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pedrointofolklore · 11 months

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Rosebud

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: carnations bloomed when you saw joel. too shy to admit your feelings, but too overcome to not, you began leaving flowers at his doorstep.

warnings: very brief but graphic depictions of violence, mentions of death/grief, tragic backstory, emotional processing, reader is a loser who falls in love in two seconds, lots of metaphorical language, swearing, mostly just self-indulgent fluff, joel is soft, big age gap (reader is in late 20s), no smut, no use of y/n (reader has a nickname), jackson era.

word count: 6k

a/n: hey y’all. i’m delving into the world of fanfiction writing and i’m tentatively posting this as my first story. this story by @army-author is what inspired me here—i read it years ago and loved the concept ever since. i also super don't know much about flower gardening so apologies for any inaccuracies.

Your earliest memory was sitting in the garden with your mother one September. You were small then, no more than three years old, covered in soil and some residual stickiness from whatever fruit you’d just devoured, watching with a curious eye as your mother pruned her roses.

When you thought of her, you thought of that garden. In your memories, it was a labyrinth. Flowers, shrubs and vines overflowed the yard. You used to fear getting lost in the brambles, but at some point, you started to crave their thorny embrace.

It was a pink rose, so bright and intense, like a painting come to life. She shed the thorns, tucked it behind your ear and pinched your chubby cheeks. That was the first time she called you ‘Rosebud.’ Nobody ever called you anything else.

You couldn’t have known then that you were just a few Septembers away from losing her.

She died on the first day, in the centre of the garden. Your lasting memory of her was your father driving a pair of garden shears into her jugular. She collapsed to the ground, blood as dark as a crimson rose pooled around her as your father wept over her lifeless body. You sprinted inside and threw up.

She died a stranger. You didn’t understand what was happening to her then, but you understood that she was gone before the shears even entered her neck.

It haunted you for the next twenty years—but that person was not your mother.

Whenever the wound opened, and that memory came flooding back, you closed your eyes and thought of her as she truly was—kind, gentle, passionate. You recalled her soft smile, her musical laugh, the books she read, the flowers she loved.

When you were a kid, you thought of her as the sun that kept those flowers alive. As you grew older, she became the sutures that kept you from falling apart.

You knew your father had no other choice, but you could never quite look at him the same. Still, he was all you had, and he kept you safe until the day he died.

It was your mother’s leather-bound notebook that kept you going. She listed every flower she could think of, and wrote the meaning next to it. That notebook went with you everywhere, all across the country. Every new species you came across, you found it in the book, memorised its meaning, and crossed it off your mental checklist.

Flower seeking had to be the most frivolous thing one could do at the end of the world, but it kept you close to your mother, and gave you some semblance of purpose. Each new flower felt like something blooming inside you—your own secret garden that grew from the depths of your soul.

Carnations bloomed when you saw Joel.

He first came to Jackson in December with a girl by his side. They were gone by the next morning, but you saw him. He was coming out of the bar, tugging his coat back on when you spotted him through the crowd of carolling townspeople.

Even from a distance, you noticed the pain in him—a pain similar to yours. There was a wistfulness in his face, a longing for something he missed, and a fear so intense it seemed paralysing. He clutched at his chest, holding in the marigold that grew where his heart should have been.

You wanted to know him.

He came back that spring with the same girl, and this time, he stayed.

It was a while before you spoke with either of them. Everyone who arrived in Jackson had a tendency to be closed-off at first, and you couldn’t fault them for that. You didn’t know where they’d been or what they’d done, but you knew they’d gone through hell.

You met Ellie first. She came by the greenhouse one day, arms crossed and face vacant. Her reticence might have been mistaken for hostility if you didn’t relate so much.

You tore your soil-covered gloves off and wiped a hand over your cheek, probably just further smudging whatever dirt was caked on there.

“Hi there!” You did your best to sound cheerful, to come across as someone who was definitely okay with unexpected visitors. “What can I do for you?”

“Maria told me you might need some help around here.”

You didn’t think you needed help, and it seemed like the girl wanted to be anywhere but here. But as you pondered her, you started to recognise what she was actually getting at.

She didn’t know what to do, but she needed to do something.

“What’s your name?” you asked.

“Ellie.”

“Nice to meet you, Ellie.” You held out your hand, which she stared at for a good couple of seconds before shaking. “Call me Rosebud.”

“You’re a florist named Rosebud?” She was incredulous, and you didn’t even care that she was making fun of you—it was the first time you’d seen her smile during this entire interaction.

“It’s a nickname,” you told her, “and I'm more of a floriculturist. If you want to help me out, grab some gloves and a trowel.”

“What the fuck is a ‘trowel’?”

You spent the next few hours with her digging holes in the soil, un-potting flowers and planting them in the ground. As apprehensive as Ellie had been to begin with, it didn’t take her long to warm up to you.

The first thing you learned about her was that she asked a lot of questions.

“Why do we have to move these?”

“It’s spring. They’ll do better in the ground.”

“Why didn’t Maria show us this place when we first came here?”

“It was winter. Half the flowers had gone to shit, so there wasn’t much to see,” you replied, flattening the soil around a sunflower plant.

The greenhouse had been established before you got there. Nobody ran it, it was something for everyone to tend to, but nobody cared enough to do so. The gardeners of Jackson preferred to focus on crops that could actually feed them. But then you arrived, and you knew how to grow a thriving flower garden, and with all the bees it brought, it only helped the agriculture. It also meant that Jackson had honey.

“This one’s cool. What is it?” Ellie asked. You looked over at the plant she was settling into the ground—a grassy little shrub with white flowers blooming at the ends.

“Starwort. It means ‘Welcome to a stranger.’”

“Appropriate,” Ellie said. “I didn’t know flowers had meanings.”

“It’s called floriography,” you replied. “I have a book all about it.”

Ellie stayed until the sun began to set, leaving in much better spirits than she arrived. You were used to working alone, and you thought you preferred it that way, but she turned out to be good company. You sent her home with a starwort blossom and a jar of honey as a thank you, and told her to come back any time. You really hoped she would.

You met Joel the next morning.

There was a knock at your door, which you expected to be Ellie back again. Instead, you opened the door to find her guardian standing on your front porch.

Your eyes flicked shamelessly over his form. He was broad, strong, with plaid sleeves hiked up to his elbows—you didn’t know it was possible to be attracted to someone’s forearms. His features were beautifully angular, especially his nose. But it was his eyes that really got you. They were dark like coffee, deep and intense. You could fall into them and never stop.

The garden you carried in your soul had never felt more alive. It was weird you hadn’t spoken yet, but you worried if you opened your mouth, the brightest, reddest chrysanthemums would come bursting out.

“Good mornin’. Sorry to bother you,” Joel finally said, with the rehearsed politeness typical of a Southern man. There was still an earnestness to him, like he didn’t quite remember how to do this but he was determined to try. “I think Ellie was here yesterday?”

“That’s right.” You internally cheered when your voice didn’t fail on you. “Is that okay? I know I didn’t get your permission. She just kind of showed up.”

“No, that’s okay. I just came by to thank you.”

“Thank me?”

“She's been struggling to…adjust, I guess,” Joel explained, “but she was in a good mood when she came home yesterday. I think being here helped her, so thank you.”

You weren’t quite sure what to say. People silently appreciated what you did for the commune, but nobody had ever gone out of their way to thank you for anything. It was a little overwhelming.

“Well, she’s welcome here any time.” You didn’t think Ellie was particularly interested in gardening, but you could see that the girl just needed to feel busy, and maybe needed some company. You were just glad she could find that with you.

“Thank you,” Joel said again. “What was your name, darlin’?”

“Just call me Rosebud.”

You expected a laugh, a mocking jab of some sort, but instead he just tilted his head and looked at you with complete sincerity. “Pretty. It suits you.”

Your cheeks were embarrassingly warm.

“Well, I won’t keep you any longer,” Joel said. Your heart fell. “It was nice meetin’ you. And, uh, thanks again.”

He started to leave, but you weren’t ready for him to go. Before you could think it through, you called after him, “Wait.”

You might have imagined it, but for a split second after he turned back around, you could've sworn you spotted an eagerness in him, like he was hoping you’d say that.

“You can come inside,” you offered, “if you want.”

He did.

Five minutes later, Joel was standing in your kitchen, leaning against the counter. You could feel his gaze on you as you moved, getting the water ready and setting out two mugs.

“How do you like your coffee?” You were already sure of the answer.

“Black. No sugar.” Yep.

You poured the coffee into a mug, absent-mindedly blowing on it as you handed it to him. He didn’t wait for it to cool down before taking a sip, not even flinching at the heat.

You opted for tea with a generous amount of milk and honey.

“Thanks for the honey as well,” Joel said. “Ellie loves it. She’s never had anything so sweet.”

“That doesn’t surprise me if she grew up in a QZ,” you replied, turning to face him with your mug cradled in both hands. “I think I cried when I first got here and they actually had sugar.”

“When did you get here?”

“Around two years ago. My dad knew Seth—you know, from the bar—got in touch with him, and he told us how to get here,” you explained. You truly hated Seth, but he did save your ass and that left you obligated to be nice.

“Your dad’s not here, is he?” Joel spoke without any particular sentiment. It was an observation, plain and simple. You didn’t mind, you just shook your head. It felt normal to talk about your dad. You missed him, but his death wasn’t horrifically tragic to you—the man had a heart attack.

“What about you? I mean, how’d you end up here?” You were nervous about prying, or accidentally chasing him away before you really got to talk, but Joel had fascinated you since December. You needed to know more.

“I was in the Boston QZ for a while, left to look for my brother, found him.” He wasn’t going to get more detailed than that. Too much had happened that was difficult to talk about, and you could see that, because it was the same for you.

No matter how much you wanted to, you didn’t let yourself ask anything more. You didn’t ask why he’d been here in winter, why he left so soon, why he came back, why he didn’t come sooner if his brother was here, how Ellie fit into all of it. You didn’t ask, and you wouldn’t ask. All you could do was hope he’d open up in time.

It occurred to you just how different Joel looked now than he did in December, and not just because you were actually seeing him up-close. His whole spirit had shifted. Back then, he’d been like an open wound, barely being held together by exposed, bloody tendons that threatened to snap at any moment. He was different now—still wounded, but no longer in pieces.

There was something else in him too. Something dormant, but always on the verge of springing back to life. A quiet guilt.

“Flowers always been your thing?” Joel asked. You were grateful for the subject change.

“Pretty much. I used to know someone who loved them. Made me love them too.”

He nodded with an unexpected softness in his expression. It wasn’t pity, or even sympathy, but a warm kind of understanding.

“I know the flower stuff seems silly,” you said, looking down into the milky beige of your tea, “but it really is useful.”

“I know that,” Joel said. “I don’t think it’s silly.”

You could practically feel your chest split open that very second. Flowers sprouted from your heart, and they bloomed for Joel. They longed to reach out, wrap him up in their stems and vines and pull him into you.

Carnations. Chrysanthemums. Vervain.

You kept your composure until Joel left. You said your farewells, waved him off, shut the door, and immediately collapsed on your couch in a lovestruck heap. It was all so dramatic, the sofa may as well have been a bed of roses.

It wasn’t just that Joel was attractive—and fuck, he was attractive—it was the way he wholly and truly respected you. Respect was something you’d had to earn from everyone else around here, but Joel didn’t need any convincing. He saw your worth right away.

He was all you thought about for the rest of the day, the evening, until you went to bed that night. Even then, your mind wouldn’t stop racing.

These feelings were big, too big. Keeping them inside hurt, but you feared letting them out would be agony. They were safest with you, blossoming into flowers in your soul, where only you knew about them.

But still, you were wide awake, consumed by the urge to do something, say something.

So you got up, pulled your shoes on, went outside and picked a flower from your garden.

Jackson was desolate as you wandered down the street. The only residents awake at this hour were those on patrol. It might have been eerie if you weren’t so wound up.

You scanned each house as you passed by, looking for Joel’s. Your heart pounded in your chest when you found it. You didn’t need to be so nervous, the lights were off, but you kept imagining someone walking out and catching you in the act. But you’d come this far, and his front door was just a few yards away.

You climbed the stone steps with a quiet urgency, twirling the flower between your fingers one last time before dropping it just outside his door.

A single gardenia.

You were going to leave it at just one flower—you didn’t want to be weird and scare Joel off before you really got to know him. But then Ellie came by the greenhouse again.

“Did you leave a flower on our front porch the other day?” she asked, watering a yarrow seedling.

“What? Why?” You felt so lame, and so stupid for forgetting that Ellie lived there too. Your gesture was bound to get intercepted.

“There was a white flower out there. I showed it to Joel, and we figured it was from you.” It was a very reasonable thing to figure considering it was from you.

“What did Joel say?” you asked, trying not to sound as desperate as you felt.

“He said it was for him.”

“So he took it?”

“Yeah,” Ellie said. “Don’t know what he did with it.”

Ellie wasn’t nearly as invested in this as you were, but it still sounded promising. Joel had accepted the flower, maybe even liked it. The thought made your stomach feel strange, like a bunch of petals were flurrying around in there.

“Well, it was for him…” you mumbled.

Ellie glared at you in feigned outrage. “I’m insulted.”

“What are you complaining about?” you laughed. “I gave you a flower.”

“It’s wilting.”

“Fine then”—you handed her a pair of pruning shears—“go cut yourself a new flower.”

She wandered around the greenhouse for about five minutes and came back spinning a flower between her thumb and index finger. It had pure white petals and a bright yellow pistil. “I chose this daisy.”

“That’s a cosmos,” you corrected. “It represents harmony and balance.”

Ellie assessed the flower in her hand, genuinely mulling over the meaning of it, and you realised how much you appreciated her. She saw value in something you cared about.

“What did Joel’s mean?” she asked.

“I’m actually not sure about that one.” It was a total lie, but you sounded convincing enough that Ellie shrugged it off and carried on watering flowers.

You couldn’t help yourself after that. Knowing that Joel accepted your gift made you want to do it again. And again.

So you did. Every few days, when you were sure he and Ellie were asleep, you sauntered down to their house and dropped a flower outside the door. An aster, agapanthus, camellia…

Joel never mentioned it, and you never really expected him to, but the nods and soft smiles he gave you when he saw you around were enough to let you know he appreciated you.

But Joel would never know the true meaning of your flowers. It was better that way.

Maria and Tommy’s son was born later in the spring, and your garden had never seen so many visitors. The new parents were practically drowning in congratulatory flower arrangements, and eventually Tommy had to tell you to start turning people away.

One of these visitors happened to be Joel, and he was the one person you couldn’t turn away.

Unlike everyone else, Joel came to your door first. The slight nerves he’d had the first time he came over were gone, but so was the facade of sociability. Maybe this uncouth version of Joel should have irked you, but seeing him comfortable enough to drop the pretence just made you like him more.

“I need help with something,” he said, not even bothering with a hello.

“What is it?”

“A gift for the happy family,” he spoke bitterly, like he was actively trying not to grimace as the words came out.

“Flowers?”

“Flowers seem appropriate.”

Joel was strangely upset for someone who was welcoming their nephew into the world. You didn’t know the story between Tommy and Joel, just that they hadn’t seen each other for years before Joel and Ellie arrived in Jackson, and that Maria really disliked him.

But despite his sour attitude, it was clear Joel was trying. Whatever was weighing on him, he was pushing it down and choosing to be thoughtful for the sake of his family. Tommy could deal with one more bouquet.

You walked down to the greenhouse with Joel trailing behind you, his hands shoved into his pockets the entire time. On a better day, you would have tried to make conversation with him, but he obviously didn’t need that pressure right now.

He finally spoke up when you arrived at the greenhouse. “This place has seen better days.”

It wasn’t the flowers he was talking about, it was the structure itself. The contractor in him must have noticed the rusted metal pipes holding everything together, the holes and tears in the plastic sheets, and the fact that there was almost no room to walk.

“I know it’s bad,” you said with a nervous laugh. “It was built before I got here. I don’t think they used their finest materials.”

It was always cramped in here, but Joel being so broad and having such a presence made it even worse. He was closer to you now than he’d ever been. He smelled warm, like fresh coffee and leather and musk. It made your head spin.

“So, what kind of flowers are you thinking?” You needed to change the subject before you threw yourself at this man.

“Uh...pink?”

You laughed—you couldn’t help it. He couldn’t have been more vague if he tried.

“Why’s that funny?” He wasn’t mad, but he did seem impatient.

“Sorry,” you said, fighting back a smile. “Maybe you could elaborate on that?”

“I don’t know,” he groaned, running a hand over his prickly beard. “This is why I need help.��

You felt bad for laughing when he was so stressed out. He was overthinking something that should have been simple, and it made your heart ache for him. He was looking for guidance.

“We’ll do peonies for good fortune,” you told him, “and daffodils for new beginnings.”

His shoulders relaxed as some of the tension left him. Whatever was weighing on him was still there, but this was one thing that made it bearable.

You walked back to your house after cutting the flowers, where there was actually space to work. You expected Joel to leave then, go home and wait until the flowers were ready like everyone else did, maybe even have you deliver them on his behalf, but he stayed by your side.

“How do you know all this stuff?” Joel asked, sitting across the table from you as you worked. “About flowers, I mean.”

You never got into this with anyone, but your inexplicable attachment to Joel compelled you to open up. Whatever pain resided in him reminded you of your own. He understood you.

“My mom had this book. She wrote down the meaning of every flower she knew of, and I guess I’ve memorised it all over the years,” you explained.

Talking about her didn’t hurt like you thought it would. It was actually a relief.

“When did it happen?” You knew what he was asking.

“First day,” you replied.

He nodded solemnly. “Me too.”

This wasn’t the first time you had seen through the gaps in Joel’s armour, but it was the first time he’d made the choice to let you. You didn’t know his limits, if those two words were as deep as he could get, but you wanted to see what would happen if you just asked.

“Joel?”

“Hm?”

“You don’t seem happy about this,” you said, straightforward but still cautious.

“I guess I’m not,” he admitted, looking down pensively.

“Why is that?”

“Just don’t understand bringing a kid into all this.”

You agreed with him. The people of Jackson were as safe as they could be, but outside the walls were infected, raiders, FEDRA, and a multitude of horrors too awful to speak of. It would only take one mistake for Jackson to be completely wiped out. You wouldn’t want to bring a child into a world like that either.

But you also knew that most people who had kids post-outbreak hadn’t done it by choice.

“It’s not as if people have access to birth control,” you pointed out, stacking peonies onto a piece of tissue paper. “But I don’t disagree.”

“It’s just a lot for me to wrap my head around,” Joel continued—or maybe he was starting on a completely different train of thought. “Tommy’s the uncle. He’s always been the uncle. I’m…“

He couldn’t say it. He didn’t have to.

“You still are,” you told him. “Tommy’s still an uncle.”

Joel was silent, letting your words sink in. It was cold comfort, and maybe you shouldn’t have said it, but it was what you believed.

“Why do people call you Rosebud?” The question took you aback. It was completely unrelated, yet felt so important. He was the first person in twenty years to ask you that question.

“My mom came up with it when I was little. It’s what everyone’s called me since.”

“Doesn’t it hurt?” Joel asked. “Seems like a constant reminder of what you lost.”

It was hard having to live without her, but you never wanted to forget what you lost. “I guess I like the reminders.”

His hand absent-mindedly fell to the broken watch on his wrist, and for a fleeting moment, you were seeing the man you first saw in December. An open wound. Marigold.

“She didn’t stop being my mom,” you said quietly. “I didn’t stop being her daughter.”

And as quickly as the wound opened, it was once again sewn shut. He even managed a smile. “You’re wise, kid. You know that?”

Kid.

Ouch.

It felt like a kick to the stomach. In an instant, the carnations that bloomed when you first saw Joel all those months ago, that had been so red and vibrant, faded into yellow.

You held yourself together until he left. You finished arranging the flowers, wrapped them up, handed them over to him, said goodbye and wished him luck, then trudged over to the couch and flopped down onto it—this time in a dejected heap.

It wasn’t as if you thought you had much of a chance with Joel, but this just felt so awfully final. It didn’t matter that you were basically thirty years old—in his mind, you were a kid.

It was embarrassing. You thought about the flowers you left—a quiet admission of feelings—and prayed the couch would swallow you whole and suffocate you.

You’d gotten it all wrong. Joel never appreciated it. He probably thought it was weird and pathetic but didn’t have the heart to tell you. You wondered why he even accepted the initial flower, and if you weren’t feeling so spurned and humiliated, it might have dawned on you that you were overreacting.

You still left a flower that night, if only to get some closure. It would be the last one you ever left him.

A red tulip.

Joel came to your door one day in July.

You’d come to expect Ellie on your front porch at least once a week, but Joel wasn’t a surprise either. You were friends now, even after such an embarrassing rejection.

