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loganlermanstanaccount · 1 year ago

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Show me where it hurts (part 1)

Miguel O'Hara x spiderwoman!reader

(AO3 Mirror), Part 2, Main Masterlist

summary: Miguel's acting weird, and you make it your mission to find out exactly what's going on.

warnings: no warnings for this chap, pg-13, swearing and canon level violence. smut next chapter xoxo

a/n: this is a combination of 2 asks and this post I saw on here a while ago: flirty/ snarky fem reader, Miguel during a ""rut"" (I don't know if it counts as a rut really, but its to do with his animal instincts/DNA) and Lyla playing matchmaker. I had so much fun writing this, enjoy :D

(i wrote this pre seeing spiderverse 2, so i think characterisation is a little off, esp for Lyla, apologies! I'll fix it in my upcoming fics)

edit: I use the term "bichita" which I have been informed can be read not as I intended in Spanish. I'm not a native speaker so I want to apologise in advance. I'm doing more research for my future fics and leaving this up as a testament to my stupidity. Spanish speakers, feel free to correct me / clown my ass in the comments. My bad guys :(

wc: 3.6k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You think Miguel is avoiding you.

One of your closest friends, giving you the runaround for months, it seems. Calling the two of you close friends is a little extreme, sure. You've only known O'Hara for two years, and been in love with him for slightly less than that, thank you very much. And yes, he refuses to call you by anything but your last name. And the last time you saw him he wouldn't so much as look at you, but that was besides the point.

"..the point," You tell Lyla, in between exasperated bites of cereal, "... is that aren't elite forces of spiderpeople supposed to, you know, have some spiderpeople kick ass once in a while? And where exactly is our fearless leader? I haven't seen O'Hara's scary ass in weeks, and I'm starting to miss it."

She gives you a look, one that says this isn't what I'm programmed for , but you pointedly ignore it.

"His ass, by the way." You clarify. "I very specifically miss his ass. Remind me to get his routine. I know girls that would kill for…"

"How the fuck did you get in here?" A voice croaks. You turn behind you and see Miguel, not in his suit, but wrapped up in a blanket like he's just woken up. And he looks rough, like a train ran him over on the way here: puffy eyes, splotchy skin, tension kneaded into his brow.

"Wow." Your spoon drops into the milk. "You look like shit.."

He furrows his brow even deeper, if that was possible. " Mierda. You shouldn't be here."

"This isn't quite the welcome party I was expecting, man. I'm the only one to actually turn up to one of your meetings, and this is what I get?"

"I thought I told Lyla to cancel," He mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Cancel? Since when do you miss a chance to talk about rules and protocol?"

"I don't have time for this-"

"-and I'm not leaving without a proper explanation. Is everything okay?"

"It's actually way worse now you're here." He deadpans.

"Haha ." You turn to Lyla. "You drop everything to travel halfway across the multiverse and this asshole won't even say thanks."

"Thanks, but this asshole needs you to leave. Now."

This is the most he's spoken to you in forever, and you hate that you like it. You just want his attention, however it comes. If that means dragging this out so maybe he acknowledges you, touches you, looks at you - then so be it. Squinting, you get closer to him. You scan his face for anything to latch onto. You put a hand on his shoulder, still searching.

"You sure you're alright? You know you can tell me if-"

"Si, si." He grits his teeth, looking away. "M'just fine. I'll explain…. later."

"...because I'm your right hand man?" You grin, poking at his brow. "Stop frowning so much Miguel, you're gonna ruin that pretty face of yours."

He flushes, nervous, and swats you away. "-what? N-No. You're not my right hand man and I like my face just the way it is. Now, leave. "

Making your way to the door, you tap your nose teasingly. "You know where to find me!"

When the door closes with a click, you make your way down the corridor, and stop in your tracks when you hear it. It's muffled, but with the strain of your supersenses you can make out Miguel's voice just beyond the wall.

"I just…. don't want her to see me like this… Lyla, it's not happening�� I can't tell her…." Tell her what, exactly?

Resolutely, you make up your mind. Miguel O'Hara's got a secret. And before you leave for home, you're gonna do everything in your God given power to wear him down and find out.

~~~

Despite his insistence otherwise, you liked to think of yourself as O'Hara's right hand man - and most of the other spiderpeople thought so too. You were one of the very first he recruited, after crash landing onto your earth like a spiderman-shaped meteor; the two of you were inseparable. Miguel was stubborn and headstrong and thought he was right all the time. Infuriatingly, he was, but that didn't stop you from telling him to get his head out of his own ass when his ego grew too big.

He was different around you, you think. Softer, sometimes. Harsher, other times. He told you what you needed to hear whether you wanted to or not; the result of mutual respect and agonising persistence. Slowly, you had chipped away his hard exterior; the one he built because he thought he needed to push people away. In that regard, you were similar, but this need manifested in you like a weed - an awful, awful compulsion to joke and laugh at your own expense, to keep others at an arm's length. You had spent your whole life picking and pruning away at yourself, looking for perfection. Even after all this, multiverse-hopping and fighting alongside people who were the closest things you had to friends , it wasn't enough. There was still something missing.

Ironically, Miguel had told you something similar the one of the last times you had spoken. You had fucked up a mission, well and truly. In the aftermath, all you can remember is coming back to base, limping on Jessica's arm.

"She's hurt!" She cries out. Lyla materialises and leads you both to the med bay, inspecting any visible wounds. There's a deep laceration, sticky with blood, at the base of your stomach. You shift onto the bed and hiss with pain.

Miguel is quick to follow, face twisted with confusion, pain, sadness. Even in your haze, you feel the tension radiating off of him as he drags over a cart of supplies.

"What happened?" He strains.

"I don't even… it happened so fast. We got ambushed, and all of a sudden I'm on the ground. I wasn't thinking straight and… " She sobs. "...she jumped in front of me. God, she saved my life-"

"-wasn't your fault, Jess." You croak, trying to sit up. "And I'm fine. Just need to walk it off…"

"Sit, bichita," His nickname makes you frown, despite yourself, and you settle back down. "Lyla, what's the damage?"

Your vision goes spotty, and Lyla's voice barely registers. All you can feel is searing pain in your side, but Miguel is warm, oh so warm. You clutch his arms, and force him to look you in the eye.

"M'ready, Miguel." He nods weakly, but you don't think he understands. "I mean it . I can lead, j-just need another chance and I won't let you down… Jess, tell him that I can-"

"It's okay. I believe you. You just need to relax for me, hmm?" He clutches at your hand, tight, and it's like you're the only two people in the world. "You did good. I promise."

Faintly, you nod. You feel a pinch at your arm, and Jessica's there, with an empty vial of something in her hands. The pain washes over you, and you fight to keep your eyes open. In those last few moments of light, you swear you feel a shaky kiss pressed to your temple.

"Sleep, mi bichito amoroso. Sleep."

When you come to, you're still in the medbay, moonlight streaming through. Well, artificial moonlight. Time worked a little differently here, something Miguel explained to you a while ago - God knows what about dilation and quantum interference. It makes you smile now, remembering his frustration as he tried to explain to no avail. You were the only spiderman this side of the multiverse without a degree in quantum tech, you had said with a lopsided smile.

You move to sit, and pain shoots up your side. Groaning, you push through it, determined to get out of this bed and find the others. As if on cue, Miguel walks in, almost leaping towards you.

"You should… mierda ! You should be resting in bed."

You pout as you stumble into his chest. He hooks an arm around you and leads you back. You clamber in, sighing. "M'fine, O'Hara."

"Your guts were halfway out of your body less than 24 hours ago. So stay put, or you might give me another heart attack."

You scoff, incredulous. "You were worried?"

He shrugs. " 'Course I was."

"Why? You know I'm practically indestructible." You give him a shit eating grin, and poke the frown appearing at his brow. He doesn't bat you away like he usually does.

"Famous last words, bichita." He sighs. You can't speak a lick of Spanish, but you know he only calls you that word when you've frustrated him to his limit. So you take it as a win, for now.

He drops into the chair next to you. "How are you feeling?"

"Just peachy, dollface." You wink, and he doesn't so much as groan.

"I'm being serious. You went through something pretty traumatic…"

"You want me to tell you it hurts, so, so bad, daddy? " You pout and flutter your eyelashes mockingly. Miguel shifts in his seat, unable to make eye contact.

"That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean, O'Hara? I feel fine. And in a couple of days, I'll feel even better, and I'll be up and about. I can finish what we started and-"

"-no, absolutely not." He frowns. "A couple of days? I'm sending you home-"

"You can't do that! On whose fucking authority?"

"On the authority of you almost fucking died ! Keeping you safe is our priority right now-"

"God, is this my punishment? This is a low blow, O'Hara. You know how hard I've worked for this: months of surveillance and intel a-and I did everything by the book, just like you told me to." You croak. "I fucked up . I know that, and I feel terrible. Give me a chance to make things right; that's all I'm asking. I can do it, I know it. "

He looks at you for a moment, something heavy in his expression. His face contorted, he strips you down to the bone with just his gaze. His voice is so quiet, you almost miss it.

"....you're still trying to prove yourself, aren't you?"

Honestly, it catches you off guard. You don't even know what the fuck that means, let alone why he said it.

"I don't… I d-don't…?"

"They all love you. Respect you. More than me I think, sometimes." He chuckles at that. "You're good at what you do. The best . What else are you trying to prove? What else do you need ?"

Your throat goes dry. You couldn't speak if you wanted to.

"I'm not punishing you. You made a mistake, but you don't need to be crucified for it. I just want to keep you safe. I can't… we can't lose you."

"Miguel-"

"-this isn't a discussion. And I'm not trying to argue, although I know how much you like to argue." He inches closer, cupping your face gently. You try to move away, blinking back tears. But his hands are steady and he strokes your jaw with so much tenderness you think you hear your heart break. He's pretty, so pretty. You don't deserve him, you think. "There'll be time to fight, bichita. Rest. That's your mission right now."

"C-can't sleep." You breathe. "It hurts."

Miguel pauses, head tilted like he's thinking. He taps your shoulder. "Scoot over."

You do as he says, and he slips into the bed with you. It's a tight fit, but he manages, placing you on his chest with an arm gently around your shoulders. You bury your face in his hoodie, sniffling and hoping he doesn't notice you choking back sobs. Absentmindedly, he settles into a rhythm, gentle breathing and playing with your hair, soothing you softly. He pretends he can't hear the tears.

"M'gonna stay here until you're asleep. For as long as you need."

You nod, unable to speak for fear of breaking down.

~~~

The days after felt like a blur. You woke up to Miguel gone, and an ache in your heart. Jess visits as much as she can, and Ben calls you a couple times, to see if you're okay. Peter B brings Mayday, and she clambers all over your bed, bringing some life into the room. Miguel doesn't visit per se - you hear whispers of him, Lyla visiting in his stead for comprehensive status updates. Once, you wake up in the night to see him on the adjacent chair, head lolling in deep sleep. He looks peaceful, calm - one of the first times you haven't seen his brow furrowed with worry. Of course, he's gone by the morning.

The very last time you saw him, he opened the portal home. It was weird, after everything, but if Miguel felt the same you wouldn't know. Talking at a thousand miles a minute, he alternates between assuring you they'll be fine without you and situation reports from spider people all across the multiverse. Things you'd missed whilst bedbound, asking for advice before you left. He trusted your judgement and the thought warmed your heart, almost making you forget that he completely brushed past the previous nights before.

You still remember the last thing he had said to you, which would've been weeks ago, now.

"...and if you need anything, and I mean anything, you call me directly. Not Jess, not Ben, and certainly not Peter B. Call me, and I'll answer, I promise. You need help, you need advice, you just need someone to talk to, then-"

"-I call you. I get it, O'Hara. Will do." He opens the portal, watching as you walk towards it. He can't take his eyes off of you, even though you can't see him. At the last moment you turn, and run towards him. You almost knock him over with a hug. Burying his head in the crook of your shoulder, he hugs you back, ever careful of your injury. Separating, your smile almost knocks him over again. Weakly, he smiles back as you head through the portal, back home.

You're left with that feeling, of his arms around your body - warm, so warm - as you putter about by the switchboard. After careful deliberation (you were really, really bored ) you'd taken to manage the Multi Modal Multiversal Switchboard - as aptly named by Miguel. Everyone else called it the Big Red Phone of course, but he had insisted on calling it by its proper name . Every. Time.

The thought makes you chuckle as you call up Peter B. His icon flashes on the screen in front of you. With a click, he picks up the call, his face materialising holographically in front you. A little hand reaches up and tugs at his ear.

"Ow… ouch … Dad's on the phone, honey."

"Aww! How's my favourite Parker doing?"

"Not bad, actually! MJ just made us probably the best burger this side of New York-"

"-sorry, Peter? Me and May are trying to have a conversation." You hear her giggle in the background. Her gap toothed grin pops into frame and she babbles excitedly. "...yeah, exactly May. That's literally what I said."

"Okay, okay, that's enough." He puts the toddler down and watches her scurry away. "You're feeling better, I see."

"Yeah, back in action. Thought I'd check in."

"All good here." He squints, trying to take in your surroundings. "You're at HQ?"

You hum.

"Could've sworn Lyla cancelled…"

"Yeah, didn't get the memo. But I think something's wrong with O'Hara."

He gives you a weird look. "Uhhh, what makes you think that?"

"He won't even look at me. Was it something I said? Something I did?" Your eyes narrow. "...what do you know, Peter?"

"Nothing! Absolutely nothing!" He scoffs, a little too quickly, clutching his chest like you've offended him. He's stared down some of the scariest villains around, but the look you give him is truly chilling. "Just… uhhh. You didn't hear this from me."

"Naturally…"

"We tracked 'em down, the guys that ambushed you and Jessica."

"The Sinister Six? From Earth-215?"

"Yeah, but by the time we got there, it was just Kraven and some of his goons. Miguel got there first, and…." He gulps. "He was pissed. Trashed the whole place looking for the rest of 'em. Beat Kraven half to death and we had to pull him off."

"Shit."

"Yeah, it was pretty rough. Never seen him like that before. And just generally? He'd been weirdly quiet, a little grumpy, more aggressive on missions. I don't know what's gotten into him."

"Hmmm. Thanks, Pete."

"No problem, sweetheart. And if the big guy asks… "

"...this didn't come from you, I know." Weakly, you smile. "Say hi to my favourite Parkers, for me."

" 'Course I will. We should celebrate, if you're back officially. Mine and MJ's is always open."

"Good to know. I'll see you around."

He waves goodbye, and the hologram clicks off. Sighing, you try to piece together what you've just heard.

Miguel: acting weird. Well, you knew that already. Aggressive was new. And Lyla? She had canceled, but not for you, for some reason. An honest mistake, perhaps. But Lyla doesn't make mistakes…

You stew for a couple of hours, puttering about the switchboard, twiddling your thumbs. Something's wrong, and for some reason you're afraid to see him. To have him look straight through you, again, when you ask to do the same. Show me where it hurts. Tell me how to make it better.

On the way there, you chew your lip in anticipation. In the corridor, you're outside the door to his place, hand hovering above the door. To knock, to call. In the harsh fluorescent light, you hesitate.

"Lyla?" Nervously, you sink down onto the floor. It's hard to explain, but you don't expect her to actually come; to materialise in front of you.

"How can I assist you?" She says with a ding.

"Uhh… hi. Just wanted to talk." You pause, clicking your tongue. "Can you be honest with me?"

"I can only be honest with you. It is not in my programming to lie, unless specified by my owner."

"Sure. Cool. It's about him, actually. Is Miguel okay?"

She tilts her head, as if processing your request. "Okay is a subjective term. Is Mr O'Hara alive? Yes. Is Mr O'Hara physically well? Yes. By those terms, he is okay ."

Too vague for your own liking. "I guess I meant more… his emotional state. To the best of your knowledge… in your opinion , Lyla: is Miguel okay?"

"...I believe Mr O'Hara is experiencing some emotional turmoil."

You frown. "Oh. Do you know why?"

"Mr O'Hara has instructed me not to disclose that information with you."

"Fair enough. But you don't have to tell me… I could just ask questions?"

She nods. "There is nothing in my programming that prevents me from answering some questions within certain parameters."

"Did I do something? Not just today but… last time I was here. Did I say something to hurt or upset him? Is that why he's acting weird?"

"No." She says blankly. "And yes. I suppose it is… complicated." She gestures around that word.

"I'm a little confused, Lyla."

She sits next to you, on the cool tile. Not that she could feel it, but it feels more intimate - like two friends talking. The extent of Lyla's consciousness, you weren't sure of. Was she alive? To you, she might as well be. Could she think, feel, emote? Maybe, maybe not. You weren't smart enough to understand the nuances of her programming. But you were human enough to see it in her - something glittering beyond the surface.

It could be projection, but you swear her voice is softer. "He has a name for you. When he speaks about you, and to you. I have it logged in my memory database. Do you know what that is?" You shake your head.

Lyla opens up her palm and projects videos and images - little Miguel's popping up in her palm, tinny and gruff voices ringing through the hallway. They say your name, shout your name, whisper it. Some say other things in Spanish. Curse words had always been your assumption, and he had given you no reason to think otherwise. Now, having it played back to you, you hear a tenderness in his voice you would've missed. Words and phrases that come up again and again…

"Bichita." She repeats. "Bichito del amor. Mi bichito amoroso. "

You shake your head, still confounded. "...I don't speak Spanish, Lyla."

"Little bug. Sweetheart. Lovebug. My little lovebug." She clears her throat. "I believe they are terms of endearment."

Steadfast, she directs you towards her palm. Another small Miguel appears, and you think it's him from this morning.

"I thought I told you not to let anyone in, Lyla?"

"I did not let her in. She let herself in using the code you previously gave her, Mr O'Hara."

"Yeah, for emergencies. Fuck. Mi bichita, too smart for her own good."

"...If you are in distress, I believe she would understand, Mr O'Hara."

"I just think it's too much. I don't want her to see me like this."

"According to Alchemax files, previous subjects showing this kind of aggression benefitted from-"

"Lyla, it's not happening, no chance. I can't tell her."

The figure blinks out of her palm. "Mr O'Hara has forbid me from telling you about certain things."

"...but not from showing me." Your eyes meet hers. You give her a watery smile. "Thank you."

With a hint of a smile, she nods and is gone from the corridor. You are left alone, with nothing but your thoughts of little lovebugs rattling around in your brain.

#miguel o hara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #across the spiderverse #kat_writes😼#this gif is fucking crazy btw

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mynameismad · 6 days ago

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What have I been up to?????

Hey all! I'm sure you're all cycling rapidly through the stages of grief like I am, but I thought I'd just check in and let everyone know what's going on with me and when they can expect more comics!

GOOD NEWS: I got a concept art job! I've been working freelance for a client for about two months now and things are going great! Honestly working on short assignments with weekly deadlines has been an amazing break from the slow, constant march of longform comics. I am surprising myself every day and haven't been this excited to learn and grow as an artist in a very long time. Moving forward, I would like to find a full time job in games and stay there, rather than continuing to hustle full-time in comics. I've paused my Patreon for the foreseeable future.

THAT BEING SAID: I will always be making comics!!!!!! I love them a lot, they've been good to me, and I have all these ideas in my head that NEED to be let out. I want to start making them in my own time, rather than as my main source of income. We'll see how long it takes to find true stability in concept (maybe never, lol) but in the meantime I will keep drawing my silly little guys and posting them online for everyone to see. I have to! I have to keep going and making the art I want to see in the world! We have to keep going!!!!

SAKANA: hoping to get back to the fish boys sooner rather than later. I've been stuck on whether to end the latest chapter right away or get a few more pages in there. We're moving into a HEAVY part of the plot, which will be trickier to write, so I've been procrastinating lol. Please don't take my extended absence as proof that I'm walking away from the story: I've just been busy with a new job and I don't know exactly how to get to the next chapter yet!! (also, jsyk, the Webtoon mirror is something I was doing for fun! not a priority!!)

RR: I actually have a few different projects started for RR! Chapter 2 is like 9 pages in, but then I paused and started work on a 20ish page minicomic, which is like 7 pages in. I'm going to finish the mini first and hopefully upload it to itch.io. For Chapter 2, I created this really elaborate environment in an effort to force myself to learn Blender, but then I got a job....so I have no time to learn Blender lol. Still trying to figure out whether to simplify or push forward.

OTHER: yeah...I am a comic artist at heart so obviously I have a million things I want to do. But SAKANA and RR are the highest priority right now!

UPCOMING: I am pursuing other freelance work for shorter, more manageable projects! If you need somebody to redline all your thumbnails, critique the first draft of your synopsis, or make a 20-40 page comic, please keep me in mind!

In closing: I'm locking my twitter accounts tonight and moving away from the platform for now. I'll be here, Instagram (@/mad_rupert), and BlueSky (@/madrupert). Thanks for sticking with me, let's hold onto and support each other in the coming weeks, months, and years! Let's keep going!!!!! I love you all so much!!!

#sakana #mad rupert #text post #robber robert

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defectiveporcelaindoll · 4 months ago

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Chapter II : Guilty as Sin

“If long-suffering propriety is what the want from me—

They don’t know how you’ve haunted me so stunningly.”

series masterlist Chapter I

pairing: post prison/ cm:evolution Spencer Reid x BAU AFAB!Reader (I like to think this is where Spencer is during the current seasons.)

summary: an unsub with a taste for couples and power imbalances leads Doctor Spencer Reid not only back into the classroom but down the hypothetical aisle with the BAU's newest Probie for an undercover assignment that may change his life.

genre: slow-burn romance, hurt/comfort, fluffy angsty

cw: age gap (Spencer is in his 40s, reader is 24), a couple y/n's (I'm sorry, I know I'm sick of it too.), fake marriage, hurt/comfort, harsh words and gossip about reader and Spence; info-dumping Spencer; pet names (angel) possibly eventual smut in later parts, female reader she/her pronouns, bad writing! lemme know if I missed anything and as always, lemme know what you think!

note: still third person pov, but this one is more from the readers perspective. Thinking maybe I’ll go back and forth between chapters if you see a quote in purple it’s readers perspective, if the quote is green it’ll be Spencer’s 🩵

wordcount: 2.1k

Of course, Penelope did not disappoint, popping a tiny confetti popper at the newlyweds as they made their way out of the conference room and into the bullpen, which felt like an awkward makeshift reception. The rest of the team offered playful congratulations, with Alvez going so far as to wolf-whistle and point out the way the couple's linked hands which in turn earned him a swift knock on the back of the head courtesy of Tara. It felt safe and joyous. Y/N tried to smile, hesitantly dropping Spencer’s hand as she collected her things, the anxiety of being away from these people, from her home and normal life, just starting to settle into her chest.

The flight to Seattle was long. Though Y/N had traveled by jet multiple times, it had never felt so massive as she and Spencer sat at the small table combing through the case file in comfortable silence. So far, three couples had been found dead in their quiet Seattle homes. Of the couples, two of the men had been professors at different colleges in the area while the third was the head of a non-profit organization. The women, were all nearly twenty years young and had worked for their husbands in some way before being married. At each crime scene, the unsub left a calling card of sorts. A feather in the hands of the woman and a beautifully written poetic line alluding to the dangers of an “unruly” woman in the hand of the man.

“These cards are beautiful,” Y/N mused, turning the evidence bag with the delicate stationery over in her hands. “Each line is poetic in nature but not quite right. See, ‘Wise men once said Wild winds are death to the candle’? And these feathers?”

