#ITS A DEAL ` > [ STARTER CALLS ] | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bajicantspell · 3 months

Text

Kodzuken in my DMs ❕

Summary: Kenma trying (and failing) to make a move → Warnings: cursing (Fluff) 🎧 This is part one, although both can be read as a one shot Part two right here

Despite his dislike for being recognized in public and the inevitable social interactions that fame entails, he couldn't deny that it came with its advantages. For starters, living in a big house in his early twenties wasn’t something he could complain about. Sure, it might have been just a rental and not in Roppongi Hills, but that wasn't due to any financial constraints; he simply chose not to. Kenma couldn't complain, he loved helping his loved ones. Whether it was sponsoring his friend's volleyball career or paying off his parents' debt, it felt nice to be useful.

Honestly he never expected himself to get this far this early in his life. It really felt like one day he was streaming in his old room for the ten people that happened to join and the next day he’s a ceo of a company.

However, one thing that Kenma anticipated to be much easier, but found it wasn't, was dealing with women. Its not like the requests weren’t piling up; it seemed like every hour there was a new girl in his requests offering him everything lewd imaginable.

Sure, meaningless sex could be nice once in a while, but lately he’s been feeling very lonely. Kuroo was always working, his parents lived far away, Hinata was in fucking Brazil. Aside from calls with them and the occasional visits, tedious work meetings, and interactions in his stream chat, he had no contact with anyone. Kenma also considered that it might be FOMO, but the fact that he had never had a girlfriend didn't help. In high school, he avoided women at all costs. In college, he went on a few dates, but nothing serious came of them—just one okay-ish hookup. Then he went viral, and dating became harder, because it seemed every conversation ended up being about him and his internet presence.

Kenma sighed while scrolling through another dating app. Everytime he matched with someone and the first message they’d sent was “OMFG ARE YOU KODZUKEN” he wanted to smash the phone screen just a little more. Giving up, he sank deeper into his gaming chair, taking a few deep breaths. He needed to be relaxed for the stream he was about to start.

If you could tell your awkward-ugly-duckling middle school self that you would one day have nearly ten thousand Instagram followers just for being pretty, she would have laughed in your face. Though you were extremely grateful, it wasn't as if your life was substantially different from anyone else's. You don’t get payed for posting, you’re still a regular university student, and aside from the occasional scammy sponsorship offer that you always turned down (and the creepy men asking you to start an OnlyFans), there wasn’t anything outstandingly different about your life.One thing you did brag about to your friends, however, was that the famous streamer Kodzuken had been following you for a couple of months now. Part of you was convinced it was accidental though, since he never watches any stories or interacts with any posts. Bummer, you thought he’s really cute.

“I’m gonna buy a fucking gun and shoot myself” Kenma complained to Kuroo during their weekly call.

“You say while wiping your tears with money”

“Oh fuck off, I’m serious! I tried everything. I swear I’ll resort to just fucking my hand for the rest of my life”

Kuroo snickered, then he started thinking of solutions for his lonely friend. “Okay, instead of being a drama queen in her fucking castle lets try to be reasonable. What have you tried so far?”

Kenma sighed, “Mostly dating apps to be honest. Ain’t working. Also checked my requests and they all sound like the plots to a bad porno.”

“Seriously? Like what?” Kenma could hear Kuroo’s smug smile through the phone.

“Dude there was one where she offered to lick my toes. Not gonna lie it was tempting.” Kenma joked, earning a loud laugh from Kuroo.

“Damn, living the dream. Anyway, have you tried making a move though? Cause what I’m getting from this is you expecting the woman of your dreams to fall from the sky.”

“How could i even do that? Can’t go outside without a crowd following me around. Can’t imagine a girl who feels comfortable getting hit on by a dude with an army behind him.” Kenma sighed.

“I didnt mean that dumbass, I know that. I mean like shooting your shot through social media or something. There must be at least one babe that cought your eye.” Kuroo reasoned.

Kenma paused and thought for a moment, his cheeks flushing the slightest shade of pink.

“Well there is one…”

“Oh yea? Who?” Kuroo smirked.

“She’s not like, famous or anything, which I like. It’s @(youruser). Found her a couple of months ago. Physically she’s exactly my type, like everything is exactly what i like in a girl; face, body, hair, style, the whole shtick. Followed her a couple of months ago, didnt have the courage to say anything though.” Kenma nervously explained.

“I say send her something, what’s the worst that can happen? Getting rejected? So what? Then you move on.”

“I don’t know…I think she’s really pretty, shooting my shot and then messing up means it’d be weird to still follow her. Don’t wanna make her uncomfy. She doesn’t post anything crazy, just selfies and outfit inspo, but she’s so fucking cute in every pic and video, drives me crazy.” Kenma sheepishly smiled.

“Even if she does turn you down if you’re nice about it I doubt she’ll be uncomfortable. I say do it.”

Kenma sighed, knowing Kuroo was right. He opened Instagram and searched for your profile, keeping the call with Kuroo active in case you replied quickly.

*ding*

You were in the middle of doing some coursework when your phone buzzed. Glancing at the screen, you expected it to be a new follower. Your eyes went wide when you realized the notification said ‘@kodzuken wants to send you a message’.

No fucking way, you thought.

You anxiously unlocked your phone, your focus completely shifting from your studies.

What you didnt know is that an equally anxious Kenma was patiently waiting for at least a ‘seen’ with his best bud on the line.

You opened the message.

Kodzuken: Hey :)

Your finger hovered over the keyboard of your phone for just a second before replying.

You: Hiiiii

You cringed at your reply, it seemed to childish and dry at the same time.

Kenma didnt think so, he was too busy panicking over the fact that you replied. Maybe he never got over his social anxiety after all.

“Dude she replied.” He said, not fully believing himself.

“Damn, that was fast,’ Kuroo smirked, ‘I’ll leave you lovebirds alone, gotta catch up on some work stuff. Talk to you later!”

“Wait Kuro don’t-” before Kenma could finish his sentence the call was over.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance- “Asshole”, he mumbled.

He stared at the screen, unable to muster the courage to type anything. It was then that he realized this might be the first time he truly liked a girl, due to the anxious feeling that had left him since high school. With trembling fingers unable to type anything, he sighed and set his phone down, promising himself he would reply in an hour. However, that hour stretched into several, and then two days passed. He felt insanely pathetic.

Kenma was on call with Kuroo again, Kuroo couldn’t stop complaining about the shitty meeting he had the day before.

“He was such an asshole, fucking bastard rolled his eyes everytime my colleagues and I talked. Like shut the fuck up. If you hate your job this fucking much at least don’t bring misery into ours.”

Kenma could only hum in response, preoccupied with setting up for his stream while his mind was flooded with self-critical thoughts.

Kuroo noticed the uncharacteristic response from his best friend- If there was one thing Kenma loved, it was shit talk, and Kuroo knew that all too well from years and years of friendship with him, and the countless brutalities that Kenma would throw at him and others he was comfortable with. He would point out things in such a monotone way, you couldn’t even be mad. Kenma was a hater to his core, so not hearing even a snicker from the other side of the line was concerning.

“Hey man, are you okay?” He asked.

“Yea its whatever.”

Kuroo suspected what this might be about.

“So uh.. how did things with the girl go?”

“They didn’t fucking go.” Kenma let out a huff of laughter through his nose, tinged with self-pity.

“Hm? How come?”

“I panicked and left her on seen. And I highly doubt I can recover that now. Like what am I gonna say? Hi sorry I left you on seen even though I texted you first, I’m just too fucking high and mighty to reply.”

“Well definitely don’t say that.” Kuroo joked.

“I seriously fumbled. Fuck,” Kenma muttered just loud enough for Kuroo to hear, running a hand through his hair.

“It’s okay, man. These things happen,” Kuroo said empathetically, his voice gentle and reassuring. “Everyone fucks up sometimes. You just need to give yourself a break.”, though he didnt get a response from the overthinker.

“You’re gonna start a stream soon yea?” Kuroo changed the subject, he knew that the best way to make Kenma feel better was to distract him or piss him off a little. The second part was coming later.

“Yea, almost done setting up. Gonna start in five.”

“I might stay and watch a little today, I’m off work for the weekend.”

“Kay, I’m gonna hang up now. ‘Bout to start.”

You checked the chat a couple of times during those two days, though the bitter ‘seen’ never changed. You couldn’t lie, you were a little disappointed. You didnt know much about video games, but you enjoyed his streams once in a while. He was a bit of a celebrity crush for you.

It was the weekend, and with not much to do, you mindlessly scrolled through Instagram stories to kill time. You stumbled upon Kodzuken’s story, it was a picture of his monitor, with the text “streaming” and a link to his twitch. Although you were disappointed with the outcome of your “conversation”, you thought it couldn’t hurt watching for a bit.

You clicked the link, and as you entered the stream, the first thing you noticed was his not-so-happy expression. His chat was filled with messages asking if he was okay.

You watched for a little bit, nothing particularly special happening.

As you were about to click off, Kenma snapped at his chat. "Guys, I'm fine! Please stop asking." The irritation in his voice was evident. Despite his words, the tone of his voice betrayed him, revealing a hint of underlying frustration or perhaps even distress.

Another autogenerated voiced question popped on the screen, something that happens with every donation. “Okay man! Whatever it is, don’t worry, we won’t nag you.” The robotic tone of the voice did little to mask the genuine concern behind the words.

Kenma’s shoulders tensed for a moment before he forced a small, appreciative smile. “Thanks,” he muttered, the frustration in his voice easing slightly. He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. “I appreciate it, really. Let’s just focus on the game, okay?”

You decided to stay for just a little longer, puzzled at the unfamiliar demeanor of the famous streamer.

A few minutes go by, and another donation followed by the familiar robotic voice “@KUROROROTETSU : don’t mind him he fumbled the insta baddie”

Your cheeks flushed for just a second though you were quickly brought back to reality by the man on the screen in front of you.

“Fucking kill yourself. Like I’m not even kidding I need you dead on my doorstep.” Kenma cursed to distract you the audience from his embarrassment, his eyebrows furrowed and a huge shit eating grin plastered on his face.

The chat started blowing up with laughs and ‘Kodzu’s back guys’

Kenma added, “before anyone cancels me that was my best friend of twenty years, don’t take the clip out of context.” He laughed.

Your favorite comment was someone saying “guys kodzu gets not bitches he’s just like me fr”, it made you let out a small giggle.

You debated with yourself, engaging in a mental monologue. ‘If I send him a message and it turns out to be about me, that’s the best case scenario. The worst case is completely humiliating myself in front of someone really famous,’ you reasoned.

You decided that a little embarrassment was a risk worth taking this time.

Kenma continued playing as usual, engaging and laughing with his audience. He felt his phone buzz and saw the screen light up beside him.

@(youruser) : for the record, I don’t think you fumbled me <3

He glanced at the screen, reading the notification, and immediately turned beet red. His heart raced as he processed the message. Slowly, he lifted his eyes to the camera, his expression a mix of surprise and embarrassment, as if he were looking directly at you through the screen.

“I uh.. hold on guys i need to reply to this for a second.” He said as he proceeded to pause metal gear solid.

Your screen was still open to your chat, and a surge of excitement ran through you when you saw the telltale indicator that he was typing.

Kodzuken : holy shit I’m so sry, didn’t know you were watching

(Youruser) : ahahah dw its fine

Kodzuken : can I text you after I’m done? Totally fine if u don’t wanna tho

Well it wasn’t totally fine, he really hoped you’d say yes.

(Youruser) : I’ll be waitiiiing :)

Needless to say, that was the longest a stream had ever felt. He could hardly wait to finish so he could talk to you; properly this time.

𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖𝕤 ↓。

part two right here , also i found these banners on Pinterest, if anyone knows who made these pls lmk so i can give credit

#kenma smut #kenma x reader #hq kenma #kenma kuzome #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo testuro #haikyuu #haikyu x reader #haikyu fluff #kenma drabble #kenma x y/n #kenma x you #haikyuu dumpster battle #kodzuken

585 notes · View notes

livin4woso · 7 days

Text

Lingering touches part 1-(alessia russo x reader)

Summary-your best friend alessia has always been touchy with you, but now they seem to be getting more frequent and are pushing along the boundary of whether or not you are just friends.

Growing up gay was a challenge for you as many people dont understand that there is a list of unspoken rules every gay must follow. One of the main rules is the line between are we just friends or are we more than that?. Its a line that ironically can be bent and you spend your time thinking where is it appropriate of where you can put your hands without giving the wrong idea.