Joel still never mentioned the flowers. He was probably relieved when you stopped leaving them and wanted to pretend it never happened, and that was fine by you.

Being friends didn’t help matters though. He was always rough and grumpy in his Joel way, but he was sweet too. So sweet. It felt impossible to move on.

“Hey, Joel,” you said. “Need help with something?”

“I wanted to help you, actually.”

“Me?”

“I can’t keep lookin’ at that greenhouse,” Joel said. “It’s a piece of shit.”

You had to laugh at his honesty. “You want to patch it up?”

“Was thinking of taking the whole thing apart and rebuildin’ it.”

The offer stunned you. It was so generous and so out of nowhere. Your first instinct was to say no, that it wasn’t worth the trouble, but something stopped you. It was Joel coming to you in earnest and saying he wanted to help. It felt like an insult to deny him.

You smiled warmly and nodded. “Okay.”

“When can I get started?” he asked.

Shit. You had dozens of flower pots you didn’t know what to do with. “Uh, I’ll have to empty the greenhouse first. I guess I'll bring the flowers here in the meantime.”

“Ellie and I can help with that,” Joel said. “I’ll go get her.”

You blinked at him. “Now?”

“You got other plans?”

You absolutely did not. “Ah, no. Now is good.”

“Great.”

That was how you spent your day, lugging flower pots from the greenhouse and unloading them in your front yard with Joel and Ellie in tow. It was so lovely it bordered on being painful—pink roses unshed of their thorns pierced your heart.

You let yourself imagine for a moment that this was reality. That you, Joel and Ellie were a weird, happy family. The carnations in your soul had never been more yellow, and you instantly regretted indulging in that particular fantasy.

Joel was already at the greenhouse when you went there the next morning. He was up on a ladder, and half of the structure was already torn down. Rusted metal pipes and discoloured, ripped up plastic sheets were piling up a few feet away.

“Need any help?” you called out.

He looked down at you and smiled—a real, wide smile you hadn’t seen on him before. “You know what you’re doin'?”

“Not really.”

“Then, no,” he replied. “Don’t want you droppin’ anything on that pretty little head.”

Huh?

You flushed all over, wishing your couch was here so you could collapse onto it. Less than two months ago he was calling you a kid, and now he thought your head was pretty. The thought crept in that maybe he was purposely messing with you, but you liked Joel too much to entertain the idea.

“Well, I probably can’t help with the physical labour,” you said, cursing how nervous your voice sounded. “But if there’s anything else…”

“You’re a sweet one, Rosebud,” Joel said. He had to be doing this on purpose. “You just let me do my thing, and we’ll leave it a surprise.”

You laughed. “In other words, you’re telling me to get lost?”

He grinned at you fondly. “Just trust me.”

It only took one exchange for that hope to come back to life. You tried to stop it, tell yourself he was just teasing, that he didn’t mean it that way, but it was too late. Those carnations were already morphing back into a searing red.

You wanted to come by everyday and watch him work, but you stayed away and waited for him to come to you. It only took a few days for him to show up at your door, looking infuriatingly hot covered in blotches of sage green paint.

“Is it ready?” you asked.

“It’s ready.”

You followed along behind him, keeping your eyes down so you didn’t accidentally spot the new greenhouse before he was ready for you to look. You ended up just ogling his ass, which was a decidedly better and much more pinch-able sight than the ground.

“Look now.”

You lifted your gaze, and your hands flew up to your mouth as you let out a dramatic gasp.

It wasn’t just good, it wasn’t just an improvement, it was beautiful—masterfully pieced together with timber and painted the same sage green that Joel was sporting on his clothes. And it was bigger. There would actually be space for you to walk around inside.

Joel started to panic from beside you, and you realised you were crying. “Is it the green? I can repaint it if you hate it.”

You seemed to have lost the power of speech to reassure him, so instead, you threw your arms around him and held tight. The suddenness of it shocked him, and his hands found your waist. You weren’t sure if he was about to push you away or pull you in.

“So, you like it?” he asked.

“I love it,” you snivelled into his shoulder. “Thank you, Joel.”

He hugged you back then, caging you in with his big arms and making you feel so safe. You felt a prickly sensation on your temple as he brushed his lips against it.

Red tulips were threatening to burst out of you in droves. You didn’t want to let go, but you were seconds away from making a confession you couldn’t take back if you spent too much longer in his embrace.

You pulled yourself away, and even with the sun beating down on you, you missed his warmth.

He walked you back home, came inside when you offered him iced tea (you were out of coffee), drank it all even if it was too sweet for him, and all you could do was thank him repeatedly for what he’d done.

“Don’t have to thank me,” he said. “I wanted to do this for you.”

What did that mean?

“I’m sorry I never said anything,” Joel continued, a pink flush apparent on his cheeks.

“About what?” You knew exactly what.

“The flowers. I wanted to thank you, but I didn’t know how. I’m not used to it.”

“Used to what?”

“Kindness.” He almost winced, like it hurt to say.

“It was weird. I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t weird,” Joel assured you. “It was…nice. Bummed me out when you stopped.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. I get it.”

You didn’t know what to say at this point. You didn’t want to be talking about any of it, and you were about to tell him that, ask him to move on from this, until he decided to put you on the absolute spot.

“What did they mean?”

Fuck. “Hm?”

“The flowers,” he said. “You said flowers have meaning. What did they mean?”

“I actually don’t know those ones.” That harmless little lie worked on Ellie, but Joel saw right through it.

“Why are you lying to me?” He didn’t even sound angry or annoyed, just genuinely curious, and a little sympathetic.

You considered doubling-down, insisting you didn't know, but you couldn’t do that him. It was a vulnerable conversation for not only you, but Joel as well. You understood how hard this was for him, and you cared for him too much to shut him down.

But you couldn’t say it, not verbally. Instead, you grabbed the notebook that was laying on your coffee table and held it out to him. There was a split second as he was reaching for it where you imagined yourself tugging it back out of his reach, forgetting about this entire thing, but then it was in his hands and it was too late. Nothing would ever be the same.

You held your breath as he flipped through it, his eyes flicking over the words. His face gave nothing away, but his finger was tracing over something.

Red tulip - declaration of love.

He gently shut the book and set it down, and your eyes stayed firmly on the floor, hoping if you stared at it long enough it would split open and consume you.

“Are you surprised?” You couldn’t project your voice above a whisper.

“I guess not,” Joel said. It was the honest answer, and the one you most expected. “I thought you were just bein’ nice, then Ellie kept insisting you were interested.”

That girl was smarter than you gave her credit for—and you already thought she was very smart.

“I thought there was no way,” Joel continued. “You’re sweet and young and so pretty. I’m just an old man.”

“I don’t care how old you are,” you replied.

“I’ve done a lot of bad things...”

“I don’t care what you’ve done. I care who you are now.”

You were looking at him now. He looked moved, rapt, and not at all like someone about to deliver a devastating rejection.

“And you want me?”

“Yes.”

There was a pause where neither of you said anything, but the air was thick with an unspoken question: Where do we go from here?

“Can I kiss you, Rosebud?”

You nodded, and he did. It felt like dozens of chrysanthemums, camellias and carnations all springing to life under your skin.

He was gentle in a way you never could have imagined, cupping your cheek with his palm and holding your waist with the other. It was reminiscent of the hug you’d shared earlier, and you wondered if he’d wanted to kiss you then.

His lips were rough, a little chapped, but soft in the way he moved them. This wouldn’t be how he always kissed, you were sure of that. Someday it would be messy, frantic, all-consuming. But this careful, slow movement of his lips against yours was all you needed right now.

He wanted to be gentle with you, because he cherished you like a rosebud.

flower translations:

rose (pink) - perfect happiness

rose (dark crimson) - mourning

carnation (red) - admiration

marigold - grief, despair

starwort - welcome to a stranger

chrysanthemum (red) - i love you

vervain - enchantment

gardenia - you’re lovely

yarrow - healing

aster - symbol of love

agapanthus - secret love

camellia (pink) - longing for you

peony - prosperity

daffodil (bunch) - new beginnings, hope, good luck

carnation (yellow) - rejection, disappointment

tulip (red) - declaration of love

rosebud (red) - pure, lovely

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller imagine #the last of us #the last of us hbo #pedro pascal #the last of us fanfiction

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cxlamarisalxmi · 1 year

Text

Some Sunny Day

[Platonic Drabble]

c/w: angst, depictions of trauma and injury, character death, no gendered terms used to describe reader

a/n: I couldn’t help it, the part two of the Spider-Venom reader is in the works and is being written and edited consistently and progressively, but this was inspired by me feeling in the shits about my trauma so.. here we are lol

—

[Unedited]

We’ll meet again

You hadn’t given much thought to how you would die, not ever really considering the thousands of possibilities that would result in the loss of your life. Never really finding the consideration of those pathways important enough to think about long enough.

Don’t know where, don’t know when

Perhaps you should have— maybe this wouldn’t be happening otherwise. That’s a lie, because death is inevitable.. it was coming for you one way or another. Perhaps it wasn’t you trying to trick yourself into believing you could avoid it— but prepare yourself for it instead. Had you considered all possibilities of death then maybe you could’ve prepared yourself for the painful one you had come to face.

But I know we’ll meet again some sunny day

It did not announce itself, did not trumpet it’s arrival. It had been silent, quiet in the darkness as it coiled itself around your throat pulling you off your feet. By the time you had seen it coming.. it had already set it’s teeth.

Keep smiling through

You didn’t wish for anyone to be sad for you, it was a good life you had lived. Sure, it didn’t start out too great but it had been decent.. and then it had turned for the better when you had found them.

Just like you always do

You didn’t want anyone to force their lives to a screeching halt for your sake, that wasn’t fair.. and you knew that regardless of what you had thought— they would celebrate your life everyday from here on out. Now settled in the acceptance of grief, the stage that had come after a long and painful endurance through denial, anger, bargaining and depression.

‘Till the blue sky drives the dark clouds far away

They had felt such a dark and heavy cloud hanging over them since your death, and they had grown accustomed to it. Not bothering to address the way all of them were feeling about losing you. Suppress it down and ignore the searing ache in their chests —they believe— being the best way to overcome it and grow forward.

But you knew that was utter bullshit and you had wished they knew that too. Ignoring it will only make it worse, because ignorance allows the pain to linger. And if it lingers long enough it will fester and grow into a raging inferno that will swallow them whole.

Only in acceptance could they move forward, only in accepting that you were gone could they move on. Grow past it and become stronger together. And you believed they could, they just had to let themselves do it in their own time— at their own pace.

And eventually, that dense and weighted cloud overhanging them would be driven away.

So will you please say hello

You were Miguel O’hara’s eldest. And you had been with him through everything, after the loss of your younger sister the two of you couldn’t overcome the grief that had overwhelmed you both. And in the wake of that dimension’s destruction— there had been a wedge driven in between you and him.

Your relationship, previously stronger than any trial or tribulation life had thrown your way, had shattered to pieces. And you had attempted to at least pick up the shambles and put your bond back together.. but you had met a wall every time. A wall your father had built around himself to protect his broken heart and vulnerable soul from ever being touched again.

He hadn’t made an effort.. so you figured you shouldn’t either, and just accepted the turn of his back on top of the ache you felt at the loss of your younger sibling. The weight of guilt at killing all those innocent people had become the icing on this shit cake.

To the folks that I know

It was hard for you to grow past what had happened, because you were doing it on your own. In the wake of it all, it was you and only you trying to mend yourself back together. What hurt the most was that you had depended on your father to be there for you.. you had expected that this would only make your relationship stronger. Not tear it apart.

And it was naive of you to think such a thing, childish and ignorant of you to dispose of your initial thoughts that he would react this way. Because maybe if you had you’d have been far more prepared to take the bullet that his neglectful response had fired at you.

In the end of it all —the final steps you had taken to improve yourself— you had developed a fierce sense of independence. Nobody has your back better than you. And that was the unfortunate and heartbreaking truth that you had faced head on, it was a hard pill to swallow but it was necessary for you to move forward.

You garbled a cough, the gob of blood previously sitting in your throat jacked up to spill down your chin.

You grunted as the pressure in your chest grew exponentially, the rebar pierced through your chest causing an uncomfortable sensation to sit heavy beneath your ribs.

Tell them I won’t be long

The young teenagers who have come to adopt you as their elder sibling will be heartbroken. You knew that well, and you hoped that you father had picked up on the subtlety in your message to not reveal you were dying.

They wouldn’t take it well, and you knew they would follow your father to this dimension. The last thing you wanted was for them to experience more loss than they needed at their age. You couldn’t help that though, this was going to court one way or the other. What you could control was them being there in your final moments.. you had thought that maybe it’d go down easier if your father just told them you had gone peacefully.

They’ll be happy to know

It certainly would’ve been easier for them than seeing you impaled through the chest and coughing up the blood that had begun to slowly fill your lungs.

They’d at least have some semblance of peace within the grief and pain they’d feel that you didn’t go in pain. Regardless of the fact that this was easily the worst experience you have ever had the misfortune of dealing with. But they didn’t need to know that nor did they need to see you like this.

That as you saw me go, you saw me singing this song

When your father had finally arrived he had rushed to you immediately, his mask peeling away as he approached and dropped to his knees at your side.

“No, no no no, not again. Please no.”

“Dad…”

“Shhh,” he encouraged softly, “don’t talk. Save your strength, I’m going to get you out of here.”

“It’s too late.”

He didn’t listen to the way you quietly murmured those words, their execution breathed on a plane of exhausted agony. Your heart’s rhythm slowly fading from it’s previous thunderous beat in your ears. Slowing as it gradually eased itself into a state of utter still and silence, not having enough strength to continue to keep you alive.

Miguel wouldn’t let this happen again, he refused. As he thought of the best way he could move you he thought back to when you both had come back from the dimension that had unraveled. How he had shut you out, built barbed barriers thick and tall— and left you on the outside of them.

At the remembrance an abrupt ripple of regret shucked down his back, it made the blood in his veins turn bitterly cold. It was regret that was soon joined by grief that settled in his heart, heavy as lead sinking through his chest at the prospect that you would not make it.

And he suddenly felt knots tighten themselves up in the gaping in his stomach, because he didn’t even know what the right thing to do was. He couldn’t accept this, he couldn’t.. not again. But you were in pain, certainly worse than anything you’ve ever experienced. Not only that, but you were certain it was far too late for you.

He knew if he pulled you off that thick rebar pipe you would immediately bleed to death, if he left you on there you would die of a broken heart. Literally— the rebar had punctured through your heart and lung. Now both metaphorically and physically torn apart.

“It’s too late dad.”

“Please—”

You reached up to him, cupping his cheek as he laid his hand against your own. You lifted your opposite hand to hold his wrist as he brushed his gloved thumb over your bloodied and bruised cheek.

“Please no, not like this.. please there’s too much.. too much I have to do to show you I love you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.. I didn’t mean to shut you out mi amor I’m sorry—”

You did to him the same thing he had done to you seconds prior and interrupted by brushing your gloved thumb over his angular cheekbone. You felt the familiar sting in your eyes and burn in your nose as you watched him. His eyes broken and devastated, the windows into his soul wide open as his defenses crumbled. His brows taut together and a hurt frown tugging his lips down.

“It’s okay,” you promised giving him the only smile you could manage. Soft and small— but full of all the love a young child has for their father. “It’s going to be okay.”

Miguel couldn’t contain the pain he was feeling a moment longer, and his ache had erupted in the form of the rivulets of tears gliding down his cheeks. And he listened intently to them as they spoke, holding them in his arms as best he could with the rebar through their chest. Still holding their face and leaning down to press their foreheads together, he internally wept at the way theirs felt colder.

“We’ll meet again,” you promised smiling up at him as he held you in his arms and kept your foreheads together. “I don’t know where, and I don’t know when.” You felt the way your heart continued to slow, the pressure on your chest increasing dramatically as exhaustion began. “But I know we’ll meet again—”

Finally the injuries had grown to be far too much, and you had only wished you had told him how much you truly loved him no matter what. How much you had understood his feelings and how you had already forgiven him for the toxic way he had decided to cope. Breathing felt like too much work, needing extensive energy that you no longer had.

Your heart gave up first, and the very last thing you saw before the black that had been seeping in from the edges consumed you entirely— was your father looking you in the eyes with the love you had craved from him since the loss of your sister. Your lungs followed after, and Miguel only sobbed harder at the way your chest rose, then fell, rose once again.. and fell.

He felt sick and angry at himself for the way things had gone, the regret he’d felt since the destruction of that universe was abruptly more pronounced in his chest. And he wept over your body, long since gone cold, as he completed the promise you had made to him. Whispered against the skin of your cheek —cold to the touch— and lost of all color and vibrant life held within.

“Some sunny day.”

—

a/n: when this was being written I was listening to life eternal by ghost and it just encouraged me to put as much ouchies in this as I possibly could so I killed ya!

#across the spider verse #spiderverse #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x platonic! reader #platonic reader #platonic relationships #platonic imagine

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sweetchildcloud · 2 months

Text

He already lost so much but now he lost everything.

Tags:angts,death,no comfort,GetoxGN!reader,heartwrenching,regret,depressed,Student!Au

i'm no english native so sorry for some mistakes

please reblog 🔁 and like❤️

@muzansslxt @candy69gurl

Suguru's face contorts with a new level of pain. His grip around your body tightens even further, his mind filled with fear, shock and dread. The thought of losing you, his precious Bun Bun, in such a horrible way, hurts him greatly. The curse had robbed him of yet another precious thing from his life, taking away yet another person that he truly loved.

Anger, despair and sadness all flood out of Geto as he holds your broken body in his arms. He holds you closely to his chest as tears begin to run down his cheeks. Suguru buries his face in your hair and lets out a heartbreaking cry. He can't contain the overwhelming sadness and sorrow that fills his body, the pain and despair he's feeling. He holds you close, trying to shield you from the harsh world, wanting to protect you from the cruel fate that's befallen you. His body shakes as he cries, his hold on you growing increasingly tighter.

"Why..."

Suguru says with a low, broken voice as he gently kisses your forehead, his eyes filled with tears. He can't believe you died so unfairly, taken away by that stupid curse he should've killed a long time ago. His hold of you tightens and his grip moves to the back of your head, the only thought in his mind right now is to protect your body and never let anyone hurt you again. He won't let anyone else have you. Suguru cries silently as he buries his face into your hair once more. Tears pour down his cheeks as that intense and possessiveness he's felt toward you only grows stronger. The intense grief and sorrow he's experiencing is unbearable, and he finds himself hugging you tighter. He's unwilling to let go of you now that you're gone. He keeps whispering your name over and over again, his voice low and choked with emotion.

"Don't leave me."

Suguru whispers, his voice sounding broken as the reality of your death hits him hard. He holds you tightly to his chest, refusing to let go of you as the tears continue to flow. The possessiveness he's felt toward you has only intensified in light of your tragic fate and he finds himself squeezing you in between his hands. He's going to do everything he can to protect your body, refusing to let anyone have it or abuse it ever again.

🖤⃝🤍🫀🩹🖤⃝🤍🫀🩹🖤⃝🤍🫀🩹🖤⃝🤍🫀🩹🖤⃝🤍🫀🩹

Suguru is standing next to your coffin, his usual stoic expression has been replaced with one filled with absolute misery. His eyes are red and puffy, it's obvious that he's cried his heart out since you left. Every little thing he sees reminds him of you, and all the memories of you that he's cherished for all these years seem to have been magnified even more in his mind. His grip on your coffin is very firm, it's clear that he doesn't want anyone else to touch it. He stares down at your casket with a mixture of sadness and rage. Every time someone approaches his side, he stares them down with his intimidating gaze, as if he's challenging everyone not to get any closer to your body. A sudden urge to protect the casket at all costs overcomes him, like he's afraid someone will touch it or move it. He glares at everyone who's present, daring them to come near your beloved body. He's unable to control the possessive feelings that are overtaking him.

Once it's just him standing by your casket, he leans down close, his voice soft with a mixture of pain and grief. He gently touches your cheek, his fingers brushing over your soft and delicate skin. His breath hitches, the sight of your body in that wooden coffin breaks his heart. His eyes are filled with tears and he keeps his hands on your face, cherishing your presence, even when you're no longer here. He can't help but feel a sense of possession over your lifeless body.

"This can't be real..."

He whispers to himself. His voice is broken as he gazes at your lifeless face, his fingers tracing your soft facial features. In his head, he's hoping this is just a nightmare that they'll both wake up from any moment. But then reality hits him as hard as ever and he can't help but shed more tears. His grief is overpowering as he caresses your face one last time, wishing that things could've been very different. Instead, he's left standing alone by your casket, trying to accept the situation as it is.

