𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ━━ ❛ 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 ❜
chapter no. 000!
𝗈𝗈𝗈. ⠀CONTENT : angst-ish. reader is lowk insecure and paige is lowk not good at reassurance (its for the plot trussst)
𝗈𝗈𝗈. ⠀ WORD COUNT : 637
𝗈𝗈𝗈. ⠀AUTHORS NOTE : lmk if yall like this or not!
THERE WAS A TIME WHERE PAIGE KISSING YOU, having you underneath her warm lips, was the best thing that could happen to you. you loved how human it was. how natural it felt for her to be on top of you, her body heat engulfing you. whenever you were together; it was like you entered a little bubble…one where only you and her existed.
but everything is temporary, (including humanity, apparently) because one november night, she had you pinned against her bed and all you can think about is how much you hate the feeling. you’re alone together now, in the private comfort of her apartment. the blinds were drawn shut but it wouldn’t matter because by now midnight had already rolled in and everyone looking in was most likely sleeping. you had her to yourself, finally –– nothing about the setting was unusual, most of the alone time you and paige had was past 11pm. she only loved you in the dark.
but it wasn’t enough anymore.
perhaps you had gotten greedy, finding yourself wanting to hold her hand in less private spaces. you’d been with her for months, six to be exact, and yet it felt pointless. she wouldn’t tell anyone. she said she loved you but she couldn’t tell anyone. and it didn’t help that she was possibly the biggest flirt most likely ever. she pulled away, noticing your lack of usual enthusiasm.
“is something wrong?” three words that jump started the end of the relationship—if you could even call it that. it was inauspicious at best, nonexistent at worst. that was your greatest fear when it came to the two of you––that there was really nothing there. those three, almost dismissive words, completely shattered you.
you bite your tongue but it’s futile. when you open your mouth again the words escape before you even realize it, much less stop yourself from saying them. “why did you say that?”
“cause you’re being weird and i wanna know what’s up?” she says in an obvious tone, confused as to why you’d even question her motives for trying to know what’s wrong with her girlfriend.
“no, not that.” you sigh, realizing your vagueness. “earlier.”
paige’s confused expression doesn’t lift for even a moment, in fact, it seems to increase.
“to the girl at the shop. when she asked if you had a girlfriend.” you reply simply, annoyed that the situation clearly meant nothing to her when it meant everything to you. at the moment, at least. “you said you weren’t looking for a relationship.”
“well, that’s not exactly a lie.” she’s mostly joking but it’s clear that you didn’t take it that way. your hand, which was running up and down the length of her spine subconsciously, stops abruptly. her words are spoken lightheartedly but they suffocate you.
“i just mean…i’m kinda with you, y’know? so i’m not actively looking.” she doesn’t know why that’s what she chose to say in that moment and those words would prove to haunt her for long after.
“would it kill you to call me your girlfriend?”
she pauses, tensing like she always does whenever you talk labels. her silence is the worst answer. her silence is indifference. she doesn’t care, of course she doesn’t. why would you even expect her to? it was clear she only wanted a good time from you.
so you decided to make this easy for her. by saying what she never ever wanted you to say to her. you sit up, standing from the bed. “i think it’s best if we don’t keep seeing each other.”
she hates how formal you sound. she hates even more how she can’t say anything. she hates how she can’t speak even when you gather your things to leave her. she let you go, too frozen to stop you.
205 notes
·
View notes
「 CRIMINAL CONSCIENCE 」
SYNOPSIS moving rapidly through your career as one of the leading female investigators, you never once encountered a case you couldn't crack. though you never expected for your past mistakes to come back and haunt you in the form of an ex lover, accused of murder.
pairings criminal!beomgyu x investigator!reader
warnings for tape 02 drinking, lightly hinted sexual themes, red flag beomgyu, mentions of drug dealing.
GENERAL WARNINGS ─ this story contains dark themes, portraying unhealthy and toxic relationships as well as substance abuse. PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK.
✎ NOTE!, this story is partly told in flashbacks. beware of time stamps as present and past is mixed throughout the story.