This was something that you and alessia weren't very good at. The line is constantly being stepped on being pushed to its limits, but alessia is straight... right? It doesn't matter because she won't ever feel the way you do about her. The way that when her hand grazes your arm, it feels like it's on fire or when she compliments you, you can feel your cheeks heating up, leaving you flustered.

It was an obvious observation that to anyone around you that you were head of heels for the blonde, yet it was if she couldn't tell.

You and alessia had grown up together through the england youth academy teams. Your friendship blossomed over the years with one another. It was when you had reached the U19s when alessia had come back from america to play some international friendlies where you began to question if you just had plationic feelings for the blonde.

Alessia was a naturally cuddly person, or well, she has always been like that towards you her body was clung to yours in one way or another. Many joked that you were alessias personal pillow as even if there was a free seat, she would much rather be cuddled into your side or sat against your lap.

When alessia arrived back to the uk, you had already become a regular starter for the arsenal as a midfielder, and you had really been focusing on your football, so your feelings for alessia had naturally slipped your mind.

She had gone to play for Manchester United, where her other best friend ella was playing. However when yous had game against eachother you would be invited to stay round theres or they could stay at yours for the night to catch up with eachother and get the train back to london or Manchester in the morning.

This was a reoccurring routine, but one time ella couldn't stay in london, she had a media job the next day, so just alessia had decided to stay at your place. "Do you wanna pick the movie, and I'll call us a takeaway" you begin saying while opening your apartment door "also you can grab some clothes from my room rather than sitting in that disgusting gear" you say joking with her. "Yeah yeah whatever you love me, really.. no matter what shade of red im wearing, " she responded and playfully placed a kiss to your cheek, leaving you a melting pile in your kitchen.

The two of you had fell into a regular routine but without ella there alessia was abit more handsy than usual as the movie started she had curled into your side with her head on your chest and your legs entwined with eachother. Each time alessias hand would brush at the skin of where your hoodie had rode up was sending shivers down your spine, and you could hear your heartbeat racing at a million miles an hour.

By the time the movie had finished, alessia was quite content sleeping on top of you, yet you knew a night on the couch wouldn't do either of you any good. So you managed to untangle yourself and carry her to your bedroom, which normally this would be quite a simple task. However, sleeping alessia was like a dead weight. That night, you had realised how no matter how hard you try to push your feelings away for the blonde, they wouldn't go away, not when she was so perfect in your eyes.

But the imposed distance between you made your feelings much more bareable to deal with. Yet when the summer transfer window had opened, seeing the blonde wearing an arsenal kit was not what you had expected. Now you couldn't escape your feelings from the blonde, not when you had to see her every day.

The first day at preseason training was going to be hard for you as you cant ingore alessia but you also cant make it obvious to everyone under the sun that you would walk to the ends of the earth for the blonde if she asked you too.

#woso #woso x reader #woso imagines #woso blurbs #alessia russo #woso community #woso fanfics #alessia russo x reader

291 notes · View notes

autumnslance · 4 months

Text

The worst part too about the Paladin quests is it's Heavensward that's most egregious. It honestly feels like someone had no idea what was going on, or didn't care, or left, and their colleagues left holding the bag with this mess of a story had no idea what to do with it.

ARR Gladiator quests are fine! They're along the lines of the other Class quests, intro you to the job and a complicated character dynamic, and it's a decent time.

The ARR Paladin quests...are just boring. They aren't actually even that bad, they're just...utterly predictable, bog-standard tropes and plot line where you can see everything coming malms away. But they have an internal logic to them that builds on the politics and scheming in Ul'dah. Jenlyns realizes he's an unwitting pawn of the Syndicate, and he was literally chosen for the job cuz he could be easily duped and controlled. He doesn't even get to have imposter syndrome, he's actually unfit for the job (and then strives to do better, leveraging support from Papashan and Mylla to shore up his own weaknesses, which is admirable!).

...Nevermind that traditional Paladins in general are a bad fit for Ul'dah. The heavily armored Sultansworn makes no sense in that desert environment, and looking at a world map we can even see that Southern Thanalan seems to be on the equator. Like it's not even a case of "it's cooler than it seems cuz they're further north." Because they're not. And I know the devs wanted to have Ishgard perhaps be a starter city but that was scrapped due to time and resources, fine but um.

Dragoons are still trained in Coerthas, by Coerthans. Why didn't they just...do that with Paladins? Keep Gladiator in Ul'dah, where it makes sense as presented. But then have to work with Temple Knights to get the Job. Especially since after Ul'dah's intro, the game just forgets the Sultansworn exist and they have no bearing on the MSQ the way the other factions in Ul'dah do. Not even in the finale of ARR's arc where it would make sense. Gladiators are a constant in other side quests and MSQ both.

Stormblood Paladin is also fine--because it goes back to those Gladiators, and we interact with Paladins and Knights across the realm, and deal with those complicated relationships between the Gladiator guild core members. It's internally logical in its drama about finally restoring Aldis's reputation and place in Ul'dah, against the backdrop of the tournament.

Heavensward Paladin straight up makes no sense. Solkzaygl's actions are entirely contradictory to his character and arc from ARR. There's no way for some of the actions to occur without him working with the outlaws in some way. Instead of teaching Constaint, he sends him on a merry chase across Coerthas to learn on his own, and it's only the WoL's aid that sees the boy live, let alone make progress. A random man dies, guilt-ridden, due to Solk's scheming and lies he confided to this poor guy.

And then Highlander-esque "there can be only one" nonsense. Even as a Highlander fangirl in my youth, it was insulting and awful. Papashan, Jenlyns, and Constaint all call out how nonsense, illogical, unlikely, and stupid this whole story is...all to make a sword shine.

Because there's no internal logic to events, let alone the reason for the string of happenstance that leads to the finale.

And we know it's possible; HW Blacksmith gives us a fantastic paladin story! One that fits Ishgard's storyline and HW's themes. HW Dark Knight is also a good paladin story, actually, as they are meant to be another angle on the concept of dedicated knight defenders. Samurai for the Eastern equivalent, and the concepts and tropes present in those quest chains.

But the job actually bearing the name "Paladin" is left in the dirt. As a fan of the concept across various games (video and TTRPGs both), it's quite frustrating how the devs had no idea what to do with this job, despite other members of the writing and scenario team presenting stories that would have fit perfectly well within the framework. Only some of it is misplacing where Paladins originate in the setting; the rest is not taking advantage of the themes and setting of the expansions, and just not caring enough about the characters and story to even try, compared to the rest. Or worse, they did try, and meant for more, but whatever intrigue and complex plot they wanted to create was too much for 5 quests and no guarantee the arc would continue in the future, even if it had landed perfectly.

#final fantasy xiv #Paladin #grumpy old lady hours #lore #speculation #These quests frustrate me so much #even considering other storylines I dislike for their structural issues HW PLD sits at 'worst' for me #meta analysis

242 notes · View notes

patscorner · 2 months

Text

So Much More

Summary: After a bad day, you seek comfort in your girlfriend.

wc: 2,032

Contains: slightly suggestive...?

______________________________

To say it'd be a bad day would be an understatement. For starters, you woke up alone, instead of intertwined with your girlfriend, like you usually would. Waking up next to KK was easily one of your favorite things to do, basking in the quiet mornings you have together.

But today, she had an early morning practice to go to, so you woke up relishing in the ghostlike scent that she'd left behind. Not only that, but you woke up with a headache right over your eyebrows, making it hard to do easy tasks such as keeping your eyes open. But you had three hours till you had to go to work, and you didn't want to hear your boss bitch about how you'd called in too late. You really didn't feel like being written up, so you dragged yourself out of bed and trudged to the kitchen.

You put a bagel in the toaster and decide to make some coffee. That's mistake number one because as you go to lift the mug, your knee gives out, and in an attempt to steady yourself, the hot coffee spills all over your KK’s shirt. Quickly, it starts to burn, so you swiftly put the mug down and take the wet shirt off. You curse as you pull the shirt off and use it to clean up some of the coffee that's spilled on the floor.

Wait…what's burning?

Your eyes widen as your head snaps to the toaster, watching as gray smoke wafts through the air. “Shit, shit, shit!” You pop the toaster and pull the bagels out, wincing as the charcoal bread stings your fingers. “Motherfucker!” You exclaim, frustratedly giving up. Guess no breakfast for you.

Definitely another mistake, but at that moment, you didn't care.

You stomp into your bedroom and begin searching for the outfit of the day. Normally, you enjoy this process, but when you notice that KK had forgotten to do the laundry before she left, your hope dwindled. Finally, though, you made your way out of the house and to your car. You sigh heavily as you notice a white ticket in your window. This isn't the first time you'd gotten an unnecessary ticket, but being a transfer, they hadn't put your name in the system yet, so you just had to deal with the growing stack of white papers in your glove compartment.

The day drags on as you feel yourself growing increasingly overwhelmed. As another disgruntled customer complains to your boss about how you refused to take their expired coupon, you grow even more eager for your lunch break. The routine was always the same, you'd take your break and call KK, who was usually doing homework or hanging out with Ice and Paige, and you'd rant about your shitty customers and boss. And KK would listen and add her own comments, never failing to lighten the mood. But a frown makes its way to your face as you call KK twice, and you get no answer. You notice she hasn't answered your messages since she sent the ‘good morning’ text.

You text her again before slamming your phone frustratedly down on the table. You ignore the stares you get as you fight the tears threatening to fall. You get up from your chair, the wood scraping on the tile floor of the café. Fuck it, you'll eat in your car.

Finally, finally, the day is over. Finally, you get your car and drive away from the job that doesn't pay you nearly enough for what you go through every day. Finally, you pull into the college dorm parking lot and sigh as you notice your neighbor parked in your spot again. Finally, you walk past that same neighbor’s door, having no energy to argue about it. Finally, you approach your door and groan as you hear Sexyy Red blasting on the other side. Finally, you open the door and you smile as you finally see your girlfriend.

Your smile falters as you look around the room and notice there are 4 more people in your home than what you want there to be. KK must've invited Paige, Ice, Azzi, and Aubrey over after practice. You feel frustration brewing inside of you as you see the mess they've made of your dorm. KK is on live, doing a talent show with Aubrey and Ice standing behind her, doing some dance. Paige and Azzi are sitting off-camera, Azzi's legs over Paige's, the blonde's hand rubbing Azzi’s leg lovingly.

Gross.

They don't notice you walk in, but they do notice when you put slam your bag down on the table.

“Oh, hey, baby.” KK says, barely sparing you a glance. It hurts, of course, and normally, you'd have said something. But with two thousand people watching, as well as four other unwanted guests, you hold your tongue. Instead of answering her, you walk over to her and wrap your arms around her waist, resting your head on her shoulder.

You and KK weren't a secret. You were just really private about how much of your relationship was on the internet. Knowing this, you didn't think it'd be that big of a deal if you were close, and even if it would send shockwaves through the internet, you were too tired to care. Apparently, KK hadn't noticed your gloomy mood, or if she did, it didn't stop her from shrugging you off and muttering something along the lines of ‘we're on live’. You back away immediately, unwrapping your arms from her completely.

“Are you fucking serious?” You say taking a couple steps away from her.

You watch her eyes widen as she glances between you and the live. You already know you're gonna regret doing this in front of everyone.

“You don't answer my texts all fucking day, and then when I come home, I find out that have you've been on your phone, you'd just rather fuck around with random people than spare your girlfriend a text.” At this point, Aubrey had ended the live, and she and Ice had migrated to the couch awkwardly.

“What the hell is your problem!? You can't curse on live!” She asked bitterly. You and KK rarely fight, and never in front of people, so this was so new for everyone around you. Usually, you'd talk this out later when you were both much calmer, but now, it's too much.

You scoff dryly. “Me cursing is seriously what you're worried about right now?!”

“Bab-”

“No, don't fucking ‘baby’ me. After the shit day I had, all I wanted to do was come to a clean and mostly empty house, and as much as I love to clean up after you and your friends, it wasn't necessarily on my agenda tonight.” Tears have started to fall at this point, all of your emotions from today finally boiling over.

You frustratedly wipe your tears away. “Fuck.” You whimper quietly. KK knows you, inside and out, and she knows when you're angry at her, or if your irritation is just misplaced. She quietly grabs your hand and leads you into your bedroom, hand on your waist, closing the door softly behind you.