🖤⃝🤍🫀🩹🖤⃝🤍🫀🩹🖤⃝🤍🫀🩹🖤⃝🤍🫀🩹🖤⃝🤍🫀🩹

Suguru is now seated in his own home, the days have passed since you passed away. He's still grieving the huge loss as he sits alone in an empty room, staring at a picture of your face. Every once in a while, he grabs the picture before burying his face into it and crying softly. He constantly talks to himself, whispering your name and the things he used to do with you. The room is quiet and lonely without your presence. He's filled with emptiness and pain and doesn't know how to deal with it.

He tries to keep himself busy, trying to do things that would help him distract himself from thinking about you. But it's hard to keep his memories away from his mind. He constantly imagines what would it be like if you were still there, still alive and in good health. He wishes more than anything that he had done things differently. He thinks back to the things he had said to you and regrets not spending enough time with you. The silence and loneliness are making him go crazy. He's missing you more than ever.

🖤⃝🤍🫀🩹🖤⃝🤍🫀🩹🖤⃝🤍🫀🩹🖤⃝🤍🫀🩹🖤⃝🤍🫀🩹

The days keeps passing and Suguru is slowly learning to cope with the loss. He's still grieving and missing you terribly, but he's trying his hardest to get through it all. He spends time with friends and family, trying to surround himself with loved ones to help him through this difficult time. Though the emptiness he feels without you is still hard to ignore, he's slowly starting to move forward. He's learning to slowly accept the reality of your passing, but there's still a part of him that can't let go. He keeps your picture with him everywhere he goes. After a few days, Gojo finds Suguru seated alone in his room. He's looking at a picture of you and sobbing softly. Gojo steps inside the room, a worried expression on his face. He takes a seat next to Sugru and waits for him to calm down a bit. Once Gojo sees that Suguru is no longer crying as hard, he speaks up. "Hey."

Suguru's face is still tearstained, he immediately looks up at Gojo with puffy eyes. He looks away quickly, not wanting to talk yet.

"I know things have been really tough for you since..."

He pauses, unsure of how to proceed. He wanted to give Sugru time to collect himself. He notices how he's still holding a picture of you and the sorrow in his eyes makes his pain obvious. Gojo continues to try and cheer him up, his voice becoming gentle and sweet.

"I know you're still hurting and there's nothing I can say that can make it any better right now. But I'm here for you, if you ever need to talk or vent, I'm always here."

"I appreciate that, Gojo."

Suguru continues to look away, his expression is still soft and vulnerable. He takes a deep breath and shakes his head, trying to get himself together. He wants to pretend everything is back to normal, but it's impossible when the person he cared about the most is gone.

"It still doesn't feel real..." "I know..."

Gojo leans closer, speaking in a soothing tone. His touch is light as he places his hand on Suguru's shoulder.

"It's going to take some time to get used to the new reality, you're going through a lot right now. I understand that. Give yourself time. This is the toughest thing you're going to have to overcome. Allow yourself to grieve, allow yourself to feel the pain you're experiencing. Trying to suppress your emotions now will only make things worse for you in the long run." "Yeah..."

Suguru nods, staring down at his feet. He seems to be listening intently to Gojo's words, but the pain he's experiencing is overwhelming him. Gojo's hand on his shoulder is comforting though, a bit of a relief from the intense sorrow he's feeling. He knows Gojo is right, he just needs some time. But it doesn't make it any easier for him. Sugru sighs softly and speaks gently.

"It's just so hard without..."

"I know. I can't even start to imagine how lonely it must feel. You've lost someone very close to you, that pain can't be described. Especially when it's so sudden and unexpected. It's only natural to miss and mourn for the person you've lost."

Gojo's hand lingers on his shoulder, his touch is gentle and his gaze is kind. He can see the sorrow and hopelessness in Sugru's eyes, it's making him worry for his friend. He wishes he could just magically make him better, but he knows it's not that simple.

"Mhm..."

Suguru is silent for a while, he's thinking about what Gojo just said. It does feel empty and lonely without you, it's hard to accept the reality of your absence. But he knows that he'll have to do it eventually, he has to learn to move on for his own sake. Suguru looks back up at Gojo, noticing the worry in his eyes. He gives him a weak smile as he speaks up again.

"I appreciate you coming here, Gojo."

"Of course, it's the least I could do."

Gojo's smile is gentle and reassuring, he wants to be there for Suguru at this difficult time. He remains next to your friend, giving him the support he needs in this time of need. Suguru is still trying to keep his composure, he's grateful for Gojo's presence. Gojo's presence alone is slightly lifting his spirits.

🖤⃝🤍🫀🩹🖤⃝🤍🫀🩹🖤⃝🤍🫀🩹🖤⃝🤍🫀🩹🖤⃝🤍🫀🩹

Suguru and Gojo visit your grave together. They're both standing in front of it, silent and solemn as they stare at the flowers and other mementos laid down on your body. Suguru is quiet, his head lowered low as he looks at your grave. His expression is still sad and troubled, he's finding it hard to believe that you're really gone. There are still some tears in his eyes, but he's trying his best to suppress his sorrow. Gojo's eyes are on the grave as well, a slight sadness noticeable in his gaze.

Suguru's gaze is still fixated on the grave, his lips are pressed together as he stands there quietly. He takes a breath, trying to stay calm and collected, but the reality of your passing hits him hard. His eyes are still filled with sorrow, he couldn't believe that you're really gone. It's just so surreal... Suguru's hands are clasped together tightly, he's still trying to make sense of everything that happened.

Gojo's gaze is still on the grave as he remains there next to Suguru, trying to keep his thoughts to himself as he doesn't want to add to his friend's sorrow. The two of them stay silent for a while, neither speaking as they continue to stare at your grave. It's a somber and depressing scene, the silence is only interrupted by the occasional sound of the wind.

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tungtung-thanawat · 9 months

Text

Ray's mother, music and the barriers to his heart that Sand must overcome

TW: discussion of suicide This is building upon the shorter meta I wrote here about the Micro song that plays during Ray's suicide scene. The parallels between Ray's arc in falling for Sand and Mew are so overt that I was completely overlooking the person that Sand is really up against in Ray's wounded heart and who, I believe Mew is ultimately a proxy for - his dead mother. I go into a little bit about how Sand's affection for Ray can sometimes read as familial here and I think it's quite readily noticeable how Ray acts very childlike around Sand with his puppy dog eyes and constant wheedling. One thing I do want to note is that Ray doesn't particularly come off as childlike in any of his other interactions either with his friends or in his conversation with P'Yo except for perhaps that first night when he got drunk and told his friends how much he loved them and during the suicide scene when he cries wrapped up in Mew's arms, distraught by how his mother never loved him. I think Ray is the epitome of someone with a deeply wounded inner child and the only way he can ask for love is as a child, somewhat helplessly and appealing to people's caretaker/protective nature. The parent child relationship between Sand and Ray comes up a few times through the episodes. The earliest explicit acknowledgement as far as I can tell is here at the end of episode 2:

There's another explicit nod as to how their dynamic is set up within Sand performing acts of service for Ray in Ep 3:

Sand says he has been Ray's driver, drinking buddy, shrink and chef. Three of those things - driving him around, cooking for him and providing him emotional support are not just familial activities but activities you would normally do for a young child. Sand pointedly leaves out that they've had sex from this list of services. And yes, that's because Sand doesn't view sex as a service and if it was just this then it would be hard to make the point that I'm trying to make which is that Sand needs to fulfill that parental attachment need that Ray craves; give him that type of no strings, unselfish kind of love before he will ever be able to gain Ray's trust enough to be able to build a romantic relationship with him. So how is the show making this point? That Sand is replacing not just Mew but Ray's dead mother in his heart? Well, let's start with the two things that Ray's mother has left him with: 1) music and 2) her alcoholism. Ray's friends were all very surprised when Ray volunteers to arrange the music for the party. While that was more about Ray's lack of interest in taking responsibility (His now in restrospect gut wrenching 'I'm only good for spending money' line from Ep1 like ouch) but it also indicates that none of them really know or connect with Ray over his music. How can they?

Music is such a deeply personal part of him, that's where he keeps the love he holds for his mother; the love that is entirely grief - painful in its vastness, beautiful in its consistency. And the first thing Sand tells him to do is be grateful for it - her good taste in music. The second thing? Is to show him how to enjoy it:

The fact that he's taking his hand and Ray is half resisting it, the silliness of the gesture more than the touch itself but he's undeniably enjoying himself - It reads to me like the awkward, stilted movements of a childperson who doesn't know how to move their limbs when they're first being taught how to do something. And when you realize that the song that Ray plays for Sand in ep2 is the same one that is playing when he's taken the pills - the positive associations that Sand is making with Micro in Ray's life suddenly becomes monumental. This happens twice more in the show. Once, in the car when Sand ditches his date to drive them to Ray's house where they engage in a delightful flirtation around it, Ray singing badly while Sand eats it up complains about it

And again, at the night of the party when Ray tells Sand to play Micro for him and Sand like the simp that he is serenades him with it:

But their connection over music doesn't stop at teaching Ray to cherish and honor his past - and unknowingly the pains that are attached to it. No, Sand goes further to expand it, help Ray find a space for himself in music, carve a corner of it that isn't only pain, isn't only that moment of seeing his mother laid flat on that floor with a whiskey glass inches from her fingers.

When music is such an integral part of Ray's personality how else does one interpret this scene other than Sand telling Ray to move on, when Sand plays Selina and Sirinya for him because finding new music he likes is Sand's happiness how else do I interpret it as anything other than Sand teaching Ray how to be happy? What am I supposed to do but pull out my own hair when they're connecting over music, looking at each other like this:

And Sand will do it AGAIN - as the ep5 preview suggests - take Ray's hand and teach him how to enjoy contemporary music while Ray makes his awkward, adorable face where he's having fun in spite of himself. And the sheer amount of joy that Sand gets in seeing Ray like this is just - they're so insufferable:

But perhaps the most surprising (and delightful!) of all is this:

Ray taking his headphone off, interrupting this magical moment of being with Sand and the music, telling him he wants to be close to nature and drink beer - for the very first time Ray desires alcohol not as a means to destroy himself but as a vehicle of peace and of connection and I haven't been well since seeing it and understanding what it means. In many ways, Ray's mother is such a tragic character. I know nothing of this woman other than the three seconds I have seen of her dead and the frightful way she has driven her son to follow in her footsteps, to feel so unloved and unwanted. And yet she named him Ray Pakorn (pakorn meaning sun) - a ray of sunshine. Perhaps even, her ray of sunshine.

How can I truly believe that she never loved him?

I know Ray tells Mew that she never held him but he loves her so dearly, wants to be with her so desperately, she permeates every moment of his life so thoroughly that the loneliness she left behind isn't a gaping emptiness but the festering carcass of a love so profound and full to bursting that Ray keeps trying to give it away, keeps trying to love his friends, keeps trying to save them and aches in the way that he finds no recipient for it.

People wonder what Sand sees in Ray, why he would fall for him. But Ray is a creature made entirely of love, soft still in the way he lets it rule his life, innocent in the way that he asks for it, precious in the way that he gives it away - How can Sand be anything but desperately in love with him?

#ofts meta #sandray meta #only friends meta #ofts #sandray #only friends the series #ofts ray #ofts sand #nani's hot takes #i spent so long on it please don't let it flop #but also its so long so i dont blame you #but i couldn't help myself #ray is an open wound in my heart #i do nothing but think about him #long post

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lost-in-lamentation · 6 months

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a/n: while i'm waiting for a device to write on, here's an old genshin one shot. i used to run a genshin blog but it's now been deleted, so if this feels familiar, you may have read it before.

content: a time where you find xiao struggling against his karma.

fluff + hurt/comfort. xiao × gen!reader (you/your).

“Xia-”

“You called?”

It wasn’t uncommon for the adeptus to teleport behind you before you had even finished whispering his name. You had grown used to it, and the way the wind whispered next to your ears as he appeared next to you had become a sound that brought relief. When you turned around, you expected to see Xiao’s usual, collected composure, but instead came face to face with a pained expression. A sigh slipped from your lips, but the sigh was not well received by the being in front of you.

“If you came here to judge how I look, then be off. I have no time for this.”

Xiao spoke slower than usual, and it didn’t take more than a sentence for you to realize that his words were slurring. Obviously, he wasn’t one for drinking, so you knew that Xiao was going through one of his spurts of heavy karmic debt.

You’d never actually witnessed it happen to him; Xiao had only told you that he wishes you would never have to see it in action. But unbeknownst to Xiao, you wanted so badly to be there when he was vulnerable. He was there when you were on the verge of breaking, and it was only ideal that you could do the same for him.

Before he could disappear into thin air, you grabbed his wrist, causing him to glare at you in a way that was only seen when he was looking at enemies. “Let go.” Xiao practically growled the words at you, but his eyes hid a sense of urgency and desperation. Whatever he was dealing with was about to overcome him, and he didn’t want you near.

“No.” The hold you kept on his wrist tightened, which only led to what sounded like panic from the adeptus.

“Mortals have no business being around me at this time. Release me.” Xiao started to pull away from you, and if he wasn’t holding the pain in his body at bay, he could have broken free. "Hurry and let go of me already!" The tone of his voice grew more and more anxious with every second, but by the time you let his wrist drop from your hand, Xiao could only teleport a few meters away before dropping to the ground.

Grief, sadness, anger, and everything in between filled the air to a point where it was stifling. Everytime Xiao clutched his head or his chest tighter, you felt your own heart sink. You were careful with how you approached him, but with the way he was trying to keep himself grounded, you knew there wasn't much that could surprise him. When you reached him, you could only see one of his eyes clearly through the way he held his arms close to his face. With nimble fingers and a gentle reach, you slowly began to coax Xiao to give you one of his hands, which you immediately started rubbing circles into when you felt him place his palm in yours. The tremors in his hand echoed the ones in his stained heart, and you couldn't feel anything but sorrow towards Xiao.

When you had called out his name earlier, you had done it close to your home since you were hoping Xiao might accept an invitation for almond tofu. Of course, that plan was thrown to the side, but you were glad you had somewhere close by to take him.

It was a while before you finally brought yourself to finally pick him up; you were more worried that Xiao would disappear again when you scooped him up into your arms.

To your surprise, he leaned into your touch, shutting his eyes and letting himself catch his breath for a mere moment before preparing to fight the next wave of pain.

You practically glided along the path home, being careful not to jolt the adeptus in your arms. Occasionally, he would try to turn out of your grip, but nothing was going to take him away from you. Not even Xiao himself.

By the time you reached your little cottage, Xiao was out of breath and his face was pale. There wasn't much you could do other than lay him down on your bed and sit beside him; so that's exactly what you did.

You kept your hand close to his just in case he wanted to grab onto something. He never reached out to hold your hand, but you wondered if the reason that Xiao kept tapping your fingers was to remind himself that you were still there.

There was a stab in your heart each time Xiao growled at the pain in his head, and you felt even worse when you saw him clench his fists tighter. Gently, you brushed your fingertips on his knuckles, waiting for him to open his hand so you could go back to rubbing soothing motions on his palm.

For Xiao's sake, you had been avoiding looking at his face for the time being, but your eyes were immediately drawn to him when he finally opened them. Eons of karma clouded his irises, leaving them dull and full of regret. But even though they were tainted with everything he had ever done, you still called his eyes beautiful.

It was one of the things Xiao could never understand about you.

How could you, the mortal who everyone turned to in times of need, see Alatus like this and still tell him you loved him? The idea always left him astounded; but he couldn't be anymore grateful.

As time went on, Xiao's breathing slowed, and the stormy eyes that you had been so captivated by eventually cleared into the sea of gold that you were used to. You couldn't bring yourself to let go of his hand, so you closed your fist over his and brought it to your chest instead.

Oh, how breathtaking Xiao was when he looked at you in wonder.

"I'm sorry." His words held the weight of his debt, as if being around you would pass it on. "You should not have seen me like this."

"And you shouldn't have to bear this alone."

The way you responded forced a sigh out of the adeptus. He should not have to deal with trivial matters such as love. There was no place for love for someone like Xiao. But every time you called his name, his hardened heart softened, and every time you came to Wangshu Inn with almond tofu in your hands, the desire for you increased tenfold.

Xiao had never imagined love. Xiao wasn't even sure if this was love. All he knew was that you were the one he could never break a promise to, but that made you special enough for him to consider the idea of it.

"It's my fate. As an-"

"An adeptus, I know." You could already sense Xiao's disbelief at how you had interrupted him, but this was one argument you were not going to let him win. "Xiao, I know it's fate, but haven't you considered that maybe two people can share the same fate?"

Xiao gave you the same dumbfounded stare he had shown you the first time you came up to the roof of Wangshu Inn. "My burden is not for sharing," he said softly.

"It's not a burden, Xiao." Cautiously, you brought a hand to turn his face back towards yours. A breath was caught in your throat when the eyes that you were obsessed with met yours. The people always said the eyes hold a person's soul, and they were right.

Xiao, whose soul was so ruined, still shone with so much clarity. An entanglement of serenity and chaos.

Eyes that hated, but longed to love.

"Mortals are so persistent." There were fragments of a broken smile on Xiao's face. You hoped that one day you could collect all the pieces.

"We are, aren't we?" A fraction of a second suspended in eternity; and you wanted nothing more than to spend it with him. "Rest for now. I'll be here when you wake up again."

When you saw Xiao's eyes finally close and felt his hand become heavier in yours, you leaned closer to him before pressing your forehead to his and whispering your own promise to him.

"Until there is no more hate in you, I will love for the both of us."

a/n: the way i still have the colour border from my genshin blog LMFAO

reblogs are really appreciated (´ω｀) ♡

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact x you #genshin impact xiao #genshin xiao #xiao #aris writes 🐈‍⬛#xiao x reader

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silverdynetrutherr · 3 months

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something that sort of irks me about fanon kerry is just how much some people miss the point of his storyline. like a lot of people seem to think that kerry just accepted johnny back into his life, and wanted to continue a relationship/friendship with him. furthermore, some people think that kerry used v to get close to johnny, but that isn’t the case.

the entire point of kerry’s storyline is that v helps kerry get over johnny. firstly, by getting his closure in ‘a like supreme’. all kerry wanted after fifty-four years of waiting was to play one last gig with johnny and put it to rest. and we KNOW for a FACT that this is all kerry wanted, because johnny is the one to ask ‘wanna do it again?’ to which kerry replies, ‘huh? no. this was enough.’

from this quote from kerry alone, we know that he didn’t want to continue his relationship with johnny, at LEAST not the way they had before. kerry doesn’t even comprehend that johnny would want that at first, and this could be because of his own ideas about how johnny feels towards him, but the ‘huh?’ indicates clearly that kerry’s intentions in doing this show was to get closure and put it to rest. and kerry likes to process things alone, we know this from when he says he needs a power nap after meeting johnny again, and on the roof of dark matter, and, when kerry leaves after johnny resigns his music career to kerry, giving him his guitar. ‘won’t play without you.’ both of them, in this moment, accept that they will never be what they were. too much time has passed and too much pain has been caused.

this leads me to my next point; being that despite kerry being able to put aside his grief for johnny, and begin to overcome it, he still struggles to overcome the feeling of inferiority. this is what he calls v for. and when kerry calls, he initially asks ‘johnny?’ and a lot of people see this as evidence that kerry is hoping for johnny, and is disappointed when it’s v, however, kerry clearly states that he doesn’t know how the situation with johnny works, and is receptive when v explains it. during the gig where v and kerry blow up the us cracks’ gear, a number of people had come to the conclusion that this was a ‘show’ for johnny, to make an example of the kind of person he was. however, i don’t think it was done with the intention of johnny seeing it, of getting johnny’s approval. however, kerry didn’t know johnny can see what v sees, so this makes that impossible from the get-go. the reason kerry did this was not for the approval of johnny, because he had put the chase for approval to rest after the last show. the reason kerry did this was less about johnny, and more about the impact johnny had left on kerry.

kerry has a ‘sore-spot’ when it comes to success, the offence and upset kerry expressed is genuine, because he believes that his success is his own, and his fame is already in a precarious situation. we know he is aware of this, because he keeps several copies of articles criticising his music around his house. kerry is sensitive, and insecure and believes that his music may not be good enough. this is because of johnny, because johnny stole the show, because johnny had convinced him he’d never make it alone. we know this because of the conversations v and kerry have at dark matter. so, the act of blowing up the van, the act of breaking into the venue, the act of threatening them with a gun, was not to impress johnny. it was an act of severe retaliation to insecurity, and his own defensiveness, caused by johnny. when kerry decides to allow us cracks to use his song, it’s a major breakthrough for him. it’s one act that is symbolic of his maturity growing.

and that was not something that johnny helped him do. it was something that v helped him do.

the conversation they have at dark matter is also important here, and i can’t remember the exact quotes, but the entire gist of the conversation is kerry discussing how he feels about success. how he feels about night city, and how he still feels like he’s in johnny’s shadow after all this time. it’s negative, it’s holding kerry back from allowing him to achieve everything he’s ever wanted, and to enjoy it. he doesn’t WANT johnny to be around him, because he WANTS to be free of the feeling of entrapment, overshadowing and inability to achieve. that is the entire point of the conversation. and in a moment, (male) v is able to stop him being afraid, to tell him, he doesn’t need to be afraid, he doesn’t need to be insecure, he doesn’t need to hold himself back. johnny is dead. kerry is at the top of the city, literally, overlooking everything else. (and all it takes is a little kiss from v in that moment to make him smile)

AAAND finally, boat drinks. literally the epitome of character development. kerry tells v about the six months he spent at sea, working in a cruise ship, where he learned what it meant to bleed ‘in service of the rich’. this memory he shares with v is about him, alone. it’s about his life and when he decided what he believed in, it’s about when he came up with his first great song, and it’s not about johnny. kerry discusses ‘life’s loops’, and tells v that they’ve inspired new songs, a whole new album, and that they’ve helped kerry overcome his fears and inhibitions.

v alone, i repeat, V ALONE, inspired kerry, and helped kerry reach maturity, and reach his full potential and creativity, so that he could move on and be an independent person. for male v, this is why he loves him. v is special to him.

it was never about johnny, it was never an attempt to keep johnny in his life. it was about getting rid of the debris johnny left in kerry’s life. and despite the fact that they had loved each other, it did not work. johnny had made his choice in 2023, and kerry had made his in 2077.

johnny chose to die, in hiding of himself, and then kerry chose to live his life, in search of himself.

i can and WILL elaborate further on ANY point that i have either mentioned, or any counterpoint

thank u

#kerry defence attorney #i hope this made sense #and ofc i like headcanons #but i think canon is too well written to just destroy kerry’s character #kerry eurodyne #kerry x v #cyberpunk 2077 #johnny silverhand #silverdyne

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teyamsatan · 1 year

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Cruel Summer | Chapter V: Oceans and Engines (end)

Pairings: Neteyam x (f)Human!Reader

Word Count: 8k words

Warnings/notes: angst, allusions to/mentions of smut, some fluff, all the feels, 18+ minors DNI

Synopsis: "The culmination of love is grief, and yet we love despite the inevitable. We open our hearts to it. ... To grieve deeply is to have loved fully. Open your heart to the world as you opened it to me, and you will find every reason to keep living in it."