#serene adds ✎... I've been doing a lot of thinking about how I want the dynamic between the reader and Beomgyu to play out. As the story progresses it will become a lot more evident, also gentle reminder that Beomgyu is a piece of shit with some morals (when it suits him).
the tape recordings
tape 02 ─ red lipstick stains
February 19th 2024 — present time
“Is everything alright?” Huening’s light voice easily parts the dark clouds fogging your mind and your eyes snap to him as you blink a couple of times. “You’ve barely touched your food”, he comments as he casts a glance toward your almost full plate.
Pushing said food around leisurely with your fork, you sigh, “I’m not feeling particularly hungry today I suppose”. Your colleague frowns as he sets his own fork down, “does it have anything to do with the case you were assigned this morning?”.
You look at him as you gnaw on your bottom lip, you don't want to lie, especially not to Huening. But was it such a good idea to tell him about who exactly you had been assigned. You figured it probably wasn’t.
It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Huening kai, but if word got around the office, well it certainly wouldn’t look good on either yours or Yeonjun’s part. Besides, you really didn’t feel like pulling the whole story for him, not when you had already promised Yeonjun that you would later that night.
“No, I’ve just been tired lately”, you shrug as you reach for your glass. Huening doesn’t seem convinced as he studies your expressionless face. “Sorry, I’m not exactly good company right now”, you mumble against the rim of the glass.
“You’re always great company, noona” he beams and you smile. “You’re great company too, Huening” you say and your younger colleague blushes furiously as he occupies himself with his food.
You liked spending time with Huening kai, he was so easygoing and the atmosphere would always feel light whenever he was around. The restaurant he had taken you to was a small family owned business, perfectly situated on the corner of the street in the most central part of your city.
From your table by the window you had a perfect view of the large park, though the flowers had yet to bloom and the tree branches remained naked you still found it to be a beautiful sight.
Beomgyu had rarely taken you out to restaurants. In fact he rarely took you out at all. Back then you didn’t see a problem with that, but then again, there were a lot of things you had disregarded in better judgment of Choi Beomgyu.
31st March 2022
It had been three long days since your first encounter with Beomgyu. And for those three days you hadn’t stopped thinking about him. On your way to class, in class, after class, on your way to work, during work, after work.
He was everywhere yet nowhere. After the night you had spent together you had woken up to an empty bed, no note left behind. Beomgyu had given you no way to contact him. Perhaps that should have been your first warning.
Had Kayla been right all along? Did he really never see the same woman twice? Yet his words remained engraved in your brain;
“I like you dollface, I’ll keep you”.
I’ll keep you. How did you keep someone you couldn’t even contact? Of course you had kept the whole encounter from your nosey friend. As Kayla pestered you about where you had gotten off to during the evening, without as much as a word to your bestest friend, you dismissed her, making up some bullshit lie about getting a cab home to not ruin her night.
Perhaps you should have just taken a cab home that night, perhaps things would’ve turned out different if you did. But there was no changing the past.
It was late at night when your usually dry phone chimed with a notification. Had you not still been up to finish your coursework you probably would have missed it. Grabbing the device, an unfamiliar number flashed on the screen. The text was short, only reading out one sentence.
“75-4, Seongbuk-gu, Seoul, 1.30am.”
You frown, an address? As you open the message you find that you can’t reply, how odd. Part of you knows better than to give the mysterious message more than another thought. But something about it felt familiar, was that strange to think?
The sender had left no signature, yet you were almost certain who had sent it.
What did you have to lose? With that thought in mind you swing your legs over the edge of your bed as you get up.
Typing in the address on your phone you find that it’s, “a nightclub?”. It was situated in a part of town that you were unfamiliar with. The large buildings looked slightly worn down and as you dwelled deeper into the narrow alleyways you started to question your decision.
But you couldn’t go back now, you had to find out if he was actually the one who sent the message. The night breeze causes shivers to ripple through your body and you pull your arms around yourself as you quicken your pace.
Soon a faint light comes into vision and the thumping of loud music can be heard. You don’t know whether to feel relieved or not, but you keep on walking. As you double check the address on your phone you throw a glance at the time, 1.28am.
You swallow hard, an attempt to cover the fast beating of your heart. When you approach the door a large man turns to look at you. He looked like your typical bouncer, absolutely fucking jacked and covered in tattoos.
The man raised an eyebrow as he took in the state of you. “You lost, little girl?” he asks in an amused tone. Your throat goes dry as you look up at him, “I…uh”.