“I don’t think any of these are actual published poems, more like plays at various poets' works. But the feather, by the look of it, it looks like it’s possibly from an albatross. They’re seabirds with wingspans that can reach up to nearly ten feet. There are several poems regarding that particular bird. The first one that comes to mind is Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s ‘The Rime of Ancient Mariner,’ in which an albatross is wrongfully shot down because a mariner thought it to be a bad omen. In older mythologies, the albatross was seen as good luck, bringing wind to sailors. In the poem, the mariner is forced to wear the lifeless albatross around his neck in place of the traditional cross.” There’s an excitement in Spencer that y/n hasn’t seen before, the way his eyes light up and his hand flail almost wildly. It’s endearing— cute she would almost say.

“It’s not a super common metaphor, but the albatross is also often used in association with guilt or shame,” Spencer continued, sitting back in his chair, eyes looking anywhere but at the woman in front of him. “Some authors use it to symbolize a curse…sorry.” He cleared his throat, shaking his head, his curls hanging gently around his face as he dropped his gaze back down to the file on the table.

“No-no, don’t apologize. That was all incredibly fascinating. I knew you are wildly academic, but why exactly do you know all of that about some random bird I’ve never even heard of?” Y/N's tone wasn’t teasing or harsh; it was full of genuine sincerity and curiosity, which took Spencer completely by surprise.

“My mentor… when I started at the BAU, he had a thing with birds,” Spencer chuckled, offering a small shrug as his gaze came back to meet hers. “I guess I just really wanted to impress him.” The jet fell back into a comfortable silence, except for the rustling papers, for another hour until Y/N decided she’d had enough and retreated to the small couch to rest her eyes for a bit.

The drive from the airport to the university was quick. The house they’d been assigned was cute, small, quaint, but certainly big enough for a professor and their spouse to be comfortable. There was an office for Spencer, a decently sized kitchen, and a living room that opened up to a sweet little patio. Truly, there should’ve been no complaints. As Y/N entered the bedroom, she frowned, her go-bag in hand as she shuffled around the nicely sized room, sizing up the singular king-sized bed. A knock at the bedroom door pulled her from her thoughts.

Spencer cleared his throat, his eyes falling between the bed and the woman in front of him before nodding. “Don’t worry, you can take the master if you’d like. The office has a pullout, and I really don’t mind.”

“That’s ridiculous. You can sleep here—we can...” her voice going up an octave as she tried and failed to play it cool. “It’s not a big deal, Spencer. We’re both adults.” She shrugged, tossing her bag onto the bed and turning to sit at its foot, her arms crossed tightly against her chest. Spencer read her like a book, seeing the young woman in front of him in the midst of a battle with herself, her pride and anxiety both fighting for control, though he knew she’d likely never admit that.

“Really, I’m okay. Thank you, though. I’ll be in my office if you need me.” He gave her a tight-lipped smile and a little wave before retreating down the hall.

For the next week or so, the duo did their best to make the space feel like a home. What it lacked in size, it surely made up for it in atmosphere. For a state that had a nasty rap for rain and gloom, it was surprisingly peaceful. There hadn’t been any rain yet, and the summer sun stayed up well into the night. There were moments where Y/N caught herself thinking that had it not been for work, this would be a really nice life.

When the semester started, they fell into a comfortable routine. During the day, Y/N carried the full course load of a grad student, while Spencer spent most of his time tucked away in his on-campus office, prepping lectures and reviewing assignments. At night, the real work would begin as they’d sit at their quaint little dining table with a pot of coffee or take-out containers and go over any developments in the case that the team had found back in DC. In the two weeks they’d been in Seattle, the body count thankfully hadn’t gone up.

As the weeks went on, the rumblings of the new “hot” behavioral psychology professor spread like wildfire. Those rumors were quickly followed by the fact that he was not only married, but his wife was a student. It didn't take long for people to begin connecting the dots. With every professor calling out her name and immediately sizing her up, the other students caught on fast. Of course, after that, y/n became hyper aware the way almost everyone looked at her and the whispers from professors and students alike that she was “the girl,” the reason Doctor Reid had to move out west. She’d expected it from the students; it was incredible gossip that she herself would’ve eaten up back in her first round of university. What she hadn’t expected were the comments made by her partner's new colleagues, whispers usually a little too loud as she’d make her way into a room.

“She really should be ashamed of herself. You know, I heard he only married her to minimize the scandal. I bet he’s miserable.”

On a normal day, the comment would’ve rolled right off her back, she’d file it away with the rest of the case's details. Maybe she was overtired just exhausted from the workload of simultaneously playing a grad student and an FBI agent, but today, she let the words seep beneath her skin, poisoning her mind. She hadn’t stayed for the class, instead turning on her heels, tears threatening to roll down her cheeks as she made her way back to the house. She felt absolutely ridiculous, letting her emotions consume her this way. The words weren’t true, nothing about her current life or situation was true, so why did it hurt so much hearing that people thought Spencer was miserable beside her?

Am I allowed to cry?

When she entered the house, she crumbled against the door, the tears freely flowing as she allowed herself to fall apart in the privacy of the home that was supposed to be empty.

“Y/N?” Spencer called, his footsteps echoing against the hardwood floors as he made his way down the hall. “What’re you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in class?” He froze at the end of the hall, taking in the crumpled form of his pseudo-wife. “W-what happened? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” The words came rushing out as he sunk to his knees in front of her, his hands hesitantly reaching out to cup her cheeks, his thumb trying to brush the tears away as quickly as they fell.

“I-I’m fine... You-you weren’t supposed to see this,” she sniffed, trying to pull away, to hide her face in her sweater, but Spencer wouldn’t let that happen. His hand staying planted firmly on her cheek, keeping her in place. “You’re supposed to be in your office...” she said, practically whimpering as another round of tears betrayed her.

“I came home to grab a book and a bite to eat... angel, what’s going on?”

“It’s silly—no, it’s stupid, and I shouldn’t even care, and none of this is real, and I—I...” She caught herself, her breaths coming short and quick, but Spencer didn’t move. He sat, patiently waiting for her to continue. “I know that it’s a story, that I am not really your wife, that you were never really my professor, and that six months ago you didn’t even know who I was.” Finally, she took a deep breath, her hand slowly taking his from her cheek and holding it in both of hers in her lap. “But it’s so awful, Spence... I’m just so tired of hearing how I’ve ruined your life, that I’m using you, that...” The last words caught in her throat as another silent sob racked through her body. “...that you’re miserable.”

“Hey, hey, hey. Do I look miserable? No, I don’t think I do and if I do, I sincerely apologize, I think it just may be my resting face.” his voice dripped the kind of sincerity that made Y/N’s heart flutter, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lip. “You’ve got a good face Spencer, not too miserable…”

Spencer chuckled, taking the compliment with a little nod, as he offered her hand a small squeeze. “I’m sorry, you’re going through this seemingly alone, and if it would make you feel any better I can have a conversation with the other professors… and though I’ve never been in your exact position, I do remember what it was like to constantly be torn down by everyone around you. You’re allowed to cry, angel, allowed to feel all of the things you’re currently feeling. And while I might only be your temporary husband, I did sign that paper, and I do promise to take care of you and make you smile and protect you from every awful thing I can’t control outside that door. Okay?”

She nodded, her gaze falling to their joined hands in her lap as the last of her tears stained her now rosy cheeks.

“I’m going to need a verbal response, angel.” His tone shifted; it wasn’t quite as delicate or gentle as his previous vows had been, but it was just stern enough to draw her gaze back up to his.

Without ever touching his skin, how can I be guilty as sin?

“Y-yes. Okay.” With another nod, she took her hand from his, dragging it down her dampened cheeks. “I’m sorry about all this.” She offered him a small smile and a shrug. “I swear I’m not usually like this—”

“Stop it. There is nothing to be sorry about.” He rose to his feet, his hand immediately reaching out to help his partner up. “Now come on, I’ve got classes to cancel, and we’ve gotta get you cleaned up. I think we deserve to take the rest of the day off.”

“Doctor Spencer Reid, are you—are you proposing we play hooky this afternoon?” Y/N clutched her metaphorical pearls, mock shock consuming her features. Spencer rolled his eyes, a genuine chuckle passing his lips as he shook his head.

“What can I say, we’ve been here—what, going on three weeks? I think we deserve to see the sights. And besides, how else am I gonna show the world just how miserable I am by your side?” He teased, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to the side of her head. “Now come on, seriously, up, moving. Let’s go, I’m taking you out.”

“If it’s make-believe, why does it feel like a vow we’ll both uphold somehow?”

Chapter III: So High School

taglist: @olives-and-sunshine @iniyalovesall @suzysface @spencereidbasis @tatilolz @herbookgarden @guiltyyassin

#mgg #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds evolution #criminal minds posting #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff

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animehideout · 8 months ago

Text

LOVE IS THE MOST TWISTED CURSE OF THEM ALL

GOJO SATORU X FEM! READER

PART 12

check out final part here

a/n: Hiiii I'm back with another chapter, only one chapter left till we reach the end if this story. I apologize for the late update, my schedule kinda changed and it got busier so that's why I wasn't able to write and post, but good news that I'm back now yay ✨❤️.

Anyways I hope you enjoy this part as well. Some Angst, so grab some tissues and a snack of course to munch on while reading 😀.

Enjoy your reading session, love y'all so much 🫶🏻

Not Proofread ❌ Slight smut at the end.

You took another glance around the room, but didn't dare to ask any of your students about him. You sighed in disappointment but forced a smile to not worry your students and look suspicious or sad. You hated to admit it even within you, but you wished he was there, holding your hand till you awake. But you woke up surrounded only by your students, it's not like you don't appreciate them or they're not enough, you just wanted another kind of feeling, and that feeling could only be with your husband, Satoru. Once again you felt neglected by him even in this terrible condition.

Megumi was too focused on you, he knew right away by the way your gaze was shifting in every corner, every face in the room that you were looking for Gojo, he knew you needed him.

"Ehm, I'll go get Gojo since you're awake now" he said in a reassuring tone without meeting your gaze, and left the room to look for him.

"Where the hell did he go" he mumbled to himself.

"Hm Megumi? Is Y/n awake?" asked Nanami

"Oh yeah she's awake, and she's fine! By the way, did you, perhaps see Gojo around?"

"He's not here"

"Then where?"

"He'll be here later, don't worry about him"

"Nanami Sensei! I. Need. You. To. Tell. Me. please! It's important " he insisted,

With a tired sigh, he spoke,

"Alright! he's at one of the interrogation rooms at Jujutsu High, probably interrogating Mei Mei-"

"or my father"

and without further words, Megumi headed to Jujutsu High to bring Gojo to the hospital, to bring him to your side.

"Hey Megumi wait" yelled Nanami but je was already gone.

*1st Interrogation Room*

"Happy now? Where's that usual dirty smirk at? Gone?" started Gojo as he looked down at Mei Mei who got both her hands chained to the chair.

"How dare you chain me up? A well respected Jujutsu sorcerer!" she exclaimed angrily.

"Oh no no trust me, after releasing Toji from prison, paying him to kill my wife and putting the Jujutsu community in terrible danger, officially you're no longer respected" he spat and started to walk away

"NO NO PLEASE WAIT! GOJO WAIT I BEG YOU! I did this for you!" she started crying,

"I did this for you Gojo, just for your sake. You know about the prophecy, I couldn't let her exceed you and become stronger than you, you're the strongest Gojo and it should remain that way–please, I wanted to protect you–" she pleaded desperately, tears streaming down her cheeks, each sob echoed in the vast empty room.

With a mocking chuckle, he approached her again and bent down till he met her eye level, tilting his head to the side, his blue eyes piercing through her soul,

"oh yeah?" he started

"Y-es, yes just for you Gojo" she said with a soft smile while sniffing.

"Hah, pathetic how hard you're still trying, how hard you're still trying to manipulate me and get me to believe your lies–lemme give you the real fact behind all of this, the fact is that you desperately wanted Y/n to die. You knew Y/n will become something, more powerful than any of us, and of course your jealousy, ego and hate were triggered because another woman effortlessly stole the show and your desperate ass always wants to be in the spot light, taking all the attention, you've always wanted to br known as the strongest woman sorcerer, the perfect match for me, the strongest man! But all of that collapsed when I married Y/n" he paused and pointed his index finger at her,

"You desperately wanted to be her, you envied her even at her lowest, you're obsessed with her to the point that you betrayed the jujutsu world. But lemme tell you something, Mei Mei, Y/n didn't only steal the spot light, she also stole my heart! I love my wife, I love Y/n so much and if you dare to think of any possible plan that could possibly get you out of prison to hurt my wife again, then I'll end you–" he said calmly in a serious and low tone, moving away from her to open the door and leave.

"–end me? just like you ended Geto?"

she wanted to trigger him, to hit his weakest spot, to make his heart ache like hers and to see him all vulnerable, but he swallowed it, even though the name Geto was killing him and slicing him to pieces for years. His hand clutched the door handle tightly, turning his head, side eyeing her,

"Yes I'll end you just like I ended Geto"

Then he shut the door, leaving her all alone.

Right then, she knew she lost Gojo forever, and her last attempt to convince him by bringing Geto was only another reason for him to hate her even more.

"NO GOJO WAIT, no! don't leave me here! GOJO PLEASE"

She begged and begged, but for nothing he's left already and outside that room her screams are inaudible, no one is able to hear her loud cries, no matter how hard she tries.

Gojo reached the other door handle, moving into the next interrogation room,

"Gojo Satoru, we meet again" said Toji with a smirk, his hair falling on his face, his lip bleeding,

"Toji Zenin"

"I go by Fushiguro now"

"And I don't give a fuck, you're a criminal either way"

"Oww, too salty Satoru"

"I don't have time for this kind of chit chat, what was your plan to do to my wife?"

"Kill her obviously, duh!" said Toji rolling his eyes

"You son of a bitch, and you're proud of that, I'm not allowed to kill you, that was the higher ups call so be thankful for that, or else I would have put you through the most terrible death you could possibly think of"

"Are you threatening me? besides it wasn't my plan, it was your side chick's plan"

"The fuck did you say?" said Gojo angrily, taking quick steps to Toji punching him once again, making his nose bleed.

Toji started laughing hysterically,

"Alright you win, you win for the second time Gojo Satoru, but I don't think you won her heart, pity all this effort to save her is for nothing"

"Shut up"

"What? You think now you'll live happy ever after? That you'll start over and become a happy couple? Nah you're egocentric, selfish and fucking arrogant, and you've never known love and never will, I've spent three days with her and I can tell she can't live with someone like you. Both of you are far away from each other, two extremes, too empathetic and too apathetic. She'll leave your ass"

"I SAID SHUT UP" yelled Gojo, once again punching him,

"G-gojo?" said Megumi as he opened the door and witnessed it.

"Megumi?" said Gojo and Toji at the same time,

Megumi looked at Toji with what appeared empty eyes, but in the inside his heart was breaking into pieces.. He shifted his gaze to Gojo,

"Gumi what are you doing here?" asked Satoru

"Came to see you Gojo, you have to go to the hospital Y/n is awake and she was looking for you!!"

"D-did she tell you to l-look for me?" he asked hia heart skipping a beat,

"Nah I just figured out, you better go now"

"Wait aren't you coming with me?"

"No, I have to talk to him"

"Megumi! You know you don't have to stay here, you don't have to talk to him, he'll soon get the punishment he deserves–"

"I know, but he's my father and I need to ask him why!"

"Then I'll stay with you, it's not safe!" he reached to grab Megumi's arm,

"Gojo, please! just go to your wife, she's waiting, don't make her wait any longer! I promise I'll be fine" said Megumi with a smile,

As soon as Gojo left the room, Megumi approached his father standing right in front of him,

"S-son!"

"Why? Why did you do that?" said Megumi in a cold tone,

"Son please!"

"You've almost killed one of my close friends! Y/n is not just a teacher to me, she's my friend as well! and now I can't even look her in the eye, you know why?" he paused, trying to swallow back the lump that formed in his throat making him struggle to talk,

"Because of you! because of the shame I'm feeling whenever I see her or remember that MY FATHER WANTED TO KILL HER JUST TO GET SOME DIRTY MONEY FROM MEI MEI"

"Megumi! you need to listen to me! I had to do that!"

"No, there's no excuse that can get you away for murdering innocent people, first Riko and now attempted to do the same to Y/n just because Mei Mei told you?"

"I did all of this for you, to buy a house, a house that we can all call home! Where we can be a family again, me and you!"

"A family?" said Megumi in a mocking way,

"Yes, we can try again, I can fix everything, and make up for the years that I wasn't by your side–"

"You know what dad!"

"Yes son tell me!"

"I'm glad you left when I was young, I'm glad Gojo raised me and not you, or else I might end up a criminal like you. If my mom was alive she'd be the most disappointed in you, SHE WONT EVEN RECOGNIZE YOU DAD!"

"Megumi don't say please!" said Toji, tears forming in his eyes,

Megumi's words destroyed him because he knows they were true, his wife would be disappointed in him if she was alive.

"You ruined my life dad! Enough of it, stop trying to ruin others' lives just for money, just because you were neglected by the Zenin clan! Don't make others pay for what your clan did to you..." he added, taking steps backwards to leave the room,

"Son wait please! I'm so sorry I caused you all this pain, I'm sorry I wasn't there–"

"Just forget you ever had a son, just like what you did with your humanity....goodbye -dad"

with that he closed the door forever, not only the room's door but the door in his heart that he kept open for his father, wishing that some day, he would repent and fix his mistakes even though he knew deep down they can't be fixed. And now he's finally ready to let go, he can never forgive him for all this mess, for all these mistakes that he willingly committed.

Unable to keep it inside, unable to hide his true, delicate, sensitive self, after maintaining the cold, strong image for too long as a coping mechanism for always feeling inferior than others for being parentless. He finally let out the child thay was kept locked inside, and finally broke down into tears. With each loud sob, his chest rose and heaved with sadness. He cried because of the shame he felt, and because of the fact he's now letting go of his father, once and for all. He cried alone, hugging his knees like a baby, till it became hard to breathe.

But was he alone really?

"MEGUMI!!!!"

That voice, the voice that used to annoy him for telling jokes non stop, for laughing really loud and not letting him sleep, that voice now is saving him.

He looked up, his eyes puffy and red with tears.

Yuji and Nobara running towards him, worried expressions drawn on their faces, their eyes wide since it was the first time they see their friend shed a tear. They finally reached him, joining him on the floor.

"Megumi??! what's wrong buddy what happened?" asked Yuji his eyes softening,

"Fushiguro? Is everything okay? Why are you crying did someone hurt you?" asked Nobara her voice shaking with fear and worry.

He just started at them, not saying anything single word. Looking ay their genuine worried and confused faces, a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, realizing that his friends got his back, that they won't let him down and most importantly he realized that he doesn't have to feel alone anymore. They truly loved him and cared for him. He was too broken to realize that, he thought his dad abandon him because he hated him, so he grew up with that mindset; his father hates him let alone people out there. But now, finally realizing that love, friendship saved him, from himself, from his dark thoughts and now he can start anew.

Nobara waved her hand on front of his face,

"Hey Fushiguro??"

Without saying anything he hugged both of them, finally feeling the love he's been rejecting. Allowing himself to feel it for the first time and damn it felt good to have someone care for you, it made his heart at ease.

He hugged them really tight, refusing to let go, without hesitation they hugged him back in a comforting way, their warmth radiating.

"Awww Fushiguro-Kun is being soft" chuckled Nobara

"Shuh Nobara, we love this version of Megumi, geez didn't know you're a good hugger Fushiguro" said Yuji smiling,

"Aaaaa why'd you ruin the moment guys" groaned Megumi

"Nah nah we're sorry, we're just wondering where's the real Megumi and what did you do to him" she added,

"Nah it's the real Megumi here, you just unlocked a premium version. Get used to it" said Megumi pulling away from the hug a smile still decorating his face.

"Well for sure we'll get used to it" said Yuji and Nobara at the same time.

"Wait!! did you leave Y/n alone at the hospital, till Gojo arrives?" said Megumi in a moment of realization.

"Nah nah she's home now, we brought her at the dorms" explained Yuji

"Oh shit"

"What?"

"Gojo went to the hospital to see Y/n, so he won't find her there"

"Come on, he's a married man, his wife would tell him" said Nobara smirking

"Wasn't she supposed to spend the day there, till Shoko makes sure she's fine?" he asked again,

"Yeah but after you left the room to get Gojo she insisted to leave as well, she said she was feeling okay and doesn't need to stay there" exclaimed Nobara.

*At The Hospital*

Gojo pushed open the door of the room that you were in. A mix of anticipation and stress took over him, not knowing how he would behave in front of you, is he gonna hold your hand, kiss you? What was he going to say? Baby? My love? I missed you? All these thoughts disappeared when he found the room empty, devoid of your presence. Confusion clouded his features as he stepped inside, his eyes scanning the surroundings, trying to find any of your belongings, but there was absolutely nothing. Anxiety took over him, his heart racing inside his chest. He got really scared, thinking that someone abducted you, still terrified from the last incident that happened to you. With shaky hands he reached his phone to call one of his students, but before he can do he received a message from Nanami informing him that they moved you out of the hospital and took you to the dorms to rest there.

He let out a deep breath he didn't know he was holding, calming down slowly.

With a heavy sigh, he sank onto the edge of the bed, blaming himself for not being there when you woke up.

*Flashback*

You laid unconscious on the hospital bed after being treated by Shoko. No one was there except Gojo. He held your hand tightly, staring at your soft features as you were in your pretty slumber.

"I'm here Y/n, my beautiful wife, my princess" he whispered to you as you slept.

"I'm sorry, please wake up..wake up so I can tell you how much I love you, how bad I want to make you mine, how I want to fix things and start anew with you as a true husband, a husband that will love you, care for you and protect you, I won't let anyone hurt you.." he paused, remembering the state he found you in, on the floor, bloody nose, shirt almost torn off, his body tensed up.

"I'll punish them for what they had done to you" he added and left the room heading to the interrogation rooms at Jujutsu High.

*End of flash back*

*Time skip, night time*

Your students and Nanami already brought you everything you might need; food, water, some snacks and some manga books that Yuji gave to you to pass time.

You laid your back on the bed frame, grabbed a bag of chips, a manga book and started reading enjoying your own company, trying your best to distract yourself from thinking about Satoru.

Engrossed in the pages of your book and in your own world, the soft rustle of the door opening brought you back to reality. You already knew who it was, it was your husband Satoru. Even though, you were distant from each other, you got used to his footsteps. He closed the door behind and greeted you gently,

"Hii Y/n"

However, you remained absorbed in your reading, refusing to look up at him or even greet him back. He thought you were too focused on the book and didn't notice him arriving so he cleared his throat, attempting to get your attention this time and said,

"A-are you feeling better now? How's your leg?"

But again you remained silent, as if he wasn't in the room, as if his voice was inaudible to you. He received the message and realized that you don't wanna talk to him, and he respected your decision, he chose to not push too far especially that you're still traumatized from what happened to you.

With a resigned sigh, he took some clean clothes from the dresser, and made his way to the bathroom to take a shower that might wash the tiredness away. The sound of the running warm water that fell on his body mingled with the quiet of the room, a gentle reminder of the distance between you and him.