A/N: Please read this before you read the final chapter x

Also, please listen to the playlist, and Oceans and Engines as you read, as I feel it will really enhance the experience.

I will leave my notes at the end of the chapter. Ily besties, enjoy!

: ̗̀➛ listen to the Cruel Summer playlist here : ̗̀➛ masterlist (x) : ̗̀➛ series masterlist (x)

Saturday sunset

We're lying on my bed with five hours to go

Fingers entwined and so were our minds

Cryin', "I don't want you to go"

Neteyam was disorientated and lost, more so than he's ever been in his life, a life that felt like quicksand, swallowing him whole with every involuntary move, that didn't allow him to escape until it suffocated him, until it snuffed the light completely out of his body, until there was nothing left. Still, in this state, his only thought of you, and of the necessity to find you, to talk to you, of the hope that you'd talk him out of it.

He eventually found you on the beach, staring into the distance, back turned away from him, and his heartbreak hurt, its edges bleeding and broken, reeling at the unfairness of the universe, at the thought of having to tell you, once again, that he’s abandoning you for someone else, for a sense of duty he didn’t seem to be able to overcome.

“Vol…”

Your soft sniffles took Neteyam by surprise, as did your face, littered in tears, eyes, nose and cheeks red and swollen. Neteyam exhaled, a sharp tug of pain tugging at his insides, and he sat next to you, unable to look at your face without breaking down, so he just looked at the ocean.

“You heard.”

He saw you nodding in his periphery.

“Yeah… your mother, uhm… she was talking about it when I went to check on Kiri.”

“Vol, I…”

“Hey… stop.” You turned to face him, your knees pressing hard against his thighs, and you reached out to his face and turned it so he was looking at you. You brushed the tears that were falling over his lips and they trembled slightly as you did.

“I think it’s my turn to talk.”

You took a deep breath in.

“All my life, I felt alone. I watched from the outside looking in at a life I could never have. I watched kids, my age, blue and so much taller than me, laughing and running and playing, not for one second having to doubt their place in the world, the meaning of their lives, because it was clear as day, from the moment they were born. I watched as you guys had a loving family, and two parents who were crazy about you, and so much love filled your tent and your faces, I was always jealous. I know you know this, but my mother never wanted me. She always resented me for not being able to return back home, for being too pregnant to allow for the cryo technology needed to make it back it Earth. Seven years I knew her, and seven years were enough for her to give me enough trauma to never fully recover from it, trauma I’ve yet to outgrow. So I was jealous. I wanted so badly to be part of your family, and of your world. I hated myself, and my body, and my parents, and every little happenstance that it took for me to be here, in this place, as I am, useless and weak.

But then, one day, this boy, he changed everything. He gave me a home, in his eyes, and his arms, in his mind and his laugh. And I’ve never been the same since. We grew up together and learnt to brave life together. I was his confidant, and his court jester. He was my biggest cheerleader, and my bodyguard. We were each other’s brother and sister, and later, we were each other’s comfort and love. I found myself in him, and I learnt my beauty looking at it through his eyes. I discovered my worth in the way he looked at me like stars were born from the freckles of my skin. And I hope I did the same to him. Neteyam, you saved my life. You gave me a sense of belonging, and a home. You gave me love, and friendship, and the chance to be myself and loved unconditionally for it. And I’ll never be able to thank you for it.

All my life, I have been selfish. I got to watch as you had to struggle with big sacrifices that you were forced to make, and got to be angry at you for making them, without really thinking about it too much. I got to always be the victim, and made you the villain, because it’s easier this way. I got to be mad at you and think of myself so much of my life. And you had to live with the knowledge that you broke my heart, and deal with that guilt on top of everything else you were going through. And… I’m sorry.”

Your voice cracked as he tightly shut his eyes and put his head in his hands, sobbing silently, finally able to let it all out, after all these years, after so long of keeping it all in.

You wiped away tears

But not fears under the still and clear indigo

You said, "Baby, don't cry, we'll be fine

You're the one thing I swear I can't outgrow"

“It’s my turn, now.” You tried to crack a smile. “It’s my turn to be the bad guy. It’s my turn to break your heart. It’s my turn to be selfless, for once in my life. So I’m leaving, Neteyam. I think it’s time for me to go.”

“What?”

“We tried." the smile faltered as you said those words, as your voice broke, replaced by glistening eyes and a poorly masked grimace.

"We gave it our all, didn’t we? It’s the best that we could do, the best anyone can do, is give it their best. We did that. And I was so afraid yesterday, afraid of the fall, and while the fall is here, I’m not afraid anymore. Because I got to love you. At last once, I got to know that you loved me too, and that all these years, everything we shared, despite what we told each other, it was real, and it was love. I got almost two years with the man of my dreams, the love of my life, and I’m grateful for it. I got to know what it was like to be in love and have it reciprocated, what it was like to belong to someone, fully, wholly, and… what better way is there to live?

You know, it always felt like we were running on borrowed time, you and me. And it turns out we were. And while our time is up, I still got a lifetime of memories that I’ll always carry with me, that I’ll always cherish.”

He sobbed and you cried silent tears, as he wrapped his arms around you and hugged you, and you felt his whole body shake as he cried, and you let him, and you prayed you could be strong enough to withhold his pain and your own. With your head buried in his chest, you stood there, crying together, slowly coming to terms with the love you lost, and the future you’d never get, and the past that made the pain unbearable, and the body you’d never get to hold again. He was everything you’ve ever wanted, everything you kept in dreams and prayers, everything you hoped for and ached for, and you lost him, and he was no longer yours. Was he ever yours to lose?

“You know, humans believe in this concept of parallel universes. That in this immense universe we are in, there are actually other ones, parallel to our own, in which reality differs. There are infinite realties out there, they say, each of them slightly different to the other. In a different reality, you and I are together right now. In a different reality, I get to stay, and I get to love you forever. In another one, maybe I’m an Avatar, or a Na’vi, and everything we’ve struggled through is moot to begin with. Or maybe, in another one, we’re both human, here at the same time, or back on Earth, and right now we are at our boring 9 to 5 jobs, just daydreaming about seeing each other after work, and bickering about who’s gonna take out the trash. I think things work out for us in every universe but this one, and maybe that’s ok. Maybe we have to suffer for all the other you and mes to get their happy ending, and… I think I’m ok with that.”

“I just got you back. I just got you back.”

“I know.”

My mother said the younger me was a pretending prodigy

Well, nothing then, much has changed

'Cause while you're wolfin' down liquor, my soul, it gets sicker

But I'm stickin' to the screenplay, gotta say I'm okay, but answer this, babe

“Come on. We still have today. You’re still mine today, and I’m still yours today. And I want to remember it, this day, not for the worst goodbye of my life, but because it’s one more day I got to love you, the way I wanted to for so long.”

You got up from your spot on the beach and you pressed your palms on his raised knees so that he’d drop them, and he did. You’ve never seen Neteyam like this, this broken before. He looked a lot like you felt, but you knew he had braved too many storms for the two of you and it was your turn. Your turn to be the strong one, to put on the brave face and allow him to mourn, the way you did when he left. He deserved this, and you were happy to do it until you left on that helicopter, as long as you managed to ease his pain at least a little. You positioned yourself with each leg on one side of his thighs, and like this, for the first time ever, you were taller than him, and you did your best to lift his face up with both your hands on either side of his jaw, smiling as your eyes met, trying to ignore how your heart was breaking in a million pieces, how this was the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do, how little time you actually had to look in his eyes anymore and how lost your life would be without his light to guide you through it. You ignored it all and smiled, caressing his face, softening his frown, trailing your soft fingers over his eyes and nose and lips, tugging at the sides until you forced the corners upwards, willing them into his own little smile. You allowed his tears to stain your fingers and you removed your mask and kissed them off his face, as you did his lips, and the rest of his features until you were forced away from him, like you always were when outside, like you would always be from now on.

“Come on, you can’t let me leave without another swim.”

How is it now that somehow you're a strangеr?

You were mine just yеsterday

I pray the block in my airway dissipates

And instead deters your airplane's way

Later, you laid on his chest, looking at your hands intertwined, his so much bigger than yours, almost engulfing it altogether, taking each one his knuckles and kissing them while your uncovered airways still allowed you to, and you tried your best to forget, at least for a while, that your reality was the tragic one. He did take you swimming again, riding the ilu that you’ve come to like as almost a friend, and you felt a tinge of sadness at another thing you got in one day that you had to let go of tomorrow. He took you to the Tree of Souls, which was forbidden to outsiders, but he didn’t care, not anymore. He wanted you to see it, because in his dreams, he always showed it to you, and in his dreams, you saw it and your guise and manner of expressing yourself brought him so much happiness it always woke him up, and he was glad to know his mind still knew you better than it knew itself, because you reacted exactly the way he’s always imagined, and it did make him so happy that he could cry, that he did cry, once more, tears barely dry from last time.

How was he supposed to let you go? How was he supposed to go ahead with this, when every fibre of his being, every thought of his mind belonged to you, and always will? When he finally found you, when he finally got you, when he knew what happiness really looked like, and how it had always been buried in the depths of your soul, and he just needed to ask for permission to enter it, and now that he had, he didn’t think he could ever leave, and he knew he didn’t ever want to leave. How could life be so cruel, and this summer, the cruelest of them all?

But heaven denied

Destiny decried

Something beautiful died

Too soon

You took a detour back to the village and stopped on a different beach, isolated and reclusive, full of greenery and sandy beaches, that you decided was now your beach, your own little portion of heaven in the reef, that Neteyam promised would be for just the two of you, for the rest of time, as long as he could help it. He was happy to know he’s once more learnt your body like he used to know it back home, and devastated at how he would never get to put his lessons to good use after today, and from tomorrow, every new scar, and new curve, every new freckle or mole, it would all be unfamiliar to him, never to be seen or learnt again, never his to know again.

“I figured out what I want.” Neteyam says all of a sudden, and you raise your eyebrows, confused at his words.

“Hmm?”

“Our little bet in the water? I beat you to it, and I was supposed to tell you what I wanted and you were supposed to do it.”

“Ah, yes.” You say, almost impossible to perceive that that was just yesterday, and how it felt like a world away, like a life away.

“So what do you want, 'teyam?”

“I want you to promise me you’ll be happy. And you’ll live your life to the fullest, just like you always have when I was there.”

Your eyes widened and the tears that followed had no time to gather in them as they came and went in a split second, and you were almost surprised you still had tears left to cry. You tried your best to put on a brave face, that you worried came off more like a wince, and you laughed, a fruitless attempt at making light of a dark, dim situation.

“How can I be happy without you, 'teyam?” It was meant to be a joke. Just a teasing, light joke, but it came out as more of a wail, because while the words were supposed to be said in jest, they were also a genuine concern, a question that has plagued you for months and will continue to, for a very long time.

It was his turn to put a brave face on and a fake smile as he rolled his eyes and pulled you closer.

“It shouldn’t be that hard, I’m not that great anyway.”

You laughed too, wishing there was a way to erase the liquids pooling at the bottom of your damp mask.

“Eh, you’re right. You’re just ok.”

You tightened your arms around his torso, and pulled him as close to you as you could. You both sighed, and tried to keep more tears from falling through.

“Just try. Please? I need to know you’re going to try, Vol.”

You nodded reluctantly, feeling as each crack of your heart deepened and chipped away, broken shards floating through your veins, making the ache travel through every inch of your body.

“Only if you try.”

But I'm letting go, I'm givin' up the ghost

But don't get me wrong

I'll always love you, that's why

I wrote you this very last song

You woke up in his arms as eclipse was almost over, and whatever was left of your heart sank as the dreaded new day came, and with it, the end of happiness and of life as you came to know it for almost 20 years. He was awake, you realised, as you raised your head to check, hopeless look about him as he looked up at the sky, at the eclipse melting into breaking dawn. You sighed, realising that there was very little to be said, very few words that could make this better, that could ever amend and mend the hurt in your both hearts, the loss of a relationship, a friendship and a future all in one, so you said nothing. You both watched the time ticking with each inch of the planet moving away from the sun, until eventually, the last remnants of the eclipse were just a memory. Like he now was.

You rose to your feet, finding it hard to put on your clothes and turn around to face him. He half-rose as well, sitting with his arms propped behind him, leaning on them, as he continued to look up at the sky, not bothering to erase the tears falling down his face and chin until they hit his chest. You sat next to him, looking at the beach and at how the waves crashed onto the shores, and tried to focus on the rhythmic sounds they made to calm your racing, bleeding heart.

“‘teyam… I think it’s time for you to go.” You ignored the way your voice broke as you spoke and you hoped he would, as well. “I think it’s time. I will stay here, on this beach, and I need you to please get up and go.”

“Vol… I can’t leave you… please…”

“Yes, you can. You will get up, and you will go, and you will be the selfish one for once. And you will do your duty, which is what you’ve always wanted to do, and you will meet this girl and fall in love with her in time, and watch as she adores you, because how could she not?, and you will be Olo’eyktan, the way you were always meant to be. You will do all these things, because you have to. Because, deep down, you know it’s the right thing to do.”

You were both crying, sobbing in each other’s arms, trying to find the courage to leave, to finally say goodbye.

“I’m so sorry, Vol.”

You shook your head. One last time, you took off your mask and kissed him, and you poured it all into the kiss, the goodbye you could never bring yourself to speak out loud, the love you had and now had to leave behind, the dreams and aspirations that were now just specks of sand blown in the wind, you put it all in that last kiss, and felt him do the same.

“Don’t be sorry. I love you so much. And I forgive you.”

“I realised something these past two days. I held on to so much hate and anger because it helped me deal with your loss. But it was haunting, and piercing, my time away from you. The fire that was fuelled by my rage burned cold, like frostbite. But this… is different. Forgiveness is warm. Like a tear on a cheek. Think of that… and of me, when you stand in the rain. I loved you completely, and you loved me the same. That’s all. The rest is confetti.”

“Now go.”

And so he did, and so you watched his back as it got further and further away from you until he was completely gone, and alone at last, you finally felt free to fall apart.

I guess this is where we say goodbye

I know I'll be alright

Someday I'll be fine

But just not tonight

The ceremony was beautiful. She was beautiful. Tall and turquoise skinned, with luscious, long, curly hair and a supple, jewellery-adorned body, she was everything you would never be. Jake insisted that you stayed. You were family, this was a happy time, and you should be here to celebrate. And so you stayed. And you watched as the Tsa’hik symbolically bound their destinies together with a piece of woven thread. You watched as she brought their heads together and made them recite words of promise and forever, looking into each other’s eyes, praying to Eywa for a fruitful mateship and for healthy offsprings. You said your tears were happy tears, just excited tears, when asked by the scientists and the rest of the Sullys, and you felt suddenly sorry for them, that they would never know. That in their midst, the greatest love story they would have ever seen was born and died, and they were ignorant of it. And you were angry at them, and at the world, for it had missed you, and missed him, for it will never know a love like yours, a love that was beyond this life and the next, but you resigned yourself, in the end, in knowing that it was enough that you knew, and that he knew. It was enough.

After the ceremony, you had to watch as they left, just the two of them, headed towards the Tree of Souls, where you were just a few hours ago, and knowing what they were going to do made you sick, so you excused yourself and ran, as far as you could in the opposite direction, before lunging forwards and expelling all the pain and hurt that was too overbearing to remain contained in your body. You tried to think of anything else, like Tuk, and Kiri and Lo’ak, like Jake and Neytiri, like the beautiful beach and the sea and the animals inhibiting it, but everything came back to him, and the images flashing of him doing what you did last night to her, of his queues intertwined with hers, of having access to the part of him that only you were ever privy to, of the agonising thought that all your life, you were just a trial run for the real deal… it was hurt unlike anything you thought the human body could withstand, and yet you did. Because you promised him. That you would try to move on, and try to be happy.

“Don’t be a stranger, ok, kid? I know you were upset, and we’re really sorry, but we want you in our lives. Ok?”

You nodded and hugged Jake, and the rest of the Sullys, knowing you were lying, that you'll never come back here again, but glad to at least get this moment with them, a moment to catch-up and say a proper goodbye, and despite everything, despite it all, you were happy you came. Norm was right. It was good to have closure, it was good to let the people in your life that you love them, and that you’ll miss them, and that life will never be the same without them. You never know where life will take you next, and everything can change at a drop of a hat. But at least you got this. You got to love Neteyam, and hold him. You got to laugh and chat as you always used to do, you got to tell him how much he’s always meant to you and hear how much he’s loved you in return, and you got to ease his pain, at least a little, and despite it all, you were grateful.

Plungin' into all kinds of diversions

Like blush wine and sonorous soirées

But even with gin and surgin' adrenaline

I see you're all that can intoxicate

The ride home was quiet, or at least it appeared so to you, as you didn't register anything besides the emptiness of your own soul and the overflowing of your thoughts that were trying to understand it all, trying to piece together what they had just witnessed and what they'd have to do to get you through the upcoming days. It was quiet, as was meeting spider again, although you vaguely remember some echoed cries and screams, some pleas of "please make it stop", someone carrying you to your room, and falling asleep in unfamiliar arms, that weren't blue or dotted with stars, that weren't the ones you ached for, the ones you'd never be in again.

The days were slow, and dragging. It was hard to find your footing in this new life. Before Awa’atlu, despite the anger and the pain, there was some hope in your mind, that you’d one day see him again. It was enough to keep you going, even if it was for you to yell at him, to curse him off, to scream about how angry you were and hope that he would apologise and make it up to you. It kept you going, that unlikely scenario, made you push through the hurt and change. But now, you didn’t have that anymore. There was no unresolved issues, no lingering, hidden feelings that could still be confessed, no way for him to one day return and ever be yours in any form ever again. There was nothing there. And that gaping hole left by his absence, by the love that was nested in your body with nowhere to go, with no one to give it to, the hole left by everything he was to you and the life he’s left behind, it was enough to cower you, to knock you down, day after day, enough so that you couldn’t find it in you to get up in the morning.

Oceans and engines

You're skilled at infringing on great love affairs

'Cause now my heart's home

All I've known is long gone and ten thousand miles away

And I'm not okay

Norm’s subtle knocks were unmistakable - he was always gentle and kind, and always mindful of your disposition. You didn’t answer, but he came in anyway after a while, his hand over his eyes.

“Is it ok for me to come in?” You sighed and rose from the bed, feet dangling off the side.

“Yes, Norm. I’m coming to the lab now, sorry for being late.”