He chuckles, “kindergarten is down the street and to your right”, he gestures with a large hand. The bouncer’s words cause a frown to cross your features, kindergarten? Sure you weren’t exactly your typical bimbo, but did you really look that out of place?
Oh who were you kidding, of course you did. What were you even thinking coming here, on your own too. There was no way you were going to be let inside this club. What a waste of time. Internally groaning, you prepare to leave when a figure suddenly appears in the doorway.
“Dollface, you made it”, Beomgyu’s dark eyes perfectly match the smirk playing on his lips. He pushes past the bouncer who immediately steps aside and gives him a quick bow.
A ring clad hand finds your waist as Beomgyu pulls you to his side. Your eyes widen in surprise as you stammer for words. When you pass the bouncer Beomgyu mutters something to the man that you can’t quite catch. You’re unable to give it much thought as you’re led inside the beating club.
The atmosphere of it all is no different from any other club you had been to, sweat, alcohol and sex filled the hot air. Yet there was something special about this place, it felt almost exquisite, and the people here seemed to be aware of it.
Instead of a bar, drinks were being served by the multiple waiters pacing around the outlines of the dancefloor. Several booths clad in purple velvet filled the walls, you expected Beomgyu to lead you to one of them,though his eyes seemed to be set on the large staircase leading to the second floor as he pushed through the dancefloor.
Immediately eyes were drawn to him as people stepped aside to make room for him to pass. What made him so special? You were barely spared a glance apart from an occasional glare sent by the many women surrounding you.
When you made it to the stairs, Beomgyu's hand traveled from your waist to your lower back as he guided you toward the large purple doors at the top. As the two of you approached, the bouncers stepped aside and gave Beomgyu a quick bow, he barely seemed to notice them.
“Isn’t this the VIP section?” you whisper under your breath as you survey the area. It was much quieter here and the air felt almost cleaner. “Clever girl”, Beomgyu smirks as he leads you to one of the few larger booths.
You quickly realized that the two of you weren’t going to be alone. A man in his late twenties sat by the booth as he swished a drink around in his hand. You didn’t recognize him and when Beomgyu called out to him, his name rang no bells.
“Duri!” he exclaims and the man looks up from his drink with a grin on his face. “I was beginning to think you’d stood me up”, Duri says as he studies Beomgyu’s frame, gaze stopping at the way his hand rests on your lower back. “Though I now realize what kept me waiting”, his eyes shift to you as he gives you a wink.
“I, uh…hello”, you give him an awkward wave and the man bursts into laughter, Beomgyu however doesn’t seem to share his amusement. “Pretty little thing you got there”, Duri comments as he reaches for his drink once more, “what’s your name, love?”.
“Oh, it’s─”
“Dollface, this is my old friend, Duri”, Beomgyu interrupts as he gestures toward the man in front of you. “Duri, this is Dollface”. You glance up toward Beomgyu with a slight frown but he doesn’t seem to notice as he pulls you along to sit next to him.
Duri hums as he eyes you carefully, “nice to meet you”, he then says. “Uh, you too…”, you mumble, your words coming out as a squeak when Beomgyu’s hand finds your thigh, cold rings stinging your naked skin.
His free hand quickly calls over one of the many waiters and he turns to look at you, “what do you want, doll?”. “Oh anything is fine��I’ll just have what you’re having”, you tell him and Beomgyu smirks as he turns back to the waiter, “my usual, and make it two”. The waiter bows before quickly rushing off again.
You lean back against the smooth velvet as Beomgyu and Duri indulge in a conversation regarding topics that made little sense in your ears. You wondered why Beomgyu hadn’t introduced you, was he ashamed of you? But why bring you along if he was ashamed, it made little sense.
Suddenly you’re reminded of Kayla’s warnings, you realize what kind of people Beomgyu might have connections to. Was Duri one of those? Was that why he didn’t want you to give out your name?
Your mind spun with different scenarios, much so that you didn’t notice your drinks arriving. Not until Beomgyu brings the glass to your lips and mumbles a quiet, “open up”.
Doing as he says without hesitation, the warm liquor burns your throat. It was unlike anything you had ever tasted before and it was… “this is really good”, you murmur as you take the glass from Beomgyu’s hand. He smirks, “knew you’d like it, dollface”.