You put the book on your nightstand, and shut your eyes, you tried to go to sleep before he joins you again, you've already took your decision, you'll ignore him, you'll distance yourself even more, you won't let him pity you and help you because he feels sorry for what had happened to you. You refused to be the victim, you won't allow anyone to feel bad for you.

...

Opening the door again, he found you fast asleep, hugging your pillow for comfort. He smiled to himself as he saw your sleeping face.

He missed being in your presence, even if you were only sleeping. He dried his hair and then gently approached the bed, already dressed in his pajamas. The mattress sank as he joined you, getting under the covers. He used his elbow to keep himself up a bit while he watched you sleep. Your pouty lips that he craves to kiss, your soft skin that he wants to caress, your chest that rose and fell with each breath. It was the small details that made him fall for you, that made you so special. He was watching and watching till your comfy sight lulled him to sleep, and now he joined you, his head next to yours, his arms fell on your waist as he spooned you. Finally both of you not only sleeping under the same roof again all safe and sound, but being this close to each other.

.....

You woke up in the morning to him all over you, his arm laid comfortably on top of you. You rubbed your eyes, thinking it was a dream but it was reality. As much as it made the butterflies in your stomach go crazy, it made you feel sad as well. And the small smile that instinctively formed on your lips, disappeared.

"Maybe he just rolled over" you said to yourself, still convinced that whatever he was doing was everything and anything but love.

You pushed his hand away, getting ready to get breakfast with the rest of teachers and students as well. You missed those mornings, with Nobara talking nonstop, Panda eating everything on the table and Nanami annoyed whenever principal Yaga announced a new mission. You felt like family, you felt included but it's always something missing, the true love, the love of your husband.

It is indeed hard to live a one sided love story, realizing your feelings towards Gojo were more of a problem than a realization, maybe it could have been a lot easier if they remained undiscovered, because starting from today you'll live with the fact that your husband that you fell head over heels with doesn't reciprocate your feelings, at least that's what your mind told you.

The mind works in mysterious ways, sometimes when you're used to some kind of feeling, it becomes like a drug, so when you experience another feeling you always find a way to include that specific feeling again. And that's the case for you, you've been feeling lonely and unloved your whole life, and you thought you'd be feeling that way for the rest of your life not even giving yourself a chance to ask if he feels the same.

...

You walked towards the table, the food was ready, the scent of coffee was intoxicating. Your students already there, excited for food like every single morning.

"OH Y/N - SENSEI GOOD MORNING" said Yuji excitedly,

"Good morning Sensei" said the other students in union with a big smile.

You nodded smiling at their morning energy that was circulating in the air,

"Good morning everyone"

Nanami and Shoko joined, followed by Principal Yaga and then Gojo who came running and out of breath looking for you, but then letting a deep sigh once he saw you sitting around the table safe and happy. It became his new freshly unlocked fear; you not being by his side.

"Oh you're here" he mumbled,

"Huh Gojo what's up with that face? did you see a ghost?" said Principal Yaga

"I'm fine" he shrugged and then joined you, sitting on the chair that was right next to you.

He gazed at you, clearing his throat,

"You woke up early today, I thought about bringing you food to bed so you don't have to tire yourself" he started almost whispering.

You shoved the spoon full of rice in your mouth, not bothering to look at him. The others exchanged gazes but started eating shortly, not wanting to get into your business. Gojo started eating as well thinking about ways to approach you or find a key to start even a small conversation and get you to talk to him.

"So Y/n are you feeling better?" asked Nanami

"Yeah much better actually, thank you Nanami!" you smiled,

And Gojo felt his heart crash, as if he received a stab right in the chest. He wished it was him you were smiling at.

"Yuji can you pass me the salt please?" you said gently,

but before Yuji could reach it, Gojo already snatched it from in front of him and gave it to you,

"Here!" he said with a silly smile,

You poked the inside of your cheek and took the salt from him not even looking at him.

"Um Y/n–" started Satoru but you cut him off by starting a conversation with Yaga sensei.

"By the way Sensei, I feel like I'm ready to start teaching again–"

"WHAT NO!" yelled Satoru

You raised your eyebrow,

"You need to rest Y/n, you've been through a lot" he added worriedly.

But you ignored his concern and his comment and shifted your gaze to Principal Yaga again,

"My students must be missing my classes"

"But y/n Gojo is right! You need to rest! it's been only one day" exclaimed Principal Yaga

"I'm feeling okay!" you said smiling.

"Alright then, do as you please but don't tire yourself, okay?" said Yaga sensei with a smile

You nodded smiling.

"Y/n please, you've been through a traumatic experience, this phase is the hardest even if you're not realizing it" said Gojo with worried eyes.

But you ignored him again, getting up from the table, wiping your mouth with a napkin heading to your room to get ready for a day full of teaching.

......

It was a long day full of laugher with your students, they did everything they could to make sure you were comfortable and happy. Especially Yuji he acted extra silly to get you to laugh uncontrollably. They wanted to help you forget about the terrifying experience as soon as possible.

You were in the balcony at night, enjoying the night sky, getting back to your favorite night activity, watching the stars. It always put a smile on your face. It reminded you of how vast our universe is and how small our problems seem in front of it.

"sensei?"

You looked back,

"hm Megumi? are you okay?"

"Yeah! is it okay if w-we talk a bit?"

"Sure Gumi, tell me!" you replied with a soft grin, now giving him your full attention, anticipating his words

"I–I w-wanted to apologize!" he said looking down at his feet unable to meet your gaze

"Hm? for what?"

"I - I'm sorry sensei, I'm ashamed of what my father did to you, he doesn't represent me, I'm not like him and I completely oppose it, always been I–" he said nervously fidgeting with his fingers.

"Megumi" you started, placing your hands on his shoulders,

"I know who you are! I know how kind, caring and loving you are! You don't need to apologize, you don't need to explain anything. It's not your fault that your dad chose the wrong path, so don't ever blame yourself! Stand proud Megumi! You are an amazing student, an amazing person and an amazing friend of mine" you insisted giving him a light squeeze.

"Really?"

"Yes you are! Don't ever doubt yourself! come here" you added and pulled him into a warm hug.

.........

*2 days later*

"Yaga sensei, since Toji is in prison now what about Y/n and I go back to our house?" suggested Gojo.

"Huh? Why the rush you don't like it here?"

"No it's not like that, it's just since our marriage we had to live here so it would be nice to go back to our own house"

"I like it here" you said out of the blue, showing that you refuse to live with him in a vast house alone.

"But y/n, our house is big, you'll feel more comfortable there, our room is waiting for you–"

"Oh Yaga sensei I thought about making a writing test as well not only a practical one" you said cutting Satoru off, as if his words didn't matter.

Starting a new conversation, totally neglecting him. Everyone around the table noticed it but have no right to interfere. Your inside was screaming, wanting to give in and move back to your house again where you can live only you and your husband, enjoy each other's company and privacy but it was complicated, life is not a movie scene and you can't wipe away the bad memories easily.

*Time skip*

You were in the balcony, waiting for the sunset. You've been lying to yourself, thinking that teaching again and distracting yourself with some jokes would make you forget about the hell Toji and Mei Mei put you through. You were already suffering from anxiety and this incident made it worse. You were getting a good night sleep just because you were using the pills that Shoko gave to you or else you'll wake up screaming from your night terrors, from the trauma you had lived. You started getting random panic attacks whenever you were alone, your hands would get all sweaty and start shaking, cold sweat dripping from your forehead and you felt like being choked.

Maybe it would have been easier if you told them what you truly felt and not pretending to be okay. Maybe it would have been a lot easier if you confessed your true feelings to Satoru even if he rejects you.

A tear rolled down your cheek, knowing that it got worse and that Gojo did a mistake by saving you. Maybe the world would be a better place without you. You felt useless and a heavier burden now, going back to teaching to prove yourself useful in something, only to find your students pitying you and trying to help you instead of you helping them. With a deep breath, lost in your thoughts, you came to a conclusion, that leaving is the best option. It's been weeks and your curse didn't break, and you've already lost faith that it would break, and you can't live on false hope that one day you'll become a sorcerer and make your family proud. You feel like your husband that was forced to marry you, is now forced to take care of you and treat you differently because you were the unlucky one to get kidnapped by one the most dangerous murderers. Your family won't accept you or treat you fairly as long as you remain a monkey with no curse energy.

"It's all related" you chuckled to yourself,

You checked your phone, and credit card, already clothed in your jacket to protect you from the cold.

You took a moment to watch the sunset first, it was mesmerizing, the color degradation representing different phases.

"Sunsets are a living proof that endings can be beautiful too" you said to yourself.

You started walking away, leaving Jujutsu High behind, not knowing where your legs would take you but at least you know you'll be safe, Mei Mei and Toji are in prison now. You just wanted to get far away from everyone, you knew you didn't fit anywhere, you don't belong anywhere. So maybe you'll start as a normal simple human, with a normal simple job. It broke you to run away from them, you considered them a family and you knew you'll carry all those beautiful memories with you whenever you go, but what broke you the most, is leaving Gojo without a proper goodbye, but for your self-respect you chose not to give him another reason to feel sorry for you.

*Time skip*

"SENSEI! SENSEI HAVE YOU SEEN Y/N?" asked Gojo as he rushed downstairs after asking literally everyone and they said no.

"No!"

Panic coursed through his veins,

"Sensei what if someone abducted her again?"

"Relax Gojo, she's not a kid I'm sure she's safe, Toji is imprisoned so is Mei Mei, I'm sure she just went for a night stroll"

Gojo looked at him in disbelief, and left Jujutsu High and start searching for you, maybe he's being paranoid now and scared by the slightest thing but he can't afford to lose you, not again.

...

He searched everywhere, anywhere possible, he even went to Mei Mei's house to make sure you weren't there even though he knows damn well that both of them are paying for their mistakes. He check every corner, every street, every alley but you're nowhere to be found.

He started sweating, his heart hammering against his ribcage, feeling the sky narrowing around him and suffocating him.

"Where are you y/n, please!" he said to himself.

He paused when a thought crossed his mind, he knows you're a space enthusiast. You enjoy watching the clear night sky and chase the stars, but to do so you need an excluded area, away from Tokyo lights. A hill 2 hours away from Jujutsu High, but it's Satoru, he doesn't need 2 hours to reach that hill in a matter of seconds he found himself there.

It was dark, but he could see a figure standing, head's up to the sky. The city light bellow on full display. He knew right away that it was you. He wanted to announce his presence to not scare you, so with a soft voice he spoke,

"y/n?"

Yoh turned around, looking at him in disbelief. Without saying anything you started to walk away but he rushed towards you and grabbed your arm,

"Wait y/n please talk to me!"

"Satoru leave me alone"

"No! no I'm not leaving you alone, not this time! Why are you ignoring me? Why are you being being so cold towards me? I understand it was my fault and I'm so fucking sorry about it but please talk to me–"

"Satoru! For god's sake, let me go, let me live, let me try a new start away from all of this"

"Why? you can start anew here? with us! with me!"

"No you don't understand! I don't belong to your world, I don't belong here! I'm sick of it" you explained a tear fell down,

"You belong with me y/n, please let me help you"

"I don't fucking need your help, I don't need anyone's fucking help, I'm tired of being the one in need, I'm tired of being the one who needs to be saved. Because no one of you will, and because it's so fucking degrading, I'm sick of myself, sick of not being able to protect myself-"

"Y/n you're not realizing your potential, please don't rush things!"

"Don't rush things? It's been weeks Satoru and nothing worked, I can't let you go through this, you deserve to be with someone like you, you deserve to be with someone strong, a sorcerer not a talentless human. It's over okay!! I was ready to send you the divorce papers so you don't need worry about anything, I'm no longer a burden, and you won't take my responsibility, I know you're sick of me and of all this prophecy shit" you paused,

looking straight into his blue eyes, if you could trade the night sky for his eyes then you would, you would choose to look deep into those blue canvas. You wanted to take into his face, to stare longer memorizing his features so they take a longer time to fade from your memory.

"Rejoice Satoru, you're free!" you said and freed yourself from his grasp, walking away,

His heart beats escalated, watching you walk away. No it can't be, you can't leave him, not when he realized that he couldn't breathe without you, not when he realized he can't sleep without your scent in the room.

"No, you can't leave me"

He grabbed you again, pulling you against him,

"I can Satoru, that's what you fucking wanted so don't act like you don't want it"

"I'm not acting, I don't want you to leave"

"Why? So you can feel less guilty by making it up for me even if you don't want it?"

"NO!"

"Then fucking why?"

"BECAUSE I FUCKING LOVE YOU!"

A moment of silence fell over the place, looking into each other's eyes, only your heavy breathing is being heard,

"I love you y/n, I love you so fucking much that I can't take it anymore, I love you that the only thing I can focus on is you, I lOVE YOU THAT I WOULD GIVE UP HEAVEN IF IT MEANS I GET TO BE WITH YOU, BECAUSE YOU'RE MY HEAVEN Y/N, YOU'RE MY BLESSING. I WAS YOUR CURSE AND I HATE MYSELF FOR THAT, BUT LOVE, LOVE MADE ME A FOOL, A FOOL FOR YOU"

You didn't say a word, you were too shocked, words still processing in your mind. You froze, trying to figure out if it was a dream or a reality. But when he crashed his lips on yours, you knew it was real, by the way his soft plump lips felt on yours. His big hands grabbing your waist pulling you towards his body that was screaming, yelling for you, for your touch. You closed your eyes enjoying the sensation, a sensation you dreamt of for many nights, and days. Daydreaming, wondering how his lips would taste.

Instinctively your hands moved around his neck, pulling him closer. Your breath mixing, breathing each other in and out. Kissing each other so passionately as if your lives depend on it as if the world stops rotating, the clock stops ticking, and humans stops breathing. Only you and him in a vast world.

He pulled away, intoxicated by your taste, his eyes full of love and lust at the same time, growing impatient as the seconds passed by, the he spoke with a foggy voice,

"Let's go to our house, our home, tonight I'll make you mine and you'll make me yours.. let me do your duty as your husband, allow me to get a taste of you and get a taste of me"

Your chest rose and fell, feeling the electricity run in your system, turning you on even more.

"mhm" you nodded, you'd follow him everywhere even to your decease.

You were ready to finally give yourself to him, to allow him to do as he pleases to you and you do as you please to him. Finally, a few moments till you become a real husband and wife, a few moments till you taste heaven.

Taglist ˖⁠♡:

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morbethgames · 7 months ago

Text

The Final Part of Chapter 4 Mostly Is Now Live!

So, you guys are probably wondering what the mostly is about. Simply put, there’s a subroute in the final part that I still need to write. Not very long, it won’t be too big of a deal later on, but this scene was blocking me hard. After working on it for 2 months straight I just wanted to move on. Needless to say, if I had to write one more set of variations for how the PC fights the suspect, I was going to go insane. That being said, it is all mostly there. There’s simply one greyed out option is all. I’m going to come revisit this scene when it’s more fresh to me again and when I don’t have to push myself so damn hard and force myself to write it. Along with the final part, I’ll probably be adding a bit more variation to it in general. But, now that that’s out of the way, let me get to the patch notes!

Patch Notes:

Added most of the rest of Chapter 4, which includes another Text Box Investigation Scene!

Added an unlockable extra story of Ryder’s PoV before the after funeral scene.

Multiple gender variable mistakes have been fixed.

Fixed a mistake where Alvarez and Ryder were being referred to as ‘mommy’.

Added a small dialogue variation to Ryder’s train scene where, if you’ve already talked to Alvarez, the PC won’t ask Ryder to clarify details about Alvarez’s age.

Added a small dialogue variation to the talk with Hawks in Dennis’ Office where, if the PC didn’t answer the phone for their brother in Chapter 2, it will reflect that choice.

Fixed the error on my part where the hoplite in the painting in Hawks’ office was being referred to as ‘Roman’ instead of ‘Greek’.

Fixed a bug where, if you chose to talk to Lance first on the train, it wouldn’t give you the option to talk to a second person.

Thank you all so much for sticking with me while I’m pumping this stuff out! It feels like such a weight off my shoulders to be able to just moved on from this scene, and to give myself the room to just come back to it later. Expect the Patreon to pick back up to two posts a week again as I get to start writing all the in between stuff for Chapter 4.5! If you like this story, and you want to support either me or this story, head on over to my Patreon where you can get an early look at extra stories, audiobook readings of this story and other IF’s, original short stories with original characters, and so on.

Patreon Link ←

We’re getting close for sure everyone. Hopefully, bare minimum, by the end of the year, this story will be completed. I’m excited, scared, and worried all at the same time.

Thank you all again so much for sticking with me.

Stay Brilliant, -Vi

Demo Link: https://dashingdon.com/play/morbethgames/the-bureau-wip/mygame/

The Bureau forum page: https://forum.choiceofgames.com/t/wip-the-bureau-chapters-1-3-550k-total-words-updated-03-14-2024/99993

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kamiversee · 7 months ago

Text

The F*ck List (semi-official) Breakdown.

The following was submitted by my lovely ☃️anon, & I needed to make this it’s own post given how long it is, my replies & clarifications are written in between this breakdown & theory (Ex: A/N > Etc.).

Here, you’ll find majority of details you may have missed & maybe even more to think about. Enjoy :)

(wc; 5.7k) (content; spoilers ofc)

holy shit Kami. i literally had to take the entire day to process everything. before anything else, i need you to know that you've created an absolute masterpiece. TFL was the first fic i ever cared to keep up with and it has set the bar impossibly high for any other writer out there. please take your time with TFL 2, i'm so excited to read your other work!! also a break sounds like it would be so good for your mind considering how long you've dedicated yourself to this story 😭😭😭 you're seriously impressive. heads up, i didn't proofread this at all bc i finished typing this at 4 am LMFAO so forgive me if it's all scrambled and makes no sense.

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A/N > Thank you for taking the time to write this breakdown, I seriously appreciate it so I wanted to take my time in responding to it & engaging with you :)

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now, on to the yap. i deadass cracked my knuckles before typing all this out.

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A/N > You’re so real for tht ngl

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i reread the entirety of TFL from chapter 1 and my brain is so melted from analyzing that i'll prob find more details tomorrow after i sleep on some theories 😭 BUT HOLY FUCK YOU REALLY WEREN'T KIDDING WHEN YOU SAID YOU WERE HINTING AT GOJO'S OBSESSION SINCE LITERALLY THE FIRST CHAPTER??? the fucking hint being that "Gojo's desire for you is so strong it's almost frightening." GIRLLLLLL 🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵

your foreshadowing and referencing is insane. idk if you intended a lot of it, but a lot of it caught my eye.

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A/N> I TOLD YOU GUYS IVE BEEN DOIN IT SINCE THE FIRST CHAPTER !! Okay not exactly but like there was a vibe I had from the first chapter & when I later came up with the twist & went back and saw that everything would connect perfectly ^.^

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chapter 7; the reader and Gojo have lighthearted banter about how the reader "started this" situation.

"I made a mistake." [reader]

"A good one."

"Bad one." You correct.

this was regarding a completely different situation but it baffled me how much it connects to the plot itself; the reader making the "mistake" of leaving her door open, and how it lead to months full of trauma and love. probably completely unintentional, but such a good detail.

┏━━━

A/N > Very intentional btw, it’s supposed to be known that, in a sense, Gojo x reader is forbidden :)

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Choso's still staring at you intently, "What version of you would someone not like?"

The way he words his question only furthers that little feeling in your chest. It's almost as though he were implying that any and all versions of you would be acceptable in his eyes. - Chapter 16

THE WAY WE SHOULD HAVE KNOWN THAT CHOSO WOULD STICK BY US REGARDLESSSSSSSS AAAAAA WE'RE SO BLIND!!! i just hope this stays true to the sequel :')

"No, I wish you didn't have to hate me." He says, shutting his eyes again and sucking in a deep breath, "B-But... it's uh, It's okay. I can live with you hating me." - Chapter 21

AAAA WE SHOULD HAVE KNOWN!!!! WE SHOULD HAVE KNOWN THIS WAS FORESHADOWING OUR FUTURE WITHOUT GOJO 😭😭😭 how he can live with the idea of the reader hating him so long as she's happy with Choso, especially considering his later revelations of how twisted his actions were and how if you stuck with him, he'd view you differently. fuck.

You despise the fact that he loves you. To you, it's almost entitled for him to feel like he has that right. How dare he hold such a strong emotion for you? If he felt this way, why is he forcing you to sleep with people for him? It makes no sense.

Why would someone claim to love you and put you through so much?

If he's been in love with you all this time, why start the list in the first place? Why couldn't he have just tried to win your heart from the beginning? Why the list? Why the blackmail? You don't understand him. - Chapter 23

i'm crushed. we didn't understand because we didn't know that Sukuna was involved. that could mean a million other things. i have some far-fetched theories about this but hear me out later!!!

the entirety of chapter 23 had me fucking floored while i was rereading. THE FORESHADOWING WAS EVERYWHERE!!! EVERY FUCKING WHERE

"No sweetheart, Sukuna's an asshole but..." His expression flickers and his smile fades away. He swallows and then clears his throat, "I'm pretty sure he'll satisfy you just fine."

...

You narrow your eyes at him, "Are you sure?"

...

"Fuckin' positive," Gojo suddenly sounds pissed and you grow concerned. The arm around you gets a little tighter while he walks you through some crowds and you keep looking at the man confused.

There's a vein popping out along his jawline because of how hard he's gritting his teeth.

of course he's aggravated because he knows that Sukuna is the one behind the list in the first place 😭😭😭 I'M SORRY WE DOUBTED YOU SATORU, FUCKKKK

——FIFTEEN MINUTES. That was the exact amount of time it took you to seduce Sukuna. The act was way too easy. Actually, it was suspiciously easy.

BECAUSE HE FUCKING KNEW 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

"What all did you plan on doing tonight aside from getting harassed by strangers?" Sukuna suddenly questions against your skin.

You ignore how close he is and the way his lips make you tense, turning your head to face forward. Chuckling at his last comment, "Same thing as everyone else here." You reply, slightly confused by his question.

"Bullshit," He utters, "Nobody dresses like this without the intent of gaining my attention," Sukuna claims while his hands slide back down along your body.

this 100% could be just him being cocky and Sukuna, but the recent reveal just makes this feel like an extra demeaning interaction. but of course, it's Sukuna.

chapter 24 is so fucking shady too with everything we know. i know you addressed some of these points already bc i brought them up in previous anon messages, but these things still had me paranoid;

the way Sukuna leaves us and tells the reader to go to his room after a certain amount of time (i know he could have just been tidying up real quick but everything about this man has me on edge)

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A/N> A lot of people are on edge about this but I’ll be honest, there’s nothing crazy that happens in between this time period. Not saying nothing happens but nothing crazy— it’ll be addressed later (in the next fic most likely)

┗━━━

the way he's been consistently on the phone since the reader entered the room, which is shortly after she messaged Gojo saying that she'll be able to cross Sukuna off of this list by tonight which he wasn't happy with at all.

no seriously, he kept diverting his attention to something in the bathroom and then came out, still on his phone. maybe he's talking to literally anyone else but STILL I'M PARANOID

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A/N> This is to show the fact that Sukuna is a very socially active individual, & hints to the theory (I think you later state) that he has connections.