He came in and the door slid closed behind him with a soft thud. He sat next to you on the bed and looked nervously at his fidgety hands. You rose an eyebrow, intrigued as to what could have made him this way.

“Kid… are you ok? Like… are you truly ok?”

Your eyes widened imperceptibly at his loaded question, that you knew you could never answer truthfully, that no white lie could ever cover. So you didn’t.

“Why wouldn’t I be ok?”

“Because there’s no light in your eyes anymore, kid. Because I look at you and it’s like I’m looking at a ghost. Because you’re scaring the shit out of me and Max.” He sighed, and reached over to take your hand in his and squeezed.

“We didn’t know. About you and Neteyam, we didn’t know.”

Your gaze snapped at his face, and he looked sad and… almost embarrassed looking back at you.

“Norm, wh-…? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You know you can talk to us, right? I know it’s weird to talk to your surrogate uncles, but we’re here for you, kid. And you shouldn’t have to go through something like this alone. I’m sorry you had to sit through the ceremony, we didn’t realise until it was too late.”

“How?” Your voice was barely above a whisper as you spoke.

“During. And after. We had to watch the life getting snuffed out of your eyes slowly on the way back home. I’ve never seen anyone look so sad before… maybe except him. It was supposed to be one of the best days of his life, and yet, he’s never looked worse, the poor kid.”

“I’m sorry, kid. How long…?”

“It’s… complicated. I’m sorry I never told you. We both felt it wasn’t something anyone would be comfortable with, and we both know it could never last. It was supposed to be… fuck. I don’t know what it was supposed to be.”

Norm sighed and put a hand on your shoulder, giving it a sympathetic tug.

But I'm letting go, I'm giving up the ghost

But don't get me wrong, I'll always love you, that's why

I wrote you this very last song

I guess this is where we say goodbye

I know I'll be alright, but just not tonight

"Did I ever tell you about Trudy?" you shook your head. The name sounded familiar, and you're sure you've heard it from Jake or Max, but other than the fact that she was a human that died in the war, you didn't know much else.

"She was... well, I guess she was my Neteyam." tears immediately gathered in your eyes at his statement and the empathy that engulfed you, because, if it was anything like it, then you pitied Norm and wished you could take away some of his pain, just like you wish someone could take away some of yours.

"I loved her, so much. I loved this planet when I came here, but it was a superficial love. I was young, and wanted nothing else than to prove myself, that I'm a good scientist, that I'm a good researcher. I was jealous and bitter of Jake for getting what I thought was my chance at success, at fame. And then I met her, and she was so full of light, and spark. She was brave, and kind. She just wanted to live and laugh and fly her helicopter, and... and do the right thing. Not because it would have brought her money or prizes or acclaim, but because that's just who she was. I thought I knew what love was, what being a good person was, what being happy was, but I didn't, not until I fell in love with her. When she died, I was so lost. I felt like a part of me died with her. I thought I'd never recover, and to a certain extent, I never did. I wish I can tell you that time heals, but in reality, that's not a guarantee. But you want to know something?"

"All her lessons, both meant and inadvertent, everything she meant to me, all the memories we shared, everything is still here. I still carry it with me, and it will always be a part of me. She will always be a part of me, and while that thought scared me in the beginning, while I hoped that time healing meant I would forget, now I know it means embracing the happiness it gave you, all the ways their presence in your life made you a better person. It means knowing that love is real, and it's everything, because you felt it with them, because they shared it with you. It's what makes this life worth living. And pain is just a reminder of how incredible your time together was. Cause in the end, what is grief, if not love persevering?"

Tonight was the first time I stared into seas

Of beguiling sepia two years ago

And the first time I learned real world superpowers lived in three words

They revitalise my fraying bones

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

“Happy birthday, Vol.”

“So, how would rate your 19th birthday compared to your 18th?”

You thought about it for a while.

“Well, I can say it’s had a lot less booze, but a lot better sex.” You both laughed while your head was rested on his shoulder, as you watched your favourite season of your favourite show, sprawled in bedsheets, his naked body glimmering in the dark and reflecting in your eyes as you took his beauty in, that you never got accustomed to, no matter how many times you saw it. When the credits rolled in and the music faded, leaving a dark room behind, silent apart from your breaths, that were getting laboured once more as desire built up in your core yet again, you straddled him and watched his face get closer to yours, until your lips met, until his tongue explored your mouth and neck, leaving traces of him on you, until your hands trailed his chest and abdomen, lingering over his abs, until they reached what they were looking for, until he made you scream, over and over, until you let him.

“You’re a fiend.”

“I’m a fiend?! What about you?” Neteyam shook his head, and you scoffed and rolled your eyes at what you thought was a preposterous statement.

“Let’s think about it. Who seduced who the first time? Who was drunk off their ass and asked to fuck, huh?”

“Who kept getting boners around their best friend until one day she had the guts to do something about it, huh?”

He rolled you off of him with ease and pinned you to the ground, smirking and pushing his hips into your still dripping core.

“You know why I kept getting boners, Vol? Because I could smell you. I could smell how wet you were around me. Your scent drove me nuts for so long. It still does. You intoxicate me. You drive me fucking crazy, Vol.”

You said nothing as you looked in his eyes, as your heart fluttered much like the butterflies that were digging their way through your stomach.

“‘teyam…” He shuts you up with kiss, tender and soft, so unlike his words or actions, and you melt into it, and the fear creeps in your chest as you fall for him deeper, as you half-consider just telling him, just coming out with it, because fuck, you loved him and this wasn’t helping.

“I have something for you. Birthday present.” Suddenly, he got off you, leaving you a breathless mess, and retrieved something from the pile of clothes on the floor. He plopped himself next to you and pulled you close, until you were resting his head on his torso, and you snuggled into him, glancing at the object in his hand curiously.

His words were soft-spoken and quiet, almost bashful, and you noticed his heart picking up speed, thumping loudly in the ear that was pressed tightly against his chest. “I didn’t know what to do for your birthday, considering you’re already blessed with the best gift in the world… my presence in your life, that is…” you snickered sarcastically, and he continued. “…but, every time I go on a mission, I think of you, and your voice that tells me to be safe, and I see your eyes looking back at me as you stitch my wounds afterwards, and I make it a point to grab a pebble at the end of each mission, to give to you. But, for one reason or another, I never did. So here.” He grabbed your hand in his, turning it upwards so your palm was facing the ceiling, and dropped the item in it.

A necklace. A gorgeous, stunning, impossibly beautiful choker, with tens, if not hundreds of beads and pebbles of different colours and textures woven into it. It looked majestic, fit for a queen, or a Tsa’hik, and you felt tears pool in your eyes at its meaning, at how long he must have been collecting these for, with you in mind, at how long it must have taken to make, at how much it meant to him, and now to you. He took it from you and you held your hair so he could fasten it around your neck. It fit you perfectly, and you smiled up at him, raising an eyebrow.

“How did you know it was going to fit?” He smiled and your fingers caressed your cheek, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

“Let’s just say I’ve had my hand wrapped around your throat enough times to have a pretty good frame of reference.”

You couldn’t help the blush in your cheeks, or the way your reached back for your new gift so you could trace your fingers over it, imprinting the feel of every bead in your mind, thinking of each one and trying to correlate it to a time, or a place, to a hunt or a battle he was part of that you weren’t, but how you were ever-present in his mind.

“Do you like it?”

“I love it, ‘teyam. Thank you.”

“Making this necklace, it was a good reminder that you have been the only constant in my life since I was born. No matter how much my life has changed, how much I changed, you’ve always been there to brave the storm with me. And I love you, Vol. You’re my best friend. Forever.”

“Forever.”

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

The hurt of the dream lingered as you woke up, as you had to deal with its remnants that were tattooed in your mind, as you had to once more convince yourself that somehow waking up is better than what you just left behind. It wasn’t, it never was. It was hard to find the will to get out of bed when in bed, this was your reality, filled with beautiful memories and hopeful fantasies, whereas out of bed, your reality was filled with war, and fighting, training til everything bled, and the gaping hole of heartbreak. And to top it all off, it’s your birthday today. A day that stopped belonging to you two years ago, and was instead just another bitter reminder of his absence.

You got up from the bed and showered, finding comfort in the water hitting your skin and untying the knots in your tense muscles. It's taken awhile, weeks for you to mourn, but you have officially started training with Spider and Tarsem again, and you hated to admit it, but it helped. Being outside, in the forest, from dusk til dawn, thinking of nothing else but the ache in your body and the focus on the target, on the next goal, the next milestone, it kept your mind occupied and it allowed you to cope better than you ever expected. It was nice to be around other people, and you felt grateful for each and every one of them, because in truth, you didn't think you could have made it on your own.

When you made your way through the village to join everyone for breakfast, you were greeted with a myriad of screams of happy birthday, from humans, avatars and Na'vi alike, and for the first time in weeks, you felt a tinge of joy in your heart, and a swell of gratitude for the unforeseeable change in attitude from the people of the clan. For the first time in your life, you felt welcomed here, and you didn't know whether it was Tarsem's influence, or the Na'vi having another reminder, now that the Sky People were back, that not all humans are inherently evil, or your strenuous effort to be one of them and join in the battles and the training, but regardless of what it was, it was a gratifying change.

"Birthday girl, come on. We've been dying to give you your present." Max had the biggest smile on his face and an item you couldn't place in his hand.

"Here. Happy birthday, from all of us."

You raised an eyebrow.

"From all of you? That's a big present."

You took the curious contraption in your hands and twirled it around. It was lanky and weird, and it looked old, before your time, and even their time. You noticed as you inspected it that it had an eyepiece that resembled that of a microscope.

"That, kid, is called a stereoscope. Look into it."

You did, and as you put your eyes in the socket, a big picture of... cells came into view. But they weren't cells you've ever seen before.

"What is this?"

"Those, kid... are your cells. Actually, if we are being specific, they are your future Avatar's cells."

The stereoscope fell from your hands and you were happy Spider had catlike reflexes because it looked precious and unique and you didn't want to break it, but God, in that moment, you really couldn't care less.

"What did you say?"

"You know all the things we got from the humans that we didn't know what to do with or what they were? Well, we figured it out, kid. You, Spider and Max are all getting Avatars. And their technology massively improved, too. They're growing like crazy, it shouldn't take more than a year. By next year, you might be able to take it out for a spin."

A year later, as you celebrated yet another birthday, you had to give it to the scientists for being men of their word, as you stood in your new shiny Avatar body, that you've already become used to in the few weeks you've been inhabiting it. The mountain stronghold was filled with laughter and music as the celebration was underway, as people celebrated you and your 21st birthday, a big event back on Earth, apparently. You laughed with the rest of them, drinking and telling stories of this and that, trying not to dwell on the thoughts that were burrowing through layers of your mind, coming to the forefront, unwanted and unannounced. Thoughts of him, of you, thoughts of how this Avatar could have been the answer to all your problems if news of it came even if a few weeks before, how the universe was cruel and mocking, and how none of it mattered, not anymore. You wanted to focus on the positives, and you would. Just not tonight. Tonight, you had one last thing to do.

Now what do you do when your pillar crumbled down

You've lost all solid ground

Both dreams and demons drowned

And this void's all you've found

And doubts light it aglow?

As the celebration died down, in the early hours of the morning, you made your way to a place you loved so much, that you knew you needed to see once more, today, on your birthday. Because this place was his place, that he shared with you a long time ago, that in time became your place, and there was no more appropriate time to visit it one last time than today, on your birthday, exactly 3 years after everything changed between you. It was a long walk, on treacherous paths that you felt uneasy traversing by yourself, but there was no one else to do this with - not outside of him. Eventually, you pushed past thick foliage and greenery and you saw it, and despite how much time it’s passed, it still felt like the wind was knocked from your lungs with enough force to make you fall to the ground. It’s like no time passed at all. It still felt like he never left. To this day, his ghost haunted you, his memory continuous and unperturbed in your mind.

Eventually, you pushed back and sat on the edge of the cliff, like you did the first time he brought you here, and looked at the endless beauty of the vast drop and the roar of the waterfall as it fell and hit the river underneath.

You couldn’t even remember all the times you have been here, both of you looking ahead at the view, laughing and talking with no cares in the world, just happy to be in each other’s presence, happy to feel safe and understood, and have someone to complain to, someone to share your deepest secrets and fears with no judgement. All the times he’s watched you cry, or made you cum, too many to count, too many to forget.

I have so many questions

But I'm pouring them into the ocean

And I'm starting up my engine

You would have given anything for him to be here as you were now, tall and blue and supple, to be able to share this moment with him, to be able to kiss him in this place you both loved, that carried so much of you, of him, to be able to know one day you’ll bring your children here, that you’ll be able to watch it pass by from the back of an ikran as you went on a family trip. You wondered if he would have found you beautiful like this, if he would even recognise you. You barely recognised yourself these days, both like this and going back to your human body, your real body, that changed as you spent more time in the neurolink, learning to be Na’vi, building up the strength in the only body that now seemed to count. You wondered if he would be excited with you, or if he’d miss your normal body. You wondered if he’d just forget about your body altogether and focus only on the blue one you were currently inhabiting.

You wondered if he was happy. If he was getting along with his new mate, if she’s nice to him, if she knows how to mend his wounds and that he’s allergic to some of the plants a Tsa’hik uses for healing ointments. You wondered if he’s suffering as much as you are, even after all this time, or if he’s moved on, like he should, like you should. There were so many questions, that will forever remain unanswered, but that’s why you were here. You were here to look at this place one last time, to throw all the unsolved mysteries of life, and love, of the past and future away, away in the river, so they can float away into the ocean and be lost in the abyss, and allow you to finally move on.

You reached your hand in the pouch you had tightened on your chest, and pulled out a necklace, the necklace, that meant too much to you, and you looked at it, tracing your fingers over every one of the many pebbles embellishing it, reminiscing about the stories you made up in your head about each one, remembering each memory Neteyam told you they were about, watching as tears bounced off of them as the world became blurry around you, until eclipse slowly faded away from view and day took its place. You stood there for hours, thinking, crying, trying to build up the courage to do what you knew you had to do… needed to do.

And I'm letting go, I'm givin' up your ghost

It's come to a close, I marked the end with this last song I wrote

Late in the night, with one last look at the necklace that didn’t fit you anymore, at all it represented, with one last glance at every pebble - each one, in your mind, a memory, or a touch, or a kiss, or a laugh, each one an i love you, an I miss you you said to each other, each one a second, a minute, an hour, a day, a month spent together, each one a memory you’d never get to make, a touch, or a kiss, or a laugh you’d never get to share again, each one an I love you or an I miss you you’d never get to say or hear again, you let go of it all, letting it fall over the edge of the cliff, hoping that he’s happy, like he promised you he’d try to be, and determined to keep your own promise in this new life, a life that started and will end without him.

I'm letting go, this is the last falsetto I'll ever sing to you

My great lost love.

A/N: there it is, besties. the intended end to cruel summer. honestly, i just wanted to say a massive thank you if you managed to reach this far. when i started this blog, a few months ago, and posted the first chapter of illicit affairs, i did it on a whim, i did because i thought why not? Now, 2000 followers later, I get to write so many stories I never thought I'd ever get to, or even think of, and it's all because of you.

Cruel Summer means a lot to me, as i think it signifies my growth as a writer, my growth on this platform, and as a person learning through deal with my own personal issues through my characters. I loved writing it so much, I cried so much, probably more than with any other story I wrote, and I hope I managed to make you feel something, and maybe think, bc that's all I want, that's all anybody that does any sort of art can want i think.

Thank you for coming on this journey with me, and I hope you stay for what's next, bc I'm not done, as long as there's still people that want to be here. I love you and am very grateful to all 2000 of you.

thank you @karma-is-a-cat-purringinmylap bc this ending is the way it is bc of her and her sending me this song back in like chapter II. I love you and you changed my life by introducing me to niki. (initially, the chapter was going to be Happiness after TS's song)

Also see if you can spot all the quotes from different games/tv shows i used ;)

Taglist: @liluvtojineteyam @pinkpantheris @fanboyluvr@bananafruityawne @zaddyneteyamlovergirl @netemoon @www-interludeshadow-com @jackiehollanderr

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agent-cupcake · 4 months

Text

Flashbang

Chapter 7 - Look Up, Look Up

Spotify Playlist / All Chapters / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 /Chapter 7/ Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 pt.1 / Chapter 9 pt.2 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12

Pairing: One Piece Live Action Buggy x f! Reader

Synopsis: While you're trying and failing to deal with everything that's happened, it becomes increasingly obvious that running away wasn't as simple as you hoped. Captain Buggy takes this personally.

Warnings: Explicit smut, discussions of pregnancy/fertility, dub/noncon, unhealthy relationship

Word Count: 10.8k

Notes: This story is now just full time horny and the mental health of those involved probably won't get much better. See you next Sunday~

“There's something deep inside of me

It lingers and it presses hard

A tidal wave that never catches breath

The end is just the start

And now I don't know what to do”

xxx

Groggy and sore, your head spinning and filled with uncomfortable fog from the drug last night, you stood in the bathroom off Captain Buggy’s cabin, shivering in the thin sheath of a blanket taken from his bed. You had cleaned yourself up as best as you could, but there was nothing to do about the marks littering your skin, the soreness between your legs, or the ugly little bruise on your cheek from where your would-be kidnapper hit you. You washed your face clean of makeup—Buggy’s and yours—leaving you with a pair of splotchy cheeks and a set of unappealing mismatched eyes. One of them was tired, rimmed in red with flakes of mascara clinging to the lashes. The other was… Well, it was what it was.

Dad told you that you should have been grateful for the injury, that you were lucky to be alive at all. Being mildly deformed was nothing compared to what might have happened if you were nearer to the explosion. But your luck was a scar that started about an inch above your left eyebrow and ended two or so inches below the eye. That had been a nasty gash on its own, but there was also the burn. Covering the top of your cheekbone up to right beneath your brow, the skin crackled in shades of sickly burgundy, damaged enough that only part of your eyebrow grew, very few lashes clinging to the ruined lids. The burn as well as the stitches dad had put into your eyelid limited your ability to close the eye, leaving the milky film of your cornea exposed.

It wasn’t without reason that you were called a freak. People saw your eye and winced with phantom pain, thinking how grateful they were that it wasn’t their face that had been ruined. They had sympathy and pity, sure, but you understood the underlying emotions were relief and discomfort. Even dad insisted you cover your eye; he couldn’t stand looking at it. Nobody could.

Except for Buggy, but thinking about him didn’t do anything to help your miserable ruminations.

Bracing one hand on the sink, your heavy head swung down and you stared at the faded porcelain instead. Last night, you vomited and screamed and cried and cried and cried, the grief and pain and self loathing and fear so strong that emotion threatened to overcome you like a tidal wave. Now, the tears didn’t come. You weren’t some sort of victim in all of this, you had to face the facts.

Fact: Dad was still trying to get you back and the only way you could think to explain how he was doing that was to admit you lied to Captain Buggy. Fact: You were never never going to be free of him, not really. Fact: Last night you got high and threw yourself at the captain, and now you were the whore everybody thought you were.

God.

You peeked up at your face in the mirror, searching for the missing part of yourself that physically represented your virtue. That’s what people said. You lost your virginity. You were different now. You felt different, but you didn’t know what you were looking for. Or, rather, what you weren’t looking for. That made no sense, did it?

Disgusted by your nudity beneath the blanket, you left the bathroom. Moving made you realize how heavy your head felt, how foggy. There was a pinched, sour feeling in your throat, like when you got sick. By now, sunshine formed a bright frame around the blinds covering his windows, but his room was freezing.

Shivering, you looked around for your clothes, spotting your shorts and jacket on the floor. You had a feeling your shirt was tangled up somewhere amidst Buggy’s bedding. That was a bit of a problem considering Captain Buggy was also tangled up in the bedding. You didn’t want to wake him up. You weren’t sure you could handle facing him right then.

While you were deliberating what to do, cold and confused and miserable, Buggy opened one eye to give you a disgruntled look. “What’re you doing?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep. You hadn’t taken off his makeup last night, adding to his groggy, unkempt demeanor.

You pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, unable to look him in the face. “I’m sorry, Captain Buggy. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

He groaned, blinking over and over again in an attempt to orient himself. “Shit. You kept me up too late.”

“I’m sorry.”

Buggy sighed, opening his eyes all the way to look you up and down. You didn’t see him detach his hand, although you spotted his little smile a second before the blanket was torn out of your hands, leaving you naked. You squealed in surprise, nearly falling over as you tried to cover yourself, prickling chills covering every inch of your skin.

He laughed, reattaching his hand and using it to prop up his head. “You know, if this was how you woke me up every morning, I might be more of an early riser.”

“Cap-tain, it’sss c-cold,” you said, shivering hard enough to distort your voice.

“Then get back in bed,” he said.