“What's going on, baby? What happened?” She sat on the bed, against the headboard, and pulled you onto her so you were straddling her. Your cries haven't stopped, and your silent tears have turned into sobs as you lay your head on her chest. It's been a long day, and all you could do was cling to her shirt like your life depended on it. She wraps her arms around your back, gently rubbing circles under your shirt.

“Shh, I know, baby, I know, it's gonna be okay.” She whispered, kissing just above your ear, on the crown of your head. You cry for god knows how long, KK never stopping her words of comfort. She knows that in times like this, logic doesn't matter.

You sigh deeply into her chest, hiccuping as you feel yourself starting to relax. Your sobs turn into cries, which turn into soft sniffles. She feels your body relax into hers, almost as if you've melted. “Do you wanna talk about it?” She spoke softly into your ear.

You pull away, and her hands cup your face to wipe your tears. You smile at her gesture before nodding. “It's just been a long day. I didn't feel good when I woke up, and I got another ticket, and work was shitty, and you didn't answer when I called you on break, and that bitch parked in my spot again and-”

“Baby, baby, take a deep breath. You're gonna work yourself up again.” She's right, and you know it. You sigh as you plop your face back onto her chest.

She laughs lightly. “I'm sorry I didn't call you, baby, I completely lost track of time after practice. It won't happen again.” She kisses your head.

“It better not. Next time I'll just beat your ass.” you say playfully. She smiles, her hands dropping to your thighs. “I have no doubt- speaking of which, do you need me to beat up that lil’ girl downstairs? This is like the third time she's done that shit.” You laugh, placing your hands on her chest, leaning in to peck her lips.

“Mmm… I missed you.” She murmurs before leaning in to kiss you again. You grin as you ball her shirt up in your hands, pulling her closer, your lips just grazing hers. “I missed you, too.”

She groans as she smashes her lips against yours. The kiss turns heated quickly, and as much as you'd like to continue, you know there's people in your house. So reluctantly, you pull away, and ignore KK's protests as you stand up.

“C'monnn, man.” She whines, reaching for you as you grab a towel. “I'm gonna wash my day away. I'll be back.” You whisper, pecking her lips again, dodging her grabby hands. “You're so fucking lame.” She groans as you walk out of the room. You see the girls playing a game of uno, SZA playing low in the background. Paige lets out a sigh of relief when she sees you.

“Thank God. Time was almost up.” You furrow your eyebrows in confusion before Ice looks up and groans. Paige laughs as she digs into her pocket and pulls out a twenty dollar bill.

“You couldn't have waited-” She checks her phone. “-Two more minutes?” Ice deadpans. You raise your eyebrows and Ice cowers a little bit. “What the fuck are you talking about?” You ask.

“I told Ice that you two weren’t fucking, she said that if fifteen minutes went by, you definitely were.” Paige shrugged. “You saved my wallet.”

You gape at Azzi, who's shaking her head. “Do not look at me. I told them you'd beat their ass.”

“You're a fucking idiot.” You say looking at Paige.

“That's what I said.” Azzi mutters.

“How?! Ice did the exact same thing, yell at her, too.”

“Why the fuck are either of you betting on our relationship?” You raise your voice, but you're not being serious, and they know that.

“That's what I said.” Azzi repeats.

“Yo, who's side are you on?” Paige turns to her. Azzi raises her eyebrows. “You're an idiot, and I will always stand by that.”

The room erupts into laughter as you shake your head. “Yo, yo, wait, how scared was KK?” Aubrey asks through her laughter.

“I wasn't scared!” KK calls from the room.

“That face you made before you went in begs to differ.” Paige calls back.

“Girl boo, can you shut the fuck up?” KK shouts back.

You shake your head as you head to the bathroom, the laughter quieting as you walk further away from it.

Even though your day was shit, and even if you broke down, you know that no matter what, KK would be there for you.

And as you showered, you thought about how she had already been through so much with you, and you know that, without a doubt, she's willing to go through so much more.

______________________________

taglist: @wintersstan @bueckerslover @lilia22hicks @fake-intelligences @girlokwhatever @pbloverr @breeloveschris-deactivated20240 @cosmopretty @hellokittyfeenie @averagelobotomyenjoyer @elliewilliamsthang @chelisbae

#patsworks #kk arnold x reader #kk arnold x fem!reader #kk arnold #kamorea arnold #uconn basketball #uconn lives #uconn wbb #uconnwbb #uconn #uconn huskies #uconn wcbb #uconn women’s basketball #uconn x reader #wcbb x reader #wbb x reader #wcbb #wbb

325 notes · View notes

mphoenix-7 · 4 months

Text

Bitter Allies [Soap x Reader]

Chapter 4: The Cabin: Day 1 (pt.1)

Summary: You and Soap leave for your week alone together. Your first day together goes about as well as you’d expect.

Word Count: 5,960

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, swearing, angst, slightly suggestive language, Scottish language usage, lots of arguing, strong language

A/N: See the end of the chapter for the inspo pics of the cabin!

Masterlist | <- Previous | Next ->

Bitter Allies • Part 4

The next morning when your alarm went off at 0330. You wished more than anything you could go back to sleep, but Price said the plane was leaving at 0400, and you didn't want to be late. You feared your tarty arrival would make him add another week on to your sentence. Dealing with Soap for one week was going to be challenging enough, you weren't looking to add on more time.

Luckily you were used to waking up at odd hours and getting up super early. The military work you did didn't allow for any semblance of a good sleep schedule. If anything, by now, you'd become accustomed to being able to sleep and wake whenever.

Despite that, you were still super tired as you pull yourself out of bed and turn off your alarm. You didn't have too much time despite being up thirty minutes before departure. All you could really do was clean your face, get dressed, and do your hair before you needed to go. You planned on eating on the plane.

Once you were dressed and had freshened up, you had about fifteen minutes left, which was plenty of time. You pull out your pre-packed duffle bag, sleeping roll/pillow, and backpack. It might have seemed excessive, but you didn't know what you needed. Price didn't give you any indication of what would be provided and what you needed to bring. It was fairly safe to assume nothing though.

So your duffle bag had all of your clothes for the week, a towel, hygiene products, and some things to shower with. Your backpack held the more basic survival items. Flashlight, water purifier, MREs, cooking supplies, a knife, a fire starter, first aid kit, and then some books to help you pass the time. You wanted to bring a pistol as well, but you had a feeling Price wasn't going to let you take a gun with you.

Looking down at your packed things, you sigh to yourself. Maybe Price would change his mind when you got there. Maybe it was punishment enough to think he was going to make you do this, and then you'd have to spend all day unpacking and then doing the real punishment he had for you.

You could hope.

Collecting your things, you head out for the hell that awaits you.

***

Ghost was walking through the hallways back to his room. He hadn't been able to sleep last night, which was sadly a bit normal for him at this point. He woke up around 0200 and couldn't get back to sleep. So he decided to go to his office to get some paperwork done. He worked two solid hours before he ran out of work to do and opted to go back to his room.

His room was right next to Johnny's. He could have had an officer's bedroom, one with its own shower, but he sort of liked being closer to his team. Everyone was here aside from States, who stayed in the female barracks. The barracks they had currently weren't too bad either. They were cleaner, more modern. Much nicer than some of the others. He couldn't really complain.

As he got to his door, moving to unlock it, he hear what he believed to be snoring coming from Johnny's room. He paused for a long moment, listening carefully. He was supposed to be up already and heading off with States for their week in paradise, not sleeping.

Moving to his door, he knocked, figuring it wasn't going to hurt to check either way. If Soap wasn't there, none would be the wiser, if he was, then Ghost was doing him a huge favor.

"Johnny? You in there?" He calls out, but gets no reply. The snoring seems to continue though. Ghost tests the handle, finding it does turn. Of course Soap didn't lock his doors. He peaks insides, finding a lump still under the covers. Soap hadn't gotten up yet, and it was well past 0400 now.

"Johnny!" He shouts, pushing the door open more and finally making the other man startle awake. "What the fuck are you doing? You're supposed to be boarding like five minutes ago!"

Soap sits up fast, staring at Ghost with startled and sleep filled eyes. It takes the Scot about three seconds to fully process what Ghost had said before he looked over to his tiny alarm clock, blinking the time at him in red: 0407.

"Aye, for fuck's sake! Whit the fuck! Ma bloody alarm didnae go aff!" He shouts, his Scottish tongue thick as he throws his covers off and bolts around the room. He was only in his boxers, yanking his dresser open to grab some pants and a shirt. "Did they send you to come get me?" He asks hurriedly as he throws his shirt over his head and struggles to get his socks on.

Ghost watches him, eyes tracking his every movement. "No, I just happened to hear your loud ass snoring."

"Oh, thank God." Soap seems to relax a little bit at that, though he still keeps his quick pace as he gets ready. At least they hadn't sent anyone looking for him. He was sure they would soon though. Hopefully Price wasn't going to be too mad either. The last thing he wanted was to have to suffer another week with States all because his alarm didn't go off. He’d never hear the end of it from her if that happened.

"Fucking hell. You think Price is going to kill me?" He asks Ghosts as he gets his duffle bag and sleeping roll and throws them by the door. He gets to work on yanking his boots onto his feet and hurriedly doing the laces up.

"States will probably kill you first." Ghost answers truthfully, moving out of the way as Soap throws his stuff.

"Steaming Jesus, don't even bring her up. I don't want to even think about that lass right now." He groans, pulling his laces tight and doing up the remaining laces in a bow knot.

"You asked." Ghost shrugs as Soap springs to his feet.

"I asked what Price would do, you stoter." He grumbles, grabbing his bags from the ground and giving Ghost a pat on the chest as he passes. "Thanks for waking me up, I owe you one!"

***

You'd been waiting roughly fifteen minutes now by the plane, bags at your feet, and watching Price pace angrily. He hadn't been happy the second it hit 0400 with the Scot still nowhere in sight. You worried what he was going to do. You desperately didn't want him to extend your stay. You were here, why should you be punished when you were on time? Then again, if bootcamp taught you one thing, it was that if one member of your squad messed up, you all messed up.

"Aye! I'm here!" You hear in the distance. When you look, you can see Soap sprinting across the asphalt, duffle bag in one hand, sleeping roll under his armpit, and his free hand waving. "I'm so sorry I'm late. My bloody alarm didn't go off."

Price is glaring at him. Despite being one of the nicer military captains you've ever met in your life, Price was still a leader and didn't put up with people not listening to him. "You are fifteen minutes late, Soap. You've made me waste fifteen minutes of my time waiting on your ass." His tone was deep and rough.

"Sorry, Captain." He apologizes, but it doesn't seem to be enough for Price. You watch as he turns and walks to the plane, pulling out a large suitcase and throwing it onto the ground in front of you. You and Soap both stare at it for a long moment before looking up to Price.

"Listen up. Both of you. You are going to start working as a team. One of you messes up, you both do. And you don't blame each other, you'll blame your lack of teamwork and work to make it better. I want you both to repack your things into this suit case. What doesn't fit doesn't get to go. Your sleeping rolls don't count. You've got ten minutes to work it out."

“Captain, you can’t seriously-” Soap starts before Price cuts him off.

“I’d shut your mouth, Soap! You’re already on thin ice.” He growls. “Now, start packing.”

"Price," you quickly start, getting an annoyed look from him. He lets you continue regardless. Probably because you’d been on time.

“What?” He asks.

"Can you tell us what's already going to be there at the cabin? Like is there food already there?"

"I left some supplies for you on the plane. Figure it out." He says, looking to his watch. "And go."

You and Soap share a look before immediately ripping into your own duffle bags open. Clothes made sense to by the first thing to go in. Anything else could just be thrown on top. Quickly though, you are realizing just how much space they'd take up.

"Steaming Jesus, States! Take some of your clothes out!" Soap is already grabbing at your things and tossing them out. You grab his wrist to stop him.

"Don't throw my clothes on the ground! Throw some of your shit out!"

"I packed four sets of clothes! You have fucking seven!"

"Cause I packed enough for a week. I am not going to wear dirty clothes."

"Well you're gonna have to cause there's not enough room!" He yells, pushing your hand away. He tries to pull more out, but you stop him again.

"Fine! Fine, just let me do it! I'm taking seven pairs of underwear though." You start to take some of your clothes, stuffing them back into your duffle bag and trying to count out four pairs of pants and shirts. When you get to putting your underwear into the suitcase, you try to do so quickly so Soap doesn't see. However, you must not have been fast enough, because Soap seems to stutter in his movements.

