Vaggie and Razzle bickering up the stairs

"...not a big deal and she won't notice anyway, right? My skin's already grey. You can't really tell if it's bruised..."

"Rrrreh!"

"Alright fine, she'd notice if you told her, which you could but won't."

"RRR."

"No you don't have to. How many doughnuts to make you not want to this time?"

"Mmmmr..."

"Me crashing into a window while flying us home is NOT worth two dozen doughnuts. I don't care how dumb I looked hitting the newly angel-proofed glass."

"Skrrrrghghghgh~"

"What do you mean you stole my phone and recorded it-"

she hears the exact moment Vaggie pushes open the door and stops dead

"Charlie...?"

Vaggie, seeing now exactly what Charlie had worked so hard not to let her see back then when being angry and hurt had hurt Charlie less than the gaping hole of terrifying loneliness she'd gotten from looking at Vaggie and wondering if Vaggie wanting to be with her- if the woman Charlie loves wanting to be with her- had just been another lie too

small wings flutter and Razzle's little paws pat her hair, little goat demon nose snuffling at her cheek

"Sweetie." Vaggie's voice is closer this time. Less confused. More worried. "Are you..."

Charlie doesn't want her finishing that question

talking would be the more normal option. Just tell Vaggie how she'd felt, but Rosie had said actions matter more and Charlie doesn't know what she felt or how to say it all anyway

so she makes the colossal effort to wiggle her tail tip out from under the blankets and lift it into a tiny wave

"Hi, Vaggie." she whispers, "You're back."

maybe she says 'i missed you' with those two last words anyway

because Vaggie is suddenly there by the bed, Vaggie who can step so quiet sometimes like she's not even touching the ground- the dancer in her Charlie used to think but maybe it's the angel thing- and Charlie can tell she's there with her eyes closed just from how her own muscles start to relax, even before Vaggie reaches down

"Hey." It's a soft stroke to Charlie's hoof, the one poking out from under the blanket cocoon, the one who'd kicked out earlier and probably dented their poor bed. "Tough time in Cannibal town?"

they're both really bad at actually talking about things. But that's fine

Charlie only notices her shivers when Vaggie presses down on her ankle and stops them, like magic. "Cannibal town was fine."

Vaggie hums. It's warm and low and soft and Charlie can hear how she knows what wasn't fine today, feels it in the squeeze of Vaggie's hand before Vaggie tucks the blankets in all neat an tidy around their balled-up blob of Charlie

"Do you want our door open," Vaggie asks, "or door closed?"

"Closed."

"Rrrrr." Razzle is up and fluttering before Vaggie can move. Razzle knows what Charlie needs just as much as she does

there's a click of the lock and a ping of guilt for only using the sounds of the hotel to make herself feel better when Vaggie wasn't here to do a better job of it, then a pang of something more sweet than bitter, thinking about how doors being open or closed were never even a question back when it was just them at home

the edge of the bed next to Charlie sinks and pulls her like gravity towards where Vaggie settles, sitting and fitting perfectly in the curve of the pitiful puddle of Charlie

"Kinda nice having guests in the hotel, huh?"

Vaggie's hand is brushing loose strands of hair away from Charlie's face, smoothing them off Charlie's horns and then staying there.

"Even if they're still part-time assholes about it."

Charlie feels it when Vaggie breaths in at the end of the sentence, tail having found its way over and around Vaggie without Charlie thinking about it

She thinks about how Vaggie had been yelling downstairs and trying to bribe Razzle on the way up. A corner of her mouth crooks, almost smiling

"Did they laugh when you hit the window?"

Tense up and slump and Vaggie huffing, giving up hiding it, also almost laughing too

"Only once."

There's a bruise on her somewhere a new fresh one to match the faded ones from the battle and Charlie's searching eyes snap open, that constant tight fist in her chest grabbing her heart and squeezing

"Are you okay?"