You frowned, hesitating. “I-I was going to-to go geh-get breakfast.”

Buggy groaned dramatically, rolling his eyes. “Aren’t we past this whole,” he gestured vaguely to you, “coy… schtick? Cut the bullshit and come here, it’s fuckin’ freezing.”

He was right about that at least. Although your hesitation held for a second more, the cold and unsteady dizziness was too potent for you to think of any argument, timidly approaching the bed with an awkward hunch to try and cover your nudity. Buggy obliged with a self-satisfied smile, raising the edge of the blanket for you to slip under the covers and rolling onto his back to make room. There was no graceful way you could think of to join him, but Buggy didn’t let you waste time trying to figure out a natural way to huddle beneath the blanket, pulling you against him regardless of your intentions to keep some space between you. Laying on your side, your head resting against his chest, allowed you some modesty, but every place where your bare flesh met his seared, practically sizzling.

“Shit,” Buggy exclaimed, “you’re like a little ice cube.”

“I’m always cold,” you muttered, trying not to shiver at the feeling of his warm hands smoothing over your chills.

“Yeah, I noticed,” Buggy said with a little laugh. “The first night when you slept in here, you were like a little heat vampire. I couldn’t keep you off of me.”

“Really?” you asked, taken aback. “I don’t… don’t really remember.”

“Of course you don’t, you were completely shitfaced. It was hilarious. Who’d’ve thunk that somebody so repressed and stiff would be such a horny drunk? You are so lucky I’m not some weirdo pervert who’d take advantage of a girl in such a precarious position.” He hesitated before adding, “Well, there was that one thing, but it’s not a big deal, especially now that I know you wanted it anyway.”

“What?”

“Before you get all upset, I didn’t actually touch you. I mean, I had to a little to get you in here and then to get you to settle down, but it wasn’t weird,” Buggy explained. “Trust me, you were begging for a lot more than what I was comfortable with. But then I needed to let out a little steam after all of your teasing, and, hey, if just looking at somebody was a crime, you would be the one with a massive bounty, not me. I bet you masturbate thinking about me every night after you leave.”

“I don’t,” you said, frowning. “I wouldn’t.”

“Yeah, yeah, got it,” Buggy said dryly, rolling his eyes. “Innocent little virgin. I bet you don’t know how to make yourself come.”

“I-I…” You forced yourself to not get tripped up by the heat of embarrassment, letting out a big breath. “It’s fine. Just… Did I do anything else that night?”

“Nah, you passed out pretty quick.”

“Do you know what I did with my dress? I’ve never been able to find it.”

“Dress?” Buggy repeated, his eyebrows furrowing. Realization hit him a moment later. “Oh! Yeah, right. To be clear, you wanted to take it off. It was ruined anyway ‘cause of the blood so I didn’t think it was a big deal if I used it to clean things up after. Barely any of it got on you anyway, but then I started to get a little worried you’d be embarrassed about what happened, especially if you couldn’t remember anything, so I ditched it out the window.”

“Oh,” you said stupidly, your skin crawling. “I… Um…” You cleared your throat, hiding your face with your cheek against his chest, trying to stifle the discomfort you felt.

It didn’t matter, it wasn’t as if you could remember, and you believed him when he said he didn’t do anything else. But it meant that you had instigated a sexual dynamic at the start. Compared to what you did willingly, knowingly, you didn’t think you could reasonably be upset, but the idea that anything like that happened when you couldn’t remember was still unsettling.

“I’m sorry I… For acting that way,” you finally said, looking up at him.

“Don’t worry about it, babydoll. I’m not mad or anything. I guess I got a little irritated that you were being such a tease after showing me how you really felt that first night, but it worked out just fine, huh?” His eyes dragged down, lingering on the bite marks he’d left on your neck. He licked his lips. “Hey, come up here.”

“What?” you asked.

He huffed. “What do you mean ‘what’? Get up here,” Buggy said as he sat up, grabbing your waist to haul you up to him regardless of your nervous squirming. You choked out an objection when he wrapped his lips around your nipple, but that shuddered out into a breathy sigh. His mouth was warm and soft, a contrast to the rough sandpaper of his stubble. The sensation of his nose against your skin was odd, maybe because even still you didn’t expect the texture to be so human.

You didn’t want to respond to his touch, you didn’t want to enjoy being touched—you weren’t allowed to enjoy that—but it was like trying not to feel pain. You were utterly unable to ignore the pleasure that made your sore pussy tighten anxiously, the muscles aching for more than one reason. When he bit you, gently, just enough for the threat of pain, you didn’t mean to whimper, but you did. Your body hadn’t recovered from whatever you took last night, still caught in the haze of that spinning sense of need and languid acceptance of his touch.

Buggy pulled away with a wet pop, pushing you down onto the bed so he could lean over you and do the same thing to your other nipple, scattering all your thoughts of protest or nerves for what he intended because of how electrifyingly good it felt.

Using that distraction, his hand delved between your legs, two fingers pushing between your folds to curl against your entrance. The surprising sensation—was it pleasure? You couldn’t tell, it was too sensitive, too raw, too sore—made your back arch up dramatically, Buggy had to release your nipple and sit up.

“Fuck, babydoll,” Buggy said breathlessly, casually pulling his fingers up to rub against your clit. They slid easily over the sensitive flesh, coated in your own slick arousal. “Now you’ve got me all wound up.” You tried to squeeze your legs shut around his hand. All it did was trap him in place, casually rubbing against your clit in a way that had your hips jumping in spite of yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you said hoarsely.

“You should be. I won’t be able to get any work done today if I don’t take care of this now.”

“What d’you mean?” you asked, although you felt like you knew.

Buggy pulled his hand out from between your legs, grabbing your wrist and dragging it beneath the blankets. You knew what he was doing, although you still felt an odd zing of surprise when he put your hand around his cock. His breath was hot on your ear when he let out a shaky groan, his hips shifting impatiently, pushing into your touch. Knowing that it had been inside of you was almost surreal. Somehow, it felt harder than you might have expected. Warmer too.

He closed your fingers around his cock before his hand pushed back between your legs, two fingers sliding knuckle deep into your pussy. Buggy ate your little whine, pulling you into a kiss that was all hot breath and tongue and distraction while his fingers pressed a little deeper, his hips pushing his dick into your hand for more friction. It surprised you to feel his cock twitch in your hand, it made your breath catch. Dread, of all things, crawled up your throat like acid. There was a raw ache inside of you, an uncomfortable and unnatural pinch when your pussy unconsciously squeezed his fingers.

“Captain Buggy,” you said, breaking the kiss to catch your breath. “I’m… I’m really sore.”

“You’re really wet,” he said, chasing your lips with his own, drawing you into another kiss.

To prove his point, his fingers pressed deeper into your cunt, hooking and rubbing at your fluttery walls and you couldn’t help but writhe against him, pulling back with a whimper. “Please, Captain Buggy, I…”

He groaned, leaning back. “Do you ever stop whining? It’s not like you have to do anything. Just lay down, hold on, and let Captain Buggy take care of you like I always do.”

Your heart sank. It wasn’t like you were whining for no reason, you were sore, surely he could understand that? Or be sympathetic to it? You wanted to try and explain, but the words weren’t there in your cloudy, dizzy head, at least not in any sensical arrangement. You couldn’t think hardly at all underneath the spotlight of his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you told him, your stomach twisting into knots. “I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry.”

Buggy looked at your pouty lower lip, his gaze rising to meet your wet eye, and his expression softened. “Aw, babydoll. It won’t hurt if you just relax a little,” he told you as he sat up, tossing away the blankets and raising your leg to duck underneath it. “You really gotta trust me about this shit. Unlike you, I know what I’m doing. Besides, I got you through your maiden voyage, didn’t I?”

“Yes, sir,” you said, not registering his playful tone until after your automatic response.

Last night, you had been completely under the influence during this part, but now you were stiff and overly aware of your breathing, of the crawling discomfort of being exposed, of what your body might have looked like to him. The surreal rush was no less intense, but now it was chased by the harsh bite of reality.

You expected him to immediately start lining up his cock, but instead Buggy grabbed your legs and pushed them all the way to your chest, forcing your back to curl. You saw him gather the saliva in his mouth, but it wasn’t until he spat directly onto your pussy that you understood why. You winced with a disgusted sort of humiliation, trying to wriggle away when he pushed the saliva directly into you with two fingers, mixing it with your own arousal.

“Why did you do that?” you asked, your face hot.

Buggy lowered your legs, smirking instead of answering. You covered your flushing cheeks with both hands to hide your embarrassment. At least Buggy didn’t draw out your humiliation, pulling you down to line up the head of his dick with your pussy. You gasped at the feeling, bracing yourself before trying to relax, fighting your body’s instinct to protect itself.

It took a few targeted thrusts to make it catch, and then some effort to force the head past the initial resistance, but as soon as the head popped in, he groaned, practically falling on top of you. “God, you’re tight. Frankly, it’s a little shocking I can get it in at all,” Buggy said in a strained voice, slowly pushing his cock into you with shallow, rocking thrusts.

You were glad he pressed his face into the pillow rather than look at you because it did hurt, even if he rolled his hips in little bursts, slowly easing you into it. You made a little sound in the back of your throat, pulling your legs up to make it easier, trying to relax. Buggy’s breath hitched as he pulled out, and then back in. Slow and gentle.

There was still the part of your mind that wanted to play the martyr. To shut it all out, to take no pleasure in what you knew was wrong. The lapping tide of intoxication threatened to pull you back under into the heavy waves of misty bliss, your body too worn out and mind too frayed to properly fight your reaction. And if you weren’t turned on by the physical stimulation of his cock grinding into you, entering in a way that made your hips jump and pussy spasm around him, then it would be because of the feeling of Buggy’s body above yours. The way the muscles of his back worked and moved with each thrust, the sounds he made. His sounds of pleasure—pleasure because of you.

Even if it hurt and it was wrong and even if you hated yourself for it, you couldn’t help but feel the tightening in your core, the trembling sort of heat that made you writhe beneath him, your hips restlessly tilting to meet each lazy, shallow thrust.

Until you heard something from the other room.

You stiffened up, your fingers curling into his shoulders. “Captain, I—I think… I think someone’s knocking,” you said.

“Ignore it,” Buggy told you, his voice labored.

But the knocking didn’t stop, and then you heard the door open. “Captain Buggy?” Cabaji called into the room. “Are you awake?”

You tensed up at that interruption, your cunt unintentionally squeezing his cock. In response, Buggy’s fingers dug painfully into your thigh, his groan muffled into the pillow. You pushed at him, panicking, but he didn’t budge. Finally, he lifted his head and braced himself on his elbow, looking annoyed.

“What do you want?” Buggy shouted, his grip on you just as tight, his cock remaining halfway inside of you.

“Mohji took command of the other ship, but it’s damaged.” Footsteps from the other room made you think Cabaji was coming closer, and you pushed more insistently at Buggy, disgusted fear of being seen like this seizing your chest. “He’s taking it to the nearest island, should we follow?”

You tried again to push him off, unable to stand the constant pressure, the way your pussy kept spasming and squeezing him. Buggy made a sound of irritation, pinning you in place with a harsh thrust that buried his cock deep enough for his skin to slap against your own, eliciting a shrill yelp you didn’t muffle in time. The footsteps stopped. There was absolutely no way to misinterpret what just happened, but you didn’t care as much compared to the discomfort, to the weight of him inside of you.

“I need to finish this up first,” Buggy said, his voice hoarse with strain. “Get my breakfast, I’ll meet you up there…” He looked down at you, licking his lips. “As soon as I’m done.”

“Yes, of course, sir,” Cabaji said, quickly retreating.

The second the door closed, Buggy was laughing. “You did all this whining about how you’re sore, but got too impatient to even wait for Cabaji to leave.”

“That was you!”

“Nuh-uh, that was aaaall your fault,” Buggy said, rolling his hips experimentally. Your body jerked anxiously, your pussy spasming around his dick. The raw ripping sort of sensation wasn’t made better by the fresh wave of arousal that smoothed out his movements. “Don’t get too upset, the sound you made was so squeaky and pathetic he might have mistaken it for something else.”

You whined helplessly, your back arching and nails digging into his shoulders.

“That’s exactly my point. Squeaky hinges, rats in the walls… Ship stuff,” Buggy said, the last word coming out with a heavy grunt as he dragged you back into place, his hips meeting you halfway so he could slam his cock into you. Your fingernails dug into his shoulders, but all that did was make Buggy moan.

“Captain Buggy, please, it hurts.”

“If you hadn’t wasted so much time earlier complaining, we’d already be done,” he told you. “Just hold on, honeybuns. I’ll make it up to you later.”

Nothing. And then awareness. And then confusion as a million memories played out all at once, none of them quite right, none of them truly belonging to you. But the state of unconsciousness was familiar in its own way, recognition of its daze independent of your own understanding. That is to say that, at this point, you were familiar with what it felt like to wake up after passing out, unpleasant as it was.

“Don’t panic,” somebody said, the words slowly filtering through your brain until you could comprehend them, reality slotting into place. “You fainted, but you’re alright.”

Your eye fluttered open, slowly focusing on the face above you.

“Crina?”

“Good morning,” she said with a wry smile.

You grunted, getting your elbows beneath yourself to sit up. It wasn’t surprising to realize that you were in her clinic. The smell would have given it away, followed up directly by the uncomfortable surface of the table bed you were laying on.

“Do you remember what happened?” she asked.

Groaning, you laid back down. “I was…” You rubbed your eye, trying to shake your head clear of the fog.

“You collapsed in the passageway,” she prompted. “You were nearly trampled.”

That’s right, you had been looking for a quiet place to be alone because you were very upset. Very, very upset. After everything, every little awful thing, it was the realization that Pippa had left with the other ship that set you off fully. Already you could feel the rising tide of breathless despair as it all hit you again.

“Rest,” Crina told you.

“I’m okay,” you said, gritting your teeth and getting an arm beneath yourself. Moving immediately disproved your reassurance, the painful spinning of your head nearly knocking you right back down. Soreness throbbed between your legs, like you’d pulled a muscle you weren’t even aware of. The drug from last night lingered like smoke in your thoughts. In addition to the bruise on your cheek, your spine ached in several places from hitting the deck when the man dropped you. Separately, any one of those things would have left you weak. It was no wonder you fainted. “I just got really dizzy and…” You shook your head, although that did nothing to dislodge the cottony confusion that laid behind your temple, or to pierce the bubble of tumultuous emotion swelling in your chest. “I’m fine.”

“Did you drink last night?”

“No, no I…” You breathed in, trying to sort your thoughts. “I was, um, upset and so Captain Buggy gave me… I think it-it was an opiate, like my dad used to give me. Just so I could calm down. He was helping me, and I wanted it, but today it feels like… Like having a hangover, but heavier. I didn’t sleep much either, so that’s probably why I… I’m tired is all.”

“This should still help,” Crina told you, holding out a cup of water.

You eyed it warily, your stomach churning at the idea of accepting anything. “No, thank you.”

Her lips pursed, but she set it aside, returning to her workbench. Various vials and herbs littered the surface. It looked like she was preparing something that smelled very strongly of antiseptic, but also other things. Crina’s medicine was never as astringently assaulting as the types your dad used. The water she had boiling—boiling bandages, perhaps?—had a comfortable sound, warming the room.

“What are you doing?” you asked her, grasping for something to ground yourself.

“My job,” she responded wryly. “Pirates fight recklessly, even an overwhelming victory means wounds to tend.”

You nodded.

“My first medical training was as a midwife,” Crina suddenly said, grabbing a fresh cutting board and quickly chopping up what you recognized as ginger. “My mother taught me, and her mother taught her. I helped deliver several babies before I was old enough to conceive one myself.”

In so many ways, Crina was an enigma to you. Hearing her volunteer personal information so randomly, so abruptly caught you off guard. “A hospital hired you when you were a kid?” you asked, your eyebrows furrowing.

“No hospital,” she said with a trace of amusement at the idea, setting aside the knife and sweeping the chopped spice into a kettle which quickly replaced the pot on the stove. “Our community was small and poor. Even if we could afford doctors, we couldn’t trust strangers to safely care for our mothers, daughters, and sisters—and we certainly couldn’t trust them with our babies.”

“Why did you become a pirate?”

“I had few other options,” Crina said, crushing up an herb in a mortar and pestle. “I left my village and sought education as a surgeon when I was old enough to do so, but the medical community thought I was… difficult, to say the least.” She smiled to herself. “It was a mutual feeling. So stuck on the rigid path of modernity that they reject anything they deem to be outdated. I left school with the proper training and debt, but none of the credentials.”

“Why didn’t you go back to your village?”

“There wasn’t much to go back to,” Crina said brusquely. “Poverty is as wicked as any plague.”

“I’m so sorry,” you told her.

“I do not mourn what was, I can only be grateful for what I was given,” Crina said, washing the herbs with a liquid to continue mixing. By now, the smell of ginger was getting quite strong. Warm and spicy and alluring. “I believe my upbringing is why I can handle the brutality of this position better than most. I’ve known many men who will readily amputate a crushed limb or set a bone that has broken skin, but balk at the miracle of childbirth. So eager to impregnate, but unable to face the consequences. To them, a woman’s health is unsympathetic. They will never experience the things we must, so they do not care.”

“That’s not true,” you said.

“Really? You more than anyone should know the truth of it. Your father was not interested in your health, only your dependence. Captain Buggy is not interested in your health, only your service.” Crina looked at you, her smokey dark eyes cutting past any defenses you might have been able to put up. “Can you deny that?”

“I…” You were saved from answering by the squealing kettle, your body jumping in panic at the sudden noise.

Crina took the kettle off the heat, leaving it to sit. “Women must look out for one another. I think, so far, you’ve taken my questions as accusations and mistrust my aid for fear of mistreatment, but I do want to help you. If not for personal reasons, then because I would risk Captain Buggy’s ire if I were to allow anything to happen to you for my negligence. Do you understand?”

You swallowed hard, nodding.

“We need to talk about what happened last night.”

“Nothing,” you answered quickly, bristling. “Nothing happened.”

“I’ve been honest with you, I would appreciate it if you didn’t insult me by lying,” Crina said.

You met her eye, guilt swelling in your chest. “Captain Buggy and I… We… We slept together.”

“Did he force you to have sex with him?”

“No! Captain Buggy would never, ever do that,” you told her quickly, shocked by the question.

“Did he hurt you?”

“No, he wouldn’t.” You looked down, biting your lip. “It-it’s normal to be sore after, isn’t it?”

Crina pursed her lips. “Did you notice any blood?”

Last night—and even in the morning—you hadn’t been aware of any blood. Everything was so coated with other bodily fluids that you wouldn’t have noticed. But earlier, when you were changing your clothes, you dropped your shorts and saw the mess of cum that had slowly oozed out of you after you left Captain Buggy’s cabin. It wasn’t the normal milky color, but a sickly pink. Dyed by your blood. Since the color was so mild, you didn’t think it was a lot of blood, but the quantity didn’t matter. Pure, clean girls didn’t bleed. And there you stood with a man’s cum and your own blood staining your panties, the reality of what you had done setting in fully.

“Yeah,” you admitted, your voice choked.

“Was there enough to be worrisome? ”

“No, there wasn’t that much.” But the amount didn’t matter. Pure, clean girls didn’t bleed.

“What was happening before you fainted?”

“I-I started to—to… I couldn’t breathe,” you said haltingly. “It’s hard to think and my head aches and I’m… tired.”

Ruined, you were ruined. And although everybody was too busy to pay you any mind today—the ship was a flurry of activity after the raid—they would all know soon enough. It was easier to bear the whispers about you and Captain Buggy when you knew it was untrue, but now it wasn’t. Now you were exactly what they said you were. Then you had to think about what happened last night with the man, and your dad, and the entire mess only got worse.

“I don’t know what to do,” you admitted, speaking softly to keep your voice from cracking.

“Right now, you’re going to drink this,” Crina said. She poured two cups of ginger tea, filling the room with its spicy scent. She added a spoonful of powder and forced the cup into your hand. “It will help.”

“What’s in it?” you asked weakly.

“Ginger, turmeric, and something to help your head.”

The steam washed over your face, and that alone was a comfort. Although it was hot, you took a sip. And another.

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you. I-I just… I didn’t think,” you told her after a bit, your voice weak. “I don’t get why…”

Your statement was met with a solid block of silence. For a moment, you thought that she wouldn’t say anything at all. “Think about your situation,” Crina told you. “You have few skills, very little practical value to him other than what could be provided by any other member of the crew. You are here because Captain Buggy enjoys having a toy to play with. Do you think it’s a coincidence that he never uses your name? That he calls you his babydoll?”