"You have fucking red lacy panties?" He asks, making you blush furiously. To be fair, they were all different colors and designs. He'd only managed to catch a glimpse of the red ones.

"Shut up!" You growl, getting a grin from him. He thought this was funny.

"Who the hell you trying to dress up for?" He teases, but it's anything but playful. He's just being a dick.

"I said shut up! It's none of your damn business! These were in my bag, you shouldn't have ever seen them."

"Seven minutes!" Price calls out, reminding you to hurry. You still needed to finish packing your basics and needed to check the supplies you had on the plane to see what you might be missing. Time seemed to be going down way too fast.

Soap quickly moves on, throwing in his towel and a few others things while you try to put in your shampoo, conditioner, and a bar of soap in. Soap quickly tries to take them out though.

"Oh no," He starts, picking them up and handing them back to you. "We are using my stuff. We are already short on space, we don't need these taking up room."

"I am not using that horrible shit you use." You counter. Before you can argue it, Price is stepping in yet again.

"Come on, guys! You're down to six minutes! Work it out faster."

"You can pack that," you motion to his body wash. "But I get my shampoo. I will forget the conditioner, but I get real shampoo."

Feeling the time pressure, Soap all but growls. "Fine! Just move your ass!" He takes the shampoo from your hands and packs it away roughly before shoveling other hygiene things in. You're glad to see he's bringing deodorant among those things.

One of the last items you throw in are some tampons, which had Soap making a face.

"Oh, gross." He groans. "Don't tell me you're gonna menstruate."

You glare at him. "I might. I want them just in case. What, would you rather me bleed all over the place?"

"That's so fucking gross."

"What the hell you mean gross? You are around blood at the time!"

"That's different." He claims, making you stare at him in utter shock.

"How is it- you know what, forget it. Never, ever, get a girlfriend, MacTavish." He rolls his eyes but offers no argument back. Or maybe he would have, but Price cuts in.

"Five minutes, move! Lets go!" Price yells at you, making you grab your backpack.

"Go check the plan, see what we have, I'll throw in whatever we don't." You tell Soap as you start to put things in just in case Price calls time and you don't have them packed.

"No, cause you're going to mess with my stuff." He accuses, getting a glare from you.

"Can you just fucking trust me!? I'm not going to do that! I need to survive too!" You shout back, which gets him, reluctantly, moving. He runs over and hops inside the plan, pulling out the crates that had your supplies.

"We've got food! And a few MRE's. Probably enough for a week." He informs you. You still add a few of the MRE's you had just in case. "Looks like we also have a pot and utensils, water tablets, ..." He went silent a moment as he continued his digging.

“Come on! What else?!” You yell to him, growing frustrated that he seems to just be taking his sweet time.

"I’m working on it! Don’t get your red panties in a knot.” He yells back, making you huff. “Uhh.. a med-kit, flares, toilet paper, and a flashlight. I think that's it."

With that knowledge, you pack a few fire starters and then your pocket knife. The suit case was bulging at this point, but you hoped it would zip shut. Soap comes back out of the plane and looks over the things you've added.

"You two have one minute. Close it and get it in the plane." Price tells you. You try to shut it, but Soap quickly stops you.

"Wait, I've got one more thing." He quickly starts to dig through his bag and pulled out two, somewhat thick, black journals and some pencils. He throws them on top, and you shake your head.

"Really? Do you really need that?" The suitcase was already bulging. You were worried it wasn't going to close without the two books on top.

"Yes. I need those." He growls defensively, trying to move them to a different spot so they'd fit.

“So I can’t have conditioner, but you can have two fucking thick books?”

Soap glares at you. “I saw you pack a book. I get these.” He flips the top of the suitcase down. "Just sit your ass on it, I'll zip."

You would have fought him more about the books, but you are very aware you are running out of time. You didn't put it past Price to not let you have the suit case if you couldn't get it to the plane in time.

So you do what Soap says, putting all your weight on the bag while he tries to force the zipper alone the track. At first, you are worried it's going to break at any second the way he’s pulling on it, but he manages to get it shut.

"Thirty seconds!" Price calls.

Once Price calls out that time, you are scrambling to get off it while Soap is lifting it up. He grunts as he does, and you have to pause and watch him a moment. The muscles in his arms are flexing beautifully as he lifts the suitcase up. It's-

Oh God. You could vomit. Did you really just describe any part of Soap as beautiful? To be fair, he was a very good looking man. A very in shape one at that. But he could be pretty to look at while also being a train wreck on the inside. Still, you made a vow to never think about him in that way ever again.

"States, get your ass over here!" Soap shouts at you from inside the plane. He's already lifted the case inside while you're still on the ground by your stuff. Price is counting from ten seconds, and you scramble to your feet, running to board before Price says zero. Lord knows if he was going to punish you more if you aren't on the plane in time.

You make it up with about four seconds to spare. You and Soap are both out of breath a little bit, and Price is giving you a slow clap as he walks over.

"Didn't think you'd be able to pull it off if I'm being honest." He admits. "Since you exceeded my expectations, I'll let you go grab your sleeping rolls." He says, nodding behind him to the identical rolls still laying by your things. You and Soap both let out a groan, and Soap instantly lays into you.

"You kidding me, States? I do all that work lifting this overpacked luggage bag, and you can't even grab our sleeping gear?"

You're embarrassed to admit that the likely reason you didn't grab them was because you'd been distracted by Soap's muscles and then the horror of realizing you'd been staring. Of course you aren’t going to tell him that though.

"Well you could've reminded me to grab them." You try to cover, choosing to just respond to him the way you always did "That's what a team would do after all."

"Oh don't get all high and mighty, kiss ass."

"Soap go grab them," Price orders sternly. "Before I change my mind and tell the pilot to take off without them."

Soap peels himself from his seat with that order, grumbling as he goes. You stay where you are, watching him pluck both off the ground. Price stops him a moment while he's on his way back. They talk for a moment, and you think Soap takes something from him, but you aren't sure. You don't see anything though as Soap boards again and tosses your roll at you. You hadn't been expecting it, and it hits you in the face a bit. You managed to get your arms up just in time to block most of the impact.

"Hey!" You grumble as it hits you. You send Soap a glare and then grab your roll, moving it under the bench next to a backpack. "Don't throw my stuff around."

"Need to work on those reflexes." Soap mutters to you as he places his own roll on the other side of the backpack. You roll your eyes.

"Alright," Price says. "One week. You kids have fun. Don't fucking kill each other, got it? I don’t want to have to do all that paper work."

"Aye sir." Soap agrees, while you answer with a "yes sir."

***

The plane ride over was filled with a long silence. You didn't look at Soap, and he didn't look at you. It went on like this for hours. Price hadn't exactly told you where you were going, and at this rate, you didn't even know if you were going north or south. The only thing you really did know was that there was miles of trees below you.

Finally the pilot spoke to you over your headsets. "Touching down in five. Need to touch down in a clearing, so it's going to be about a two mile hike."

"Of course it is." Soap gripes over the headset. It's the first thing he's said since you took off. You sigh deeply, already preparing yourself for all the whining he's going to do while you make your way to the cabin.

The plane lands in the clearing, and you get up to gather your supplies. For only two people, there was a lot you needed to move. The container your food came in was a wooden box, so it was heavy. The suitcase was also super heavy, and on top of that, you also had your sleeping rolls and the backpack of supplies.

"How in the hell are we suppose to carry all this?" You mutter to yourself as you look down at all the stuff. The pilot had left the cockpit and was in the cabin with you, glancing over all your things.

"There's a wagon you can take. Might be a pain to get up hills or over rocks, but it might help to lighten the load a bit." He offers. "I'll go get it for you." He gives you a pat on the shoulder, and you offer him a smile.

"Really? That'd be great. Thanks." You hum, watching him leave. He must not have gotten the memo you and Soap were being punished. Still, you weren't going to say no to a wagon.

"Sure thing." He nods. "Anything for a pretty girl like you."

You are blushing furiously now, not expecting the pilot to say something like that to you. The compliment was appreciated, of course, though with Soap being around to hear it, you're more embarrassed than anything.

Soap was rolling his eyes and huffing as he watched the scene unfold. His arms were crossed tightly across his chest. Once the pilot is gone, you are glaring at him. "What?" You ask sternly. What could he possibly be all huffy about?

"You always flirt your way into getting the easiest route possible?" He grumbles, a venom to his tone. You stare at him in disbelief, mouth hanging open just slightly.

"I.. are you joking? I was not flirting with him. He's the one who offered to help. All I said was thanks." You don't know why you feel the need to defend yourself. Soap was just being an ass.

Soap rolls his eyes like he doesn't believe you. "If you show him your red lacy panties maybe we can get him to help us carry some this shite." He adds further, rather loudly, making your cheeks turn just about as red as your underwear. You throw an MRE at him, hitting him in the arm and making him jump slightly.

"Shut up!" You growl. "I do not need the whole world knowing something like that."

"Oh just me then, aye?"

You throw another MRE at him, but he's more prepared for it this time. He tries to catch, but misses. It just hits his hand and falls to the ground alongside the first one you threw.

"Stop throwing those! That's our food!" He growls, and you prepare to throw another one, but then the pilot comes returns.

"Here we go! Think this will work?" He asks, unfolding a decently sized wagon. It was going to work really well and definitely save you some strain. You look over to Soap, who's raising a brow at you, giving you a suggestive look. God, he was a child.

"Yep. That's great. Thanks." You say hurriedly, your tone coming off a lot less grateful than that poor pilot deserved. You take the handle from him and rush to pack up your stuff. "Soap get your ass over here and help me pack."

"You got it, lass." He says way too cheekily. He's just trying to get on your nerves. The faster you pack up and get to the cabin, the sooner you could get away from him.

He comes up right behind you, his breath on your ear. "What would you like me to do, boss." You flinch away from him, rubbing your ear of your shoulder. He's like a mosquito you can't get to leave you alone.

"Can you back up!? I don't want your stank breath on me. Just-just go make sure you have all your shit and make sure the backpack has everything we need." You snap, making Soap defensively raise his hands in surrender and back off. But you had a feeling he was perfectly fine with getting out of helping pack the wagon.

"Fine. Anything you want, princess."

You hated it when he called you that, but you just ignored him. It was too early in the day to be this mad at him.

Luckily with him gone, it made it much easier to pack. You were still feeling stressed though. The suitcase is the first thing you put in, followed by just one of the crates of food. Already the wagon was pretty much full. You ended up dumping the other crate, just piling in food wherever it will fit. Hopefully the wagon would be just a little lighter without the extra crate.

The rest of the supplies was, hopefully, in the backpack. Given the fact Soap needed those things to survive too, you had high hopes he actually did a good job packing. When you regrouped, you forced Soap to pull the wagon, so he gave you the backpack to carry. You didn't argue that seeing as it was only fair.

The backpack was heavier than you thought it'd be, but not awful. As you walked down the ramp, you couldn't help but feel like you were forgetting something. With how rushed Price had you this morning, you hoped it wasn't something you left in your luggage back on base.

***

The hike to the cabin was worse than you thought it'd be. There was no cleared path that led to the cabin. It was all just woods. While the wagon seemed like a good idea, it got stuck on every rock, branch, and plant you passed by. You had to help Soap push it up the hills and get it unstuck so many times. It more than doubled the time it'd normally take for you to walk two miles. Every muscle ached by the time you reach the cabin, and tensions between you and Soap were running high.

When the cabin finally came into view, you were so excited. It looked so nice from the outside. It sat in the middle of a clearing, a big lake behind it, and sun beaming down on it. You swore it had a halo as angelic as it was.

That was until you stepped inside. The cabin you were staying in was tiny. It only had two rooms. Upon immediately walking in, you found yourself in the kitchen. It had an old wood fire stove for cooking in one corner, one cabinet for food, a few shelves, and a tiny table in the other corner. There was also a door which led outside to a small deck, and the lake was a good 15-20 meters away. There was also an old fire pit that sat between the deck and the water.

Off to the right was the bedroom. A wall with a door separated the bedroom from the kitchen. Inside was two cots, a dresser, and another wood stove between the cots. It was a really small room. The two cots took up a majority of the space.

"Where's the bathroom?" You frown, watching Soap from the kitchen as he stood in the middle of the bedroom. You hoped you'd just missed it somehow or it was hidden away.

"There isn't one." Soap grumbles, still cranky from the hike over. You were both pretty tired and hungry. It was around lunchtime.

"What do you mean? There has to be one. Where are we supposed to shower and-"

"Your eyesight's as sharp as a rubber knife, you know that?"

