Happy Halloween!! Die attempts to confront Ghost about his issues, Ghost doesn't respond well.
Tags: Ghost x f!oc/reader, angst, vague references to Ghost's canon backstory, hurt no comfort, Ghost is an asshole who can't communicate
Ghost doesn't even glare at you when he opens the door. Glaring you could handle, at least it would be a show of his feelings. No, the gaze he levels you with is cold indifference. You sit on his bed, all but begging for him to look at you with something other than disgust.
"Figures you'd be here," he grunts looking away to pull off his gloves.
"You're room?" You ask, eager for any bone he'll throw you.
"My bed," his tone is so even and cruel you wince.
"I thought we could talk," you try. Ghost stays silent, his focus on his nightly routine. He sets his gloves on his dresser, strips his shirt over his head, careful to keep his balaclava in place. You try to keep out of the rolling tide of his emotions. Disgust rears its ugly head too often for your comfort. Although you can't tell who it's directed at. If you weren't here you wonder if it would still point its wretched finger at Ghost. "Maybe I should start with an apology." You mumble. Ghost snaps the top drawer closed, presses his fists to the top and leans against it.
"You don’t even know what you’re apologizin’ for," he spits, you flinch. You don't know how to respond to that, what to say or how to say it. You don't have the words for the ache in your chest that his words conjure. He swallows, you feel his mind settle on something like pulling the brakes on a speeding train. Everything screeches to a halt, and piles in on itself. You'd be crushed under that weight, you don't know how Ghost can stand it. "Why couldn't we stay strangers," it's a question, but it isn't really. He isn't looking for an answer.
"I don't-" you don't understand. Ghost turns to look over his shoulder at you and you catch the spark of his glare, the cool heat that shoots through you.
“Least you can admit it,” He grumbles.
“If you would just talk to me,” You plead. Ghost slams his hands on the top of the dresser and you flinch. He clenches his fists tighter, another roll of disgust hitting him. Hitting him. It’s not you that he’s disgusted with, it’s himself. His anger, his hurt, his want to hurt you.
"Because everything has to be done your way.” He pushes his shoulders down, trying to keep the tension in his figure from showing. He’s wound so tight you’re worried he might break. “You couldn't just leave well enough- God, you can't leave me alone." You almost wish he were yelling at you, that it wasn't the cool even tone he always carries tearing you down. He yelled for Soap. Why won't he yell at you?
"I can't, I'm- the contract doesn't have a dismissal clause, there's no precedent-"
"So every fucker that gets one of you is satisfied with it? Don't believe that," he ticks his head to the side, clicks his tongue, "Give a man a brag rag that says 'e's a monster, and you lot think 'e's happy with it?"
"It's not-"
"How'd you tally it up? Hm?" Ghost turns towards you, "How’d you decide I couldn’t-” He looks away again. Couldn’t what? There’s nothing in your arsenal Ghost couldn’t use, no part of you that isn’t made to complement him.
"I'm a reward," you press. He looks at you again, eyes narrowing. You squeeze your hands into fists, dig your nails into your palms. You can smell blood, feel the sharp break of your skin.
"A reward. You think just because you give a dog a pretty bone it doesn't know it's gettin' kicked?"
You look away, you can't hold his gaze when he looks at you like that. A dog with a bone. His gaze is hot, his disgust pointed inward. He doesn't want to want you Iike he does. He wants you though. There’s a softness to it, an unease, a resentment. Another voice in his head that barks at him, reminds him of what he is. It feels older, darker. You don’t like it.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” you try, you feel small, a bad sort of small. You don’t like this part of you, the human part, the cursed blood your mother gave you.
“No, you want me to hurt you,” He snarks, his sarcasm more biting than his teeth ever could be. Your ribs tighten around your lungs, squeezing them closer together until you can't feel them expand anymore.
“I don’t,” you mumble. Your throat hurts, scratches uncomfortably, and your eyes itch in a strange way.
“Wha’s that? Can’t hear you, love.” Ghost’s tone is mocking, he leans comfortably against his dresser. Smug, but not pleased with himself. You can feel it. He’s making a show of it, but it still hurts. Hurts in a way you’re not used to, but perhaps starting to be.