Vaggie is already looking back at her, like she's been waiting this whole time

"I'm fine, Charlie," she smiles. "Just a bruise to my stupid pride. Just what I get, for being in such a hurry."

her wings are still out. One relaxed and drooping all the way to the floor like a tossed aside blanket and the other held up over Charlie, feathers almost brushing her, mirroring Vaggie's arm still reaching out and her hand drifting mindlessly between smooth blood-red horn and tangled somewhat messy hair

she doesn't say she was in a hurry 'to see you' in the same way Charlie hadn't said 'i missed you' and that why today wasn't fine

that's okay

everything is okay, as long as Charlie can tug Vaggie closer and curl in closer around her still, her head snuggling on Vaggie's lap. As long as Vaggie can cradle her there with hands and wings and be there for Charlie to feel it when she breathes

-

post-angel revelation Vaggie sees a lot her demon gf's horns and tail and markings, more than she had in all the years they've been together

it's never about her wings. not about her lost halo, her spear, all the people she's killed with it. That's, somehow, not the problem

The problem is Charlie knows she knows about heaven now and she has questions, so many questions, but all Vaggie has are an exorcist's very narrow answers and a lightness where her mask used to be, and scars

Charlie always tries asking about the scars, then inevitably about how the fight with Lute went. Charlie can't ask those things or listen to the answers without heating up, angry in slow and silent and steady way Vaggie's never seen from her before

and sometimes Vaggie notices how she's casually playing with Charlie's horns during those talks, or tracing the black marks scoring down Charlie's cheeks or feeling how Charlie's tail adjusts it's already tight grip around her waist. Sometimes she wonders about how she savors it, when she's got her new ashen wings out and Charlie's running her pitch black talonned hands through them, like she wants to memorize every feather and check on each one, like how she seeks out Vaggie's new scars now too and adds it all to the tally of every last thing Lute took

it feels wrong to smile at the sight of the woman she loves wanting to kill someone because of her

definitely its wrong seeing Charlie wanting to kill not in a flash of passionate protective rage, but muted and hard and thoughtful. Vaggie has to have something wrong with herself when she sees how wrong that anger looks on Charlie, and still finds herself smiling over it

wrong feels pretty nice. That should worry her

Vaggie absentmindedly testing her thumb on one of Charlie's horn tips or breathing in to deepen the constrictor snake hug of Charlie's tail digging into her ribs. It's nice and it does make Vaggie smile

she'd felt Charlie's claws trembling at the end of the battle, them standing together as they looked down at un-armed and disarmed and half blinded from tears Lute

if ever there was a time to feel sympathy that would have been it. Well. Maybe it would've a bit more sympathetic if Lute hadn't still been spattered with Vaggie's blood. The woman had been on her knees and crying though, and Charlie had been ready to let Adam run home alive....

and if Vaggie hadn't been there anchoring Charlie, Lute would've been dead

but she had and Charlie hadn't and Lute wasn't

it's making Charlie angry, Vaggie knows, thinking about how the person who wanted to take out Vaggie's other eye before killing her is still out there, will probably be pathetic enough to try that shit again. Charlie doesn't like to be angry and now just looking at the new scar on Vaggie's post-impaled hand brings out the horns and hint of hellfire. Vaggie should feel bad about that

she runs her hand over Charlie's horns, hums into the tail wrapped round her chest, drapes herself and her wings over her girlfriend and smiles into Charlie's hair

these days Charlie wants so badly to hurt people for her, but also won't, because of her

Lute's life was Vaggie's choice and Vaggie chose mercy- edged with spite and the sharp cruel edge of revenge, sure, but still it was mercy and a second chance- and Charlie listened to that. Listened to her. Had needed her there for once as a reminder to be good

that almost makes it feel like.... maybe Vaggie does belong down in hell after all, in the good ways as well as the bad. Like maybe she really does belong right here, with Charlie

maybe Charlie holding on like this means she won't ever let Vaggie go

[geombyu]

SHOULD'VE DONE THINGS DIFFERENTLY

summary: your last time with your beloved.

pairing: husbang!nanami x gn!reader

wc: 0.4k | warnings: nanami isnt in malaysia (hes dead)

genre: short lived fluff before angst

The last time you saw Nanami was on October 31, just thirty minutes before 7 pm. 

Your husband grabbed his tie from the table—he was supposed to be done for the day and was already preparing dinner as you changed from your work clothes, but they called him for an emergency.

This wasn’t rare, it happened on the night parade of a hundred demons too. Still, you were slightly upset that he had to go so abruptly.

You hugged him and gave him a short peck on the lips, “Love you, be safe out there ‘kay?”

“I love you too, and in case I’m late coming home, please don’t stay up like last time,” he sighed, recalling the time you were still on the living room couch at four in the morning because he was out on a mission. He could tell you were just a few blinks away from completely blacking out, and he was correct because right before he could tell you he was home, you fell asleep.

He carried you back to your shared bed, tucked you in, and changed before laying beside you, hands holding you with so much care.

Waking up to find yourself in bed, Nanami’s arms still wrapped around you securely with a soft smile on his features will always be your favorite memory.