You were losing it. You'd just spend the last hour and a half walking two miles. You were sweaty, tired, and hungry. "Can you just stop being a dick and tell me?"

"There's an outhouse a few meters away from the cabin outside. You can shit in there. As for showering, you probably have to bathe in the lake." He answers finally.

You could die. Price was really pissed with you this time.

"Bathing outside. Just great." You mumble, looking out of the window to the lake. The water was probably freezing. Plus the thought of Soap seeing you naked made your skin crawl more than the thought of bathing with a fish.

While you'd been lost in thought looking out of the window, Soap came out of the bedroom to grab the backpack and the suitcase from the wagon. He wordlessly moves it into the bedroom, probably to start unpacking his things. Not wishing to be in the same room as him, you get to work on putting food away. You lift the crate of food from the wagon and set it on the ground then start to sort through the remaining food in the wagon.

A second later you hear a loud squeak. It sounded like the springs of the cot. Curiously, you looked into the bedroom to find Soap had sat on one. He shook his head and got up, moving to the other one.

"Hell no. Not dealing with that all night." He grumbles, sitting on the other cot, which was silent in comparison. You glare at him.

"Are you fucking serious? You're going to stick me with the bed that squeaks?" You stay in the doorway, watching as he unzips the backpack and pulls his sleeping roll from it.

"Yep. Snooze you lose." He says, unrolling his sleeping roll and laying it on the bed with his pillow.

You scowl are him from the doorway and storm over to grab the backpack from him to retrieve your own roll. Of course he was going to do this to you. "I fucking hate you, MacTavish. You're such an absolute child." You seethe, digging through the bag and not finding your sleeping roll in there. "Where's my sleeping roll?"

"Hell if I know." Soap answers, sitting on his cot and lying back while he watches you dig.

"What the fuck did you do with my sleeping roll, MacTavish?!" You shout this time, rage filling you. You needed that otherwise you were going to freeze every night.

"Christ's sake! I didn't touch your stuff! I don't know what the fuck you did with it!" He shouts back, matching your volume.

"You didn't pack my sleeping roll when you packed yours?!"

"Hell no! Why would I? I thought you'd have packed it in the wagon!"

"Why would I-?!" You take a deep breath, pinching the bridge of your nose. "So you're telling me my sleeping roll was right next to yours on the plane, but you packed yours, and left mine?"

"That is exactly what I am telling you."

"Why would you do that!" You growl at him as he sits up.

"Well for one there wasn't enough room in that bag for both with all the other shite that is in there. And I figured you'd grab your own bloody shite!" He growls right back, gripping the metal railing of the cot until his knuckles turned white.

"I was packing something else. I was distracted. You could have, I don't know, brought it over to me!"

"I thought you would have grabbed it yourself! You told me to worry about my own stuff, so I did!"

You groan aloud, running your fingers through your hair and pacing slightly. "Can you contact Price somehow and tell him to bring me my sleeping roll?"

"No." Soap answers, making you glare at him. "Don't you fucking glare at me! I don't have anyway of contacting him! Maybe you should have brought a radio if you were going to lose your stuff!"

"I didn't lose my stuff! My fucking teammate fucked me over and left it! You probably did it on purpose too!"

"Don't you dare fucking blame this on me, States!" Soap stands up suddenly, and he's right in your face. You find yourself taking a step back, but he just follows you. "I didn't do anything on purpose, so don't even go there! You did this to yourself! Fucking hell lass! Learn to take responsibility for your own actions, just like you should have at the debrief!" He shouts. "If you'd done that, then maybe we wouldn't be here! And you wouldn't be sleeping without your roll!"

You were shocked for a moment at his outburst, but quickly turn your gaze into a glare. The irony wasn't lost on you. He was demanding you take responsibility for your actions, but he wouldn't do that himself. Instead he just blamed everything on you.

"I should take responsibility? I should take responsibility!? You are always against me! Half the stuff I do is because I'm also being forced to work against you!"

"You're not being forced to do anything! You make your own damn choices and then blame me when it doesn't go the way you want it to!"

"You blame stuff on me all the time!!"

"Cause it always your fault! I tell you to do something and then you ignore me and treat me like I'm the enemy!"

"Maybe if you acted more like my teammate, I'd be less willing to treat you like the enemy!"

Soap's jaw clenched at your words. You stare at each other in silence. There's an intensity as you look at each other. You feel like at any moment, with a snap of your fingers, the tension is going to break. When it breaks, you're not sure what's going to happen. Before it can though, Soap finally breaks eyes contact with you.

"Fuck this and fuck you!" He snaps, stepping around you to leave the bedroom. His shoulder slams against yours as he does, and a few seconds later, you hear the cabin door slam shut.

Once he was gone, you feel your lip trembling. Already, one day in, and things were going terribly. You had to do this for six more days, and you weren't even halfway through the current one. You didn't know if you could do this.

Moving to your cot, you sink down and sob into your hands, the cot making a horrible creaking sound as you sit. The stress was getting to you and finally boiling over. This morning not being able to bring all your things, having no bathroom or shower, the long walk over, the hunger, the fighting with Soap... it was all too much.

After sitting for a while, and Soap not coming back inside, you wipe your eyes and get to work on unpacking. You unpack your stuff, hoping to find your sleeping roll hidden somewhere among all the clothes. You didn't find it.

You then moved on to placing the cooking supplies and food onto the shelves and into the cabinet. Price had left you with some good food. A whole box eggs, bread (which was crushed a bit), cans of soup, beans, and corn, a bunch of MREs, and salt. You also had a small pan, two bowls, two plates, and two sets of silverware.

Once everything was packed away, all that was left to do was to sit around and wait for Soap to inevitably come back. You'd take a nap, but that was unappealing without your sleeping roll. You wanted to eat, but you didn't need Soap blowing up again cause you were wasting the rations or excluding him.

He didn't come back though. Hours passed. You got hungry eventually and went outside to start collecting wood to cook with. You looked for him as you did, but you didn't find any trace of him. You made one of the cans of soup, ate it slowly, and watched the door, thinking he’d come through any second.

As the sun began to set, and it started to get dark, you were really, really beginning to worry.

***

235 notes · View notes

minkdelovely · 6 months

Text

love and power

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

chapter six

“the more that you give away the more that you have.”

Alastor x Fem!Reader ; MDNI 18+ ; [y/n] used sparingly ; Alias in Hell is Sylvie

tags/warnings: diet codependency (doesn’t quench the thirst), mentions: blood play; biting, slow burn eventual: smut

word count: 3.2k

author’s note: don’t get too excited over the tags lol but we’re kicking things into gear cherished ones. i’m unsure how many chapters are left but i’d like to aim for ten (total; i’m low-key flying by the seat of my pants) but fire is starting to catch as we close in on our journey. thank you for sticking with me on this, i hope it’s been as fun for you as it has been for me and that my gratitude is properly conveyed in this chapter ❤️‍🔥

prelude ; chapter one ; chapter two ; chapter three ; chapter four ; chapter five ; chapter six ; chapter seven ; chapter eight ; chapter nine ; chapter ten: part one ; chapter ten: part two

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Watching Alastor leave the hotel without you felt… strange. When he passed through the door you half expected to feel that invisible tugging at your neck, beckoning you to follow, but it never came. Leaving you unsure how to deal with the level of disappointment you felt at its absence. All you hoped was that he couldn’t see it in your eyes when he turned to give you a final smile before walking down the entrance stairs.

It had turned out to be quite the morning, just not in the way you had expected. Alastor told you about how your afternoons were to be spent over his breakfast, not the least bit apologetic for springing it on you at the last minute in spite of knowing since yesterday. A couple things clicked into place with this knowledge, like your conversation at the cafe. Just as you had suspected, what you had ended up talking about had nothing to do with the important things he had sat you down for.

That’s what he meant when he said he had a busy morning, you thought as you watched him pick at his food, looking less and less like the wraith you had seen the night before. You had used the phrase duality of man as a joke in your mortal life, but Alastor set quite a bar for it. Despite the short amount of time you’ve spent with him, you really had managed to learn a lot about him. A goal of yours that seemed to be… shifting.

What had been born from a place of survival was now skirting the lines of fascination. A discomfort settled in you as you realized this, knowing that you were drifting into dangerous territory. Developing a fascination — you couldn’t admit to another word yet — with Alastor wasn’t smart for a lot of reasons. He owned you, for starters. Not that you’d have ever been on even ground with someone of his status, but knowing you were literally at his beck and call… It was hard grappling with that.

Your grandmother had been such a terror, the expectations she had of you impossible to obtain. Whether she blamed you for your mother’s death or if she would have treated you the way she did regardless was something you’d never know. But you thought you were done being pushed around and forced into boxes you didn’t fit when you went through with your plan to murder her. Turned a new leaf, as they say.

Yet here you were, with not even a little bit of resentment towards your keeper. He annoyed you with his antics, sure, but you found yourself to be more fond of him than you had expected to be. Hell, you even took extra care making his bed every day despite knowing he didn’t sleep in it — it would’ve done no good to have him catching on that you knew he was just messing up the sheets. You were surprisingly reluctant to put his bed back in order this morning, wanting to preserve its state for as long as you could, burning the image of it to your memory. Even though they were still relatively neat, the slept-in sheets were a peek behind the curtain; another facet of him for you to collect.

The seemingly ever-present lump in your throat creeped up again, sending a tingling jolt through your body at this thought. Fondness, fascination. It had been a very long time since you had attached words like these to someone, and even then it wasn’t something you felt very often applied to anything past friendship. What little friends you had, anyway, preferring a small circle over a plethora.

You had experienced some romance in your life, but nothing longstanding. Flings might be a better word, comprised mostly of the usual dinner and a movie followed by some backseat fumbling. Living with your grandmother didn’t exactly present the option of bringing someone back to your room. And it was fun while it lasted but the payoff had never felt worth it in the end. You were more grateful for the distraction it provided from home than anything else. A lot of the time it just felt like another personality to juggle that you simply hadn’t the energy for.

But was this really something you were beginning to feel towards the Radio Demon? Or were you merely clinging to the twisted sense of stability he represented? Wanting to struggle against him to maintain as much autonomy as you could, or surrender?

The memory of how Alastor had held your face in his hand surfaced then. How his eyes had been heavy with a desire you couldn’t pinpoint, the way your skin burned under the pad of his thumb. How, somewhere under the fear and exhaustion, you had been thrilled watching him taste the blood off your face. Your chest was tight again, breath shallow as your fingertips ghosted over that spot on your cheek.

Fuck.

You wanted to rip your hair out, the desire to run after him growing stronger with every step you saw him taking towards the city battling against your own self-worth. You wouldn’t go after him of course, not only because it would be pathetic but you knew he would be disappointed and quite possibly repulsed if you did. Neither were things you wished to be associated with in his opinion of you or yourself. Though in this moment, all you could feel in regard to yourself was disgrace.

If someone had told you any of this a week ago, you would’ve balked at the idea. Actually wanting to please and follow Alastor around like a well-trained dog? Until quite recently you had looked forward to any time you could finally spend alone, but here you were, apparently counting the seconds until he returned home.

Get a fucking grip, you scolded yourself, inhaling deeply through your nose as you forced yourself to make your way back upstairs to change clothes.

Group activities would be starting in an hour, and it wouldn’t do any good to be fretting over whatever Alastor was up to. Above your pay grade, remember? Remembering what a snide bitch he could be soothed you, the irritation you felt towards his words from earlier reassuring. Though your meaning couldn’t be more different from his, you wanted to believe that you weren’t totally hopeless. The erratic heartbeat under your ribcage begged to differ.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Alastor never imagined that he’d be sick of heading to Cannibal Town, but there was a first time for everything. It was a novelty he might have actually appreciated under different circumstances. Valentino aside, his days were beginning to feel a bit too repetitive for his liking. Perhaps this meeting could end up being a blessing in disguise, a way for him to defuse some of the restlessness he was feeling.

He had to admit, your absence was… noticeable. Not that you could ever take its place, but having the option to take your arm had been a nice substitute for his microphone when his hand was feeling empty. As if to taunt him, his fist clenched with a nervous twitch, reminding him there was nothing to do with it other than keep it behind his back. Irksome.

The way you lingered around him before his departure hadn’t gone unnoticed, either, something he was unsure you wanted him to know or not. Though there was nothing you could really hide from him, not anymore. Alastor was now very in tune with the way your scent changed based on how you were feeling. It had been particularly strong and floral today, to the point where it still burned his nostrils with a pleasant ache. A keepsake, of sorts. How generous.