“I don’t!” You yell at him, sob at him. You press your hands against your face, unsure if it’s wetness from the blood or the new tears rolling down your cheeks. “Why don’t you like me?” You cry, pulling your knees up to your chest, “Why? I’m good, I can be good! I can be good, I promise." You feel your fingers trembling, your voice getting softer, more watery, “I can be quiet, you won’t even notice me, please.-" you draw in a breath, "-Please don’t hurt me.”
Simon’s horror slices through you like a knife. But it’s fine. You can't hold form anymore, you don’t have to feel it when you melt into the shadows. You don’t really have to feel much of anything, not like this. This is good.
“Die?” Simon calls, his fingers pressing against his blankets where you'd been, his eyes darting around the dim room. It’s ok, you can be good. Your weight leaves his chest, and a new one settles in its place, as familiar and dangerous as coming home.
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Luffy: Hey everyone! I want you to meet my new friend. His name is Tra-guy! Say hi!
Law: Hello. I’m not his friend. We are just working together. I’m only here for a little, then I’m leaving
Sanji: Hey welcome to the crew
Law: Crew? No like I said, I will only be here for a little while. A week or two tops
Sanji: Yeah sure. Luffy liked you. So you’re a part of our crew whether you like it or not. Hell, I refused him outright like three times but he made me join
Law: He..made you? Are you like his prisoner?
Sanji: No no, we’re cool now. He just doesn’t give up until he gets you on his crew. It’s not just me too.
Law: Not just you……*looks to the rest of the Strawhats* How many of you didn’t want to join his cree at first?
Zoro, Nami, Chopper, Franky raise their hand
Nami: Really only Robin and Brooke were the ones who wanted to be here. Ussop was in the middle. Luffy said “we’re friends so get on” and he came happily but everyone else..
Law: That’s…so he built his crew by just seeing people he likes and making them part of his crew? No wonder you are all so……odd
Nami: Odd? You should feel lucky! We stopped him from inviting a guy stuck in a treasure box, A tree-Zombie and a unicorn-zombie that were drinking sake, A pair of Legs and a centaur.
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the thing about doctor/river is that the blatant romance is a defense mechanism. it’s playacting it’s how they sketch out the boundaries of their relationship because they can never be sure of how the scales of intimacy are balanced - they love each other, sure, but they are so rarely in a place where they both know enough about each other for mutual trust. so you get these really interesting juxtapositions like how eleven is in full flirty mode for impossible astronaut/day of the moon to the point where it feels like they’re about to make out every time they’re in the same frame but at the same time he dismisses her with “trust you? seriously?” and is shocked when she actually kisses him goodbye. in let’s kill hitler they flirt like hell when she is literally trying to murder him but not at all when they save each others’ lives. in the wedding of river song kovarian complains about them being lovey-dovey in front of her but right after that the doctor attempts to reset the timeline and river has to drag him kicking and screaming into respecting her enough to tell her the truth. in angels take manhattan we get both “just you wait till my husband gets home” (flaunting their relationship to grayle) and “never let him see the damage” (she doesn’t trust him to love her as a flawed, mortal person). they’re out of sync all the time, so sincerity is off the table except when it’s a necessary shortcut to trust that doesn’t exist yet - river whispering his name to him in the library when he doesn’t know her yet, their literal wedding being a tool the doctor uses to convince her to let him “die.”
the thing about “hide the damage” in particular is that river was responding to the doctor’s own fear of seeing the damage. she lied to him because she was trying to give him what he wanted, even if he couldn’t admit it. and it applies both to the broken wrist and to their relationship in general. every time he looks at her all he can see is the pain of her death, and she can see that he’s holding back even if she doesn’t exactly know why. this was always going to be a barrier to true intimacy between them unless they could be linear for long enough to know and see each other as they are, not as they’re going to be or as they were.
that’s why husbands of river song is such a perfect resolution for them. the only way river would ever be honest enough to let him see her insecurities is if she didn’t know who he was, so it had to be twelve and not eleven. and it specifically had to be twelve fresh from losing his memories of clara, so that he’d stop running away from confronting her death and just give them those 24 years together on darillium to really get to know each other, to see the ugliness and the imperfections and stay together anyway. it makes perfect sense that after that they could reach the level of love and trust river has for “her doctor” in the library, in a way that just isn’t possible with a relationship built on whirlwind dates done out of order and nothing else.
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