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this happens in chapter 25 but the way he keeps smiling while the reader kisses him is just so smug of him especially considering the original reason as to why the reader's even interacting with him

then the spicy chapters with Sukuna…

the foreshadowing that the lack of knowledge of Sukuna's reputation will come back to bite her in the ass; first with the knowledge that he is abusive, and then her finding out that he is the curator of the list, knowing the full details of her blackmail and even threatening her again.

WHO DID HE FUCKING FIGHT HELPPPPP MY MIND IS BOGGLING there's no way it's Gojo, right? they're both too unscathed in these next few chapters for there to have been a fight between the two of them.

┏━━━

A/N > It’s not Gojo. 🙏

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THE FUCKING MOMENT WHERE HE CONTEMPLATED SOMETHING WITH THE PHONE IN HIS HAND??? I FUCKING KNEW IT. I FUCKING CALLED IT WAS SOMETHING SHADY AS HELL.

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A/N> The other Sukuna hint I was talking about is right before this moment btw, you’re welcome ;)

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then he has the audacity to hold his tongue right afterwards?? it's such a big hint towards the fact that he knew about the list from the beginning UGHHHHHHHH.

the way he tried to humor the reader about her "job" even though he was in on the whole thing. UGH. SUKUNA WHEN I GET YOU SUKUNA?? 👊👊👊👊 especially with that "whore" joke right afterwards. i can't stand him. i know that it's implied that he has a twisted view on women from having abusive women in his life (his mom and his ex who he punched) BUT STILL. he's so lucky he's fictional and hot.

the fact that we're able to pick up on the fact that it's a "crazy coincidence" that he continues the whore jokes UGHHHHH HE HAS BEEN PLAYING US FROM THE STAAAAAARTT

Gojo got upset at something from Sukuna's party, he didn't want you to call yourself a whore all of a sudden, Sukuna seems to have believed that was your actual job, and you remember how pissed Gojo seemed as he thought about you sleeping with Sukuna-

Holy fuck. Are the two connected somehow? Is something going on? What does Gojo owe Sukuna? Does Sukuna know you only slept with him as payment to clear Gojo's debt? Is-

GIRL YOU WERE ALMOST THERE!!!! YOU ALMOST HAD IT!!!

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A/N > I love teasing in my narration by nearly spoiling things 😹

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---

seriously though, these chapters killed me. the official end obliterated my heart. it's so fucking bittersweet i want to scream at the top of a high building. the reader ends up happy and with someone she loves, which is fantastic for her. she deserves that after everything she went through. Choso treats her so, so well.

but Gojo. with the theories i have, i feel horrible. i was so harsh towards him as a die hard Choso girly but these endings changed me. i just hope i'm right.

the fact that his healing journey is harsher than ours makes this ending sting so much. he's healed, and you can see it with his demeanor from the call and the way he interacted with the reader.

we were always made aware of the way he looked at us such deep attachment. the initial gleam shows that he's happy to see us, but that he's not reliant on us for his happiness anymore. he's finding that on his own, and it's a grueling process for him. i wished the reader gave him a hug, but that would probably make me feel even worse.

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A/N> He gave her a lil side hug (with his arm over her shoulder) & was resting his head on hers at the end if that makes you feel any better 😅

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"Through my blackmailing, I fell for you but I also did it because I loved you from the start." i'm gonna throw up bro i'm so sad. i'm proud of his growth. his obsession was so, so strong but he always prioritized the reader's happiness over himself. i know that being self-sacrificial is so core to his personality but it doesn't make it suck any less. i'm devastated. i started blasting mitski in the car on my way to work after reading this.

i thought i was ready for the journal burning. i was so ready for this tie to be severed, for them to finally move on. but i failed to realize that it could ultimately mean a life without each other. it makes sense as to why, but it still sucks.

kami i need that poly ending before i cry my eyes out at 4 am rn. you know i can't handle angst, but bittersweet endings lowkey hurt me even more. i need all my babies to be happy. i desperately need it.

but that alt ending... fuck. in a horrible, sick, and twisted way, i'm relieved. i'm a Choso girly from the bottom of my heart but i can't let this Gojo go omfg. even if he shows up for one more chapter, i think i'll be alright. BUT IT BETTER NOT BE FOR DEATH KAMI!!!! I HAVE A FEW EXCERPTS THAT SUGGEST DEATH FLAGS BUT I AM SIMPLY NOT LOOKING AT THEM. DON'T DO THIS TO ME KAMIIIIIII. i need this boy to be frolicking in a field of flowers or something. my heart can't take this.

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A/N> I know I reference death a lot but that’s just to add a sense of how dramatic the characters are 🫶

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---

okay, time for my mind-fucky theory. pls bare with me. if it wasn't obvious by my last post, i'm 100% on board with the theory that Sukuna's blackmailing Gojo, which started this whole thing. but the thing that is getting me is how this all connects. i have some assumptions that could make sense, but there are a handful of gaps. here's my thought process;

Sukuna's blackmailing Gojo by using his obsession/love against him.

we are already familiar with the fact that Gojo has liked the reader for years. there was a chapter where Gojo mentioned that it started off as a "crush" but he was so oblivious to his own obsession up until the reader mentioned it to him. it's to the point that he didn't understand what was wrong with the idea of hurting people for the reader. who's to say that Sukuna didn't catch him in some sort of heinous act regarding the reader like stalking?

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A/N > You’re cooking with this one and I almost, almost had to go get the fire extinguisher :D

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Gojo didn't understand the difference between love and obsession until later on in the story. this would be consistent with the implication that Gojo just loved her so deeply that his morals were askew as we have yet to find out how far his love goes.

what if Sukuna caught him in the act of doing god knows what, and brought up the fact that if the reader found out about this, that she'd get super freaked out and would do everything she can to get away from him (considering probably barely knew each other, if at all, at this point). but why would Sukuna devise such a plan over a money bribe? well, Sukuna's already revealed to be wealthy, and maybe he was bored. the same line that Gojo kept repeating to the reader whenever she questioned him as to why he did it. what if Gojo asked Sukuna why he's blackmailing him, and he said the exact same thing; "I was bored." we see how much Sukuna mirrors Gojo's speech by calling the reader "sweetheart" often, what if Gojo did the same thing?

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A/N > Gojo & Sukuna do have a few parallels in this story & they will be addressed more in the sequel.

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we wondered in chapter 23 how Gojo reaches out to these men to ensure their debt is "paid," but considering how oblivious everyone else on the list is to Gojo owing them anything, it would make sense that he only reports to Sukuna as he is ordered to do so. but two things stumped me on this theory overall.

the reader said that she used to party a lot and get involved with boys before Gojo. if he was stalking her for so long, why did he wait so long to approach her?

what specifically would be the blackmail that Sukuna has on Gojo?

regarding the first point, it's been mentioned that Gojo has been "scared of women" and was shy when it came to approaching the reader. he knew of her for so long, but was able to constantly slip under her radar. considering how much of a pervert he is, it wouldn't have been surprising for him to sneak around and watch in on the reader hooking up with other guys. after all, these guys were probably complete strangers to him and all he cared about was you. remember how Gojo was basically able to tune out his own best friend, Suguru, when the reader was hooking up with him in their living room? it wouldn't be wild to assume that he was able to do the same for your other hookups as he spied on you.

to connect this with second point, what if Sukuna caught Gojo being a peeping tom on the reader during a party hook-up? while being so distracted in the act of spying, Sukuna spots him. the reader wouldn't be alright with the fact that someone who's barely an acquaintance (if that, depending on the time this occurred) to her has been perving around and watching her have sex without her consent. she would do anything to get away from Gojo, and of course that would crush him. Gojo tried to buy Sukuna's silence by any means necessary. so, Sukuna generated a list of people that he and Gojo mutually knew for the reader to fuck. the reasoning for it would be the fact that Gojo has to sit through the process of having the girl he likes fuck a bunch of guys besides him, and the fact that Gojo knew all these men would make it sting more. plus, he has a reputation for hookups. (chapter 8)

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A/N > You’re like RIGHT there with it and yet not there at the same time omg 😟

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but why would Gojo agree to this deal with Sukuna, and why would he also go with the method of blackmailing the reader? it's basically a guarantee that the reader would be scared away regardless. but again, we could recall that Shoko mentioned that he was too "scared of women" to approach the reader at first. this was his chance to finally approach her. plus, "once that video is gone, there is no excuse he'll have to be around you." (chapter 8)

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but the more i thought of this reasoning for the two points, the more bizarre it felt. so what if instead of Gojo being a peeping tom, it was Sukuna. we get so many hints that Sukuna has eyes and intel everywhere. we get an indirect implication of this when he called us out for rolling our eyes during our phone call with him. yes, it could be completely by chance, but it's still a great hint that he "sees everything" and "knows everything." we get an even bigger hint towards this in the alt ending when he directly references The F*ck List.

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A/N > Others have taken note of how Sukuna knew she rolled her eyes but trust me, that’s just to show that Sukuna knows the reader’s body language more than he’s let on & paid attention to her a lot during the time they were together.

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it wouldn't be too far fetched to assume that he has some shady videos taken of people without his consent, some possibly acquired through other people (like how Gojo was revealed to have sent Sukuna the video of the reader from the first chapter). what if Gojo caught Sukuna with the video, threatened him to delete it, and Sukuna counterthreatened to have it be sent and posted everywhere. it would be highly ironic, but consistent with the way that Gojo and Sukuna practically mirror each other at times. the reasoning for the list choices would still be the same for this theory, too.

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my citations for these theories ☝️🤓

“You once asked me if I love you because I blackmailed you or if I blackmailed you because I love you and my answer is both,” Gojo confesses as he turns to meet your gaze, “Through my blackmailing, I fell for you but I also did it because I loved you from the start.” - Chapter 56

loved you from the start; his obsession has been consistent from the start (supports Gojo being a peeping tom theory) or he has always had a deep concern for you (supports him wanting to stop Sukuna from spreading blackmail of you instead).

“I’ve sacrificed everything for you, y’know.”

“How? What’s everything that you’ve sacrificed, hm?”

“You. I sacrificed the woman I love to make her happy.” Gojo admits, and of all he’s said thus far, that feels like the truest statement.

“I could’ve been happy with you.” You remind him.

He laughs, “Yeah well, I’m an idiot.”

You scoff, “That’s all you have to say?”

“Yup.” - Chapter 56

is he an idiot for being a peeping pervert instead of just approaching you normally? maybe. how does this make her happy? she ends up finding love through Choso, through the list, through the blackmail.

But deleting the video means ... he has no more leverage over you and can't force you to help him with the hole he's dug for himself. - Chapter 8

the hole being the blackmail set against him by Sukuna.

Gojo's behind you cursing at himself for being unable to tell you the truth.

He's so scared that you'll never help him without the blackmail and, well, he has every right to be because you're pretty sure that if it weren't for those videos he has over your head, you wouldn't be doing any of this. - Chapter 9

the videos he's referencing is the original video from chapter 1 and the fake video he lied about with Suguru, but he can't tell the reader the truth because it's too twisted and risky (supports Gojo peeping tom theory).

He silences himself in thought. There are so many ways he could go about answering such a question but the possibilities of how you may react are endless. Plus, you're drunk and if he's going to admit or explain anything to you, it'll be while you're sober.

"Because..." Gojo's voice gets so quiet that you almost don't catch what he says, "...I don't have any other choice." - Chapter 21

if he didn't go through with his list, Sukuna would have went through with Gojo's blackmail, thus resulting in either you getting as far away from Gojo as soon as possible or Sukuna's video being sent around.

He let something slip abruptly, "W-Wish I c-could tell you everything, sweets..."

Your brows furrow at that.

Are you missing something here? - Chapter 22

YES GIRL!!!! SUKUNA'S BEHIND THE WHOLE LIST, HE'S BEHIND THE BLACKMAIL GIRLYPOP

"Anything," Gojo says, meeting your gaze. He's so serious that it's almost dark the way he looks at you, "I'd do anything for you." - Chapter 29

"I meant it when I said I'd do anything for you."

You follow his motions and then end up right back in his arms, "Right..."

"I'd sacrifice the very thing I love just to see you happy." Gojo claims proudly.

You scoff, "Thought' I was the thing you loved?"

"You are."

His words bewilder you, "Then that makes no sense."

"It won't." Gojo shrugs. - Chapter 29

🧍‍♀️

anything. even if it means putting your body, heart, mind, and career on the line. directly supports the theory that Sukuna initially had blackmail on the reader.

"We're the same, y'know..." He suddenly says, his voice breaking again, "We both want someone so terribly bad but our situations prohibit us from getting that person."

"You could've prevented all this though..."

Gojo sniffles and you feel a drop of wetness slide down his cheek and slip against your palm. The man was crying? Why? - Chapter 30

this whole time we've been told that Gojo and the reader share more similarities than the reader realizes. what Gojo is to the reader, the reader is to Choso. while Choso now knows of the men that the reader slept with, he doesn't know why. he doesn't know about you being blackmailed. you know that you had to sleep with these men. you don't know why. you didn't know it was because of Gojo being blackmailed.

"For loving me, Satoru. It's not a crime," You say, mocking a comment he made to you earlier, "You're allowed to love me. So, for that, and that only, I forgive you."

Those words healed so many more wounds in his heart than you realized. It was like that was all he ever needed to hear. If Gojo's mistake was loving you and that's what caused this, then you forgive him.

If in some twisted way, his feelings started the list, you forgive him.

COME ON NOW.

There’s so much going unspoken but the two of you knew what either was saying, you understood each other more than either of you realized. - Chapter 35

“Well,” Gojo sighs heavily and then draws your hands off his face, leaning down to you a bit, “Sometimes, sacrifices need to be made in exchange for one’s happiness.”

“Are you telling me that all this was for the greater good?” You quiz as you raise a curious brow.

“Something like that, yeah,” He shrugs. - Chapter 45

You tell him, “If I had one wish, it’d be that you did that from the beginning.”

Gojo opens his mouth to say something but then he swallows his words down. He nearly fucked up.

“All you had to do was talk to me,” Your shoulders raise into a shrug as you move a hand to the doorknob, “Things could’ve been different if you did.”

“Even if I’ve been obsessed with you since the beginning?” He questions and he’s stepping closer to you again. He can’t possibly wrap his head around that possibility-

You laugh a bit, “Especially if you were obsessed from the beginning,” You didn’t know it but that statement right there made the man feel as though his world was falling apart, loads of regret tumbling over him as he stares at you with wide eyes, “Satoru I think you forgot but, before all this started, aside from Shoko… I was lonely.”

Gojo’s throat goes dry and he fails to form a response to that, “I…”

“If you had just talked to me one time, and more than a hey or how are you,” The way your eyes soften, a slim sheer gloss of tears coating your gaze as you speak to him, “I would’ve fallen for you.”

He grits his teeth, “Don’t tell me that.”

“But it’s true.” You say.

And just like that, Gojo was crumbling all over again. If only you knew how much he regretted everything after hearing you say that. - Chapter 46

if he had just spoke to the reader before all of this, maybe she wouldn't have gone to those parties, hooked up with those people, and caused whatever kind of blackmail Sukuna had on Gojo (or on her).

He wishes he could take it all back, his feelings for you included. If only he could go back and stop himself from ever being curious about you. That’s what started it after all. Because, at the end of the day, Gojo knew who you were before you knew who he was— hell, even before Shoko knew who you were. - Chapter 53

then what is the timeline of his obsession starting? has it been before Gojo? could his blackmail have taken place even before Shoko introduced you two, adding to the weight of the threat that Sukuna held over Gojo's head (regarding the peeping tom theory).

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A/N > The timeline on Gojo’s interest, not obsession just yet, on the reader will be addressed in the sequel so this’ll be answered there <3

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---

but there were certain parts that stumped me and my theories so i have some weird reasonings around them;

It's selfish of him and seriously fucked up but, he's said it before and he'll say it over and over again-- you're all he has. He made promises to everyone on that list, promises of delivering a woman to them at some point, and of course, he couldn't convince anyone he knew to do such a thing.

So again, the situation with you just happened to be a coincidence.

The problem is that Gojo hates that it's you. He hates that you're the one he ended up doing this to. - Chapter 8

Gojo's known to be a silly guy so it could make sense that he actually did promise these guys hookups for reasons unrelated to his blackmail. after all, he does have a reputation for getting people hookups. the coincidence is that Sukuna now has dirt on Gojo and wants to toy with him. by making the reader sleep with them the guys he coincidentally owes hookups to, he fulfills his role/reputation and relieves his debt at the same time. two birds, one stone.

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A/N > As we later learn that some of the “debt” Satoru claimed to have isn’t real, we can also infer that his reputation & the promises he’s made to these men were done out of coincidence. Take Toji for example; tell me you can’t see an interaction between him & Gojo where Gojo gets a bad grade and wants to get it up so he taunts his professor with the idea of getting him a hookup & Toji would laugh it off considering Gojo’s reputation ;)

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another thing that stumped me is why Gojo got so worked up with the reader referring herself as a whore, and the connection to Sukuna. my delulu reasoning is that once Sukuna threatened Gojo with blackmail by either of the two theories/methods i mentioned, Sukuna casually referred to the reader as a whore. that caused a major fight between the two, possibly even getting physical (which can refer back to the implication that Gojo has hurt people for the reader).

the fight could have increased the tension and severity of the situation, so Sukuna decides to add Choso to the list knowing how easily attached Choso gets. in chapter 5, the reader and Gojo were discussing the list and Choso specifically. Gojo was even noted to be relieved when the reader had mentioned that they'll just have to hope that Choso doesn't get attached, as he obviously holds deep feelings for the reader. Sukuna knows that by going through with the blackmail with Choso involved, Gojo most likely will not end up with the reader if Choso get attached and the reader reciprocates those feelings.

also, the counterargument that Sukuna and Gojo are actually friends/allies in this situation just doesn't sit well with me. it would make for a crazy twist but it just feels too out of character for Gojo. but then again, how would Sukuna specifically know about The F*ck List? but idk, it just feels so wrong to me. maybe i have too much faith in Gojo lmfao. after all, he has consistently shown a great dislike towards the guy since chapter 23. but maybe it's my denial speaking. i really don't want to think of Satoru going through this whole arc only for it to reveal that he truly is a piece of shit. pls don't do this to my pookie my heart cannot handle it </3

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A/N > Remember, Gojo is a good actor & you go a long period of time in the book not realizing he’s not as much of a villain as he pretends to be 😉

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there's that moment after the reader fucked Sukuna that still messes with my brain. with my theories, my brain's thinking that he contemplated on collecting even more blackmail on the reader. for what reason? idk, to be an ass? to torment Gojo further and add more to his blackmail? but maybe he decided not to because he already has plenty of blackmail on the reader (if the theory of Sukuna having a video of her from way back then is true) and fucking her knowingly made Gojo pissed considering all the dirt Sukuna has.

so why can't Gojo tell her the truth now? why does he want to wait years in advance? maybe he's hoping that by that time, not only will you forget and not care about the situation overall, but maybe Sukuna will forget all about it as well. the chances of Sukuna holding on to the reader's blackmail for that long is slim and the reader would most likely be in a situation where she is completely separated from Sukuna depending on her job and living situation with Choso. the stakes are lower than if he were to reveal everything to you now, at a moment where your life is still so uncertain. it would go against his wish for you to end up happy.

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A/N > Maybe Gojo doesn’t tell her the truth because he can’t, just as he said 🌚 Perhaps he’s not allowed to yet. After all, why would Sukuna even tell the reader he made the list in the end? ^.^ Just some food for thought!

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---

regarding the future of TFL... fuck, bro. i have no fucking idea. i'm too caught up in the (presumed) past. i'm mourning fr. i love this fic sooooo fucking much. whenever you decide to pick up on the sequel, i will be there. if you choose to publish anything else in the meantime, i will be there. thanks for such a fun and memorable read, Kami. i'm excited to bookbind this soon 🤍🤍🤍 now, i need to watch blue lock to shove these feelings down.

yap fin (for now)

-☃️

A/N > I love you sosoosooooo much for this. These theories are like reading an entirely new fanfic sometimes except, I know all the answers & what’s going to happen next, which only makes me more excited ^.^ Thank you for taking the time to make this, thank you for reading, thank you for supporting, just, THANK YOU.

This right here is exactly what I write for; people like you :)

To the others reading this breakdown & theory, thank ☃️anon because she’s a damn godsend & ilhsm ^.^ (definitely showing favoritism rn, sorry not sorry, ily all I swear)

Edit; Since you’re watching Blue Lock, I can’t wait to bring my Shidou fanfic here because a lot of the drama in TFL has inspo from that fic, which I wrote first ^.^ & I could totally see you enjoying it because not only is it a childhood friends to lovers than enemies & back to lovers troupe BUT it also includes Itoshi Sae x reader which ofc, adds hella drama :))

P.S. It’s two am as I finally post this and omg sorry it took me a while, I wanted to answer other anons first before unpacking this badboy, again, tysm!!

#the f*ck list #tfl!theories #tfl spoiler #tfl #k!ans: ☃️

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ladykailitha · 5 months ago

Text

Sweet Home Indiana Part 8

I have finished the story (at long last! sheesh I can't believe how long this took me to get it done) and it has 10 chapters. And it has the happiest of endings. I couldn't stop smiling the whole time I was writing it.

Things appear hopeless, but Eddie and Chrissy start to find allies in their plight.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

****

Eddie woke up the next morning to a pounding head, an aching heart and signed divorce papers.

Of the three things the divorce papers were the worst.

So he did the only thing he could do in that moment, call Chrissy.

“Eddie!” she greeted. “I kinda expected a call before today. You know, being your fianceé and all.”

“Shit, Chris!” he murmured. “Is there someone there?”

She hummed her response.

“It been so hectic around here,” Eddie admitted. “And there was the fact that Steve wouldn’t give me a divorce.”

She sighed and he suddenly realized who was with her. “Come out here, tell them that we decided to have the wedding out here in Hawkins because that’s where all my family is. See if you can’t get an extension to plan the wedding.”

“Hold on, cher,” she murmured and put her hand over the speaker. He could hear her clearly but anything he said would be muffled.

Eddie stared down at the papers in his hand with a shattered heart. He could grieve once Chrissy’s dragon was slain.

A minute or so later she came back on.

“Okay, they’ve given me to the end of the month,” she said with a sigh of relief. “Just say the word and I’ll be down there in a flash.”

Eddie waited another moment or two before he said, “Are you alone now?”

Chrissy muttered, “One moment.” He heard the ding of the elevator door open and the sounds of a busy reception hall, then the sounds of a busy street.

She called for a taxi and once the door was closed behind her, she said, “All right, babe, what’s the problem.”

He opened his mouth to tell her but he just broke down.

“I–I thought I was happy in Seattle, but I’ve never felt more alive since coming back here. Seeing old friends, cruising familiar streets. It feels like home. When I first left I didn’t think there was anything in that town that would make me happy.” He let out a shuddering breath and ran his fingers through his hair. “I–I knew that the kids would all leave and they have. But Wayne is still here. Steve and Robin, too. The town has gotten softer. Something I never thought possible. I saw three same sex couples just vibing.”

He choked back a sob. “I thought everything I ever wanted was in Seattle and this trip was just about closing the doors that I left hanging open. Bu–but, oh god!” He threw his head back and covered his eyes. His lips quivered as the pain in his heart spread out through his chest. “Steve is still the one. I know, I know. I talk a lot of shit about love and there not being one person out there who’s your soulmate. but God, Chrissy. He’s it. I felt more myself the last three days then have the last five years.”