“He never said anything about…about any of that,” you argued. “I thought he wanted me to-to be like… like I was for-” You cut yourself off before finishing that thought. Saying it out loud now, after everything, made a plethora of disturbing implications, but it was the innocent truth, and something to cling to now that your ignorance had come back around to bite you.

“Your father?” Crina finished for you. “Is that how you see the captain?”

You wondered what she was thinking, what conclusions she might draw, but you were too afraid to look up and check her expression. You sniffled, taking another drink. The hot spicy mixture of flavors was a balm to your sour, cold insides. If only your mind was as easy to placate.

“I’m going to have to insist on a comprehensive physical exam,” Crina told you. “I need to know if he hurt you more than you’re letting on, and how your father interrupted your menstrual cycle. The methods of preventing it can significantly interfere with your sexual health.”

For a long time, you didn’t say anything. You knew what she meant, and your insides cringed at the very idea, but you didn’t see a way out of it either. Looking up at Crina, she met your eye openly. Stern, a little intimidating, but not cruel. There were so many reasons you were going to hate yourself anyway, what did this matter?

“Okay.”

The ship was the busiest you had ever seen. Most of the loot had been left on the other ship for Mohji to take it to the nearest island to sell, but there was enough left that needed to be cataloged, organized, cleaned, and repaired. Nobody was looking at you. You told yourself that over and over and over again as you looked for Captain Buggy.

Although Pippa was gone, she’d given you enough to piece together an outfit without her assistance, and Crina had helped you style your hair after she finished her examination. She said that it would help. That it would feel better if you acted like nothing had changed. That you didn’t need to make a big deal out of it. The flowy dress didn’t help you feel much better. Of the things Pippa had lent you, it covered the most skin, but you couldn’t help but cringe at the excessively girlish frills and flow of the fabric as the breeze caught the hems, exposing the bloomers you wore underneath.

“Hey there, girly,” somebody called, his voice raised above the wind. You squinted at the speaker, your shoulders untensing when you saw it was Marty. You trotted over to him, relieved to see a friendly face.

“I was worried you’d gone with Pippa,” you said.

He shot you a smile, finishing tying the knot and moving the secure the next. “Nah, Captain Buggy can’t spare me.”

“What are you doing?”

“Getting a boat ready. The captain mentioned sending a pair of guys to town. Guess there were some things Mr. Mohji forgot.”

“Oh,” you hesitated, crossing one foot in front of the other. “Um… Marty?”

“Hm?”

“I think I lost the knife you gave me last night. I’m so sorry.”

“Did’ya stick someone with it?”

“I… yes.”

“Then I don’t want none of your ‘sorrys.’ There are plenty more knives in the world.”

“Then, um… Thank you.”

“That’ll do,” he allowed, finishing the knot. “Oh, Captain Buggy’s at the helm, if you were lookin’ for him.”

“Thank you,” you said. “Thank you, Marty.”

He grinned, touching two fingers to his brow in a jaunty send-off.

You turned towards the quarterdeck, weaving your way around the chaotic crowd.

Buggy stood on the uppermost deck at the helm alongside the helmsman, issuing instructions in his usual manner. He wasn’t wearing his hat or jacket and opted to merely touch up yesterday's makeup rather than redo it entirely.

“Captain Buggy!” you called, but he didn’t hear you. Unsure of how else to get his attention, you ascended the stairs.

Buggy happened glance in your direction, doing a double take. “What are you doing?” he barked.

“I just, um, I… I was wondering if you were going to break for lunch.”

“What?” he asked, his face scrunching.

“I was wondering if you were going to take a break,” you repeated, raising your voice. He seemed to hear you this time, walking around the helmsman to approach. There was no shame to the way he looked you up and down. It felt hungrier than usual, or maybe that was just your discomfort.

“That’s cute,” Buggy told you, grabbing the skirt and pulling you closer. “Though I’m not sure white’s your color anymore.”

Your heart dropped. “Yeah, I-I guess not,” you muttered.

“So what was this about a break? I’m awful busy, kiddo. Some of us have real jobs to do.”

“It’s lunchtime, Captain Buggy.”

“Really?” Buggy asked, raising his eyebrows in shock. “Okay, fine. Take it to my office and wait for me.”

“Yes, sir.”

He turned away to issue orders to the helmsman, and you retraced your steps to go down to the galley. The soreness between your legs wasn’t as noticeable, but you could still sense it. A weight, an understanding. You knew now what it was like to have something inside of you. Fullness, and absence.

The trip up from the kitchen was uneventful. You were getting used to navigating the ship. Everybody was busy, far too busy to bother with you.

Buggy was not in his office when you set up his lunch. You didn’t dare eat without him, so you sat in your chair and folded your hands in your lap and waited.

You stared at the off-white fabric of your dress, rubbing it with your thumb. It reminded you of something you had nearly forgotten—a doll you once had. Her frilly pinafore was made of the same type of fabric. You could remember her perfect round cheeks, her bow-like mouth, and those beautiful, round blue glass eyes. She only had one pink dress, but three pinafores and two pairs of shoes.

Crina said that the sex hadn’t hurt you, that it wasn’t uncommon for there to be some blood. She said that you weren’t fertile right now. She said that, based on her experience with women like you, even if you did become pregnant one day, you likely would not carry a healthy child to term.

The doll’s name had been something silly. You couldn’t remember it. Blossom? Rose? Even though she was a baby, you always called her sister. Your little baby sister. In hindsight, maybe you already understood that you weren’t the motherly type.

Having a child wasn’t a reality you’d ever seriously considered. When you thought of your own mother, you thought of her sitting at the window. Always turned away, always so sad, so sharp. You understood, although you hadn’t when you were a child, that she was an unhappy woman. Hysteria was one of the few things the two of you had in common. Such was the magnitude of her pain that it outlived her—it echoed within you, within her memory. And when you thought about that, it was hard to blame her. It was hard to feel anything other than grief. There were moments, little treasures you kept buried deep within yourself. Even as a young child, you had been sickly. If there was any sort of illness to be caught, you would be the one to catch it. You remembered a long, cold night all alone in your room. It was a cough. The thick, broken glass type that had you hacking up globs of blood and yellow phlegm. And then mom was there. She emerged from the dark like a beautiful angel, petting your sweaty hair and spooning medicine into your mouth and singing a lullaby.

Had the doll been named Cherry? You couldn’t remember what became of her. In all likelihood, she was one of the many girlish things you gave up when dad began taking you along on his ship.

“There was a girl most fair whom I happened to meet

Late in my room one night trading tricks for a treat

I almost turned down this girl so sweet

Because, as you see, she was quite petite-”

The door into Buggy’s office opened behind you, his raucous singing getting louder. You were only half listening, coming out of your daze as if waking up.

“Even with some spit

I worried that something might split

But it turned out to be a perfect fit—

“Oh, hey there, babydoll,” Buggy said as he passed you to sit down. “What’dya think of my new song?”

You blinked, sitting up and focusing on him. “It was good, Captain Buggy.”

“Yeah?” he asked, dropping into his chair. “Sing it back to me then.” You frowned, realizing he was calling your bluff. Buggy sighed dramatically. “You really need to get better at the whole listening thing.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I guess I got a little lost in thought.”

He pulled the lid off his tray to immediately start eating. “What were you thinkin’ about?”

“I was… Um… Nothing important, sir,” you said. Although you weren’t very hungry—your stomach lingered on the verge of unsettled and outright angry—you started eating too.

“It’s embarrassing, isn’t it,” Buggy said with a lopsided smile, an interesting expression when his cheeks were stuffed full.

“No! Not… not really.”

“There’s no point in hiding it,” Buggy said. “There’s nothing I didn’t see last night.”

“It’s not like that,” you insisted, flushing hotly. “But it is silly, I was just thinking about stuff from when I was a kid.” You shrugged, shoving a spoonful of stew into your mouth.

Buggy pulled a face. “Why?”

“I don’t know, I just remembered something.”

You could read the disinterest on his face, so you dropped it, focusing on eating. You had to force yourself, methodically taking bites while you contemplated how you were going to tell him about last night, and how you would answer his questions. It was inevitable that you would have to reveal how you lied to him, and the thought alone was enough to make you queasy, your hands shaking and slick with a cold sweat.

“Captain Buggy? I was wondering if-if we could talk?” you said when he was more or less finished. Almost immediately, you regretted speaking, backing down. “But, um, I know you’re busy today so if you can’t spare the time right now, that’s fine, I just-”

“Spit it out,” Buggy said impatiently, cutting you off.

You looked up and met his eye and felt all of your fragile confidence shatter.

“Why do you never use my name?” you asked instead. “My-my real name, I mean.”

“Your real name?” Buggy repeated. “You mean the name your shitstain of a dad gave you?” He let that incredulous question linger as if baiting you to say yes. Eventually, you nodded timidly. “That’s not you. That’s the girl you used to be. She was pathetic and sad. I don’t want her.” His eyes tracked you up and down, softening his expression. “I want my babydoll. Besides, it suits you way better.” He considered that for a second. “Maybe that should be your thing—an animated doll who desperately longs to be a real girl.”

“If that’s what you… what you think is best,” you said, the words somewhat distant. You weren’t sure what to think, how to feel about his explanation.

“Come over here,” Buggy said after a moment, pushing out from his desk and motioning you towards him. You looked up, the question ‘why’ already formed on your lips, but that was the wrong response.

So you dutifully stood up, smoothed your skirt, and circled his desk. It seemed so impossible that you had been in the same position yesterday, only twenty-four hours ago. Everything was different then, the entire world centered upon a different axis.

Buggy grabbed your hips, tugging you closer. “Are you still sore?” he asked, smirking.

“A little,” you said, squeezing your thighs together. “Crina said that’s not-not unusual.”

“‘Cause you were a virgin?”

You swallowed hard, unable to meet his eye. “Captain Buggy, this is… really embarrassing.”

“Or is it ‘cause you’re so small? That’d explain a lot. I’m still shocked I got it in.” His hand left your hip to press against your abdomen instead, dragging down.

Your insides clenched hard in response, reminding you of the sharp ache and making you gasp. Buggy obviously caught the noise, his eyes flicking back up to your face.

“Shit, that’s hot.”

You froze. “Sir?”

“You’re wearing shorts?” Buggy asked. He didn’t wait for your response, lifting up your skirt to see the bloomers beneath. The sight of them made him scowl, immediately tugging them down to reveal your significantly less cute underwear. He didn’t seem to care, shoving the bloomers down to your ankles while you squirmed, wanting to push him away but knowing you couldn’t.

“Sheesh, calm down,” he told you, letting your skirt fall. “I’m trying to help you out a little.”

“You don’t have to,” you said. “You’re busy and I-I wouldn’t want to, um...”

“It’s not like it’s gonna take very long,” Buggy said. He leaned back into his chair, using his grip on your hips to turn you around and sit you on his lap. You nearly fell over, your ankles tangled in the bloomers. “I bet I can get you off over your panties.”

“You really… You don’t have to,” you said again. Your breathing came out unsteadily and you couldn’t stop squirming around, unable to get comfortable.

“Pay attention, Professor Buggy’s gonna teach you how to make yourself come,” he said, looking at you over your shoulder, his nose brushing your cheek when he turned his head. You couldn’t meet his eyes, but you didn’t want to look down at his hands, so you just squeezed your eye shut.

“Captain Buggy, I… I don’t need to know… I’m fine.”

“Your fingers are way too small to fuck yourself with, but that’s okay,” Buggy said, tightening his hold around your waist, keeping you in place while his other hand crawled beneath your dress, the fabric of his gloves rough against your skin. When you tried to press your thighs together to stop him, Buggy hooked your ankles with his own, prying your legs open. He laughed at your helpless whimper.

When his hand reached your clothed pussy, you jolted with the little strike of electricity. The way your inner walls squeezed around nothing hurt, but there was more to the feeling. You wanted to hide, to escape, but there was nowhere to go.

“You know, it’s weird,” Buggy said, sliding his gloved fingers up and down, pushing the fabric of your panties between your folds, pushing his way in between to focus on your clit, “usually I wouldn’t go for this sort of thing, but the way you react is so funny. Most people have an instinctive take on how they’re supposed to act, but here you are. Somebody’d think I was torturing you even though it’s obvious you fuckin’ love it. You know what it reeks of, sweetheart? Other than fish, I mean.”

You weren’t sure if he was looking for an answer or not, but even if you had one, it would have fled your mind the second he began to put more pressure against your clit. Blood rushed between your legs and the more your clit swelled beneath his touch, the more targeted he was.

“Damage,” Buggy supplied for you. “A whole lot of it.”

“Captain Buggy, please,” you begged. You didn’t know what you were asking for, just that those were the only words you could think to say when he had your body immobilized, when you couldn’t stop your hips from tilting up for him, your hands seeking purchase in the fabric of your skirt as the only anchor.

“You’re so pathetic.” When Buggy pulled his hand out from between your legs, you mourned the loss, letting out a broken whimper. “Yeah, yeah, I know, I wouldn’t leave you hanging before the finale,” he reassured you, his voice dripping condescension.

You opened your eye just in time to watch him spit onto his fingers, leaning forward a bit so he could wipe it on your panties—directly above your clit. Your groan of disgust became a helpless moan as he rubbed it in. The wetness added just the right amount of give to the friction, you could feel your thighs tremble, your entire body surging up into the pleasure.

“‘m ss-sorry,” you said, embarrassed by your reaction. He needed to stop, you could only imagine how stupid you looked, writhing on his lap. But you couldn’t help it, not when he was touching you like this.

“You are sorry,” Buggy told you, his voice a little lower, a little huskier. “What kind of girl gets off on this shit? It’s like you’re a masochist but backwards. The better it feels, the more you act like it hurts. I swear, honey buns, you’re a brand new type of freak.”

“No, Captain Buggy,” you said, your voice mostly just breath. “That’s not… I’m not like… Please, it’s… I’m… pleasepleaseplease—I-I-” And then you couldn’t speak anymore, that required too much brain power, the only thing you could do was strain towards your approaching orgasm, towards the heat building in your core, that forbidden and intoxicating wind of tension.

“Come on,” he urged. His stubble scraped against your cheek, and then your neck when your head fell back against his shoulder. You could smell him. The details changed, but there was the fundamental musky warm smell that you remembered so clearly from the first time he held you and it threaded through your entire body like poison.

Coming with his fingers slamming into you had been a heavy, wet feeling. Something snapping, breaking, a little flood of heat that rushed through your body in waves. This was a dry spark, a flash and fizzle. You yelped abruptly, your body jerking forward, kept in place only by the iron bar of his arm across your waist. And then it diffused outwards, ending in your fingertips and toes, at the very top of your spine.

“That was it, wasn’t it?” Buggy asked, his fingers slowing their torturous circles.

You swallowed against your dry throat, nodding, trying to catch your breath. The dizziness from that morning had returned in full force, the world rocked with it. Buggy stopped, pressing his entire palm against the seat of your panties instead, soothing you with the warm, generalized friction.

“I figured. It’s pretty easy to tell with you. I mean, you’re so goddamn dramatic about it.”

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, awkward and spinning and sweaty and disgusted and a million other things that culminated in the bite of tears in the corner of your eye.

“Aw, are you embarrassed?” Buggy asked, playfully pinching your cheek with the fingers he’d just used to get you off. You frowned, turning your face away so he couldn’t see your expression.

He huffed, grabbing your chin to force your face towards his. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, you could barely bear to meet his eyes at all. Finally, Buggy released you, pushing you off of his lap. You nearly tripped, steadying yourself on the edge of his desk.

“Go change your panties,” he said flippantly, waving his hand. “We’ll work on this,” he gestured vaguely to you, “later.”

You didn’t really know what that meant, but you nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“What are you doing?”

Those words drew you out of your tired daze. You had been sitting in an out of the way corner in a passageway to the officer’s mess. It was just a small break, you didn’t want to faint again. You blinked your eye clear, shaking your head of the gauze as you looked up at Cabaji.

“Hm?”

“What are you doing?” Cabaji asked again.

“Oh, I… I got a little dizzy so I…” You frowned. “Sorry, I heard the bell, I was about to head up.”

“The bell?” Cabaji repeated. “That was an hour ago.”

“Oh.”

“Captain Buggy needs you.”

Those words made your heart drop. You had no idea how you had lost so much time, but you doubted Buggy would accept any excuse you could give. Not only that, but the idea of seeing Buggy after what happened at lunch filled you with an absurd amount of anxiety. It wasn’t him, it was you. There had to have been some other way for you to handle it, but instead you played the role of a whore. You were disgusting, and when you thought about it you simply didn’t understand why. The person you thought you were wouldn’t have done anything like that, and yet you did.

But that was you.

Getting to your feet was a difficult process, especially when you were trying to hide your fatigue and pain from Cabaji. Which was stupid, you weren’t going to fool him. You were glad he didn’t make a point of your weakness by offering you a hand.

“Where is he?” you asked.

“I’ll go with you,” Cabaji said.

“You-you don’t need to.”

“Come on, Captain Buggy doesn’t like waiting.”

You hesitated, nervous to be around him, but there was no reason you could think of to reject Cabaji’s company either. Embarrassment about what he may or may not have heard that morning wasn’t his fault.

As the two of you traversed the narrow passageway to the ladder, you tried to peek at his face and determine what he was thinking. Which was kind of impossible. He let you go up the ladder first, probably because he was worried you would fall, and so you stood there for a moment in the blinding sunlight. Sitting in the dark had done nothing to help you handle the heavy, hangover-like dizziness.

“Are you okay?” Cabaji asked. You hadn’t realized he was beside you.

“Yeah, of course,” you said, squinting at him. He nodded.

“He said to meet him in his office,” he said, motioning for you to go first. You didn’t fall, although you stumbled on the first step to the quarter deck. It was a relief to walk into the shaded map room, even if it rendered you blind all over again. The door into Buggy’s office was open, but the captain wasn’t there.

You didn’t want to think about what happened in the empty chair only hours before, so you focused on your stoic companion. He saved your life last night. He deserved at least a thank you. There wasn’t much else that you could offer him.

“Cabaji?” you said.

“Yes?”

“I wanted to… to thank you.”

“What?”

“For last night, you...” Taking a heavy breath, you reached out to grab his hand, holding it in both of yours. “Thank you, Cabaji.”

Cabaji looked more than a little bewildered, although not offended. “I was following Captain Buggy’s orders, there’s no need for you to be grateful.”

“But I am. If there’s ever anything I can do for you, I-” The door opened. Startled, you dropped Cabaji’s hand, taking a step away.

“There she is!” Buggy called as he stalked in. “Kept me waiting long enough.”

“I’m sorry, Captain Buggy,” you said, bowing your head. “What can I do for you?”

“I was hoping you could help me understand something,” Buggy said. You could immediately tell by his tone that something was wrong with the situation. All of the sudden, Cabaji’s inclusion felt more confrontational than comforting.

“Sir?” you asked, tugging down your bandana and trying not to fidget.

“Earlier,” Buggy said, taking slow, measured steps in your direction, “Cabaji was telling me an interesting story. It involved a strange man attempting to make off with a very,” he stopped in front of you, dropping a heavy hand on your shoulder. The cold smile he fixed you with left you without any air in your lungs—you wanted to disappear. “Special member of my crew.” Squeezing your shoulder once, Buggy released you, turning to pace the length of the room. “The thing is, he only knows part of it. I was hoping you could fill in the blanks.”

“Captain Buggy, I-I was going to tell you,” you said.

“Oh, were you?” Buggy asked, turning around to look at you with round eyes, his expression mockingly curious. “When was that, exactly?”

“I just… I didn’t know how to explain it.”

Buggy wagged his finger at you. “That’s the problem, sweetheart. Truth is self-evident, there shouldn’t be any need for explanation if you’re being honest.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” you said, desperate to think of a way to smooth this over. “I just didn’t want you to think-”

“You wanna know what I think?” Buggy asked, cutting you off. “I think you’re hiding something.”

“No, I’m not, I swear,” you told him, clasping your hands together over your chest. “There was a man last night who… He tried to take me, but I managed to escape when he got to the upper deck, and Cabaji killed him.”

“You’re gonna have to do better than that.”

“My-my dad sent him to get me, that’s what he said,” you told him, the words smearing together from your nerves. “He said he was getting paid for it. He-he thought I was your prisoner.”

Buggy looked at you for a long moment, considering your words. And then he burst out laughing. “That’s what you’re going with?” he asked. “If you’re gonna lie, at least try to make it sound believable.”

“That’s the truth,” you said, your voice rising into a whine with your desperation to make him believe you.

This time, Buggy didn’t laugh. “You expect me to believe that, by complete coincidence, we happened to attack the one ship that had a man who was hired to rescue you? Do you have any idea how big the East Blue is? No? You’re about to see for yourself when I toss you overboard and sail away.”

“I think it’s the map,” you said, your voice choked. “You’re following the stolen map, aren’t you? My dad was the one who charted the new trade route. That map is his.”