Raising an eyebrow, you sip on your drink, “why, you seem to know everything about me already”, you grin. Beomgyu’s eyes twinkle in an unexplainable way as he brings his own drink to his lips. “You’d be surprised”.
To Beomgyu’s right, Duri clears his throat, “well it seems my date for the night has arrived”. As he gets up he gives you a quick glance, “pleasure meeting you, ‘dollface’”, he says before making his way over to one of the many half naked girls crowding the rest of the booths.
Surprised at his sudden leave, your eyes follow the man before returning to the one next to you. “Who was he?” you ask and Beomgyu raises an eyebrow as he looks at you, “an old friend”.
You frown, there was no way he was telling the truth, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to question him further, reminding yourself that you barely knew the man. “If he’s an old friend, then why didn’t you introduce me?”
Beomgyu takes a sip of his drink before setting it down, his hand returning to your thigh once more, “I did”. Shaking your head you twist around on the spot to look at him fully, “why not my name?”.
“What’s it to him?” he mutters as his free hand runs through your hair before stopping to rest on your shoulder. Your frown deepens upon hearing his words, “he’s your friend”, you state. “Perhaps”, Beomgyu says as he casts a glance toward Duri whose hand was down the skirt of the girl he had just walked up to, “but not a friend you should be acquainted with”.
“Why?”
He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth but doesn’t reply. “Did he do something bad?” you press but Beomgyu doesn’t budge. “Haven’t we all?” he says as he empties the last of his drink.
“Yes but─”
“Drop it, dollface”, Beomgyu’s voice is so cold that it could've easily brought back the ice age. Gulping you look down to your half empty glass, the drink seeming to have lost all its taste.
His answer however made you almost certain of one thing, that Duri was a dealer, he had to be. That’s how Beomgyu knew him, it had to be. Then that would mean that Beomgyu also… No, maybe he just bought from him every now and then. A small amount couldn’t be that bad right? As long as he had it under control, and he did, didn't he?
Back then you didn’t know it, but Beomgyu loved his control. More than a lot of things, more than a lot of people.
You glance up at him once more, a thousand questions prodding at your lips, you chose one. “How did you get my number?”
Beomgyu groans, “fuck dollface, you ask a lot of questions”. His hand on your shoulder moves to the nape of your neck as he pulls your lips flush against his in a hot kiss. Beomgyu was good at avoiding questions, perhaps a little too good.
That should have been your second warning.
19th February 2024 — present time
Beomgyu hadn’t changed a lot in the ten months you had gone without seeing him. There were only a few noticeable differences. His hair had gotten longer, the ends looked thinner and less well kept. Dark circles clad the area under his eyes, it was something you had never seen on him before.
His otherwise charismatic persona had yet to leave him as he cracked jokes at any given moment. Ah, and he was still a little too good at avoiding questions.
“What is your relationship to Park Baekhyun?” you ask. Beomgyu twists the rings on his fingers as he hums softly. As his eyes find yours a grin spreads across his lips, “what’s your relationship to that guy?”.
You frown, what guy? “I advise you to answer my questions instead of diverting to other─” “The guy in the doorway, from earlier”, Beomgyu interrupts you as his eyes scan your expression for answers, for insecurities.
“That was my colleague”, you say, mentally scolding yourself for letting Huening drop you off at the investigation rooms after your lunch together.
“Really?” Beomgyu’s eyebrows raise in a fake-surprise, “didn’t look like it to me”. You roll your eyes, “what you think does not matter, now if you would regain focus and answer my quest─” “He your boyfriend or something?”
Beomgyu’s expression holds no hint of amusement as he leans back in his chair, rocking on its back legs. You almost wanted to laugh. After everything, he still thought he had a say in anything regarding your life, regarding you.
“He might be”.
“Bullshit”. Beomgyu leans forward again, the front legs of his chair slamming down on the stone floor.
You don’t flinch at the sound, you don’t move from your position even when Beomgyu’s face comes so close to yours that you can feel his hot breath on your face.
Fighting the urge to smile, you tilt your head to the side. “Is it so hard to believe?” You watch as Beomgyu bites the inside of his cheek as he studies your face, when he doesn’t find what he’s looking for he lets out a huff of air as he leans back again.