He let out another choking sob. “I don’t know what to do. He is like that first ray of sunlight after weeks of storms.”

“Oh, Eddie...” she cried.

“He signed the papers,” Eddie murmured. “And now I wish he hadn’t. I want to just tear up the papers and set fire to them. But I can’t do that to you. I won’t.”

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. Tell me what I can do and I’ll do it.”

He just sobbed and sobbed, forcing through the words that would tell her what he needed.

“Let me make a couple of phone calls, okay?” Chrissy said before hanging up.

Eddie murmured his thanks and then let her go. His brain went on autopilot and found himself on the pavement in front of the post office.

He stared at the mailbox in front of him in abject horror.

He had put the divorce papers in the mail and didn’t sign them himself.

****

Chrissy sighed. It was hard on Eddie she knew. He had spent the last decade running from himself and now he was face to face with the best parts of his past, not understanding why it felt so good.

She opened the file on Eddie’s divorce, the annulments had gone through just fine. It was just that one marriage.

She found what she was looking for and dialed the number.

“Sweetie’s Treats,” the female voice said in a faux cheerful customer service voice. “This is Robin what I can I get for you today?”

Chrissy took a deep breath and let out slow. “Hey, I’m Chrissy Cunningham, Eddie’s fianceé. I sorry, but I really need to talk to Steve.”

“Yeah...” Robin said. “No can do.”

Chrissy rubbed her her temple in frustration. “Eddie called me this morning in a hell of state and I just want to talk to Steve. It’s not anything bad, I guess I want to meet the person who has Eddie’s heart.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Robin said, “you can’t talk to him right now because he is working with the large stand mixer.”

Chrissy immediately pictured a KitchenAid mixer and huffed out her frustration. “Can’t he step away from it for a moment?”

“Sorry, no can do,” Robin said tersely. “He’s pouring in the sugar and has to put it in at specific intervals.”

Her temper was fraying with every passing moment with this woman. “Can I call his cellphone and you can hold it up to his ear?”

There was a bark of laughter. “That would also be a no. That thing has eaten three cellphones already and I’m not about to feed the beast another thanks.”

Chrissy blinked for a moment. “Just how big is this mixer anyway?”

This time the laughter was less bitter and more genuine.

“The size of a fifty gallon drum.”

“Oh!”

Robin cackled. “Yeah, when you have to make two hundred cookies, you aren’t going to be using a little electric hand mixer.”

“What kind of cookies?” she asked before she realized what was coming out of her mouth.

“Snickerdoodles,” she said, her grin evident even through the phone.

Chrissy shook her head. She was on a mission, damn it. She wouldn’t let let herself be distracted by baked goods!

“Okay,” she said, shoring herself up for a battle. “How about I talk to you and tell him what I said?”

“Sure,” Robin said. “I wouldn’t mind getting to know the girl who was the cause of Eddie’s bi awakening.”

Chrissy licked her lips slowly. “So about that...”

There was silence on the line long enough that she pulled the phone away to make sure the call was still connected.

“Are you his beard?” came the quiet reply. “Is this a lavender wedding?”

A little bell went off above Chrissy head. Oh. Maybe this wasn’t as hopeless as she thought.

“Yes,” she said, biting the bullet. “But not in the way you think.”

She could almost picture the head tilt of the bird on the other end of the line when Robin said, “Oh? Do tell.”

“Give me a second,” Chrissy said. ��My taxi just pulled up to my apartment and I need to pay the driver.”

“Sure.”

Chrissy paid the man and hurried up to the stairs to her apartment, she fitted her keys into the lock and tossed her purse and keys on the table next to the door.

“So here’s the sitch,” she said flopping on her sofa with a heavy sigh.

****

Eddie opened the little door on the front with wide eyes. The door prevented people from sticking his hand in and grabbing it. He grabbed his hair.

“Fuck, fuck!” he cried. This day kept getting worse and worse. He opened the door again, hoping he could see a way to disable it.

He probably could, given the right tool. But as he was looking a little too closely another person walked by and eyed him suspiciously.

“Shit!” He looked down at himself and let loose a string of more colorful curse words.

Eddie looked like he was about to knock off the mailbox and make off with several felonies worth of someone else’s mail.

He was going to start crying again. He gripped his hair tightly as he paced back and forth.

He felt a hand on his elbow and he wasn’t be ashamed to say that the shriek that came out of him was the most emasculating sound in existence.

“Eddie,” Jonathan said. “Shit! I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Once Eddie had landed back on his feet like the scaredy-cat he was, he whirled around to see the oldest Byers boy looking at him with such concern.

“Hey, Johnny,” he breathed. “I’m sorry. God, today is the worst.”

Jonathan huffed a laugh. “You know, you are the only one I’ve ever met who doesn’t call me Jonathan.”

Eddie blushed. “I call everyone nicknames. I can stop if you want.”

Jonathan shook his head. “It was an observation, not a criticism.”

“Someone’s been hanging out with Nancy Wheeler a little too much,” Eddie huffed, already feeling better in the quiet presence of this man.

Jonathan threw his head back and laughed. “I hope so, we’re getting married next year.”

Eddie snapped his fingers. “That’s right. You did tell me that. Shit, man it feels like a life time ago.”

“You still love Steve, don’t you?” he said gently.

Eddie opened his mouth to deny it, but snapped it shut. He waved his hand at the mailbox. “It doesn’t matter. He signed the divorce papers, but my dumbass forgot to sign them too. So I need to get them back, but I don’t how.”

Jonathan smiled and then held up one finger. He went into the post office and five minutes later came out with his mom who carried the biggest key chain he’d ever seen.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Joyce greeted softly. “Let’s get this back for you.”

Eddie told her what it looked like and who it was addressed to.

After a little bit of searching, she turned around with the manilla envelope and handed it back to him.

“Next time,” she said with a smile. “Just come in and ask and we’ll be happy to grab it for you.”

Eddie nodded, clutching it to his chest and thanking her profusely. He took Jonathan out to lunch for the rescue.

They took it and sat on a park bench away from everyone else.

“Thanks for the gallant rescue, man,” Eddie said around his bite of his sandwich. “I was going to have a full blown breakdown right there on Hawkins Main and it wouldn’t have been pretty.”

“It’s no problem,” Jonathan said. “I’m glad it worked out.” He nodded to the papers on the table between them. “You going to sign them?”

Eddie let out a long sigh. “I have to.”

“You keep saying that,” he huffed. “But I don’t think you do. Shit, Eddie. I saw you and him at the carnival and it was like time travel. Like I was transported back a decade when you were both happy and free. He had his face buried in those stuff animals you’d won for him and you looked at him like he’d hung the moon.”

Eddie shook his head. “Look, you can’t tell anyone about this. It’s technically a crime. But it’s the only choice we have. Chrissy was here on a school visa from Barbados and she usually gets a work visa for the summer. Only there was a mix up and she didn’t get her work visa and her school visa is for while she’s at school. Which considering it was only for three months, I figured as long as she didn’t say anything to anyone, she could skate on through.”

“I’m guessing that’s not what happened?” Jonathan pressed. He took a bite of sandwich and nudged Eddie to eat.

Eddie took another bite, but really didn’t taste it. He choked it down around the bile in his throat. He shook his head.

“She works at a law firm,” he said mournfully. “Their HR department found out pretty much immediately. They, of course, alerted Immigration and was told to find another way to get a visa or be sent back to Barbados.”

“Hence getting the married?” Jonathan suggested.

He nodded. “We can’t let anyone know, because then we could get into trouble for fraud or whatever. I do love her, but not like that. Not like Steve.”

Jonathan huffed a laugh. He was silent for a moment and then shook his head sadly. “He went up to Seattle, you know.”

Eddie’s head snapped up. “What? When?”

“Right after you settled up there and started tattooing,” Jonathan said, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “He was there for a week. I think he went up there to ask you to come home. But when he found you, he also found a large city and a friendly LGBTQ community and he just couldn’t bare to ask you to return to homophobic Hawkins.”

Eddie’s lip quivered. He hadn’t known. His head spun as his world tilted off its axis.

“When he came back, he couldn’t really tell Robin the truth,” Jonathan continued. “That he couldn’t get up the courage to even see you closer than through the windows of the shop. So he told her he couldn’t find you and then vowed to make something of himself. Something you could be proud of.”

Tears slipped down Eddie’s cheeks and he pressed his hand to his mouth to keep the whimper that tried to escape between his teeth.

“The bakery...” he murmured.

Jonathan nodded. “Him and Robin starting working there together like they always do, to help save up for her to go to college.”

Eddie smiled, a weak, wet, little thing, but it was there. Steve and Robin, two peas in a pod. They always worked together since the summer after Steve graduated and Robin was about to start her senior year. They had worked at an ice cream parlor in the mall. When it burned down just a couple of months later due to shoddy workmanship, they had forged a friendship in literal fire.

“They weren’t intending to make it a permanent thing,” Jonathan continued, breaking into his thoughts. “But Steve’s good. He took a shop that only barely keeping itself in the black and made it into the thriving thing you see today.”

Eddie nodded. He was proud of Steve. And Robin. And all the things they managed to succeed in doing.

Jonathan hugged him tightly. “I won’t say to stay here with Steve and leave your financée to her fate, because that would be cruel and for all your faults, man, you aren’t cruel. And neither am I.”

Eddie let out a shuddering breath. And then another.

“You’ll do the right thing,” Jonathan said. “You might not figure it out right away, but somehow you always manage to get to the right thing in the end.”

Eddie finished his sandwich and thanked him for everything. Just being there when he needed someone.

And as he drove away from the park he felt lighter than he had in years.

****

I realize that that's probably not how visas work, but I'm just gonna hand wave that away for the drama.

Tag List: SIX SLOTS OPEN

Part 9 Part 10

1- @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @ravenfrog @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @goodolefashionedloverboi

3- @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @mac-attack19

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1

5- @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

6- @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95

7- @blackpanzy @amazing-spiderkeys @oldpinghai @raisedbylibrarians @kultiras

8- @swimmingbirdrunningrock @steddie-as-they-go @captain--low @micheledawn1975 @thespaceantwhowrites

9- @blondie1006 @stripey82 @w1ll0wtr33 @mcenziehughes

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #rom com au

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asphodeline-lutea · 3 months ago

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I think that quite a number of people who read the httyd books didn’t get a good hold of Book 11’s entire plot, but this book actually has maybe the most intricate plots (or so I think!), with a large portion of them hidden underwater, away from the reader’s direct view, and I have never read any analysis done about this part, so here are some Very Important things I found while doing my Book 11 analyses —

Excellinor planned for Snotlout to find Hiccup and trick him into coming to the war bunker, better if with the last Lost Thing — Toothless, and then force Hiccup to tell her the whereabouts of the Dragonmarkers’ Hideout in front of all the captured Dragonmarkers.

Excellinor sent Spydragons to catch one of Hiccup’s friends during the start of her plan, to force him to come, in case he didn’t trust Snotlout enough, or had realized that the latter was lying.

In fact, Hiccup knew that Snotlout was lying and was going to betray them, that this was part of Excellinor’s plan, possibly soon after they rescued Snotlout. So he chose to turn her plan on itself, by letting Toothless be taken away to the other Things’ hiding place, then using the Hogfly to track Toothless down, thus finding all the Things.

But of course Hiccup didn’t know of the torture that the witch had in mind for him… and he still had to come up with a plan to rescue Camicazi. During the “torture scene”, when Hiccup said “There is nothing you can do to me, that will make me change my mind”, he was actually hinting at the witch to “torture” Camicazi instead, while he knew that Windwalker underwater will rescue her. Then, during Camicazi’s “torture”, he pretended to give in, then pretended to not be able to talk or point, getting the witch to unchain him so he could escape.

It seems that Snotlout did think of stealing the Things and trying to become King when he agreed to play the part in Excellinor’s plan, but he may be looking for an opportunity to do so rather than having a complete plan. This, however, was completely destroyed after Excellinor “dispatched” him with her words in Chapter 10.

After releasing the Dragonmarkers (I’m not sure the exact reason why Snotlout did this, but I think he was not going to stick to the Alvinsmens’ side after what just happened, and releasing these people would cause some chaos, which might be useful for his later actions), Snotlout silently follows Hiccup to the ship on his Hurricane. He intended to defeat Hiccup in what would not be a fair swordfight (more on this later I promise), but I don’t think he wanted to actually kill Hiccup or take the things. Nor did he plan to reveal his pain and despair at having Turned his Back on himself — that was sort of out of control for him. (Like… you know what you get when you suppress certain emotions for too long? Not good) I’d say that he more or less knew/felt Hiccup’s attitude and feelings towards him, and to him this was confusing and irritating (this is Very Complicated, I will write more posts on this later), so he was going to scream it out at Hiccup.

When Snotlout flew out on Windwalker’s back towards the Alvinsmen, he not only knew that he was going to die (hinted in Book 11, stated/mentioned that he was “facing certain death” in Book 12), but also actually planned for himself to die, in order for his plan to work, to make the Alvinsmen believe that Hiccup had been killed, and therefore protect Hiccup until he reaches Tomorrow.

The plans of different characters are interlocked with each other, forming the plot of this book, and a huge portion of it is hidden under the surface, but visible if you look closely enough. This is truly the work of a great writer and storyteller.

#httyd books #httyd books analysis #how to betray a dragon's hero #hiccup the third #snotface snotlout #toothless #camicazi #Excellinor #Book 11 runs in my hyperfixated brain nearly every day #I can almost recite it by now…#and I constantly analyze it…#the Thoughts and Emotions are filling up my brain and I HAVE to get them out

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thatgiraffefromtlou · 6 days ago

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The Aurora Project

(part 2)

(tumblr won’t let me tag part one for some odd reason but it’s in my pinned post! make sure you read that first 🫶🏻)

summary: as a result of a malfunction, you and ellie awaken from cryosleep aboard a spaceship with no memory. will you find evidence that you're more than just shipmates? something to give reason to your nagging familiarity to the stranger you wake up next to?

warnings: eventual explicit language, potential for smut in later chapters (depending), uh cringy teasing idk- Imk if there's more this is also pretty tame-

A/N: so erm this definitely isn’t the best work of mine i won’t lie to you guy. it’s only slightly proof read 🧍🏼 like i said the results of this election has my mind kind elsewhere, but writing is still very therapeutic for me and i really wanted to get something put out for you guys! plus im excited to post this and continue this story and i don’t want that to be taken from me. anyways enough about that i hope you guys enjoy!!

work count: 2.6K (ik sorry they will eventually be longer)

– Chapter two -

"Maybe your eye would work?" you break the silence, your voice echoing softly in the open space. You and Ellie sit on either side of the exit, your backs pressed against the cool, metallic walls. It took you two what felt like forever, but you finally found a door. The hope that cascaded through your bodies upon first seeing the door was palpable, a surge of excitement that quickly dissipated the moment you realized it was locked. The lock mechanism, a complex array of technological marvels you’ve never encountered, had multiple parts, but only needed one of the three ways to get through: an eye scanner, a password, or a thumbprint.

The eye scanner looked like a floating camera, or at least that's the best way you could describe it. It hovered eerily, set maybe a foot above a see-through keyboard that seemed to defy gravity. Glowing boxes surrounded glowing letters, numbers, and symbols, creating an otherworldly interface. It was strange, almost disconcerting, the way those two things seemed to float beside the door, as if held in place by some invisible force. In stark contrast, the fingerprint scan was firmly affixed to the actual door itself, a more tangible and familiar security measure. Either way, two of these things you thought Ellie might be able to manipulate, given her potential credentials.

"Huh?" Ellie turns her head to you, her brows furrowed in confusion and her upper lip slightly risen on one side, creating an expression of both intrigue and skepticism. "It's a shot in the dark but..." you begin, your mind racing to connect the dots, "Our name plates—only you had 'Dr.' in front of your name." You shrug your shoulders and lick your lips, your theory on the tip of your tongue. Turning your body to face more in her direction, your legs tucking slightly under your thighs in an attempt to get comfortable on the hard floor, you continue, "Maybe you have some form of authority here? I mean, hell, maybe you're even an astronaut? It's not too far-fetched considering our surroundings."

She looked at you with an expression that was a perfect blend of disbelief and flattery, as if you had just said the most absurd yet complimentary thing imaginable. Her eyes widened slightly, eyebrows raised, creating a very confused expression that spoke volumes. "Or," she countered, her voice tinged with a hint of skepticism, "I'm just a doctor who practices medicine and they need doctors in this place we're headed towards? It seems more likely, doesn't it?" Your shoulders literally slump at that, the weight of disappointment settling on you. "Yeah, you're probably right…" you concede, your voice trailing off.

You sit with your back against the wall again, the cool surface a stark reminder of your predicament. Your mind starts racing, deciding to go back to the drawing board. Maybe there's another door on the other side? Air vents? As these thoughts swirl in your head, Ellie suddenly stands up, her movement catching you off guard. She leans over slightly, putting her eye at level with the scanner, a look of determination etched on her face. You look up at her curiously, and suddenly there's a beep—a sharp, electronic sound that cuts through the silence—and the doors slide open with a smooth, hydraulic hiss.

You get on your feet immediately, adrenaline surging through your body, and she turns back to you, her face a mask of genuine shock mirroring your own. "No way..." you say in awe, your voice barely above a whisper as you look through the now open door. The view beyond is bleak, not really what you were hoping for. Just another long walkway stretches before you, more walkways branching off like a labyrinth of sterile corridors. "Guess I am an astronaut..." Ellie says quietly, a smile playing on her lips, tinged with a mixture of pride and bewilderment.

You look back to her, her smile a welcome contrast to the boring white hallway that seems to stretch endlessly before you. You can't help but smile back, a sense of camaraderie growing between you. "Of course you are," you say, your voice filled with a newfound confidence, "I'm never wrong." Ellie huffs air out of her nose in a small laugh, her smile widening as she shakes her head, a gesture that seems both exasperated and fond. She takes a deep breath, straightening her back again, and steps into the hallway with cautious steps. You follow close behind, your footsteps echoing in the empty corridor. The doors close with a whooshing sound behind you both, sealing off the room you just left.

"Why'd you give it a try?" you ask, curiosity getting the better of you as you fall into step beside her. Ellie shrugs, her eyes scanning the corridor ahead. "Better than sitting there with no solution," she replies, her tone matter-of-fact. She glances at you, a hint of amusement in her eyes, "and something told me you're never wrong or whatever." You smile as the warm sense of familiarity fills you again, this time less scary but just as confusing as before. It's a feeling you can't quite place, like a half-remembered dream or a song you can't quite recall. "Fair enough," you joke a little, your voice light.

Silence settles over the two of you for a moment before you speak again, "So, Dr. Ellie," you say, emphasizing her title with a playful tone, a little pep in your step, your body angled more towards her than forward. "What's our next move? Any pearls of astronaut wisdom to share with us mere mortals?" The question is wrapped in a layer of jest, but underneath, it's clear you're both grappling with the same pressing concern: what on earth—or rather, what in space—are you supposed to do now?

Ellie responds with a soft chuckle, her eyes never ceasing their scan of the corridors stretching out before you. "Well," she begins, her voice tinged with a hint of self-deprecation, "If I had to guess, I think our best bet would be to find some kind of control room or like a central hub. I mean.. there's bound to be a nerve center somewhere." As she speaks, her hands move in small, unconscious gestures, as if trying to shape her thoughts in the air.

She gives a little shrug, the movement almost diminishing the weight of her ideas. It's a strange contradiction—the self-assurance in her logic juxtaposed against a hint of awkwardness in her delivery. The dichotomy is intriguing; she clearly knows she's smart, but there's a flutter of something—maybe modesty, maybe uncertainty—when that intelligence is on display.

You nod, genuinely impressed by her logical approach despite her hesitation. "Makes sense," you agree, your voice trailing off a little as you mull over her suggestion. After a moment you ask, "Any ideas on how we might go about finding this hypothetical control room?"

Ellie's eyebrows lift a fraction, and when she speaks again, her words seem to require a touch more effort than before, as if she's carefully weighing each one. "Well, we could start by looking for signs, I suppose?" Her gaze flicks to you briefly before returning to the path ahead, a mix of consideration and caution in her eyes. "Or, failing that, we could follow the main corridor?" She gestures ahead with a sweep of her hand. "In my experience-“ she cuts herself off in a fluster. “Or what I think might be my experience, given our current memory situation—important areas are usually centrally located and well-marked."

You hum thoughtfully and nod, acknowledging the soundness of her strategy. "So, essentially, we keep walking straight until we stumble upon another door or some kind of signage?" A note of playful sarcasm creeps into your voice as you add, "Sounds absolutely thrilling..."

Ellie responds with an eye roll, but there's a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth, softening the gesture. "Well, unless you've got a better idea tucked away in that sarcasm-filled brain of yours, Captain Quip, I think that's our best bet for now." She pauses for a beat, then adds with a touch of dry humor coloring her words, "Who knows? Maybe if we're really lucky, we'll stumble upon a space casino or an alien petting zoo along the way."

"A petting zoo?" you echo, latching onto the absurd image with enthusiasm. "Maybe they've got some kind of high-tech Noah's Ark situation going on up here." The mental picture draws a laugh from both of you, the sound a welcome break in the tension. As your chuckles subside, you're struck by a sudden realization. "You know what? I could really go for a drink right now. God, I'm thirsty. Are you thirsty too?" The question hangs in the air for a moment before you notice something's off. You turn, expecting to see Ellie beside you, but she's nowhere in sight. Confusion floods your system. Wasn't she just—

You’re quickly interrupted by the sound of your name being called. It's Ellie's voice, but it's coming from at least 20 feet behind you. You spin around, your eyes searching, and finally spot her. She's standing in front of a doorway, her arm extended, finger pointing at something beyond. "Look," she calls again, her voice a mix of excitement and wariness.

You quickly jog back to where Ellie is standing. As you draw closer, you see what has captured her attention: before you a mini hall, maybe 3 feet long ending with a small door.

Your gaze follows Ellie's pointing finger to the side of the door, where a placard identical to those at the foot of your pods catches your attention. The name 'Dr. Williams' is etched onto its surface, below her name is a simple +1, causing a small jolt of recognition to course through you. "Oh..." you breathe, the single syllable barely audible as it escapes your lips. Your eyes dart between Ellie and the plain white door, a feeling of apprehension swirling in your gut.

"Well, let's open it," you suggest, your voice a blend of impatience and nervousness. Ellie responds with a nod, her face showing her own set of conflicting emotions. She reaches out, her hand settling on the doorknob - a long, flat apparatus that stands out against the sterile white of the door. Your eyes are drawn to a peculiar smooth shiny black rectangle spot near where the handle attaches to the door, its purpose unclear but somehow significant.

Ellie's fingers wrap around the handle, and she attempts to turn it. The door remains closed, the handle refusing to even budge an inch. A look of frustration flashes across her face as she tries again, her knuckles almost whitening with the force of her grip. Still, the door doesn't budge.

You watch intently as Ellie's brow furrows in concentration, her fingers now tracing the outline of the mysterious black spot. Suddenly, Ellie's eyes widen with realization, and she presses her thumb firmly against the black square. The silence that follows seems to stretch for an eternity, both of you holding your breath in anticipation. Then, a soft beep fills the air, shattering the tension.