Even without that, it was obvious you had wanted to join him on this excursion. There was a sincerity in your ever-pouty face that was actually quite endearing. Still not a fan of frowns, Alastor was beginning to understand that it was your mask, intentional or otherwise, just as the smile was his. His original goal to strip it from you would probably never come to fruition with this revelation and he sighed, though not from disappointment. It was nice to be kept on one’s toes, after all, and he had already made the decision to find new ways to provoke you.

That’s not to say that he didn’t still wish to see what was hiding underneath that gray cloud you took shelter under. The few breakthroughs he’d glimpsed so far had been delightful. Getting you to murder someone wouldn’t work… though that wasn’t off the table. He’d just prefer you to want it; force wasn’t a measure he was willing to take in that regard, there was no satisfaction to be found in it that way. And so by extension, was getting you to indulge in a new eating habit. He hadn’t given up on that, either; he wasn’t lying when he said he thought you’d enjoy it under the right circumstance.

Something came to mind and passed as quickly as it appeared, shocking him despite coming from some recess of his own imagination. The taste of blood was on his tongue from where he bit the inside of his own lip, and he relished the coppery tang, delight coating him thick as honey as he tentatively explored the thought. His ears twitched low as his horns grew just the smallest bit and he cleared his throat to calm down. Alastor wasn’t one to just lose his composure on the sidewalk.

Perhaps, he thought to himself, though with some hesitance. Alastor was always taken by surprise whenever his mind conjured up anything he considered to be salacious. But this sudden inspiration fell under same qualifications as his previous idea, if not under an even stricter sense. That was something you definitively needed to want, being it was something he very, very rarely desired to give.

And what was it about you that made him want to? Clearly, some small part of him did. Had it just been too long and you happened to be an option now that this feeling was rearing its ugly head again? No. Alastor was too… picky to just choose someone out of convenience. He was unashamed to admit he had standards when it came to this. In fact, he felt the real issue at hand was that too many sinners didn’t, fucking anything that breathed with abandon.

His pulse jumped at the word: fucking. Was that even what he wanted? It would be enough just to have you taste him, bite into the flesh of his wrist and lap away at the blood that eagerly pooled to the surface. If you earned it, of course. As mentioned, his body wasn’t something he offered up on a whim to just anyone. But the thought of you enjoying it, unraveling at the feeling he hoped to inspire in you, your sullen face relaxed in the throes of pleasure in the taboo. His mind was racing now, running away with the fantasy as it so often did in these uncommon moments.

What sounds could he illicit from you? He nearly bit through his tongue, thinking on the satisfaction it would bring to hear your voice, normally tinged with some level of sass, pleading and heady in his ears. How would you taste in his mouth — clean and tart, rich and sweet? What would you smell like, blooming under the touch of his mouth and hands?

It wasn’t prudent of him to get swept up in this daydream, knowing the caveat to any of it being your willingness to partake. And he’d sooner face Adam’s axe again than ask, at least not without the inclination of acquiescence, which at this point was unknown to him. Uncharted waters.

Alastor hadn’t noticed that there was a sizable diameter of empty space between him and any other demon who happened to be walking by; rightfully threatened by the hungry look in his eyes, the tautness of his fanged smile, and the static that was crackling in the air around him as he approached the dry cleaners.

Thankfully he still had a bit of time to kill before Valentino arrived, needing every second he could get to center himself before their meeting. Were it not for his gloves, his clawed fingers would’ve easily punctured the soft skin of his palms, he was so wound up. But it was invigorating, this little idea of his, already feeling the ache ebb away as he shelved it for safe keeping. Only time would tell when he could dust it off.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The afternoon had actually been… fun.

It had been a long time since you had experienced that, feeling a little ridiculous now as you lounged on your bed, thinking back on how nervous you had been to be roped into the daily activity with everyone. Charlie had obviously lead the charge, but the whole group had made you feel very welcome. Niffty had even sat next to you the entire time, her approval something you were unaware you were even wanting but now grateful to have. She was actually really charming.

Since it was your first time, it was mostly story-telling and introductions for your sake. It was clear they were a tight-knit bunch, and you found yourself hoping to find a place in their little circle. That seemed to be your theme for the day; seeing where you stand, fitting in. But it felt nice to open up, divulging bits and pieces of yourself to your housemates. You hadn’t realized how much you missed being part of a group, gossiping and sharing anecdotes.

You told them about the accounting job you had, well-paying but boring all the same, which you didn’t think you minded at the time. Looking back, it really was just for a paycheck. There was no passion in your heart for it, and it was downright mayhem during tax season. Vaggie joked that she would be keeping this in mind when the need arose for bookkeeping, with you quipping back about cruel and unusual punishment.

A knock at the door interrupted your reverie, and you got up to answer it, opening your door to Alastor’s smiling face. The brief moment of butterflies you felt faded when you noticed the tired look in his eyes. You weren’t sure what mood you were expecting him to come back in, but you knew he had something on his mind. Beyond fetching you to perform chores — which he rarely did anyway, preferring that you came to him — what else would he stop by your room for than to deliver some kind of news?

He swept over you, no doubt picking your outfit apart all the way down to your bare feet. You were well aware that the cardigan and slip dress didn’t exactly fit into his definition of put together. Frankly, you were surprised Alastor didn’t force you to wear a corset under your uniform, a complaint you wisely kept to yourself for fear of giving him ideas. But for this, you couldn’t bring yourself to care, relishing the sparse opportunities you had to be in your own comfortable clothes; the v-shaped neckline of the dress allowing your poor décolletage to get some much-needed air. Besides, what could he really say? You were technically off the clock.

“May I come in?” he asked with a jarring sobriety, the absence of his radio filter giving you a chill. This wouldn’t be like the tête-à-tête you had this morning on the balcony.

You simply moved out of the way, giving him the space to enter your room before closing the door behind you, keeping your attention on him as he stood with his back to you. Alastor’s shoulders moved as he took a breath, his expression concealed as his head fell back, looking to the ceiling as he exhaled.

He maintained this position as he spoke. “I’m afraid I must ask something of you, Sylvie. It won’t be dangerous, but it won’t be pleasant, either.”

There it was again, the illusion of choice. Why did he keep presenting things to you this way when he didn’t need to? Not that it upset you, it was a polite gesture after all, but well… He beckoned, you came running. Was it smart to be so willing to do his bidding? No. But after Angel talked a little about the way Valentino treats him — which he seemed to handle with a bravery you could only hope to have a portion of — you knew there was a level of safety that came with belonging to Alastor. Certain lines he simply wouldn’t cross out of duty to himself, resulting in a strange benevolence for you.

“What is it?” You were surprised at the calm in your voice.

Alastor seemed to be too, his ear flicking at the sound before finally turning to look at you. The soft expression on his face sent blood rushing to your cheeks. You could almost mistake it for pride. Toward you. A burden you weren’t prepared to handle, apparently. A small sigh escaped him as he closed the gap between you and he absently picked at the shoulder of your cardigan, pinching the soft fabric in his fingers as he worked through what he was going to say next. For your part, you just tried to keep your breathing even and your hands to yourself.

He released you, smirking without his usual venom but still with that strained look in his eye. The fraction of instinct you had that still worked told you that this wasn’t good, but you had a hard time letting that sink in the way it should, too distracted by the charge in the air between you.

“I met with Valentino today,” he said quietly, giving you a small, knowing smile as your brows knit together in concern. “He wants to meet you, in two days. As of right now that’s all it is but he’s reserved the right to make a final decision on what he wants once he speaks with you,” he practically choked on the words, anger nipping at the edge of his voice as he continued, “And there were certain… concessions that had to be made, given the circumstances. Proud as I am at what you did, I can also appreciate certain aspects of Valentino wanting reparation.”

You felt like a toddler being scolded for acting up in front of company, unable to stop yourself from looking away from him, embarrassment blending into your fear. He wasn’t wrong though, and you always had a feeling you would need to make up for what you did to Donny somehow. Meeting with Valentino was the least you could do, guilt already eating away at you for the position you had put Alastor in. No wonder he had been so upset last night…

“Will you be with me, at least?”

The question was out before you could stop it, the blush on your cheeks threatening to melt your face it was so hot with shame. Alastor huffed a laugh, the mischief returning to his eyes in a way that made you feel dizzy.

“I’m afraid I don’t elaborate on stupid questions.”

Maybe it was the low timbre of his voice, or the familiarity of his smug grin when he knew he had denied you something. But the irritation you typically felt when he spoke to you this way was nowhere to be found, your brain practically empty with the exception of one thing.

I’m so… fucked.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

tag list: @fairyv-ice, @wat4r, @midorichoco, @raynerrold, @krak-jj, @tremendoushearttaco

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fan fiction #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor smut #hazbin hotel smut #slow burn #alastor slow burn #song fic #if i can't have love i want power #love and power #x reader #alastor the radio demon #the radio demon #hazbin hotel slow burn #alastor x reader slow burn

198 notes · View notes

mariacallous · 7 months

Text

Since the start of the Israel-Hamas war, the Biden administration has tried to toe a delicate line: backing Israel’s war against the group in Gaza, while pushing Israel to ease the humanitarian toll of its operations and take the Palestinians’ legitimate political grievances seriously. By all accounts, toeing this line has been a frustrating and thankless endeavor—and, increasingly, a lonely one. Today, even the United States’ closest allies are calling for an “immediate ceasefire” that would put an end to Israel’s operations in Gaza. At home, the White House is facing increasing pressure from Democrats in the U.S. Congress and parts of the Democratic base to change its current tactics in dealing with Israel.

And yet, what the Biden administration understands—and what Israel’s many critics miss—is that the international community cannot dictate a solution to Israel-Hamas war by fiat. If the international community wants Israel to change strategies in Gaza, then it should offer a viable alternative strategy to Israel’s announced goal of destroying Hamas in the strip. And right now, that alternate strategy simply does not exist.

There is a brutal logic to Israel’s actions in Gaza. By its own estimates, Israel has destroyed three-quarters of Hamas’ battalions and killed two of five brigade commanders, 19 of 24 battalion commanders, more than 50 platoon leaders, and 12,000 of Hamas’ 30,000 foot soldiers. American intelligence estimates are lower, but not by much: Between 20 to 30 percent of Hamas’ fighters and 20 to 40 percent of its tunnels are estimated to have been destroyed as of mid-January. It’s also worth remembering that Hamas is structured more like a conventional military than a pure terrorist group. As a rule of thumb, conventional forces are considered combat ineffective once they lose more than 30 percent of their strength and destroyed once they lose 50 percent.

Even if Israel does not stamp out Hamas entirely but merely succeeds in driving it out of power and underground, from Israel’s view, that is still a win—even if stops well short of its goal of destroying the group, for doing so would likely prove sufficient to prevent Hamas from launching another 3,000-man complex assault like the one Israel saw on Oct. 7. Finally, it’s worth remembering that it took the United States several years to defeat the Islamic State. Israel is just over five months into what its leaders promised will be a very long war.

To be sure, there are serious drawbacks to the Israeli approach. This war will encourage long-term radicalization of the Palestinian population, damage Israel’s relationship with its Arab neighbors, and tarnish Israel’s global reputation in a pretty serious way. Yet all of these problems are long term. Too often, states and politics live in the here and now.

At the same time, Israel’s critics have failed—and continue to fail—to offer a coherent alternative way forward. Instead, more often than not, there are vague references for the need for some ill-defined “political solution” to the conflict. To the extent that there is a coherence to this alternate strategy, it revolves around using the threat of diplomatic isolation alongside economic threats that might force Israel to agree to an “immediate ceasefire.” That ceasefire, in turn, would pave the way for a longer-term political settlement, likely around a two-state solution. Problem solved. Or not.

For starters, international pressure and sanctions will not likely compel Israel to compromise. Israelis from the leadership on down are keenly aware that their country was born out of the ashes of Holocaust as a safe-haven for Jews after millennia of persecution. Israel then spent its first quarter-century fighting for its very existence. The idea that the world is aligned against Israel is deeply embedded in the nation’s collective DNA, and chants of “from the river to the sea,” coupled with surging global antisemitism, only ensure that those fears remain very much alive today.

Economic pressure—such as sanctioning settlers or restricting military aid—is unlikely to work, either. In general, sanctions have a poor track record of compelling states to abandon core national security interests. And given the Oct. 7 attacks, this war is nothing if not a core national security interest for Israel. Even if pressure did work initially, for a political solution to be sustainable, Israelis must voluntarily agree, not be pressured into it.