“You better be quick then, and knock them out with your extremely strong punches or whatever.” He laughs.

“I can’t promise I’ll be quick, but I promise I’ll be back.”

He hugged you one last time before going.

If you knew that you’d lose him forever that day, you would’ve never let him go. You would’ve held onto him tightly and selfishly told him to just stay, to quit being a sorcerer—quit risking his life every day and just move somewhere without the stress and noise of the city already.

But you didn’t know anything.

So completely oblivious to what would happen to the love of your life, you let him go.

Nanami Kento broke his promise and never returned, instead, the next day Shoko was the one who knocked on your door, head hung low to tell you the unfortunate news.

You wish it was just a joke, that Nanami was actually just there and he was waiting to jump out and surprise you, but no matter how long you waited, he never appeared. No matter how late you stayed up waiting, he never came back to scold you.

You cry despite not having any tears left at all; maybe this time he’ll come back to comfort you.

Maybe, just maybe, he’ll be able to glue the promise back together.

© geombyu

[xoxojisu]

guys wtf. why has NOTHING been written EVER for killua since like 2020. like real actual fanfics not js 100-word posts abt a random unmeaningful scenario. pls i NEED killua fics. i NEED that killua zolDICK in me RN but i can’t bc there r no fanfics for him. pls guys help

[safethrucloth]

tw: potential 3.1 archon quest spoilers!!

thinking of cyno with a mad scholar!s/o. thinking of him hearing the news that you got exiled for having gone insane because of your field of research. you, his sweet precious s/o. his dear [name]. thinking he’s gone mad himself because of such news, and him not accepting such grueling fate being casted upon you, he decides to exile himself from the akademiya and follow you. only to find you at aaru village with no expression on your usual beautiful sunkissed face— and with also no memory of him.

[radioactivepeasant]

WIP of Damas post Jak 3 (because 2004 animation being what it was means in The Scene We Don't Acknowledge Except For Angst, the dude only had his legs pinned. Learn to read a pulse, Jak! 😆)

"You're just going to sit there all day?"

"Yep."

"....you don't trust me not to strain the injuries. I should be insulted."

"Well frankly, boss, I had to inherit the recklessness from somebody."

"..."

"I'm right, aren't I?"

"....I'm going to tell the next advisor who walks in that you have separation anxiety. How about that."

"First of all, you're probably not wrong. Second, if you think you can annoy me into leaving, we're gonna be here a long time."

"So you say. But I am a man of nigh infinite patience-"

"-except when it comes to recovering from compound fractures, apparently-"

"-and you'll break down sooner or later."

[kleotheundeadone]

Scenario: Angel Shows You His Poetry

(A/N: I head cannon Angel as being a fan of poetry, and writes some of his own in his spare time. Originally this was gonna be a little huskerdust oneshot, but after a very stressful 10 minutes I concluded that I did not know how to write for Husk. So until I figure him out, I turned this into a Scenario. I kept it pretty neutral, so feel free to interpret your relationship with him as romantic or platonic) ⚠WARNING, WARNING⚠ It's sort of angsty? KInd of? I dunno, i'm warning you anyway just in case

"Hey, what's this?"

You carefully pick up the pink binder filled to the brim with paper from off of the floor, the words "poetic shit" written in the center in swirly black lettering. "Oh hey, how'd that get out here? Nugs must have been messing around under my bed and pushed it out." As if on que, Fat Nuggets wiggles himself out from underneath Angel's bed, sniffing slightly as he waddles over to him. "What is it?" You flip it open for only a second before Angel pulls it out of your hands, tossing it onto his pillow nonchalantly as he sits down on his bed, Fat Nuggets cradled in his lower set of arms, already fast asleep. "Nothing nothing, just some like joke poetry nonsense I write sometimes whenever I'm feeling bored." You had never really taken Angel as the artistic type. It wasn't totally unbelievable, but it was kind of hard to picture. And out of all the things... Poetry? It was intriguing to say the least. "Can I see them?" Angel gave you a look. He was hesitant. Nervous even. But he quickly covered it up with a smirk as he grabbed the binder and flipped it open, pulling out a small handful of pages. "Of course! Here's some of my best work. It's some real Shakespearean stuff, believe me~." There was something tucked away beneath the surface of his expression. Something you couldn't quite place. You wanted to prod, but you decided against it. Maybe it's nothing.