Ellie turns the handle again and the door responds with a soft click as she pushes the door open. You and Ellie exchange a quick glance, a wordless communication passing between you. Taking a deep, steadying breath, you both step forward in unison. The room is small, almost like a one room apartment. The white sterile walls not following you into this space. You both set forward, Ellie in the lead as you both wordlessly scan the room. The walls may be white, but the room itself is vibrant with personality and life.

Every available surface is adorned with an array of memorabilia - framed photographs capturing moments frozen in time, colorful posters that speak of diverse interests, and shelves lined with an assortment of knick-knacks, each telling its own story. These decorations form a protective cocoon around the full-sized bed nestled at the far end of the room, creating a cozy sanctuary within the larger space. The front area of the room seamlessly blends the functionality of a kitchen with the comfort of a living room, defying the sterile environment beyond its walls.

As you step further into the room, your senses are overwhelmed by a collection of different scents, each fighting for dominance in the recycled air of the ship. The rich, invigorating aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingles with the smoky, complex notes of aged whiskey. A faint, earthy scent of stale marijuana lingers in the background. Underpinning it all is a warm, masculine fragrance - reminiscent of a what you’d smell when you hug a Southern dad, all sun-warmed cotton and subtle cologne.

Despite the main overhead light being off, the room is bathed in a gentle, welcoming glow. A strategically placed array of lamps and twinkling string lights cast a soft, amber radiance throughout the space. This warm illumination not only brightens the room but also seems to ignite a spark of recognition deep within you. As your eyes adjust and roam over the personal touches scattered throughout, you can't shake the feeling that this space is somehow intimately familiar, as if you've spent countless hours within these very walls, or at least around these things.

Ellie quietly calls your name, her voice tinged with a mixture of excitement and uncertainty. You slowly turn around to see her sitting on what you presume to be her bed, a framed photograph clutched in her hands. You make your way over to her, each step feeling both familiar and foreign on the ship's floor. As you settle beside her on the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under your combined weight, she carefully turns the photo to face you both.

The image captured within the frame immediately draws your attention. It's a snapshot of what appears to be a Halloween party, the background a blur of festive decorations and revelers. But it's the subjects of the photo that truly catch your eye - you and Ellie, looking carefree and happy, your costumes as whimsical as they are clever.

You find yourself staring at your own image, barely recognizing the person looking back at you. You're dressed in an elaborate moth costume, complete with intricately designed wings and antennae. Your costume-clad self is caught mid-motion, planting an exaggerated kiss on Ellie's cheek. Ellie, for her part, is sporting what can only be described as a lampshade on her head, her face alight with laughter and warmth.

The juxtaposition of the costumes isn't lost on you - a moth drawn to a lamp, a visual pun that speaks of inside jokes and shared humor. It's a moment of connection, of joy, frozen in time and preserved behind glass.

"Oh..." you breathe, the word barely more than an exhale. The photo feels like a key, unlocking a flood of emotions you can't quite place. Familiarity wars with the unsettling feeling of looking at strangers wearing your faces.

"Oh..." Ellie echoes, her voice a mirror of your own confusion and wonder. Her eyes flick between the photo and your face, searching for something - recognition, perhaps, or confirmation that you're feeling the same tumult of emotions that she is.

The silence stretches between you, filled with unspoken questions and the weight of implications neither of you are quite ready to voice.

A/N: hehehe lmk if you wanna be added to the tag listttttt

tag list: @autisticintr0vert (if you’re not tagged and asked to be, please check to make sure you’re ability to be tagged is on because your username did not show up!)

#ellie williams #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams × reader #ellie smut

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agent-cupcake · 10 months ago

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Flashbang

Chapter 1 - Puppet Loosely Strung

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: Running away to join the circus doesn’t go exactly as you hoped it would.

Warnings: Mentions of past abuse, murder, generally dark content

Word Count: 13.9k

Disclaimer: I don’t read the manga or watch the anime. This is based solely on OPLA Buggy because Jeff Ward.

Some quick notes before we start: This is what I've been working on this since October. Originally it was going to be one really big one-shot posted at the same time, but it's big enough that I can justify posting it as a series. I'll add warnings as I go, but this is not a happy story and there will be explicit content later on. The reader character might not be somebody you see yourself in, I had a very specific image of what character I had in mind while writing. To me, reader fic is more of a sort of play acting rather than "oh that's literally me" but I know that's not everybody's cup of tea. A lot of this is cope fic and it shows. When times get rough the porn gets rougher, right?

I had help writing this from an individual who is very dear to me. Flashbang wouldn't exist without her, especially since she was the one who gave me the clown brain rot. And then there has been the hours of brainstorming and spitballing and watching Jeff Ward shows/movies as she continued to feed my addiction. Thank you, my love, and also damn you because this wasn't what I needed.

New chapter every Sunday. Enjoy~

“Let me put myself in your shoes

As a puppet loosely strung

Around you, they were so confused

That a faulty man could have so much fun”

All it took was a little doubt. Through logic or confusion or wishful thinking, you could be convinced that the insignificant person who had parasitically driven you around for the past however many years was a stranger, and now they were gone. Everything that had ever happened fell into incomprehensible dust, and every thought you ever had belonged to somebody else. A cycle of a million memories you didn’t recognize spun through this foggy place, none of them real, none of them familiar.

Logic, confusion, wishful thinking, or unconsciousness. An endless dream of nothing at all. But as soon as you became aware, it was awareness that those thoughts happened in the past tense, crushed inward by the unrelenting force of existence, and you were shoved back into a body. You—not the real you, the stranger you, the one made of heat and fury and pain, the one you couldn’t recognize—were gasping and thrashing in ignorant confusion, coughing out the sickening taste of blood in your throat.

Everything, all of it, hurt. And that was all that existed.

Until it wasn’t.

Your panicked thrashing made you realize that you were upright, your body straining painfully against the various chains keeping you pinned against the wall in an X. The position put nearly all of your weight on your shoulders and left your head to sag heavily to the side, making the terrible, dizzying headache that much worse. Having suffered more than your fair share of them, you knew that this headache was from more than an uncomfortable position or your old injury. A hot throbbing pain radiated out from the back of your head, shooting little sparks down your spine. It hurt bad enough that nausea formed a tight, heavy ball in your stomach. Gritting your teeth, you forced your eye open, fighting the urge to cringe away from the light as it rolled this way and that. Colors and lights were nothing more than a nauseating smear, but at least you could see.

Little by little, you became aware of yourself. From far away, you had a vague recollection of leaving, of nerves, excitement, and then of danger. But… no, why weren’t you at home? Doom settled in its rightful place as you realized exactly how little you remembered or knew, slotting into the spot of coherence and reason. Despite the pain, you fought against the shackles holding you in the uncomfortable position, irrationally desperate to be free of them.

“There she is! Finally,” somebody said from your left. His voice hit like a hammer to the back of your aching head. You strained to look at the speaker, he sounded close, but you couldn’t turn your head far enough to make up for your limited vision.

Luckily, he didn’t stay out of sight for long. The man’s boots were loud and deliberate as he slowly moved out of your literal blind spot. To your ill-adjusting eye, he was not much more than a blur of white and red and blue, his big smile smudged as you rapidly blinked to focus. A little shock of meaningless recognition in your brain saw the makeup and red nose and said ‘clown’, but the sheer ridiculousness of that made you even more sure that this wasn’t real.

“Not a fun way to wake up, is it?” he asked. “Keep breathing, let it drain back and cough it out. Trust me, it’s over quicker that way.”

The question you tried to form was, “Who are you?” but all you could manage was a heavy groan followed by a fit of painful coughs, wheezing raggedly in between. Each desperate convulsion rattled the chains and caused the wood to creak, but did nothing to free your bound limbs. The man seemed bored by it, annoyed he had to wait for you to get ahold of yourself.

Since he hadn’t immediately helped you down, you could only assume that he was the one who shackled you in the first place. Strung you up against a wooden board of some kind in a room you didn’t know. Cramped and windowless, it reeked of paint and sweat and sawdust and sweet salty rot—a unique smell that didn’t help your nausea. Clutter stacked up against the walls. Dense, humid air pressed against you like a heavy coat, paradoxically chilling. Probably because of the fever burning beneath your skin, slicking you up with sweat, soaking into your clothes and the bandana you kept wrapped around your head over the left eye.

Breathe. You focused on your breathing. Panic wouldn’t help you.

“You done?” he asked. Without any other choices, you turned your head to shamefully wipe your face off on your sleeve before nodding. “Great. Well, now that you’re awake… Welcome!” He threw out his arms with the flamboyant manner of a showman with the greeting, but they wilted right after, his big smile dropping a bit. “Or, at least, that’s what I would say if you hadn’t let yourself in and stolen the opportunity from me.”

That was bad. Very, very bad. You jerked in an awkward, uncoordinated burst, physically reacting to the danger he presented.

“No, no, don’t leave on my account,” he said, waving his hands and getting closer as if to stop you. “Oh wait, you can’t! Hah! Yeah, ‘cause of the chains.” He smiled affably, like it was a harmless joke, standing close enough for his gloved fingers to skim along the chain wrapped around your neck. “I guess you’re not going anywhere, huh?”

You didn’t respond, barely daring to breathe when he was so close. Smiles and melodrama aside, his blue eyes were oddly dead, fixed on you without the slightest bit of humor. And then it finally came back to you, the vital thing that you should have known, that you would have known if you weren’t strung up and suffering such a crippling headache. The makeup, the nose, the hat—

“You’re,” you began to say, but your voice was hoarse and weak, you could barely get it out when he was looking at you so closely, so intently. You cleared your throat, wincing at the metallic taste. “You’re the-that pirate captain Buggy, like on the-the poster?” Right! The clown guy, the red-nosed pirate. You were looking for him. So this was… good, wasn’t it?

He gave you a flat look, clearly not sharing your weak enthusiasm. “Yes. I am that pirate captain. Buggy, the Genius Jester? The most feared pirate captain in all the East Blue?” He turned with a dramatic flick of his coat, messing with something that had to flash silver before you realized it was a knife. “The man destined to find the One Piece and become King of the Pirates. Yes. I am that pirate captain. And,” he paused, checking to make sure you were paying attention, “a very busy, very important man. I’ve got, oh, ten minutes or so for you to decide how this is gonna go. So let’s get straight to it.” He turned back, pointing the knife at you. “Who are you, and what are you after?”

The accusatory tone of his voice took you aback. “Nothing… I’m not anybody,” you stammered out. “And this… this isn’t what it looks like, I swear.”

Buggy, to your surprise, relented after a second of considering your appeal, nodding understandingly.

There was no transition from his look of sympathy to raising the knife and aiming it at you. By the time you realized he meant to throw it, you barely had a chance to yelp. The blade took a loud, thumping bite into the wood beside you. On your left side, of course. Where you couldn’t see it. You could feel it, though. The air displacement ruffled the fine hairs around your ear. If you had flinched in that direction, it probably would be in your skull. With your dizzy head aching and confused, you had no regulation to your fear or discomfort, your breathing dangerously unsteady and tears pricking the corner of your eyes.

“Let me try a different question,” Buggy said before you could collect yourself, pulling out another knife. “Who else knows about this place?”

“Nobody! I swear, nobody else. I was just…” You didn’t know what to say. It was all you could do to breathe the thick, heavy air and fight down the tide of nausea.

“Just what?” Buggy asked, leaning in with raised eyebrows to show that he was listening intently. You opened and closed your mouth, unable to come up with the right words. Thoughts churned through the thick sludge in your head, getting stuck or lost or confused.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, the stumbling apology coming out more naturally than anything else, an attempt to buy time while you organized your thoughts. “Please doh-don’t…. I’m so ss-sorry.”

Buggy sighed, standing up straight and raising his hand to aim.

“Nonono, please d-” You yelped louder this time, flinching away as the knife streaked through the air and stuck not even an inch away from your right cheek. You exhaled a pathetic little sob, whatever you were bound to shaking with your body.

“Listen, honey buns,” Buggy said. “Drop the act. Stop the whining. I caught you, red handed, sneaking into my lair.” He pulled something out of his pocket. Not another knife, but a piece of paper which he unfolded, holding it up for you to see. His wanted poster, creased into sixths from the way you folded it to keep it close, to keep it hidden. “I found this in your bag. You know who I am, and you know where you are. You have to, so let’s do away with all the theatrics, okay?”

You swallowed hard, nodding quickly in the hope that it would appease him.

“Right now, this is a conversation,” Buggy said, gesturing between the two of you. “A light interrogation, really. But if you keep being uncooperative and wasting my time, it’s gonna go from being interrogate-y to being torture-y real quick. You don’t want that, right?” Although he was unmistakably threatening you, Buggy’s tone was more natural than before. There was a bluntness to it, an honesty. Men like him didn’t idly use words like torture.

You sniffed, trying very hard to calm yourself down. This was a misunderstanding, so you just had to convince him. Simple as that. He would understand. You would make him understand.

“Right,” you agreed.

“Fantastic. So,” he loudly clapped his hands together, “who else knows about this place?”

“Nobody, I promise… I’m really sorry I broke in,” you told him, speaking slowly so your words didn’t catch. “I just wanted to meet with you.”

Buggy’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, the hair hanging out from the sides of his hat swaying as his head tilted curiously. “You’re a fan?” he clarified. “That explains why you’re so pathetic. Well I hate to break it to you, but there’s a reason I only hold meet and greets after shows.”

“No, that’s not why! I-I want to join your crew,” you said. “I came to ask you to let me join your crew.”

He blinked twice, staring at you with obvious disbelief. “Excuse me, what?”

“I want to be a pirate,” you told him, louder. “Please. Please let me join your crew.”

Buggy’s expression didn’t change, but you could see the rippling shift of incredulity, befuddlement, skepticism, and then amusement in his eyes. That emotion burst outward into a loud laugh, making you flinch. “That’s the best you can do?” he asked. “Ask to join my crew?” He looked at you again, laughing even harder. “I don’t know what’s funnier—that anybody would send you to spy on me, or that you’d think I would consider hiring you.”

“I mean it!” you argued, humiliation and desperation seeping into the thousand other discomforts of your position. This wasn’t at all how you wanted this to go.

“Sweetheart,” Buggy said condescendingly, “even assuming I believe you, this is a pirate crew, not an afterschool club.”

“I know. I know what pirates do, I know what you do,” you told him. “I’ll do anything, whatever you want. Please, please, just give me a chance.”

He nodded, turning to pace as he thought about it.

“Okay, let’s say that I buy this… this act of yours,” Buggy said. “Do you have any experience? Maintaining ships, reading maps, loading cannons. You know, basic stuff.”

There was a line you had prepared to answer this question, one that would paint you in the most charitable light. You remembered that, but you couldn’t remember the line. All you could give was the truth. “A little.”

He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Thought so. What about specialties? Unique skills? Any sort of talent that I can use in my show—anything at all. I mean other than,” he gestured vaguely in your direction, “that. We don’t need another one eyed midget. They’re surprisingly common.”

“I’m not a midget,” you told him, nerves fading to incredulity.

Buggy stepped back to size you up before seemingly conceding the point with a shrug. “And the eye?” He covered his left eye to illustrate. “Is that for a bit or something?”

Your stomach twisted with a familiar lurch. Disgust. Shame. Phantom light in the dark. “It’s not.”

“How’d you lose it?”

“I didn’t… lose it.”

“It’s still in there?” he asked excitedly, stepping forward and reaching to remove the bandana. “I have got to see this.”

“No, please—please don’t,” you begged, trying to wriggle away from his hand. Pinned to the board with your hands bound above your head, there was nowhere to go. “Please don’t, please-”

“Come on,” Buggy said, indifferent to your pleas as he pulled the sweat soaked fabric off of your left eye. “How bad could it be—AH!” He yelled in horror, jumping away as if you’d bitten him.

The bandana hit the floor, leaving your ruined eye and its jagged scar exposed. You couldn’t hide. All you could do was flinch back, turning your head away. “I’m sorry,” you said, ready to continue apologizing before you realized that his shock had immediately dissolved into raucous laughter. “Why are you… why are you laughing?” you asked, pulling desperately against the chains.

“I got you good,” Buggy said, his laughter subsiding. “The way you reacted, I thought that you’d be completely deformed. A real sideshow. But this…” He grabbed your chin, forcing it to the side so he could get a better look. “I couldn’t charge for this.”

“Please stop,” you begged, shaking off his grip and staring hard at his shoulder.

“Ohhh. You’re really embarrassed about it.”

You didn’t say anything, focusing mostly on fighting the tears.

“Okay, alright, yeah,” Buggy said, stepping back. “I think I’m starting to get why you would risk life and limb to beg me for a job. You grew up as a cute girl in a shithole town like this. A big fish in a little pond, as they say. Then, suddenly, BAM, you’re deformed, and, sure, they all say that it was tragic, but the truth is that they can’t stand to look at you. Even the people who loved you, the people you trusted, think you’re a freak. They abandoned you. So, without any other options, you come to me, pleading for me to give you a place amidst your fellow freaks. That about it?”

You didn’t say anything—what could you say to that?— which Buggy seemed to take as confirmation, nodding thoughtfully.

“Well, go big or go home, right? As far as a starlet’s breakout role, you couldn’t go any bigger. Thing is, I’m not really looking for new acts. Not to mention your abysmal audition.” He sucked in a breath through his teeth, looking you up and down again.

You could feel your chance slipping away. Just like that. Go big or go home, that’s what he said.

“Please, Captain Buggy,” you begged, staring him in the eye despite how disquieting it was, despite how your skin crawled from exposing your left eye to somebody. Addressing him properly, at the very least, got his attention. “I promise that you won’t regret it. I’ll learn, I want to learn how to be a pirate, how to perform, all of it, everything. And if I can’t, I’ll do laundry and clean and cook, I have lots of experience with that. I don’t care what you ask me to do, if you let me join your crew, I’ll happily serve you for the rest of my life.”

Buggy didn’t respond right away. You thought—hoped—that it meant he understood how serious you were, but his expression gave you nothing. There wasn’t much light in the room in the first place, but somehow he found enough to shine unnervingly in his pale blue eyes. Somebody with a bright red clown nose shouldn’t have been able to look so intimidating, but the way he studied you burned with an uncomfortable intensity. It had been a while since anybody looked at you so frankly, so openly, without disgust or pity.

“Why?” he finally asked.

“Why…?” you repeated, confused.

“I get that you want to leave this place, and I even buy into your whole wanting to be a pirate thing, but, you know, aside from the obvious,” he gestured to himself, “why should I believe that you really want to serve me? You’re young and cute…ish, don’t you want freedom and empowerment and all those other things girls go on and on about?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Why would I?”

A moment of quiet that wasn’t quite silence but twice as heavy passed before a slow smile began to spread over Buggy’s face, and then—of all the bizarre, uncomfortable responses he could have—he laughed. “Oh, you’re broken, aren’t you?” he asked, clearly overjoyed by the revelation. “Well, I’m sold. I’ll have to start you on probation just in case you’re secretly up to no good. But, after that, you can audition for real. I’m sure I can find something you’ll be useful for.”

His reaction gave you whiplash. The word ‘broken’ was obviously bad, but everything else was good. You had succeeded. Only, you didn’t know why. You were still trying to decide if being called cute-ish was a compliment or not.

“Hey, just one more thing, okay?” Buggy asked, tapping your cheek. Standing mere inches away, he smiled a rictus grin. It wrinkled his eyes, but they were without life or pity or mercy. “If you’re lying to me about anything, I’ll carve some symmetry into your cute little face. You’ll thank me for it too. You won’t want to see what the guys will do to you after I toss you out there.”

“I’m not lying,” you said softly, shrinking back. “I promise.”

“Great!” Buggy said, his demeanor immediately cheering up. “Let’s get you down.” He walked behind the board you were strung up on, and you let out a shaky exhale. “Brace yourself,” he called. You had no idea what that meant, or how you were supposed to brace yourself when there was nothing for you to brace yourself on. “Three… two…”

He undid the lock, and the chains keeping you bound to the board went slack. You dropped hard, your limbs as heavy as lead. Luckily, your head was too light to feel anything when you hit the ground with a dull thump and the loud cacophony of rattling chains, spinning and blank and utterly empty. There was a suspended moment of floating, lighter than air itself. And then you were blinking rapidly and nauseous, pain shooting up your arms and knees.

Buggy dropped a key in front of you, metal bouncing on the old concrete.

“Unfortunately we didn’t bring any real props with us, so I had to improvise,” he said. With numb fingers, you grabbed the key and worked it into the locked cuff around your wrist. “You lucked out, if this were the real Wheel of Death, you’d be blowing chunks!” He paused, looking down at you. “Can you hurry this up?”

“Sorry,” you said. Your shaking hands kept missing the keyholes, but you finally got the last lock on your ankle open. The cuffs hadn’t broken skin, but your wrists and ankles were rubbed raw, ugly bruises already developing. You’d had worse.

“Alright, upsy daisy,” Buggy said, crouching down to take the key away and grab the only chain you hadn’t gotten out of—the one around your neck.

It acted as a noose, giving you no other choice but to lurch upward with an unappealing choking sound, your head spinning all over again, the weightless itch tingling all the way down to the base of your spine. You stumbled forward, unintentionally falling against him.

“Holy shit,” Buggy exclaimed, helping you stand up straight with a hand on your shoulder. “I didn’t know girls came in fun size. Legally, at least. Are you sure you’re not just like… the maxiest midget?”

“‘m dizzy,” you muttered, swaying despite his support.

“That’s not really… Ah, whatever. Hey, at least if you fall, you don’t have that far to go.”

“I’m… I’m okay,” you finally said, which was mostly true. Breathing slow, steady breaths helped, and then you shook your head a little. The bump on the back of it throbbed painfully, and you’d have bruises on your knees the size of apples, but you would survive. You were still trying to get control over your body. It was heavy and unwieldy, although part of that must have been the exhaustion.

“If you need to vomit, make sure to aim away from me,” he said. That was about all the warning you got before he decided it was time to go, dragging you along behind him like a dog on a leash.

You realized you were leaving your bandana behind, your left eye uncovered, and reared back, trying to stop him. “Wait, I have to grab my-”

“No time,” he said, talking over you and tugging again at the chain.

There was nothing you could do but stumble over your own feet to keep up with him as he led you through the cluttered and dark storage area. You felt a tiny bit of relief that you were still in the familiar decaying buildings northside. The old warehouses were dark, dank, and dingy. Easily defended and difficult to navigate, perfect for criminals to hide out in. You knew them very well, and that helped orient you.

"As I’m sure you noticed, I’m running a bit of a skeleton crew here. The rest aren’t coming ‘til the grand finale,” Buggy said, leading you into the main warehouse space by the chain around your neck like it was completely normal. The awful smell of rot and decay was only compounded by a sickly sweet, chalky scent you didn’t recognize. Gray sunshine flooded in through the broken windows around the high ceilings, piercingly bright. “And after that, we’re gonna blow this town.”

You didn’t respond, growing even more skittish. The two of you drew the attention of the people scattered around. Some were lounging, others were training. All of them turned to look at you, watching with the dark, focused stare of hungry dogs. Colorfully dressed, very dangerous dogs.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I have an introduction to make!” Buggy called in a loud enough voice to fill the large space. “Crew, new girl. New girl, crew. Make sure to give her a nice, warm welcome." None of them spoke or reacted, watching you with varying degrees of hostility. Buggy pulled you forward a few steps so he could whisper to you. “See that guy?” he asked, pointing to a bald man with square features and an especially dark glare. “That’s Ivo. He was the one who caught you. To be completely honest, I think he’s still a little angry that he didn't get to keep you. If I were you, I’d try to stay on his good side.”