But let’s just say, for the sake of argument, that Israel caved to outside pressure and agreed to an immediate ceasefire. What would the day after look like? Hamas—as Israel and Hamas both acknowledge—would be left with a considerable military force, numbering in the thousands. Israel would then need to engage in another very lopsided deal to free the remaining hostages. In early February, Hamas wanted 1,500 prisoners freed from Israeli jails, including at least 500 serving life sentences for murder and other crimes, in exchange for the hostages.

So, at minimum, the group’s ranks would soon swell. And invariably, some of those released would be quite dangerous. After all, Yahya Sinwar—the head of Hamas in Gaza and alleged mastermind of the Oct. 7 attacks—was freed from an Israeli prison, where he was serving a life sentence for murder, in the 2011 trade of 1,027 prisoners for one captured Israeli soldier, Gilad Shalit. None of this recent history bodes particularly well for long-term peace.

In all likelihood, Israel would respond to a ceasefire by tightening its blockade of Gaza, citing Hamas’ continued existence as one reason for doing so. In particular, Israel would likely put severe limits on the quantities and types of building materials allowed into the Strip. After all, Hamas diverted an estimated 1,800 tons of steel and 6,000 tons of concrete to build its tunnel networks, and Israel would not want to see them rebuilt. The net consequence would be that desperately needed reconstruction would be severely delayed or even brought to standstill.

The fighting would not stop, either. Fearing that Hamas will make good on its promise to repeat the Oct. 7 attack “again and again,” Israel would step up its preemptive strikes on Gaza and the West Bank, particularly whenever it got the first whiff that Hamas might be planning an attack. At the same time, Hamas would continue to attack Israel, if only to reinforce its legitimacy and divert attention away from the likely dismal conditions in Gaza (thanks, in no small part, to the stymied reconstruction effort). In all likelihood, the situation would be right back where it started.

Ah, but wait: Won’t a two-state solution solve this? Probably not. Even before Oct. 7, the majority of Israelis didn’t believe in a two-state solution, or that peace was even possible. There are likely even fewer who believe that now, especially if a Palestinian state were to include Hamas in some form. Consider how unfathomable it would have been for most Americans to support the creation of a state with al Qaeda at its helm just five months after 9/11. There is no reason to believe that the Israeli public should be any different. Given considerable support for Hamas among the Palestinian population, it would be politically impossible to exclude Hamas from a new, democratic Palestinian government. And even if the new state’s government is less than democratic, it would have trouble excluding Hamas entirely—even if it wanted to—if the group still has thousands of men under arms.

But even assuming that overwhelming international pressure forced Israel to agree to a two-state solution, it’s not going to guarantee peace in the short or medium term. There are still a host of thorny issues—including borders, water rights, air rights, the demilitarization of the Palestinian state, and the partition of Jerusalem—that would need to be resolved before a second state could come into being. Then there is the problem that only one-third of Palestinians favor a two-state solution themselves, and nine in 10 don’t trust the Palestinian Authority. For its part, Hamas has made it abundantly clear that it wants one state without Jews under an Islamist banner. None of this means that the international community shouldn’t push for a political settlement, but this is at best a long-term solution, not a near-term fix.

If a two-state solution did come about, it may not bring an end to hostilities. Two states did not solve hostilities between India and Pakistan, or North and South Korea, or North and South Vietnam. Israel would be under no obligation to grant Palestinians—now citizens of a separate country—workers’ permits, which would likely tank the nascent state’s economy, just as it wouldn’t have to provide electricity and other services to Gaza, as it did before the war. At the same time, Palestinians would rightly wonder why their state should be demilitarized and not entitled to the sovereign privileges of a “normal state.” There would perhaps still be Jewish settlers living on the territory of the new Palestine, creating all sorts of problems. Absent genuine buy-in from both sides, a two-state solution would simply turn a local conflict into an international one.

There is a lot to hate about Israel’s war in Gaza. It is a bloody, destructive war that has killed far too many innocents and upended far too many civilian lives. It is by any measure a human tragedy that will reverberate across the region for years to come. But if the international community is not simply grandstanding and actually hopes to solve the tragedy playing out in Gaza, then it needs to begin by offering feasible solutions that address both Palestinian grievances and Israeli security concerns.

To its credit, the Biden administration is at least trying to move in this direction. It is pushing Israel to curtail civilian casualties, set up safe zones, increase humanitarian aid, and move to a longer-term political solution—all while still backing (or at least not outwardly opposing) Israel’s ongoing operations to root out Hamas. Some might call such a balanced approach overly tactical and unable to quickly end the war, but a good strategy is built on sound tactics.

Unfortunately, the Biden administration’s nuance is the exception both internationally and in the domestic debate over U.S. policy. Just as the political right needs to be continuously reminded that the Palestinian population is not going anywhere and Israel cannot kill its way to victory, the political left needs to be reminded that Israelis are also not going anywhere and their equities must also be taken seriously.

Ultimately, if Biden’s critics on the political left want a different war, then they need to offer an alternative strategy and subject that strategy to the same sort of analytical rigor that it trains on Israel’s current military effort. If not, the brutal logic of the current war will remain, and the ongoing tragedy will continue.

209 notes · View notes

ofrolysdogs · 11 months

Text

jax boyfriend headcanons

me when i make a headcanon post every blue moon... anyways, i watched the amazing digital circus and its safe to say... i love me some jax lol, also, i usually do nsfw headcanons as well however i decided to keep this sfw until i get some inspo on what to do with him spicy wise ;)

now this won't be as detailed as my feitan one (if you like hxh and especially if you're a feitan enthusiast then you definitely might want to check this out!) also, if you're looking forward to comissioning me to write (or draw) anything, dm me for now (i'll link my prices here when i get the chance)

warnings: tadc spoilers obviously but overall none so far??? jax just being jax and a bit of angst at the end, abstracting and all, you knew it was coming.

---------------------------------------------------------------

how you first met

well for starters, jax will treat you just like he does everyone else, he's kind of an asshole and you may not like him at first, his cheeky and sometimes insulting remarks kind of either catch you off guard or rub you the wrong way, you get used to this behavior when the two of you confirm the relationship.

realizing he likes you

he is very conflicted with his feeling about this, he can't lie, the more he hangs around you, gets used to your personality, he doesn't know exactly what to do, he hasn't really felt any romantic attraction towards anyone since he came in from the real world, but something about you caught his attention, the others point out how weird he acts when they mention you, or better yet, when you're around, he's less... well, himself! after some time he kind of treats you a bit different from everyone else, he doesn't realize it but everyone spots it big time! he isn't as rude with you as he is towards everyone else, he might even give you a cheesy little nickname depending on what you are or what you look like (if you're shorter than him he might just call you shorty or tiny, if you're taller he'll probably call you skyscraper or giant.)

eventually, he confesses...

on a very special day, jax had eventually gotten tired of hiding his feelings, he had truly came to the realization that he liked you, like, a lot, one day he would go on to find you, and pull you to the side, and tell you... vaguely, that he liked you, you weren't exactly getting the hint, until he spat it out: "i think you're cute, and i want you to be my (partner), alright!?"

he was surprised that you said yes, knowing at first, you weren't exactly a fan of him, you said yes, you wanted to go out with him.. he didn't show how flabbergasted he was, always with his cool, composed expression, that smile and all. "a deals a deal."

you're his lover... now what?

so, pretty much everyone knows that the two of you are a thing, and he confident enough to make it clear that he loves you, enough time has passed for him to tell you that he loves and adores you, very much so.

----------------------------------------------------------

miscellaneous things

jealousy

when it comes to him being jealous, or more accurately; territorial, he'll get quiet, scarily quiet, his face is blank as he watches the person flirt with you, when you're not around, or on that day he feels particularly playful, he'll pick on them, and not in the usual way, straight up insults masked as a joke, don't forget, he also holds grudges, sometimes..

you abstracting

that day came, one of his biggest fears came true, you abstracted, he stared in disbelief as he watched, you looked at him with those eyes, you were not the same, and it was hard to come to terms with that, when cane puts you in the cellar, he can't help but shed tears, he doesn't wail (he saves that for later when he's alone) but it's something new for the others to experience.

#the amazing digital circus #jax tadc #jax x reader #tadc x reader #x reader #jax headcanons #jax fanfics

253 notes · View notes

buckysbabygorl · 4 months

Text

Deal (Bucky Barnes Fic)

Blunt Part 4

(Blunt Part 4, trust me the smut is VERY much on its way)

Part 3

Summary: Y/N finally shows, and Bucky feels more than rewarded for his patience

Being a soldier, you have to be sure.

You have to know your enemy, your team, you have to have the right skills and the right temperament for the job.

Is your aim dead on, do you know your location, did you check your six… every damn time you have to be one hundred percent sure.

Bucky knew right then, whiskey in hand with Tony at his side—he was damn sure that red was her fucking color.

That suit hugged her in all the right ways, hair down, heels high… and her eyes, staring right at him.

Bucky gulped.

“There’s my boys.” She called as she sauntered over.

“Do my eyes deceive me,” Tony purred, “or has Y/N L/N come out to play?”

“Oh I’ve come for much more than that.”

She perched herself on the barstool beside him, crossing one leg over the other. A signature of hers, Bucky had come to notice.

“I need a whiskey, and I need this god awful music changed.”

Tony waved to the bartender, tapping his glass for a refill. Holding up two fingers, signaling for another.

Looking at Barnes in his shell shock, Tony signaled for 3.

“My, my. Awfully bossy now that you’re off the clock.” Tony said.

She rolled her eyes, “I never pegged you to be against role reversal.”

“Role play I’m all for. I’ll let you play the captain tonight if it’ll get you to come out more. Speaking of…”

He smacked Barnes on the back to wake him the hell up.

“Bucky here is playing the role of depressed loner tonight, which is really riveting for all of us.”

She chuckled, and Bucky reminded himself to kick the shit out of Tony during training tomorrow.

Her eyes landed on him again, and she smiled.

“No ‘hi’ for me?” She purred.

Dear god, what was happening?

“You finished work?” He choked.

The bartender delivered their ryes, and Y/N swiftly raised the glass to her lips.

“Honestly?” She asked.

Bucky nodded.

She smiled, “No.”

Both men went wide eyed. She had to be joking.

“Are you shitting me?” Tony asked.

She laughed, “Don’t look so surprised. You begged me to come.”

“Of course I did. I just didn’t think you’d have the willpower to put down your damn tablet.”

Watching as she downed her glass, Bucky couldn’t muster a word. Who was this woman in front of him?

“Well… I thought about what you said. I never show, but I’m always good with the final details. I can’t control the outcome by rushing through the project. Handing something in a week before the deadline isn’t going to resolve things faster. Besides…”

She tapped her fingers on the top of the glass, and the bartender moved to make her another drink.

“I have more pressing matters here.”

Bucky couldn’t stop searching her eyes. Sam labelled her right a month back, Little Miss Wild Card.

“Like what?” Bucky asked.

Something in her eye turned. That glimpse of darkness he’d only seen when he took her glasses, standing inches apart from one another. His head was spinning.

“Well for starters, drinking Wilson under the table. Where is he?”

As if on cue, Sam came up behind her with a beer in hand.

“You wish.”

He slung an arm over her shoulder, and Bucky felt his stomach turn.

“I told you if you came, we were going hard. I’m keeping my eye on you to make you keep your promise.”

She grabbed her fresh drink and swiveled in her seat.

“I always keep my promises, you know that.”

Sam rambled on, and Bucky finished the drink given by Tony.

It’s not like it would do much, but he wouldn’t let booze go to waste.

Bucky realized too late how harsh the drink was. That was not whiskey. He looked up across the bar, seeing Thor at the other ended.

Thor raised his flask, pointing back at the soldier.

Hm, nice to know the God was looking out for him.

“Hey. Eyes on me, Sergeant.”

Bucky turned, Y/N looked at him pointedly.

He’d never get used to that. This different look she had about her, intense and daring.

She grinned cheekily, leaning in close.

Sam and Tony had begun their own challenge of drinking, yammering on about the happenings of the last party…

Somehow for a moment in this crowded room, he had her all to himself.

“What’s this I hear about you being a loner?”

Bucky pursed his lips, debating if honesty was his best policy. She’d blown off work to be here and gone so far as to admit it. He should return the favor.

“Honestly,” he rested himself against her shoulder, “I was worried you wouldn’t come.”