“He’s not your type”, he then says and it’s now your turn to fake surprise as you cross your arms, “who says?”. Beomgyu scoffs, “funny, dollface”. “You forget, I know everything about you”, his tongue swipes over his bottom lip and you find your eyes lingering.
“Knew”, you then say, “you knew everything about me”.
Beomgyu looks at you with an expression that could only be explained as rage filled. “Things change, Beomgyu”, you then say, putting pressure on his name, “people change, I changed”.
“It’s a shame you didn’t”, you give him a sympathetic look. Beomgyu’s fist slams down on the metal table, causing the cuffs around his wrists to rattle. You don’t flinch. It angers him even more.
“I think it’s best we end today’s session here”, you stand up and straighten your shirt. Beomgyu remains silent as he glares at you. It isn’t until you reach the door, one hand on the handle, that he finally speaks again.
“Is red his favorite color too?”
You freeze, “what?”. Beomgyu chuckles behind you, but his laugh holds no warmth. You turn to look at him, what had made him bring such a thing up. It isn't until his gaze travels to your lips that realization hits you.
You had meant to get rid of that lipstick months ago. You had simply forgotten to, right? It was a mere coincidence that it presented itself on your desk so prettily this morning, and you had been in a rush too, not looking to see which exact product you’d taken.
Beomgyu smirks, “you still look fucking irresistable in it”, he says as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth.
Quickly composing yourself, you pull your eyes from his lips. “My boyfriend thinks so too”, you say and before he has the chance to reply you’re out of the room, slamming the door shut behind you as you lean against it.
Fuck, he still made your heart almost beat out of your chest.
That night had been a restless one, spent going through the few pieces of Beomgyu you had left. The pieces you had clung onto, like your life depended on it. And maybe it did─maybe back then it did.
They were few but important, a necklace, a perfume, a shirt, polaroids and…the red lipstick. Turning the small shiny tube between your fingers, you admire it. It was the first gift Beomgyu had given to you.
It came in a small box, wrapped in gold with a red bow on top. Beomgyu had watched closely as your shaking fingers ripped the packaging apart. When you so carefully lifted the lid to reveal the small product inside your eyes had widened.
“I─ Beomgyu this is…” you had mumbled as your fingers grazed the outline of the lipstick. “Try it on”, he whispered as his fingers brushed a strand of hair from your face.
You screwed the bottom of the tube, revealing its deep red color. With trembling hands you had applied it, it turned out to be rather difficult without a mirror. As you put the lid back onto the lipstick you turned to look to Beomgyu.
The smirk on his lips widened, exposing sharp teeth, his thumb grazed your bottom lip as it swept away any excess product. “Now you look like a real doll”, he mumbled as he caressed your flushed cheek.
“I’ll wear it”, you whispered as you leaned into his touch. Beomgyu hummed in approval as he pressed his lips against your freshly painted ones.
“Good, red is my favorite color”.
end of tape 02
✎...taglist @beomtasticc @beomies-world @leeminhosairfryer @baekberrie @fairyofyeongyu @lunathewritingcat @archoive @baemgyu @yunjinsbbg @velvetmoonlght @luvsyuqii @seokqt @soobiary @20-cms @moagyuu @ioveastera
(if your tag is not working please check your settings to make sure that your blog is not hidden!)
→ want to get notified whenever a new dream is published? join my TAGLIST ★
all rights reserved ─ @beomiracles 2024
65 notes
·
View notes
Changes: A Poll-Fic
"Remember, you're not supposed to be here, so don't do anything stupid." Love you too, Price. The Captain had caved. He'd been begging to be part of this mission since they'd gotten the lead.
Soap reached up, rubbing his gloved fingers across the teeth of his mask. The mask he'd stolen from Ghost's room. Gaz had found him clutching it, dried mixture of tears and bile coating his cheeks, and forehead pressed to the porcelain throne. He'd been banned from drinking for the foreseeable future. That was the only stupid thing he'd done. Ghost wore a mask, Ghost only spoke when he had to, Ghost was hard on the rookies, and nobody questioned his mental state. But they did, didn't they? Well Soap didn't. And nobody needed to question Soap, he was fine.
"I wanna be like you when I grow up."
"You wanna be better than me, Johnny."
Well to be better than him, first he had to be more like him. So he'd donned Ghost's mask, to better embody the man's stoicism and presence. Definitely not as a way to hide his chapped cheeks and the bags under his eyes. He'd painted it red, wore a jaw print bandana. Different. Better. Yeah.