“How?” you asked, your uneasy stomach sinking further, but Buggy was already preoccupied with something else.

“Oh, hey-” he called, flagging down a woman who was leaning against one of the steel supports. You stumbled behind him, holding the chain around your neck to ease the pressure. “Crina, I have got a very important job for you.”

The woman slowly looked from Buggy to you, giving you a weighty once-over with dark, kohl-lined eyes. Her clothes were different from the rest, draped with beads and loose and layered in shades of purple. Beneath the mystique, however, you felt the same hardness you recognized in all the pirate’s faces. “You want me to look after the little rat,” she said with an accent you didn’t recognize.

"God, it’s like you can read minds or something,” Buggy said, laughing. “Anyway, yes. Make sure she doesn’t get up to anything naughty while I’m gone. In fact, don’t let her out of your sight.”

“With all due respect,” Crina said, “why not just kill her?”

“Because I don’t want her dead,” Buggy snapped, suddenly irritated. If Crina was surprised or off put by the abrupt change of his mood, she didn’t show it.

“Of course, captain.”

“I thought I saw some cages over there,” Buggy said, gesturing vaguely and forcing the chain into Crina’s hand. “Stick her in one of those. In the back, away from any prying eyes.”

“A cage?” you asked.

“As fun as it is to see you all chained up,” Buggy said. “I worry that it might send the wrong message. Out of sight, out of mind—I don’t need you distracting my crew. They’re planning a very big surprise party. If you behave, I might be able to find some time for you later. Sound good?”

You nodded, almost surprised by how good that sounded. He ruffled your hair before turning away, barking orders to some of the men.

“Let’s go,” Crina said, pulling your attention back to her. “We have our orders.”

The cage Crina put you in, one out of several bolted to the floor in the corner out of the way from the main space, had just enough room for you to sit slouched, or lay curled on your side, meant for big dogs or small humans. There was a market for both, and you knew that this warehouse had likely housed both.

The old, dilapidated buildings had been out of use for a long time, as long as you could remember. Barley Village had been originally built to be close to the mineral deposits, but as those dried up and industry trended towards the water, southward expansion left all of the old buildings empty and rotting. There was always talk about tearing them down, but it was only ever talk. One time you were told that some people wanted to keep the buildings available to people who wished for some privacy. But when you asked your dad if that was true, he got angry, telling you that was a lie, that he would never let that happen. He said it would just be too expensive to take them down, and that there was really no point in it.

But he also told you to never, ever spend time northside. Of all of the rules he gave you, that was the only one you ever truly disobeyed. You had no idea how many times you had gotten in trouble for playing here, climbing up rusted stairs and crossing the support beams up by the ceiling, using rocks to knock out the jagged edges of broken glass from the windows so you could go onto the rooftops. Your health problems made it difficult, and sometimes impossible, but you were patient. Plus, that had been before the accident, when your coordination was still good.

Back then, you didn’t worry about the many dangers that lurked here, and you certainly didn’t believe you could be hurt. You were too entranced by the world you created for yourself. The only thing you worried about was the beatings you earned when you got caught. Dad used to tell you that if you kept disobeying him by going northside, you’d wind up locked in one of these cages—or worse. It took you a while to think of the word, because it wasn’t funny, but it also was. Ironic. It was ironic.

You couldn’t even imagine what kind of reaction he would have to what you had done now, what punishment you would earn. It would be bad. You knew it would be very bad.

Better not to think about it. Falling unconscious after being hit on the head was the most you had slept for the previous two days. It was the level of exhaustion that you could be staring down the business end of a sword with indifferent, sleepy eyes. Being locked up was bad, very bad, but you were content to lay listlessly on your side.

At some point, you must have fallen asleep because you weren’t entirely conscious when somebody kicked the front of your cage. “Hey, wake up.” Your physical response was to startle, jolting you awake enough to flinch away from the violence. But it was only Crina who crouched in front of the cage. “I have food for you. And medicine for the headache. I’m going let you out, and I suggest you don’t try to run. If the guys get a hold of you, I won’t stop them.”

“I won’t run,” you told her, your voice hoarse, your eyes fixed on what she had brought. A bowl of something that looked like stew and a bottle. More than food, you wanted water. Crina undid the lock and you shuffled out of the cage. Your head spun just as badly as it had when you dropped onto the floor earlier, your vision crawling with darkness and stomach heaving unhappily. She was right about the headache. It wasn’t a pain you ever got used to, no matter how many days you spent laid out from one. After an uneasy moment, you sat on the floor, grabbing the water and eagerly uncapping it.

“Hand,” Crina said, holding out a glass bottle. You allowed her to shake two capsules into your palm, tossing them into your mouth before taking in a blessedly wet mouthful of water. It soothed your tongue and throat like a salve, although you knew your stomach wouldn’t be quite so happy to receive anything. The stew’s scent alone made your stomach clench and churn with equal parts hunger and nausea. Slow. You had to take it slow.

“Thank you,” you told her, picking up the bowl. She’d brought a wrapped sailor’s biscuit to eat it with. Not very appetizing, but you hadn’t eaten much more than you slept. It could have been saw dust and you would have been grateful.

“I have your bag,” she said to fill the silence as you ate, pushing the limp canvas towards you. “They took anything that looked valuable, but your clothes are all there. They need to be washed. I’ll lend you something to wear in the meantime.”

Since your mouth was full, you nodded your thanks.

“While you eat, I’m going to talk. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to,” Crina said. “You don’t strike me as the talkative type.”

She didn’t say that in an accusatory tone, but it still caused your heart to skip with anxiety. The fear had to be irrational, it wasn’t as if you had lied to Captain Buggy, so what did you have to worry about? Besides, only the guilty feared scrutiny, that was a favored line of your dad’s.

“There’s a man in town asking if anyone has seen a girl. Petite. Missing an eye. Mentally unwell. He’s concerned that she might have gotten lost somewhere,” Crina told you. “From what I gather, her father is a pillar of the community. They’re all very worried.”

You averted your gaze, anxiously pulling your hair to cover your left eye. Of course Randall would be looking for you, although you had hoped you would have more time before he noticed your absence. It didn’t matter that you left in such a way to raise as little suspicion as possible, or that you were an adult, or that you didn’t want to be found. Your dad asked him to be your keeper while he was gone, and Randall did as your father said. Everybody did.

“Finish your food,” Crina prompted. “It’s worse when it’s cold.”

Right. You started eating again, your movements mechanical. She said nothing, and you had nothing to say.

“Everybody has their reasons for turning to piracy, and they’re not always pleasant,” Crina suddenly said. “Unless it interferes with my own business, I don’t care about who you were and why you ran away. It was a stupid choice, I think you know that. I won’t try and convince you to leave. Buggy seems to like you, so you wouldn’t be able to go anyway. But you need to understand that there will be consequences. The life you had before, no matter how terrible, did not prepare you for the life you’ve thrown yourself into.”

You stared hard at the bowl, thinking about that. It was true, you had to accept that you had blindly stumbled into a world you knew nothing about. But what choice did you have? The things that led you to this point were arranged like the rusty, creaky rungs of a ladder scaling the side of a building. Climbing up had always been the easy part, it was the inevitable descent that gave you trouble. You had to go slow, one rung at a time, blindly feeling with your toes, holding on with sweaty fingers, not looking up and not looking down because once you were on the ladder, you could only keep going. The first rung was spotting the Buggy Pirates, which you only did because you were sulking around the docks after seeing your father off on his trip. You only recognized the crew because your dad kept track of pirate captains with significant bounties. You only had the courage to sneak away from your house because dad was too far away to stop you. You only had the ability to scope out Buggy’s temporary hideout because of how much time you spent northside when you were younger. Those things all connected and followed so naturally and you didn’t know if fate existed, but you knew for a fact that you wouldn’t have wound up here on your own volition. It wasn’t a choice you made, it was the only way to get down from the roof that you had been stranded on for so long.

“I’ll give you some advice,” Crina continued, her tone lighter, “and I suggest you listen. You’re young and pretty, and you wouldn’t be the first to try and use that to get an advantage. It might work for a while, but men will get bored and your looks will fade. Before long you’ll be spat out into a cheap whorehouse with a couple of children you can’t afford and a hell of a rash.”

The whiplash from your thoughts to the conclusion she had drawn made your stomach twist with disgust. “No,” you said. Was that what she thought of you? Even if the idea was utterly ridiculous, shame rolled uncomfortable through you. “I would never—I could never ever do that.”

“Don’t be naive,” Crina said, rolling her eyes. “The boys you’re used to are disgusted by that scar, but the kind of men you’ll meet from now on won’t be. If your low self-esteem dictates who you let between your legs, you’ll find yourself in the gutter. I’m not saying that you shouldn’t sleep with men to get an advantage if that’s an option, only that you must be smart about it.”

You pulled your hair forward again, shaking your head clear of what she was saying. She didn’t understand. It wasn’t the assumption that men would be repulsed by your scar—which they would be, you knew that—but that you didn’t have it in you to invite or manipulate male attention. In so many ways you were already ruined, but to stoop down to letting other men touch you would be too far, it would destroy you.

“Assuming you live past tomorrow night,” Crina continued, “get a knife and figure out how to use it. The men aren’t going to accept you as a member of the crew until you prove yourself. So if anybody gets too close, you prove yourself with blood.”

“Do you think they’ll try to hurt me?”

“I think you look like an easy target,” she said. “And I know you have no concept of self preservation or defense.”

“Yes, I do,” you said, frowning. You had made it this far, after all. That was more than anybody would have thought of you.

“You don’t,” she said plainly. “The tablets I gave you are for treating pain, but imagine if they weren’t. You didn’t so much as ask me to clarify what they were.”

You opened your mouth to argue, and closed it, shame squeezing your throat. You hadn’t even thought about that.

“It might not matter anyway,” she said, “depending on Buggy’s reasons for keeping you.”

“What do you mean?”

Crina gave you a long, pitying look and you could tell there was something she wanted to say, something she was holding back. Eventually she shrugged. “That is between the two of you.”

You wanted to push for more, confused by the cryptic answer, but you didn’t. You could tell by the hard look on her face that she wouldn’t tell you anyway.

“One more thing. The most important thing,” Crina told you, leaning close so she could whisper. “Never, ever mention the captain’s nose. In fact, never mention noses at all.”

“His nose?” you repeated softly. “Is it… is it real?”

“What did I just say?” she asked sharply. “He killed a few of the last new recruits for saying something that sounded like nose while he was in a bad mood.”

“He… killed them?” you asked.

“Buggy is a very temperamental man,” she said, leaning back. “Try not to get on his bad side.”

“It sounds like you don’t like him.”

“I do, actually. God knows why. Are you finished?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Come on then,” Crina told you, getting to her feet and dusting herself off. “There’s running water on the other side. I’ll keep watch so you can clean up.”

Although birds called and the breeze carried all sorts of noises from Barley Village, none of it really reached the northside. A solemn graveyard hush settled heavy between the wreckage of ruined buildings, drafty even in broad daylight. No ghosts hid in the shadows, no historical tragedy marred its name, but there remained the haunted imprint of people who were no longer around.

Before setting you on your task of the day, Crina had given you a dress of hers to wear while your own clothes dried in the sun. You swam in it, but a sash at the waist made the fit look somewhat intentional and the long sleeves hid the ugly bruises cuffing your wrists. That, combined with having slept the previous night and most of the day, left you feeling oddly refreshed. Sure, all of the sleep had been in a cage and the only ‘bath’ you had was a couple of minutes alone with a spout that spat freezing water and a washcloth, but it was better than yesterday. Better than the day before that too, save for the bruises and big goose egg bump on the back of your head.

Despite the headache, you were glad to be given something to do. The task wasn’t difficult. Busywork that kept you out of the way. Checking to ensure that everything which would be loaded on the ship was documented, organized, and ready for transport. It wasn’t entirely unlike what you had done in the past and, you imagined, would be doing in the future. It was, however, the opposite way around. The goods were obviously looted, you were creating a list to know exactly what and how much of it had been stolen.

Vinegar, oil, wax.

You used the end of the pen to scratch beneath your bandana, which Crina had kindly retrieved for you. Sometimes the scar got itchy, like it had when it was healing.

Twine, needles, thread.

There was a particular smell to supply crates like these. Something to do with the place they were stored, or where they were made. Even now, years since you had been on a ship, it was overwhelmingly familiar. It made your stomach ache and chest clench, although you weren’t sure which quality of the scent was so unsettling.

You scratched the scar again.

Vinegar, oil-

Wait, you had already done that. Annoyed, you crossed out those words and crouched down to get into the next crate. Rope. It was coiled in tight loops like a huge snake, coarse beneath your fingers. Anything that was strong enough to endure the fury of the sea had to be coarse. Good rope was vital on a ship, you knew that even with your limited experience. Touching it reminded you of the time your dad tried to show you how to tie knots, and then subsequently had to treat your rope burn.

What would he think when he returned? Retired Marine or not, he was deeply involved with northside business and law. Missing supplies, missing daughter. Sometimes you felt an acidic sort of pleasure when imagining his reaction to your absence, but usually it was just dread.

Or worse. Prickling paranoia. You could run, for a time. But that was all it was. Running. He used to be a Marine, it wouldn’t be difficult for him to find you. When you were younger, the thought gave you comfort.

But you didn’t want to think about that. Not at all. Not ever again. You stared very hard at the rope, desperate to put those thoughts out of your mind.

You stared and stared and stared and-

Somebody grabbed you around the bicep, dragging you to your feet and forcing you back to reality. Yelping in fear, you were nearly knocked back down from the bloodrush dizziness of standing up too fast, saved only by the crates.

“Good god, girl,” the unfamiliar man said, taking a step back, clearly put off by your reaction. “Are you deaf or something? I hollered at you three or four times. Were you sleeping?”

Putting a hand to your racing heart, you looked from him to the still open crate and the notepad you had abandoned mid-task. You had no idea how long you had been sitting there. Long enough for your foot to go numb, prickling with pins and needles now that you were standing up.

“I’m sorry,” you told him.

“The captain wants to see you. It’s urgent,” he said. When you didn’t immediately respond, still orienting yourself, he sighed impatiently and grabbed your elbow, physically dragging you away. You stumbled to keep up, trying very hard to avoid falling. “If Buggy asks why you took so long, you better tell him it was your fault.”

“I will,” you said to appease him, attempting to shake off his hand before realizing that it was pointless. “Please slow down.”

“Not my fault you’ve got stumpy legs,” he said. “Keep up.”

The unfairness of that stung, but you didn’t have much choice. You had a feeling that he’d keep on pulling you along even if it meant dragging you across the ground.

“Where are we going?” you asked, embarrassingly out of breath.

“There,” he said, nodding to one of the waterfront buildings. At least it was close. You never strayed so close to the water, the buildings were too squat to make for fun exploration and too exposed to give cover.

The pirate released you when you got to the door, leaving you winded and scared. You adjusted your bandana and tried to catch your breath. “Don’t forget to tell him it was your fault it took so long, not mine,” he said, opening the door.

“I won’t,” you promised, the words papery thin on your dry tongue.

You were in trouble. You had no idea what you might have done, but there had to be something. Why would you be summoned like this otherwise? A very bad feeling pressed against your sternum, but you forced yourself to walk forward. The door shut behind you. Inside, the air was dark and cool and wet, sending a little shiver down your spine.

Buggy stood in the middle of the room, the only place where the sun found its way between the mangled teeth of glass and steel that used to be windows, his own little spotlight amidst the ruins. There were three other men on the edges of the light, their backs to you. One of them was bound. You did not like this.

“There she is!” Buggy exclaimed, inviting you forward with his arms spread wide. “Come on, don’t be shy. Especially not after keeping us waiting so long. Your friend over here could hardly handle the suspense.

Rocks and broken glass crunched beneath your feet as you approached them. Once you got close enough, finally, you could see the faces of the other men. One was the square-featured, angry man Buggy called Ivo. Another, a man you didn’t know. And the third, the one bound with a busted lip and developing black eye—

Randall called your name, trying to escape and rush to your side. Ivo grabbed him, pressing the blade of his knife against his throat.

“See, I told you, they’re working together,” Ivo said, glaring at you. “She tipped him off. No doubt this place will be swarming with the law before long.”

You stood completely still, staring at Randall with the steadily rising tide of panic sloshing in your stomach. After everything you had done to misdirect him, the note you left to beg he didn’t follow, the trouble you had put yourself through to keep from being seen, he was still here.

“Are you okay?” Randall asked, looking you up and down frantically, concerned in a way he never had looked before. “Did they hurt you?”

“I told you, she’s fine,” Buggy said with a grin. “I mean, yeah, Ivo over there did give her a little knock on the ole noggin—a love tap, really—but the eye was already like that when we found her.”

“I wasn’t asking you,” Randall said, glaring at Buggy.

“Shut up,” Ivo said, pressing the knife close enough to Randall’s throat that it broke skin.

“No, no, let him go,” Buggy ordered casually, waving his hand. “He’s not gonna do anything stupid.” He threw an arm around your shoulder. “Not when I’ve got her.”

Ivo reluctantly complied, releasing Randall. He watched you intently, and you knew what he was thinking. How could he save you?

“Ivo over there thinks that the two of you are working together,” Buggy told you, smiling. His arm was heavy around your shoulders, oppressively so. “He thinks that we should kill you both.”

“I’m not—I wouldn’t,” you told him.

“And see, I wanna believe you. I really do. But he’s not talking, and,” Buggy ran his finger over your right cheek, reminding you of his threat from yesterday, “I’m starting to worry you’ve been lying to me.”

“I’m not,” you said, ice cold dread dripping into your veins a drop at a time. You fought your discomfort and forced yourself to meet his eyes, hoping he could see your sincerity. “I promise I’m not.”

“Then how did he find this place?”

“I don’t… I don’t know…”

“She used to hide here when we were kids,” Randall answered. “I thought she ran away, not that you freaks had kidnapped her. If I had known I’d find pirates here, I would have come armed.”

“Is that true?” Buggy asked you, pulling you even closer. Close enough to be embarrassing, to give the wrong impression, especially when he was stroking your cheek with a sort of affection that didn’t mesh with the danger in his blue eyes.

“I told you it is. Let her go, clown!” Randall shouted. His voice was loud enough to echo, and harsh enough to make you wince. That sort of rage wasn’t one you expected from him, but it was familiar all the same.

“Oh, wow,” Buggy said with a laugh, looking up at him. “Is that jealousy I hear? She didn’t tell me she was leaving behind a boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you said softly, your insides twisting at the thought.

“Really?” Buggy asked. He shrugged, and looked at Randall. “If you’re not doing this because you want to have sex with her, why are you here?”

“I am a dear friend—both to her and her dad,” Randall answered. “He asked me to look after her because she… She’s not in a sound state of mind. And she’s the only family he has left. Without her, he’ll have nothing.” He grit his teeth. “Take me, kill me if you’re that thirsty for blood, but let her go. Please.”

“You’re a real knight in shining armor. Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but she came here all on her own,” Buggy said, releasing you to approach him instead. “She begged to join my crew, got down on her knees and told me that she would be happy to serve me for the rest of her life. It was the most adorable thing.”

“No,” Randall said, his face twisting with disgust. “You’re lying. She wouldn’t do that.”

“Ask her yourself,” Buggy invited, stepping aside and sweeping out his arm. All eyes landed on you like a spotlight. Blood rushed in your ears, and you felt dizzy with it, ready to pass out on the spot. When you looked at Buggy, he smiled and nodded encouragingly.

“It’s true,” you said.

“No. That is impossible,” Randall said. “This is insane. You are mad, you cannot make decisions like this for yourself.” You stared at his feet, your hands balled into fists. You were not crazy. You were not. That had to be true. “Whatever hysterics brought you here, give it up. These are pirates.”

“I’m a pirate too,” you declared, your hands forming fists at your sides. You weren’t crazy, or mad. You were thinking very clearly, more than you had in a while.

“No, you are your father’s daughter,” Randall insisted, loud enough to make you flinch. “Can you imagine the agony he would feel hearing you say that?”

Your breathing was too fast, rapid enough to make your head spin. You kept shaking your head, tears flying off of your cheek, but you couldn’t recall when you had begun to cry. “I don’t care.”

“Don’t care…? This bastard has already gotten into your head,” Randall said. “He has poisoned your broken mind with his lies and manipulations, please don’t let this go any further.”

You shook your head again, but there was nothing you could think of to say. You didn’t want to talk anymore, you just wanted this to be over.

“Believe me, as much as I would love to claim otherwise, I had nothing to do with this,” Buggy said, raising his hands innocently. “You’ve got no one to blame but yourself. Think about what would drive a girl like this into the arms of a pirate. A broken heart, maybe? Was that your doing, lover boy? Did you break her heart? Make her feel like she wasn’t good enough?”

“Keep your big goddamned nose out of our business, clown,” Randall said.

The other pirates audibly gasped, and you could feel the sudden zap of tension in the air. Buggy’s taunting smile froze in place, his posture icing over like a statue. And then, a second later, he was rushing at Randall, burying his fist in the other man’s stomach. Randall crumpled onto his knees with a heavy grunt and you waited for something else, something worse. Crina said that Buggy had killed over jokes about his nose, and, right then, you believed it.

Nothing happened. You watched, frozen, as Buggy breathed in deeply, his shoulders rising and falling with it, and then he raised a hand.

“New girl,” he called, snapping to beckon you closer. You obliged, rushing to his side. He didn’t look angry, not like you feared he would. Instead, he smiled. It was a mean smile, a frightening one. But a smile all the same. “Are you ready for your big moment?”

“What?”

“Your audition! I thought of the perfect act for you. Kill him.”

You looked down at Randall, he was clearly still in pain, his eyes watering as he looked up at you. “I can’t,” you whispered, shaking your head again.

“You can and will. Assuming you want to remain on my crew. Otherwise I’ll kill him and you’ll have to explain to daddy why prince charming was here in the first place.” He held out his hand towards Ivo. “Knife.” When he got it, Buggy flipped the knife handle first, holding it to you with a flourish. “You’re up, babydoll.”

“She won’t do it, clown,” Randall said through grit teeth.

“Of course she will,” Buggy said. “For me.”

As if moving through the dusky haze of a dream, you took the knife, wrapping your sweaty hand around the grip. The way Buggy smiled in response made your heart flutter, something to cling to amidst the horror and disgust. It didn’t feel real anymore. How could it be real?

“I don’t know what to do.” Were those your words? Your voice?

Buggy laughed. “Of course you don’t,” he said, circling behind Randall. “C’mere, I’ll help you.”

Randall was shouting and pleading, but Buggy had grabbed a fistfull of his hair to keep him from escaping.

“You’ve gotta hold him still,” Buggy told you. “Like this, see?”

“-don’t do this, please. You can’t… I love you!”

You got a fistful of Randall’s hair, making him cry out in pain. There was no pleasure in the sound, only a roiling sense of disgust. It would be better when he was dead, and then he wouldn’t be in pain.

“God you’re short,” Buggy said as he adjusted you into place, right between him and Randall. “You’ll be better off going for their ankles.” He wrapped his hand around yours, getting a good grip on the knife and holding it still.