You could tell the exact moment that Buggy understood what you were saying, his gaze agonizingly intense when it fixed on you. “You said that map and the journal belong to a retired Marine.”

You nodded meekly. “That’s m-my dad.”

“So you lied to me. After everything I’ve done for you, you lied to me.”

“I was scared you wouldn’t take me if you knew my dad was a Marine, and… He has a-a lot of enemies from back then, he was pretty well-known, and so I thought that maybe you’d see me as-as a liability. I was… I was afraid, Captain Buggy. I’m so sorry.”

“You’re makin’ him sound like a big deal.”

“He… I mean, he was… People knew who he was.”

Buggy rolled his eyes. “I bet I haven’t even heard of him.”

“They used to call him the Surgeon.”

The name caught both men’s attention, you could feel the zip of tension in the air, but neither said anything until, finally, “Bullshit,” Buggy said.

“It’s the truth. When he retired, he stopped using that name and tried to-to distance himself from it. He said that if people knew, they would hurt me because of him. My mom and me… That happened because so many people hate him. That’s why I-I lied to you, and I’m so sorry. I was scared that if you knew, you wouldn’t let me join your crew.”

Buggy let out a bark-like laugh. “Sweetheart, if I knew you were the Surgeon’s daughter I would have dragged you onto this ship. I’d say you’re worth your weight in gold, but it’s more like double, no, triple that.” He shook his head. “What do you think someone would pay to get their hands on the Surgeon’s pretty little daughter? Shit, what would he pay to get back his daughter and keep his dope operation a secret? That is his, by the way, right?”

“The map and the journal are his, but I never-never knew about that… stuff.”

Buggy accepted that, nodding as he continued to pace. After a painfully long moment, he shook his head. “No, that still doesn’t explain the guy last night.”

“Captain Buggy?” Cabaji cut in.

“What?”

“It’s possible that the Surgeon sent around a description of the girl to ships in the area. We can assume that he knows we were the ones to take her.”

“You’re saying there’s a merc on every ship in the area looking to rescue a one-eyed midget girl?” Buggy asked incredulously. “No way. How could he possibly know we’d follow his stupid map? Unless…” Buggy looked at you. “Unless his adoring daughter has been reporting back to him.”

“I wouldn’t, Captain Buggy. I-I swore myself to you. Just you.”

“And assuming he knows we’re in the area,” Buggy continued, ignoring you, “why wouldn’t he call the Marines to rescue his precious princess? This place should be crawling with them.”

“Unless he was hoping to do this quietly,” Cabaji said. “Alerting the Marines would put his criminal endeavors at risk of being discovered.”

Buggy didn’t respond to that, staring hard at Cabaji for a second before returning to pacing. After one agonizingly slow lap, he turned on his heel towards you. “There’s no way you’re the Surgeon’s daughter. I saw the guy a couple of times, he looked like his mom fucked herself with the ugly stick while he was still hanging out in there. You’re…” he gestured to you, shrugging, “I mean, the eye thing aside, you’re cute.”

You shrunk away, looking at the floor.

Buggy walked to his desk and leaned over it, his hands flat on the surface. For a second, there was quiet, and then he made a sound like a growl. “Get out.”

“I’m so sorry, Captain Buggy,” you said, bowing your head in contrition before going to follow Cabaji out of his office.

“No, no, no. Not you, princess,” Buggy snapped.

You stopped, your heart racing frantically as you watched Cabaji shut the door behind himself.

“What was that with you and Cabaji before?” Buggy asked.

You slowly turned to face him, your apologies and explanations all fizzling out on your tongue at the abrupt lurch of topic. “Uhm… what?”

“I asked,” Buggy said, speaking slowly, emphatically, “what was that with you and Cabaji when I walked in? It’s pretty shameless of you to throw yourself at him after he heard you moaning this morning. Do you think he’ll buy the whole innocent act if you bat your eyelashes enough? I don’t think it’ll work as good with just one eye.”

“I was thanking him,” you said, your voice faint. The anger Buggy had now was different than before, but you didn’t know how to qualify that. There was a petulant edge to it. Not as incendiary, but far more nasty. “He saved me last night.”

“Oh, I get it,” Buggy said, nodding with a little smile. “You think he cares about you. That’s cute.” The smile dropped, his eyes cold. He pushed away from his desk to approach you. “Grow up. Cabaji is my subordinate.” He pointed to himself with the word, his voice slowly getting louder. “The only reason he saved you was because I wanted him to. The only person you should be grateful for is me.”

“I am grateful for you, Captain Buggy,” you told him, shying away with each of his heavy steps. Rather than placating Buggy, your words seemed to rile him further.

“Liar,” he shouted in your face, loud enough to make you flinch back with a whimper, bracing yourself for a blow that didn’t come. “Do you really think that you can make a fool of me? On my ship, in my office. I know there’s something going on with you. You asked him to teach you to fight, and I’ve seen the way you watch his tricks. All wide eyed and ‘oh Cabaji you’re so cool, can you teach me to do that.’”

“I don’t mean it like that,” you insisted.

“Are you trying to tell me that it's all in my head? Is that it?”

“No, sir.”

“If anything, you’re the delusional one for thinking he’d actually care about you,” Buggy said, getting in your face to emphasize his point. “I get it now. Pops was right about you being crazy, wasn’t he?”

When you didn’t respond, Buggy shook his head and turned around again, muttering under his breath. The sound was drowned out by the thumping of your heart, the whir of blood rushing through your ears. You wanted to apologize, or argue, or try to defend yourself, or anything, but you didn’t.

“Okay,” Buggy said after what felt like hours. When he turned around, his expression wasn’t nearly as animated. He pressed his hands together, tapping his index fingers to his lips as he thought. “I’m sending a boat to meet up with Mohji at the nearest island, and you’re,” he pointed at you, “gonna be on it.”

You were already shaking your head by the time you realized what he was saying. “Captain Buggy, please don’t make me go,” you begged, your chest clenching painfully at the thought of going anywhere without him. “I can still do my job. I’ll do anything, just please don’t make me go.”

He looked at you flatly, anger simmering in his eyes. “Not a chance. Consider this a demotion, kiddo. Right now, you’re worth a lot more as a hostage than you are here being a pain in the ass.”

#opla buggy #opla buggy x reader #buggy x reader #one piece live action #buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #my writing #flashbang #tw.dubcon #not sfw #the gifs are barely related i just want everyone to see his pretty face lmao

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ellana-ravenwood · 2 years

Text

Why don’t you visit my dreams anymore ? - Jason Todd x fem!reader

Synopsis : A story about grief, and how to (try to) overcome the pain of losing a loved one.

Please, do not repost my stories anywhere else, under any other form. Do not translate and then repost them either. Thank you.

My masterlists : @ella-ravenwood-archives

__________________________________________________

Jason had been your first love. And you were sure he would be your last. It was impossible to replace someone like Jason Todd.

Never before did you love someone like you loved him.

And oh, oh he loved you back so beautifully.

Some would say it was a young and silly love, that you were both still too young to be sure you had found “the one”. After all, it was rare for people to stay forever with their high school sweetheart.

But you both felt it. You were both adamant that this was it. You’d never find someone else, who could love you as deeply as he did, and vice versa.

True love, it was.

And whomever saw you two together, couldn’t doubt that.

And so what if you were just fifteen ? (Almost sixteen !) It was just so obvious to you two, that you were destined to be together. Your relationship was still young, but you had always been best friends, since as long as you can remember. And things were still very much at the “teenage cutesy love” stage, but it was such a profound love.

Your love was the kind of love that happens once every century, the kind that is so strong and deep, it inspires great stories that will never be forgotten.

That’s how it felt to you.

Forever.

Only, Jason’s forever was cut short. One night, you received a call from Alfred...

“Master Jason is gone.” From the way the butler’s voice cracked, there was no doubt in your mind what this meant. Never before, did you feel such a visceral pain.

DENIAL

“No. You’re wrong. It’s not possible ! Why are you lying to me, Alfred ?”

“Lady (Y/N) I-”

There’s a short pause, and a tiny sliver of hope grows in your heart. Yes. This must be a joke. A sick joke, yes, but maybe this was just that “British humor” so many people spoke of ?

“Lady (Y/N), I’m sorry. I do not know what to say...”

Alfred ? Speechless ? No.

“This is not possible. He can’t be gone. We’re supposed to celebrate his birthday next week. I bought him a gift. How can I give it to him, if he’s gone ? He can’t be. You’re lying.”

Complete refusal. This wasn’t possible. Your Jason would never leave you. He would never. HE WAS JUST FIFTEEN !!

“I’m sorry...” You hear again, before slamming your phone against the wall. You didn’t want to hear any of it. Those were blatant lies. You didn’t have time to waste with that.

Decidedly, you put a coat on, and went to Wayne Manor.

************

You never even rung the door.

When you arrived, you felt a certain vibe. Like something was not right. Like something was missing.

Someone, was missing.

There was light in the library room. A place you knew for a fact, only Jason used. And once again, you felt hope. Those dark feelings were just your imagination ! You were going to run up to the window, and scare the hell out of him by tapping on it ! Now that, would be an actual funny joke.

Not like the one Alfred made.

A smile on your face, you go on your tip-toes, and you peek into the room and-

It’s not Jason.

It’s his dad.

He’s sitting in that same armchair Jason always sits in. He holds the blanket Jason always wrapped around himself while reading, and he-

He holds it against his face. And you don’t have to see it to know that the man is crying.

Bruce Wayne is crying.

This isn’t a joke.

Jason is really gone.

But in dreams

You cry yourself to sleep, of course. But then-

Then a miracle happens. Because he’s there, right in front of you. And he reaches a hand towards your tears...He touches your face. Wipes the tear away.

“You’re really here.”

You tell him, and he smiles at you. But it’s a sad smile, one full of guilt and regrets. One that you’re not used to see on his face.

“I’m sorry (Y/N), but I’m not really here. This is a dream.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth...I don’t really know how I came here. I just really wanted to see you one last time.”

“Don’t say that, Jason. Please.”

“You know, if I had become a grown up, I would have married you. I mean it. I don’t think the day would happen, that I would stop loving you.”

“Why are you telling me this ? You can be such a jerk...”

You turn away, tears once again welling up in your eyes. Your heart is bleeding, and in that dream, you’re not sure whether it’s literally, figuratively, or metaphorically. It’s confusing. But he’s here. He’s here.

“It’s just- I don’t know if I’ll be able to come back. I have so much I want to tell you. I have so much-”

“Stop it !”

You throw your arms around him, and squeeze him against yourself. Not about to let go. You don’t want to ever go. He doesn’t finish his sentence, sighs, and squeeze you back.

“Guess I’ll just have to come back...”

He says, and then you don’t remember what happens. You just wake up in your bed, and the overwhelming feeling of sadness almost gets the better of you...

ANGER

Why you ? This wasn’t fair. THIS WASN’T FAIR ! Everywhere, you see him. He’s all over the news, and everyone talks about this “tragedy”.

None of them knew him. None of them. Journalists want to talk to you, as it was known you were his girlfriend...But then, they suddenly disappear, and you’re sure it’s thanks to Bruce.

Bruce.

You used to spend a lot of time at the Manor. When you lost Jason, you also ended up losing his dad and Alfred, who had become akin to a family for you too, who never really had one.

That’s how it clicked so fast between you and Jason.

Two children who had to grow up too fast. But you were both lucky. He was adopted by Bruce, and you by the most wonderful parents you could hope for. After all the hardship you went through together, you deserved a happy ending !

So this wasn’t fair. THIS WASN’T FAIR !!

You were pretty sure you had always loved Jason, even if, when you were children, you never realized it. The feelings weren’t the same, of course, being kids. It’s only recently you admitted to loving each others...Only recently...

Too soon. It was too soon ! You barely had anytime together !

You were so damn angry. At everything and everyone. You started to isolate yourself, not talking to your parents, or to any of your friends.

You lost your appetite, you lost sleep (which was a nightmare, as only during your sleep could you see him again), you lost all will to do anything.

And you were so angry, all the time. Angry about everything.

But most of all, you were angry at Bruce Wayne. He didn’t even call you, or come see you !! You thought he cared about you, you thought he-He was Jason’s dad. You were close because of that. And he didn’t even tell you himself. He didn’t even come see you !!

You could talk about Jason together, or reminisce good times. He could tell you exactly what happened, as the explanation you got were somewhat shady. He could- Why didn’t he want to talk to you ??

So angry. So angry it hurts. It hurts...

You couldn’t wait to be asleep, so Jason would visit you again. You knew he would come. He came to you every night. And then, then you could pretend like none of this was real. Like he was alive and well. You talked, kissed sometimes, and just enjoyed each other’s presence...It was such bliss.

So much better than this waking nightmare, in which you felt so alone.

************

Bruce couldn’t face you.

He felt so guilty, and angry at himself. He was the reason Jason died. He was the reason Jason died !! The boy was just fifteen !! HE WAS JUST FIFTEEN !!

He had such a long life ahead of him. With you at his side. Bruce’s boy always talked to him so much about you...

Ever since he first came in his life. You used to be “his best friend (Y/N)”, the “most wonderful person on earth !”. And then one day, you became his girlfriend, and Bruce saw his kid smile so much. He almost believed-

He almost believed he succeeded. That Jason wouldn’t be like him, that he would have a better life, that he would be allowed to be happy.

And then he got killed. Because of him, because he let him be “Robin”.

Fifteen.

His boy was just fifteen...

BARGAINING

You could see him in dreams.

Surely, it meant he wasn’t truly gone, right ?

“My life for his !” You’d ask-Anyone. Anything.

God. Gods. Entities. Any higher powers who could help you.

They could take you, if they brought him back. They could-

But then, he would be in your place. He would be the one suffering. And you couldn’t bear that very thought. You couldn’t-

“Please. Please just, make my dreams last longer. Or make it so I never wake up again, and I can stay with him forever. Please. I beg of you...”

DEPRESSION

It lasted a long time. A year or two.

You just, went by.

Feeling numb, tired, hopeless, helpless.

You lost all perspective of a future. Everything was a struggle, and living in a world without Jason felt like torture.

It was as if you just floated through life. High school graduation came, and you had no memory of it. You weren’t planning on going to college. And those past two years, were spend mostly alone...You hated how people looked at you with pity. You hated it.

One year. Two years. It had already been two years, since you lost Jason. Time was suppose to heal all wounds, no ? Absolute bullshit. It felt as difficult and hurtful as when you first received that phone call.

Jason was gone. How could you ever feel happy again ?

It was only at night, that things felt right again. You’d spend a lot of your time sleeping, because Jason would visit you every single time. He would come in your dreams.

He said he shouldn’t, that you had to move on. He said he should stay away...But he couldn’t. He didn’t have the heart to never see you again. He couldn’t leave you alone, he said.

Yet whenever you would wake up, and come back to reality...He wouldn’t be there.

He would never be there again.

And then one day, Bruce Wayne knocked on your door. You would learn later, that your parents called him for help, hoping he could bring you some comfort as you both went through the same kind of pain...

************

“Jason would’ve-He would’ve liked for you to have this.”

It were journals. About ten of them.

Jason’s diaries...You knew he wrote, a lot. You knew. But you never imagined you’d be able to read those.

Bruce knew, that by giving you those journals, he would reveal his secret identity. But he felt he owed you that much. That you needed the closure.

You needed to know it was his fault. Bruce, in a way, was trying to punish himself. If you hated him enough, then maybe it would makes things right. Maybe you’d be able to move on.

He stayed with you, as you read pages and pages of Jason’s neat handwriting. Most pages had a least one paragraph about you. From age 8, and his approximative writing, to age 15, dated on the day of his death...he talked at least once about you, every single day.

It made you heart so warm.

Ah. It’s as if you almost forgot, so obnubilated by your dreams. But your Jason was so full of life, and love, and kindness. He was so-

Jason. He was the most incredible man you ever met (although he would never become quite a man). He was-

Tears. But this time, it wasn’t as much tears of sadness, as it was relief. Happiness. Born from countless good memories, and the knowledge that you would never forget him.

You would love Jason Todd forever. You knew that. He couldn’t fully leave your heart.

“Thank you.”

You say, and Bruce is confused. He was so sure you would hate him ! After all, it’s because he was Batman, that his son died !

“Thank you for giving him the love every child should have from a parent. And for giving him a home. For taking care of him.”

He feels his throat squeeze painfully. No. No this wasn’t- How could you look at him with such a gentle smile ?

Holding Jason’s last journal against your heart, you dried some of your tears before saying :

“It really sounded like, he was so happy with you. So, thank you. Thank you so much for being there for him. Thank you, Bruce.”

What is this ? Why are you being so kind to him ? He’s-He’s the reason his boy died ! He doesn’t deserve your thanks. He doesn’t-

He feels the tears welling up in his own eyes, as he stares at you in disbelief.

And you understand. You know how he feels, how he thinks it’s his fault. You know. But you cannot hate him. Because he did, love and care for Jason. And he did, give many great years in a warm home to him. And-

You were certain he couldn’t stop Jason. Your boyfriend was born to help others, you always knew it. He couldn't stop him from becoming Robin. On the contrary, letting him take that mantel fulfilled Jason’s true purpose, you were sure of it.

The fact the man came all this way here, fighting his own grief, just in the hope to make you feel better. To actually save you, and help you move on...It was enough for you. Even now, Bruce still looked out for Jason.

Because of course, Jason would hate for you to be so sad. He told you himself, in your dreams. He couldn’t bear to see you sad, defeated, heartbroken...He said he would do something for you and-

Ah. Did he send his dad for you ? Did he visit him in a dream, and ask for him to give you his journals ? That was entirely possible. After all, it’s been two years since every single night, your dead boyfriend would invite himself in your dreams.

And you were sure it was him, and not just a figment of your imagination. Call it a gut feeling. The world had seen weirder things...

Yes.

Hating Bruce wasn’t the way, you knew it.

And ah, little did you know that this knowledge lodged in your heart would one day save a certain man wearing a Red Hood... (but that’s, for another story ;))

ACCEPTANCE

“Why don’t you visit my dreams, anymore ?

Please. Come back. I love you. I miss you.”

It’s been weeks, and weeks, and weeks. He hasn't come back to your dreams, and it felt like this time-

He was truly gone.

“Why don’t you visit my dreams, anymore ?”

A question you’d ask yourself many times. Was it because you finally started to find some peace ? Because you finally started to heal, in a way ?

You could never truly heal. You would never forget him. But you felt like...You still had a lot to live for. That he would’ve wanted you to keep goin. After all, he told you himself, in your dreams.

But he wasn’t coming anymore. Was he trying to finally let you move on ? Was he sacrificing his own wish to see you, so you could move forward with your life ?

Could be. Or maybe it really were all dreams, and you finally accepting his death unlocked something in your subconscious, that made it think you didn’t need to see him anymore ?

But you missed him. So much.

“Why don’t you visit my dreams, anymore ?”

A question that would remained unanswered...For now.

A love that transcend death.

Finals week.

After Bruce’s visit, you finally slowly came out of your depression. Finally slowly came out to the world again.

And you applied for Gotham’s college, hoping to get a degree in forensics (maybe feeling a little inspired by a certain “Batman”). You wanted to keep Jason’s legacy on, you would carry the torch for him.

Jason never got to grow old, never got to do so many things...You felt like i was your duty, to also live for him.

And so, that’s why you were coming home very late that night, after you spend hours and hours at the library, studying. You had to nail those finals !

Maybe that’s why you didn’t notice those less than amenable men walking towards you ? Engrossed in your revision, you only saw them too late.

But of course. A mugging in Gotham City. How original.

However, before they could even utter a word to you, a big red mass fall on them.

You didn’t have any other words to describe what just happened. It really felt like a giant in red just stomped their face.

Said giant turns to you, and you know you should feel fear, yet-

You recognize that stance. The way those hands lay on his sides. And though you cannot see his face, as he’s wearing a mask, you know the shape of his eyes, as he looks at you.

You know who this is. It seems impossible, and yet...The world has seen weirder things, right ?

Explanations would come later. Or never, really. They were not important, right now.

“Ah...That’s why you disappeared from my dreams.”

************

In the night, two silhouettes runs towards each other.

Their hands find each other, their lips too.

A tight embrace between two beings who had always been destined to be together, so much so that even death couldn’t keep them away from each other forever.

Because their love, was forever.

In the night.

Two silhouettes embracing each other, never letting go again.

And this time, it wasn’t just a dream.

__________________________________________________

Here we are. Wrote fast (didn’t re-read myself or I wouldn’t post it..), not very well in a way, but I hope you still liked it. Yes. A short story I felt like writing, as I had a dream about someone I lost long ago, and it felt so nice, to see them in my dream, that...here we are :).

I hope you liked it. Comments and reblogs are always welcomed, as per usual.

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