Price had finally caved to Soap's insistence he be part of this OP, but issued his warnings. "I know you don't need to be told, but I'm saying it anyway." He'd warned. "They've had him for eight months. Torture changes people, he may not be the same."
Of course he wasn't going to be the fucking same. He didn't need to be the same, he just needed to be alive.
Ghost never really spoke about his past, only left little hints here and there, but Soap wasn't dumb. He'd been through it before. Ghost could handle the torture, and Soap could handle the aftermath.
"I'm fine." He finally answered. "It'll be by the books, Captain." As if anything they did was ever 'by the books.' Price accepted his answer, though he didn't look convinced. It was just the three of them, with Laswell listening in. Gaz was in charge of collecting data on the bio weapon that was rumored to be here, Soap was in charge of the search and rescue mission, and Price was overwatch as the two Sergeants made their way in.
The trio hopped out of the truck, and Price slapped the side, sending it away. Soap and Gaz nodded to one another before splitting up to approach the building from different angles. Price silently made his way to higher ground.
The trek was agonizing, moreso because Soap found himself feeling more impatient than usual. Every time he had to lay low and wait for a patrol to pass he could hear the sand slowly falling, trickling away in the hourglass that was the rest of Ghost's life.
"You sure know how to keep things interesting, Johnny." Ghost had smiled at him, rare that he didn't have his mask, but then again, who other than Soap would challenge the Ghost to strip poker? And who other than Soap would cheat be really really good at strip poker? So good as to force Ghost to choose between his pants and his mask, the last two articles of clothing he had on. Soap himself had only one sock, and his jumper on, choosing to doff his pants so he could keep access to the cards in his sleeves. The unpleasant cold of the metal chair against his junk was worth it, just to see the surprising decision on Ghost's part to lose the mask and not the underwear.
"Aye, like to shake things up, Sir." He'd said with a wink as he laid yet another winning hand down, only slightly supplemented by his sleeve stash.
He was certainly always one to shake things up. Here he was, itching to shake that damn hourglass up. He'd shake it, flip it upside down, bash it over someone's head and stuff the sand down their fucking throat, if it meant he'd get more time with the enigmatic phantom that had haunted his mind since that shitshow in Mexico.
Price gave the signal, they crawled forward once more.
"This is takin' longer than a constipated snail takin' a shit." He grit out into comms once the coast was clear.
"Soap, while it's nice to hear your voice again, one more quip outta you and I'm pulling you. Watch it." Laswell had gotten the cold shoulder, she'd fed Ghost bad intel. He blamed her, he didn't, couldn't blame her. She was just as worried. Probably.
He just needed to get Ghost back. Repay his debt. Ghost had saved him back then, after all. That's what this was. An eye for an eye, but in a positive way. They were good for eachother. Fixed eachothers problems. Complimented one another, personality wise. That's all.
He crept into the building, silent and unnoticed.
They didn't have much on the layout, just the outer perimeter, so they were going in blind. That didn't bother Soap, he was thriving for the first time in months. He finally had something to do other than run the rookies into the ground.
He dodged patrols, picked off the ones he could get away with had to, using the knife he'd kicked so long ago after Ghost had left it behind.
He found some unlit stairs leading into a basement they hadn't known existed. If I were keeping an incredibly dangerous prisoner, now where would I keep him? Three sets of teeth, plastic, cloth and bone, were bared towards the darkness. He couldn't help it, he felt giddy. He tried to quell his excitement, didn't need to make any mistakes now.
He made his way, thankful for his NVG's as there were no lights, even after descending the stairs. The hallway he entered had doors along one side, nothing much in the rooms, but he cleared each one as he passed. No fuck ups.
Near the end, he found a door with seven locks. Suspicious. Good. Suspicious was good, here. The other doors had been wood, dry rotted and deteriorating, this one was metal.
His eyes itched. He flipped up his NVG's.
Curiously, whenever he blinked, Soap could've sworn he could see symbols on the door, but they'd disappear the longer he looked. He'd blink, a sickening yellow circle with lines and symbols within would appear just as he opened his eyes, but faded so quickly, he couldn't convince himself it had ever even been there. The harder he stared the more the door looked perfectly normal, if you ignored all the locks.