“-when he gets bored of fucking you. That’s all pirates do, rape and murder. You’ll never be one of them, you’ll just-”

“Start on one side and move to the other, easy as that,” Buggy said comfortingly, resting his chin against the side of your head.

“-he doesn’t kill you, your dad will. Do you really think you’ll ever be able to hide from him?”

Moving slowly, through a dream, you put the knife on the left side of Randall’s neck. It was no different from what a butcher did, really.

Breath in. Pull. You instinctively locked up at the sound of Randall’s screams and the resistance of his flesh, but Buggy forced your hand, pulling the blade deep into his neck and then fast to the side. The knife got caught part way through, stuck in something hard. You tried to saw through it and Randall made an inhuman noise of agony. Buggy had to help you unstick it, to follow through until the knife slashed that horrifying scream short and then there was just a sort of gurgling sound and you didn’t know if it was because he was still alive or if it was an automatic process.

There was so much blood, and it was hot, burning you. For some reason, you hadn’t anticipated the messy scarlet spray. From the deep slice came more blood. More, and more still. Randall’s heavy, limp body dropped onto the floor into a puddle of it, although you weren’t sure when you let go of his hair. Buggy released your hand, but you didn’t drop the knife, holding it in a death grip as blood streamed like red veins down your hand and wrist, down the blade and all the way to its tip before dripping to the dirty floor. The tang of iron filled your lungs. You shook all over, all the way down inside, your bones and organs shivering. It was your heart. It pounded frantically, like butterfly wings. And your breathing. Wheezing, gasping, gurgling like Randall’s had before he fell.

Your mouth opened to exhale, but there was nothing there. No air, no words. Nothing. Your cold gaze turned to look at Buggy, confused as to what you were supposed to do next. He had led you this far, but now you were lost. He smiled, and laughed, and took the knife away from you, tossing it to the side where it clanged and slid away.

And then he folded you into his arms, your head pressed against his chest. His heartbeat was firm and steady, and he was so warm. He smelled of gunpowder and salty sea air and greasepaint and the natural warm scent of his skin. You clung to that, breathing in deep to excise the scent of blood.

“Congratulations, babydoll,” Buggy told you. “Looks like you just got the part.”

The first firecracker went off not long after the sun had gone down, kicking off the surprise party with an especially loud zip and then a bang and a bursting sizzle. “It’s a surprise party,” Buggy told you, his face illuminated by the flash of red. “As in, the people who live here are going to be so surprised by the party I’m throwing for my crew. Get it?”

A chain of firecrackers followed the first, a show that the pirates set off amidst a barrage of explosions, lighting up the sky with brilliant colors and smoke, making the earth tremble beneath your feet. They acted as distraction and lure, drawing people further into the town and inviting the ship that had been lurking nearby to enter the harbor.

And after that came the chaos.

Many things happened that you were aware of, if only passively. Leaving the northside and then Barley Village, waiting at the dock, and then boarding the ship as men and women in colorful attire flooded the yard, overtaking the few armed guards. You were told to sit on the deck and wait, so you did. Aware of it all—noxious sulfur and smoke filling the air, thunderous claps of explosives, popping gunshots, screaming voices, roaring fires—but uninvolved. There was a sense of great quiet. Not outside where things were loud and violent and scary, but inside. You were very quiet on the inside. Far away from everything and everyone else.

Blood flaked off of your skin, caking beneath the nails when you scratched your arm. It would have been nice to wash it off, but you didn’t know where you would go for that, and you didn’t want to get up.

“Yoo-hoo, is anybody in there?”

A gloved hand waved in front of your face.

You let out a hoarse scream, nearly tipping backwards from how violently you startled. It didn’t take long for you to realize how overblown the reaction was, Buggy’s laughter made the point quite clearly.

“What was that?” he asked, almost laughing too hard to get the words out. He stood above you without his coat and hat, although he kept the striped headscarf, and a bottle tucked under his arm.

“You scared me,” you told him, a hand on your racing heart.

“That noise you just made though,” he said, still laughing. “It sounded like one of those scream-y fireworks.”

“I didn’t know you were there.”

“Your fault, not mine. I was trying to talk to you, but you just sat there. I thought it was your eye that didn’t work, not your ears.”

“I guess I… zoned out a little.”

“No shit. Ah, that was good,” Buggy said as his laughter subsided. “I had no idea human beings could even make sounds like that.” Letting out a big breath to settle himself, he sat down next to you. Very close, far closer than you would have, almost touching. “Kinda makes me wonder what other kinds of sounds you can make.”

“I know, it’s annoying,” you said, staring hard at the deck. “I’m sorry.”

Buggy laughed at that too, shaking his head. “You really have no clue, do you?” he asked. “Is it weird that I’m into it?”

“Into what?” you asked. “I’m sorry, I… don’t understand.”

“I know you don’t, and that’s okay,” he said with a mocking sort of indulgence, patting your head. “Anyway, I had a little business in town and snagged this from some rich guy’s house.” He held up a bottle by the neck and swished its contents a little for effect. “We’re going to celebrate.”

“Wouldn’t you rather be out there?” you asked, the first coherent question that came to your mind as it scrambled to make sense of what he had just said.

“Between you and me, this,” Buggy said with a confidential hush, gesturing to your burning town, “isn’t my thing. It’s a reward for my freaks, gives ‘em an outlet to express themselves artistically. I prefer a more… performative platform. True art deserves a spotlight and an audience.” He waved that away, smiling. “But this isn’t about me, it’s about you.”

“Me?”

“You really impressed me earlier. I mean, yeah, your technique needs polish, and you’ve got no stage presence to speak of, but you displayed raw talent. I really think you have a shot at success, sweetheart. Stick with me, and I’ll make something out of you yet.”

“Thank you,” you said softly, shying away from thinking about earlier. The praise though, that was heady. That made you feel warm.

Buggy popped the cork off the bottle, taking a drink straight from it and smacking his lips appreciatively. “You like sweet things, right?”

“I-”

“You’ll love this then. Here, try it.”

You eyed the bottle he was proffering to you warily. Alcohol was something you were familiar with, but you could count on your fingers the number of times you had actually tasted it. “I don’t know…” you said, trying to think of ways to reject drinking without seeming ungrateful.

“You’re a pirate now, so you’ve gotta learn to drink like one,” Buggy told you, pushing it into your hand. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

You sniffed the open lip, surprised by the sweetness. It didn’t smell as strongly of alcohol as you feared. Not like what your father drank. Maybe it would be okay. Trying to avoid embarrassing yourself, you tipped the bottle back just like he had. That was a mistake. It didn’t smell like alcohol, but you could taste it—feel it, even. Panicked by your body’s natural response to expel it, you swallowed as much as you could, coughing out the rest. Red liquid drooled down your chin, staining the dress that was already ruined with dried blood. Buggy laughed. A little at first, and then a lot.

Flushing, you wiped your mouth.

“Oh, don’t be like that. That was hilarious,” Buggy told you. You looked away, even more embarrassed. “Your face was priceless. You threw that back with the confidence of a real fire-hazard, saggy skinned, dead eyed alcoholic. You were so serious about it too, and then… Good lord.”

“I didn’t know!” you said, trying and failing not to sound shrill.

“It’s okay, you’ve got me to help you now. Try it again, but don’t be so greedy. Baby sips.”

“No, thank you,” you said, holding the bottle back to him.

“Drink. That’s an order,” he said, pushing it back to you.

That gave you pause. “Do you mean that?” you asked.

He nodded, urging you on.

Your shoulders drooped in defeat. Trepidatiously, you took a small sip. At least you didn’t hack it back up this time. While the taste was sweet, the burn was not. It rose up like smoke into your head, you could feel it.

“What if I get drunk?” you asked.

“Oh, you’re going to get drunk, captain’s orders,” Buggy said with a grin. “I can’t stand watching you sit around moping about killing that guy. Besides, you’re a pirate now.”

The little ball of anxiety deep in your gut doubled. This was wrong, you knew it was. Or maybe you were wrong, and Buggy was right. You didn’t know.

“I don’t want to embarrass myself,” you muttered.

“As long as you don’t jump into the water or shit yourself, you’ll be fine…” You looked at him, horrified. “Joking! C’mon, I’ve taken good care of you so far, haven’t I? You’ll be fine.”

The way he laughed made you want to believe him. He was your captain now. You nodded seriously and, steeling yourself, took another drink. And another.

“See? It’s good, right?” Buggy asked, holding out his hand for the bottle.

You licked your lips, cleaning up the lingering sweetness. “It is. Thank you,” you said, unable to keep yourself from admiring the way his throat worked as he swallowed, the view unfortunately obscured by his cravat.

The perverse thought took you by surprise. Was it the alcohol? Already, your head was spinning, your thoughts a little more disorganized. It wasn’t like the quiet, empty feeling of before. It was warm and distant, it made your shoulders relax, the anxiety and uncertainty of before fading. This was a good idea, you already felt so much better. When he passed the bottle back, you didn’t have to be prompted to imbibe, chasing that feeling.

“I don’t mean to pry, but when that guy back there mentioned your dad, it really seemed to get to you,” Buggy said. “What, did daddy not love you? Or maybe he loved you a little too much.”

You didn’t want to talk about that. You didn’t want to think about it. You took another big drink.

On the horizon, the town was utterly ablaze. As the night grew darker, the flames rose higher. Which building was burning so brightly? It belched thick, black smoke into the night sky. Who was in it? Anybody you knew?

“Don’t wanna talk about it, hm? That’s fine,” Buggy said, stealing the bottle back. “With any luck, my freaks’ll kill him tonight, eh? Then you’ll really be free.”

“He’s gone right now,” you said, your words soft and slurring together. “Out of town.” What would he think of the smoldering ashes? Would he believe you had perished in the flame? Somehow, you doubted that. He would know what you had done. There was no chance of freedom, not for you.

“That’s even better,” Buggy said.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you turned to him, both in confusion and disbelief. “How?”

“Because, babydoll,” Buggy told you, shaking your shoulder to make sure you were paying attention. “It’s good to have somebody to hate—somebody to prove wrong. He tried to convince you that you’re crazy, he tried to keep you from ever being yourself. That pain and anger made you weak. But you’re not weak anymore. Tonight, I showed you how to be strong. It’s not enough to tell those assholes that they’re wrong, you have to prove it to them. That’s what tonight was about, right? You proved to your dad, to everybody, that you’re stronger than they thought. And, hey, you proved it to me, too. I wasn’t sure about you at first, but I changed my mind.” He threw an arm around you, pulling you close. “I like you, kiddo. A lot.”

“I like you too,” you said, relaxing into the little side hug, very aware of every place his bare arm met your bare shoulders and neck. The alcohol had stoked a nice blaze in your stomach and chest, making your head spin in a way you didn’t mind that much. Smoothing the colors, softening the air, making you want to lean into his touch, made you crave more of it.

Buggy pulled away, leaving the bottle in your hands. You felt a little cold without him.

“You know,” he said, smiling at you. The far off flames glinted mischievously in his eyes. The flaring reds and oranges highlighted his cheekbones too, defined the sharpness of his jaw. You were caught off guard by how viscerally you reacted to the thought that he was handsome, your filterless mind caught in an endless loop of focusing on the fact. “Burning down this shithole is nothing compared to what I will do. The towns I’ll raze to the ground, the treasure I’ll steal, the shows I’ll put on. Now that I’ve got a crew, I’m gonna put on a show like nobody’s ever seen. The biggest, flashiest, greatest show ever. Everybody will be screaming my name, recognize my face. I’ll shine so bright that they’ll have no choice but to love me. ”

Buggy’s intensity made you smile, you couldn’t help it. Alcohol had created a cloudy burst of affection within you, or maybe it was just the floodgates of tension finally collapsing, letting out something that would have otherwise been smothered. Either way, it was as intoxicating as the drink itself.

“Are you laughing at me?” Buggy asked, his tone filled with steel. You looked to see his dark expression, his narrowed eyes.

“I’m not,” you said, confused by his rapid shift in demeanor. “I’m… I’m happy. I’ll do anything to help you.”

He relaxed. “Well, you’d better start working on your act.”

That made you laugh, a dizzy, bubbly sound. “I can’t do an act. I wouldn’t know what to do.”

“There has to be something. Let me think… Can you sing?”

“I used to, a little. But not for a really long time.”

“Come on, let me hear it.”

You were drunk, you knew that for a fact because in no state of sobriety would you offer to sing in front of another person. But, right then, bubbling with alcohol and protected by the darkness of the smoky night sky, you felt invincible.

“Oh, what do you do with a drunken sailor? What do you do with a drunken sailor? What do you do with a drunken sailor, early in the morning? Slash his…um… something, something, captain’s daughter. Toss him in… to… the dirty water…” Whatever coherence you held onto unraveled into a fit of drunken laughter at the awful rhyme. “I’m sorry, I think… I think I forgot some of the words.”

“Seems like you forgot the tune too,” Buggy said, wincing dramatically. All that did was make you laugh harder. “Hold on a second, let me wipe the blood out of my ears.”

You swatted his shoulder, although your attempted indignance probably wasn’t very convincing when you were still smiling. “Don’t be mean!”

“That’s a bold way to treat your captain,” he told you, but he was smiling too.

“Please don’t be mean to me, Captain Buggy,” you said, speaking slowly to emphasize how serious you were.

“Beg me again.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said, waving it off in a way that made you think he was making fun of you. “Anyway, I’m being nice right now, especially after that performance. The critics would eat you alive for that one. So, singing is out. Clearly. What else have you got?”

“Oh! I know a, um, a rhyme. A joke.”

He looked at you skeptically. “Really?”

“What is that s’posed to mean?” you asked.

“You don’t strike me as somebody with… How should I put this… A sense of humor?”

You frowned.

“Alright, alright, quit pouting and tell me,” Buggy said impatiently, waving you to continue.

You cleared your throat very theatrically, sitting up as straight as you could manage.

“There was a young lass who thought

Very little but thought it a lot.

Then at long last she knew

What she wanted to do,

But before she could start, she forgot.”

Deflating, you laughed, surprised at how clearly you had delivered the words. Especially considering how long it had been since you heard them.

Buggy didn’t look nearly as impressed. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard a clean limerick before,” he said. “And now I know why. I mean, what’s the point of limerick without the ick.”

You blew a raspberry at him. “Fine, you do one.”

“Okay, but you have to prepare yourself,” Buggy said. You nodded encouragingly.

“There was a young plumber named Lee

Who was plumbing his girl by the sea.

She said, ‘Stop your plumbing,

There's somebody coming’

Said the plumber, still plumbing, ‘It's me.’"

Belatedly, you gasped, your hands covering your mouth. That shock dissolved into giggles. “That’s, oh, that’s… that’s dirty.”

“Aw, was it too much for your delicate sensibilities? Now that you’re a pirate, you’re gonna hear a lot worse than that. A looooooooot worse. I hope your unspoiled ears can handle it.”

“I can!” you insisted, taking a big drink to steel yourself before setting the bottle aside. If you were going to be a pirate, you had to stop getting so flustered. “More. Please.”

“Okay, okay…” Buggy cleared his throat. “A hooker roaming the East Blue,

Once filled her vagina with glue,

She said, with a grin, ‘Well, they paid to get in,

And they’ll damn sure pay to get out, too.’”

You laughed loudly, as much at the joke as the taboo nature of it. You laughed, and then giggled in a bubbly, drunken way that you knew was too loud and embarrassing. “That is icky,” you told him. “Jeez, that’s…” Your faux seriousness dissolved into a fit of giggles again and you leaned against him for stability. “What would you even do?”

“Yeah, I don’t know. It sounds like a sticky situation,” he said, nudging you with his elbow. That, of course, sent you into another fit of giggles.

“I’m sorry, I’m…” you said. “I think I’m drunk.” You looked behind yourself at the town, the glittery haze of joy buzzing in your head fading at the sight. It was horrific, wasn’t it? And here you were, laughing like a fool. You couldn’t really comprehend the magnitude of it all, even if you could acknowledge that it was terrible. “Is it okay?” you asked, looking back at him imploringly. “Everything that happened tonight… I thought I would feel very different after, but I don’t. It almost feels like it’s not even real. You ever get that? When things happen but they feel so impossible that you get confused?”

“If you can think that clearly,” Buggy said, “then you’re not drunk enough. Bottoms up, babydoll.” You smiled at his use of the pet name and the fluttery feeling it gave you. What else could you do but oblige, tipping the bottle back like before. Only, unlike before, you kept it all down. There wasn’t any real burn, just more sweetness, more warmth.

And then there was nothing left.

“Woah,” you said, lowering the empty bottle and wiping your mouth. “‘s all gone.”

“And how do you feel?” he asked.

You opened your mouth to respond, but all that came out was a dizzy sort of laugh. “I dunno…” you said, closing your eye, trying to collect your thoughts. “I’m…” Already things were getting even more fuzzy and foggy. Fabric stuck to your flushed skin, the salty air drying across your chest and cheeks. “I feel… very…”

Making an upset noise in the back of your throat, you pushed your hair back, catching the bandana and pulling it off so you could feel the breeze on your whole face. That helped. Drawing in a deep breath, you looked at him, trying to focus. Only, the second you saw him, all you could do was smile. His eyes were greedy about the light, sparkling with it. Even with the nose, Buggy was handsome. That was not something you could tell him though, not at all ever. Unfortunately you had forgotten what you were saying in the first place.

“Very… what?” Buggy asked. “‘Cause if you keep trying to be a buzzkill, I’ll give you something to laugh about.”

Were you a buzzkill? You couldn’t remember what you had said or done to earn that title. It was hard enough to comprehend what was happening in the moment. “Like what?” you asked.

“Like… this!” Buggy said, using the sash around your waist to pull you closer so he could tickle your sides. You jumped and squealed, the bottle rolling out of your hands as you tried to fight him off.

“No no no, don’t,” you cried, trying to escape. You were being too loud, moving too much, acting like an idiot, but you didn’t have enough control to stop.

“Why not?” he asked. “You’re laughing, aren’t you?”

It was true, you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing, letting it out in panicked little bursts. Time had a bizarre elasticity to it, everything hitting you at once and fading just as fast. Laughing, sobbing, begging him to stop. It was easy to catch and hold onto one of his hands, but that left the other one free. And if you tried to catch that one instead, you had to release the first. There must have been a better way to do it, but you felt as if, bit by bit, particle by particle, the world was separating, the hot and humid air splitting, your limbs becoming loose, your capacity for rational thought dissipating like mist.

Lacking any sort of control and with a completely undeserved sense of invulnerability, you tackled him. Buggy let it happen, still laughing. At least he had stopped.

“God, it’s like being attacked by a drunk, one-eyed toddler,” he said. “What are you gonna do, whine me into submission?”

“Don’t be mean,” you said seriously, your words ruined by something wavering between a laugh and a sob, or maybe it was just the drunken slur.

“You attacked me. If anything, I'm the victim here.”

“No! You started it!”

“Hold on, are you… crying?” Buggy asked incredulously. “Aw, you poor thing. I mean, you were laughing so much, how could I have known you didn’t like it?”

“I don’t!” you insisted.

“To be clear,” he said. “You don’t like this?” He attacked your sides, not tickling so much as just teasing, but to the same effect. You yelped and sat up squirm away, swatting at his hands.

Rather than laugh like before, Buggy groaned, his hips bucking up against you. A loud, harsh gasp left your mouth, your entire body going rigid from the liquid heat of friction, your thighs squeezing around him. At some point, your skirt had ridden up, your panties being the only barrier left. You didn’t think you had ever been as acutely aware of how achingly empty, electrically tingly, as you were right then.

Bad. Very bad.

“Oh, there’s another fun noise,” Buggy said, laughing as he propped himself upright with his arms. “I can’t believe that got you.”

“No,” you said quickly, dizzy from the intensity of your reaction and how close the two of you were. You could smell him, the sweat, the musk, the salt, the greasepaint, the gunpowder. You could see the glitter in his makeup, the fire catching in his eyes. “It jus’... surprised me.”

“Is that why you’re shaking?” Buggy asked, rubbing your exposed thigh, the fabric of his glove catching the sensitive skin.

“I’m… um…” Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to organize the drunken slush of your brain. Being so close to him, feeling his body against yours, sent deviously tantalizing tingling sparks through you. And guilt. It was wrong, he wasn’t doing anything to invite those feelings, you were just being weird and drunk and embarrassing and you couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like to kiss him. You’d have to tilt your head a lot, although the stubble would be more hazardous than his nose. The last time you kissed someone, you were both young enough that you didn’t have to navigate facial hair. And then there was the matter of the makeup. You tried to imagine what you might look like after, the slash of red and imprint of white. Maybe they’d mix into pink. You tried to force yourself to focus on something else, but you couldn’t meet his eyes either. Nervous and confused and filled with a million different feelings you had no name for, you squirmed again, thoughtlessly adding to the anxious feedback loop of heat and need and intoxicated emptiness.

“You know, sweetheart, this reminds me,” Buggy said, “there’s still the matter of your physical. It’s standard procedure for new crew. We could get that over and done with while you’re… lubricated.”

“What’re you… talking about?”

“I’ve gotta make sure you’re fit, healthy… Clean of anything you could pass on to the forty or so people you’re gonna be stuck with in an enclosed space for weeks at a time.”

“How d’you do that?”

“You’ve been to a doctor, right? It’s kinda like that. I know it can feel a little invasive, so it might be better to do it while you’re drunk.”

“What…” you started to ask, but then Buggy shifted, his hips pushing up against you. The fresh wash of warmth it sent into your core scattered your mind, and you lost the already tenuous thread of thought. Your eyelashes fluttered, although you weren’t sure when you had closed your eye. “Umm…”

“Well, first,” he said, answering the question you hadn’t asked, “you’d have to take off your clothes. Then relax while I have a little look-see. It’s important that you stay as still as possible. I’ll have a hard time finishing if you can’t stop squirming around the whole time.”

“Do you really have to?” you asked, your brow furrowing. It sounded embarrassing. But maybe if it was him, you didn’t mind? Your dad did all of your past medical check-ups so it wasn’t inherently wrong. But the thought of Buggy seeing you without clothes wasn’t exactly nice, you could only imagine his disgust. That was bad.

“Depends on if you’re serious about being a pirate or not,” Buggy said.

“I am serious!” you exclaimed. Your hands went to the sash around your waist to pull the bow free. If you did it quickly, you wouldn’t be as embarrassed.

“Woah, wait. Holy shit,” Buggy said, “are you seriously—” He cracked up laughing, making you freeze. “I didn’t think you’d actually fall for that.”

“You’re… laughing,” you said, your fingers falling with the slow sink of humiliation.

“You really were going to strip for me, out in the open and everything.” Buggy laughed harder, rocking forward. “I didn’t expect you to be so eager. Hey, if you really wanna get naked, I’m not going to stop you.”

“I don’t, I just… I thought…” you said, pulling away from him and trying to get onto your feet to get away, embarrassment lighting the worst sort of fire within you.

“Woah, calm down, it was just a joke,” Buggy said, his laughter fading. “You’re absolutely plastered, if you stand up, you’re gonna fall right back down.” You didn’t stop, resolute to get onto your feet and put some distance between you and him. “I won’t catch you.”

“’m fine,” you told him.

You finally got your footing and braced against your knee to lurch upright. For a second, you were standing up and weightless. And then you were nothing.

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