The poems he showed you were about what you expected. It was basically the typical sex jokes he'd tell usually, only now they rhymed and were in glittery pink cursive writing. So why were you still disappointed? It was Angel. What did you expect? But still... You had a feeling there was more to it. More to him. "Oink!" Fat Nuggets poked his head up from Angel's arms, squirming further against him as he attempted to press his nose against the hand Angel was using to hold one side of the binder. "Ahaha! Nugs! Come on little fella, cut that out, eheha!" A page from the binder came loose as Angel lifted it up in order to get it away from Fat Nuggets curious snout, falling face-up in front of your feet. As you lean down to pick it up, you quickly notice that the page is older than the others you read, based off the slight yellow tinge and tears at the corners. "Woah woah, hey, hold on a second-" His words don't register in your mind as you begin to smooth out the pages creases, taking notice of the complete shift of writing style. It was written in regular black pen, in print instead of cursive, was much longer than his other poems, and it didn't rhyme. And as you carefully scanned the words on the page, you find yourself getting lost in the literature before you, unaware of the way his cheeks paled as you read silently.

Hot And Cold

How does one ever survive in the cold? I may never truly know the answer Yet in spite of such, I am living in it, overtaken by the icy frost I breathe in the air that surrounds the space between us, and my chest burns My lungs filled with ice crystals, and I shiver I'm cold So very very cold I beg of you, I beg Let me feel your warmth If not only for a moment A second A fraction of that time My mind freezes over, and I forget my name Tell me what my name is Unthaw my snow covered mind Whisper warmth into my skull and melt the ice away So I may know the feeling of being alive again You hold me, and I feel warm So so so warm Too warm It burns All I ever wanted was to feel warm But who am I to deny your heat? So I dare not turn you away Burn away my skin, and consume my flesh in flames Tear away my cooked remains, and lick my bones clean Bury me in the ground, and let the earth take root in my marrow May my sullied remains be worthy enough to bear fruit That is my only use My only use The flames between us glow dimly A raging forest fire, now a mere candle, flickering in the wind I am warm I know just who I am I am real, raw, and absolute I could just about say my name My name is... The candle flame flickers and goes out You're gone I feel cold I don't know who I am I'm so cold So so cold

You were speechless. You only start to realize you're tearing up when you notice your tears dripping onto the page. You wipe your cheeks with your sleeve before looking up towards Angel, his gaze locked onto you anxiously as he balled up and released his fists repeatedly. He didn't rush to take the page from you like you expected, or even tried to play it off like a joke. He just sat quietly, waiting for you to say something. Anything. You smiled softly as you held it out towards him. "This is beautiful Angel." He smiled back.

"Thank you. Just... Thank you."

[saltydoesstuff]

When

When two characters are talking with a door separating them

When those characters either have their foreheads pressed up against the door or their backs pressed against the door

When one is listening silently as the other is talking and is trying not to break down, hearing the other's pained voice making them start to break as well

But that door is never opened

[anewp0tat0]

chapter 195 was short again and while there was content... I waited a month, so to fill my stomach void I just decided to finish up this WIPy doodle that was a pretty spontaneous thing cause thankfully, I've been thinking about them. how could you not, right now.

[ck-is-nvrontyme]

I could just picture Gabe with their guitar playing acoustic versions of songs that mc and Cas are requesting at random. They are all sitting under a tree and while Cas and mc are just vibing leaning against each other, they are still all sitting incredibly close together and intimately. All three of them just look completely at peace with one another like this is where they all belong. 💞

[sorryimananti-romantic]

Yena - Original Character [Take Me Home]

Lore - An Empire of Dreams and Illusions

[faerie prince!ateez au]

[Name/Titles]

Kang Yena Princess Yena of Space The Lost Twin

[Family]

Kang Yeosang/ Prince Yeosang of Spirit (twin-brother) Park Seonghwa/ Prince Seonghwa of Dark (husband)

[Kingdom]

Kingdom of Gemini (State- Castor) Kingdom of Aries (State- Hamal) (Status- as the Prince's wife)

[Cities]

Alhena (Capital) Castor Wasut

[Sea]

The Pearl Sea

[Court members]

NCT 127 + Dream (Taeyong as Right Hand, Jaehyun as Captain of Guard) Loona (Haseul as 'Left Hand', Chuu as Head Healer)

[Powers]

Dimensions of Space Dimensions of Time Portals Healing and Reversing Wounds Time Travel Visions of the Past Foreshadowing Future Astral Projection

[Animal Form]

Cat

[Appearance]

Platinum blonde hair Grey eyes Light skin Pale red birthmark on left shoulder blade (like Yeosang's) Mole on the bridge of nose Pale scars around both wrists the shape of shackles