Many many thanks to @stuffireadandenjoy for brainstorming with me on how to make this poll fic work, and to @resident-idiot-simp for being my beta, as always ❤❤❤
28 notes
·
View notes
i had thoughts of a canon-adjacent Zoro (nonbeliever ambitious swordsman) and Death-God!Sanji who keep meeting because of how close to dying Zoro always gets during his fights and oops now it's a messy drabble written in between breaks at work and here ya go.
-
In all his years as the god of Death, Sanji has never seen such a stubborn, strong willed human- he’s honestly half amused every time he's brought to a wounded, bleeding Zoro. He doesn't expect him to survive that giant slash attack from the warlord, nor the myriad of injuries he collects after that- and if he feels a bit of pride every time he escapes him Death, well, no one will know.
It takes him a while to realise that, in those fleeting moments, when he's loitering and waiting around as Zoro approaches the point of no return, Zoro can see him as well. Sanji's a bit mortified at first. All this time, he's just been voicing his thoughts out loud like he always does, who knows what the reckless man overheard! It's pure force of habit, since it’s not like there’s ever someone to hear to him- his family chose this domain for him on purpose after all; they took all the great, bright, good, worshiped domains of life, war, medicine...and left him this one to punish him, break him with eons of witnessing and bearing human grief in solitude.
It's barely morning and Zoro is dripping with blood, resolutely standing against all odds in a beautiful display of absolute devotion and conviction, and Sanji feels like maybe today will be the day he takes him- that this is the end for the stubborn swordsman. He comes closer than he ever has to the man, walks right up to him, readying himself for the weight of another soul's voyage, when Zoro's lidded eyes snap up and meet his own. His fiery gaze doesn’t go straight through him, but actually settles on him. Sees him.
It's unnerving. Sanji shivers at this feeling of being perceived.
Humans usually only see him once they fully passed on, when he’s guiding them, cold hands gripping onto him, begging, crying, frightened or even sometimes full of wrath and fighting to stay by their loved ones.
“It’s you again.” His voice is weak, raspy.
Sanji doesn’t answer.
“Why're you always here for my big battles?” A pause. “You like me or somethin'?”
Confusion. Shock. Embarrassment. “You think I stalk you and show up for you battles!?”
“Sure seems like it.”
Sanji scoffs.
He can’t believe this! He wants to chew the bastard out- who the hell does he think he is? but he bites down on his words, certain that these are the man's final moments. There's no way anyone could survive such wounds- it's a miracle he's even conscious or standing.
He doesn’t want to add insult to injury.
“I’m the god of Death, you idiot.”
Oops.
“I don’t believe in gods.”
The absurdity of that statement when literally in conversation with one doesn’t escape Sanji, but he's not really there to argue.
The green-haired man continues. “So, what, you’re into me or something? Just ask me out like a normal person.”
This cocky asshole...Sanji's heated reply is cut off by Zoro’s nakama arriving on the scene in a panic. Sanji trails after them, hovering, ready for the now unconscious body's heart to stop beating at any moment- but the moment doesn't come.
Under the attention of their talented doctor, Zoro escapes him once again.
Sanji's definitely not relieved.
It's out of curiosity that he stays around a little longer. He returns from time to time to check in on the mysterious man and his recovery, still a bit unbelieving that he managed to survive such grievous, traumatic injuries and intense blood loss. By all means he should've died the instant he made contact with the red, concentrated bubble of pain and stress that Kuma expelled from his captain's body.
His friends weep and berate him when he wakes. The ginger woman who found him screams at him to “stop flirting with death” and Sanji chuckles- she doesn’t know how technically accurate that statement is.
Later, Sanji guiltily looks forward to feeling that tug from Zoro once more, that pull on his power he feels when someone is nearing his domain. He's admittedly curious to learn more about him, this idiot swordsman who can see him, hear him, and yet isn’t at all scared of him. It's so rare for humans to accept him without a hint of fear.
He doesn’t let himself dwell on that tinge of nervousness at the back of his mind- what if the next time is the time he steals him away- from his friends, his dream, his captain? What if this time he doesn’t get back up?
But he does.
And when he lingers in the cold, empty room of Kuragaina castle where the bandaged swordsman is laid to rest, content to stare at his mossy head of hair, Sanji notices something weird. From his bedside seat, he can feel the ghost of body warmth.
He tentatively leans closer, his fingers reach out, expecting to go right through Zoro's arm. They recoil, as if burned by fire, when instead they meet soft flesh.
Huh.
Zoro's eyes blearily crack open, immediately finding his hovering form.
"You're... back."
And Sanji knows something changed, that day, on Thriller Bark. He's been on this earth for a long, long time, and he knows Zoro should be dead. Unequivocally so. And yet he isn't. Whether by the sheer strength of his willpower or his fervent defiance of the gods and the laws of this universe, Zoro is still...present. Alive enough to have warm, red blood flowing through his veins and air filling his lungs. Dead enough to perceive him, touch him, feel him.
__
War brews and Sanji has a lot of work on his hands. After the carnage, he wearily returns to Kuragaina, and Zoro, sullen, heavy with guilt, asks him if it's true. Asks him if the eye of this particular storm, the man known as Ace, is truly dead.
Death has long worn away at Sanji, a constant wave beating at the his endless empathy his father called a weakness, wearing him down with each soul he takes from this world. But he's never become numb to it. He openly, lovingly feels the sorrow with every loss, with each reaping, with every last breath rasped from trembling lips. He embraces it, cherishes it for all of its bittersweet taste.
So he tells Zoro of Marineford. Of the epic battle that occurred there between Whitebeard and the marines. With each somber word he feels just a little lighter- an unfamiliar, happy feeling blooming in his chest at getting to talk to someone after what feels like a forever of solitude.
Time passes, and Sanji visits him more and more, grateful for the rare company. It'd been so long since he last was able to have a decent conversation with someone. Joke around. Banter. Flirt? They grow closer, never really voicing the...whatever it is that passes between them. Zoro eventually returns to his crew, and Sanji avoids approaching him unless he's alone. Wouldn't want people to think he's seeing things.
--
It becomes a dance. A well oiled machine. Zoro cutting down the enemies before him, Sanji right behind him and guiding his fallen foes into the afterlife. Cut after cut, his blades sing in the air, accompanied by the groans and cries of the people Sanji welcomes into his waiting arms.
After a big battle Zoro is laying in the rubble, chest heaving from the effort. Sanji sits with him, solemn. Accepting. Enjoying his company, the only company he can keep.
Zoro still hasn't admitted that gods are real, even when he sees Sanji trail after the path his bloodied swords carve out, hard at work. Even when he sees Sanji's dark, draped silhouette raise into the skies, untethered - that’s just skywalk, he says.
--
Sanji grows fearful. Shaken by the feelings, the attachment he feels for the swordsman, like a tether to this world. It makes him feel more alive than he ever has, yes. But nothing good can ever come of it, and he knows the universe isn't kind enough to give him such happiness without the promise of a subsequent fall, a return to reality soured and made worse by what came before it.
It's a dark, rainy day when Zoro corners him on the Sunny. Sanji hasn't visited him in a couple of days- not much death without opponents around.
They're at the back of the ship, obscured by the mikan trees, and Zoro's hands are bracing him against the wall, locking him in. Sanji knows he could go through the wall, but Zoro's eye has him pinned, frozen where he stands. His arms lay lifelessly by his sides.
The swordsman leans in, cups his chin, and Sanji doesn't think- his eyes flutter shut, he's open and wanting as warm, chapped lips press delicately against his. They don't need words. They know. Can feel it with every tender touch as their bodies work together to deepen the kiss. Sanji loops an arm around Zoro's neck, hand digging into his hair, while the other bunches up the fabric of his kimono to bring him ever closer. He's pressed so tightly against him that he can almost pretend the beating feeling near his chest is his own heart, can almost feel the rushing sound in his ears, the warmth seeping into his skin, up his chest, his neck, cheeks, ears.
Zoro breaks apart for air, and Sanji hears himself mirroring his pants, so enamoured with the swordsman he feels like his breath was stolen away.
"Curls." Zoro's looking at him odd, nearly awestruck, eyes flitting across his face, his body, his hands reach out to take his hands in his, lightly massaging his flesh.
A stern feminine voice rings behind them, snapping their heads to attention.
"Zoro, who the hell is this man you're kissing behind my mikan trees?!"
128 notes
·
View notes