Her gaze didn’t falter as she hummed, “Like I said to Wilson, I always keep my promises.”

“You didn’t.”

That phased her, tilting her head as Bucky twirled his glass.

“You told me you’d come when you got everything done, yet you wrote it off to be here.”

He ducked his lips to her ear, something he dare not try since his strong attempts a month ago. The liquor was giving him his confidence back.

“What are your pressing matters here, Y/N?”

She shocked him by turning her chin towards his, lips now a fraction of a distance apart.

She lingered, and he reveled in her proximity. What he would give to sit like this with her the whole night…

“I’m not one for subtlety. And with your actions this past month, I can tell neither are you.”

He was entranced by her voice, hypnotized at its sultry slowness. His heart pounded as he tried to read her, subtle-avoidant though she said, he hadn’t been able to pull much from her before tonight. A compliment, her riding declaration and her proposition of praise had been divine deliverances in themselves. But he worried that she was playing him, getting him back for his blunt flirtations.

No. She wouldn’t do that, she was honest. Though she was harsh and sharp, she wasn’t cruel.

Still… he feared he would lose out on something he never really had.

Bucky looked down as her hand reached for his thigh, and he tried to stifle a groan.

“I remember everything you’ve said to me, James. The praises of my character, my beauty, that you like a woman that takes charge, that you want to add me to your work out routine…”

She slid her hand up his thigh, his breath grew shaky.

“I thought it was just harmless flirting. I couldn’t tell what you really wanted.”

She rose from her stool, slowly reaching for his belt.

“I couldn’t let you know that I’ve wanted you since the first moment I laid my eyes on you.”

Now Bucky couldn’t breathe. He grew vastly aware just how many people were in the room. Sam and Tony only a few steps away, they could turn at any moment and see her wandering hands…

Jesus Christ, he wanted her now.

“But now I know. I came tonight for you, I don’t want to dance around it anymore James.”

And then she slid away.

It was like electrocution, his spine rippled and his skin was on fire. He almost rose out of his seat.

“So here’s what we’re going to do,” She waved to the bartender, another round for the four of them. “You and I, are going to socialize, dance, tell stories, drink…”

She slid their new glasses towards them.

“At midnight, I’ll say I have to wake up early and leave. You’ll leave shortly after, head to your room and you’ll find me there.”

Bucky bit the inside of his cheek, hiding his lustful smirk.

Lifting her whiskey up, and urging him to do the same, she smiled.

“Then for the rest of the night, I’m yours.”

She clinked her glass against his, “We have a deal, Sergeant?”

He stopped himself from reaching out for her, instead mirroring her as she finished her glass.

“Deal.”

Tags:

@pigeonmama

@dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable

@dumb-ass-3

@cuddlycalcifer @babyblue-07 @babybluereads @lonewolf471 @agni-l @niiight-dreamerrrr @julipmoon @fandomsfallnomore @elliee1497 @godspeedlover @sexwithhiddlesbatch @annestine @shower-me-with-roses @yougottalovefandoms @rebekahdawkins @gentlybarnes

Bucky tag list

@emmabarnes

#marvel #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #bucky #marvel fics

95 notes · View notes

mostlysignssomeportents · 2 years

Text

John Deere's repair fake-out

Last week, a seeming miracle came to pass: John Deere, the Big Ag monopolist that — along with Apple — has led the Axis of Evil that killed, delayed and sabotaged dozens of Right to Repair laws, sued for peace, announcing a Memorandum of Understanding with the American Farm Bureau Federation to make it easier for farmers to fix their own tractors:

https://www.fb.org/files/AFBF_John_Deere_MOU.pdf

This is a move that’s both badly needed and long overdue. Deere abuses copyright law to force farmers to pay for official repairs — even when the farmer does the repair. That’s possible thanks to a practice called VIN locking, in which engine parts come with DRM that prevents the tractor from recognizing them until they pay hundreds of dollars for a John Deere technician to come to their farm and type an unlock code into the tractor’s console:

https://doctorow.medium.com/about-those-kill-switched-ukrainian-tractors-bc93f471b9c8

Like all DRM, VIN locks are covered by Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act (DMCA), a 1998 law that criminalizes distributing tools to bypass “access controls,” even if you do so for a lawful purpose (say, to fix your own tractor using a part you paid for). Violations of DMCA 1201 carry a penalty of 5 years in prison and a $500k fine — for a first offense.

This means that Deere owners are locked into using Deere for repairs, which also means that if Deere decides something isn’t broken, a farmer can’t get it fixed. This is very bad news indeed, because John Deere tractors are just computers in a fancy, mobile case, and John Deere is incredibly bad at digital security:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/23/reputation-laundry/#deere-john

That’s scary stuff, because John Deere is a monopolist, and a successful attack on the always-connected, networked tractors and other equipment it supplies to the world’s farmers could endanger the global food supply.

Deere doesn’t want to make insecure tractors, but it also doesn’t want to be embarrassed by security researchers who point out that its security is defective. Because security researchers have to bypass Deere tractors’ locks to probe their security, Deere can leverage DMCA1201 into a veto over who gets to warn the public about the mistakes it made.

It’s not just security researchers that Deere gets to gag: the company uses its repair monopoly to threaten farmers who complain about its business practices, holding their million-dollar farm equipment hostage to their silence:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/31/dealers-choice/#be-a-shame-if-something-were-to-happen-to-it

This all adds up to what Jay Freeman calls “felony contempt of business model,” an abuse of copyright law that allows a monopolistic corporation to reach beyond its own walls and impose its will on it customers, critics and competitors:

https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/

If Deere was finally suing for peace in the Repair Wars, well, that was wonderful news indeed — as I said, a seeming miracle.

But — like all miracles — it was too good to be true.

The MOU that Deere and the Farm Bureau signed is full of poison pills, gotchas, fine-print and mendacity, as Lauren Goode documents in her Wired article, “Right-to-Repair Advocates Question John Deere’s New Promises”:

https://www.wired.com/story/right-to-repair-advocates-question-john-deeres-new-promises/

For starters, the MOU makes the Farm Bureau promise to end its advocacy for state Right to Repair bills, which would create a repair system governed by democratically accountable laws, not corporate fiat. Clearly, Deere has seen the writing on the wall, after the passage in 2002 of Right to Repair laws in New York and Colorado:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2022/06/when-drm-comes-your-wheelchair

These two bills broke the corporate anti-repair coalition’s winning streak, which saw dozens of state R2R bills defeated:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/26/nixing-the-fix/#r2r

Deere’s deal-with-the-devil is a cynical ploy to brake R2R’s momentum and ensure that any repairs are carried out on Deere’s terms. Now, about those terms…

Deere’s deal offers independent repair shops access to diagnostic tools and parts “on fair and reasonable terms,” a murky phrase that can mean whatever Deere decides it means. Crucially, the deal is silent on whether Deere will supply the tools needed to activate VIN locks, meaning that farmers will still be at Deere’s mercy when they effect their own repairs.

What’s more, the deal itself isn’t legally binding, and Deere can cancel it at any time. Once you dig past the headline, the Deere’s Damascene conversion to repair advocacy starts to look awfully superficial — and deceptive.

One person who wasn’t fooled is sick.codes, the hacker who has done the most important work on reverse-engineering Deere’s computer systems, culminating in last summer’s live, on-stage hack of a John Deere tractor at Defcon:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/15/deere-in-headlights/#doh-a-deere

Shortly after the announcement, Sick.codes tweeted how the fine-print in the MOU would have prevented him from doing the work he’s already done (including “a direct stab at me lol”):

https://twitter.com/sickcodes/status/1612484935495057409

As with other instances of monopolistic, corporate copyfraud — like, say, the deceptive Open Gaming License — the John Deere capitulation is really a bid to take away your rights, dressed up as a gift of more rights:

https://mostlysignssomeportents.tumblr.com/post/706163316598407168/good-riddance-to-the-open-gaming-license

[Image ID: Hieronymus Bosch's painting, 'The Conjurer.' The Conjuror's shell-game table holds a small John Deere tractor that the audience of yokels gawps at. One yokel is wearing a John Deere hat. The conjurer is holding a wrench.]

#pluralistic #copyfraud #right to repair #r2r #headfa #deerlife #john deere #tractors #big ag #licenses

1K notes · View notes

blackbatcass · 2 months

Note

Hi! Feel free to ignore this but I thought I’d ask:

Do you have any comic recs for someone getting into Roy Harper? Very into Dickroy but want to learn more about Roy and where he came from and what his deal is etc etc

hey!! I can definitely help with that. roy harper my best friend forever <333

i am definitely not as well versed in his og speedy appearances alongside ollie (<- Girl Who Is Ignorant Of The Silver Age) but i think if you're interested in his early years the original teen titans '66 series is fun! there is also a really cute story about early ollie & roy published in dc's saved by the belle reve called 'earn it back' that i'd recommend.

you have doubtless heard of snowbirds don't fly (green lantern v. 2 #85), which. yeah. it is what it is. it's very hard to understand roy's story without reading it so it's kind of a must, but. y'know. keeping in mind the context of the time and everything. i would very much recommend reading the story 'green man and autumn son' from the green arrow 80th anniversary super spectacular after reading snowbirds; it's basically the story of sdf but from roy's perspective this time and it's like essential reading for roy imo.

next big thing would probably be new teen titans vol. 2 #19-21, which is where he finds out he's a dad for the first time!! very exciting! directly after that i'd read the cheshire contract arc (action comics #613-618), a very fun arc where roy actually gets to keep lian. plus dickroy! i would also recommend the arc rocks and hard places (action comics #627-634) which i think gets sometimes overlooked despite basically continuing on directly from cheshire contract. roy looking out for random irish orphans my beloved<3

specifically for ollie and roy's relationship i'd rec green arrow vol. 2 #75 (MY BELOVED), and the archer's quest (#16-21) arc from green arrow vol. 3! really really good stuff. 'you're a good dad roy harper/so are you ollie' augh.

next thing chronologically would be roy's new titans run, i think from around #97-130. this is where roy actually got to lead the titans, and it's an era that not a lot of people remember lol. the series was on its very last legs at that point but it's very cool to see roy in a leadership role!

arsenal (1998) is probably the biggest rec i have. beloved beloved comic. Roy In A Nutshell, four issues of pure gold. batman plus arsenal is also just one issue but very fun and a good look at roy!

titans (1999) is an obvious pick but like. it's so good. such good roy content. donnaroy i love you forever

and yeah if you're a dickroy fan then i shouldn't even have to mention outsiders (2003). The Dickroy Bible

OH almost forgot justice league of america vol. 2, around the first half of it! especially #6 has a REALLY good roy moment. red arrow!roy my best friend

i hope that's a good roy harper starter pack!!

#roy harper #comic recs #ask #can't in good conscience rec ga/bc sorry.#i hope i hit all the big ones ??

64 notes · View notes

sinning-23 · 5 months

Text

Glass Chandelier

Warnings; 18+ swearing, some hints at masturbation, buggy is a drama starter, sanji is failing at keeping his hands off your body.

Link to Chapter 3

Enjoy-

Chapter 4

"Wow, you got another one? Already?!" A fourth and more....irritating voice speaks.

You tense again, brows angled down. Firstly, who was speaking, and second what the hell did he mean another one?

"I mean at least she's not ditsy like the rest of you idiots."

You raise a brow at Sanji then the rest of the so-called crew. Zoro sighed heavily, taking the bag you hadn't seen previously off his hip and slamming it rather aggressively onto a barrel.

The reveal was far more interesting than you anticipated, a severed head adorned with a large red nose and a red and white striped bandanna. It beams up at you, the face paint around its lips only accentuating his cheshire grin. You mutter a light 'the fuck...', leaning in a bit to truly try and figure out what the hell you were looking at.

“Not too close sweetheart, I bite.” It wiggles its brows, the innuendo making you scoff.

“Dickless and still talkin'.” You shoot back. The clown head is quicker.

“My mouth can do plenty honey, trust me.” It flicks its tongue and...detaches it?!

Oh wow gross-

“Why are you even speaking right now? Unless you have something useful to say, shut up.” Zoro interrupts.

The clown head rolls its eyes and does an awkward hop/shuffle to turn and look at the map.

“This one knew where to go without me even saying anything. Which meannnss?”

You tense, shuffling back and forth a bit, truly debating if you should punch this thing in the mouth or, better yet square in the nose. That'd shut it up. At this point Zoro has his gaze locked on you, it's somewhat unreadable but serious no less. Next is Luffy, then Usopp, and lastly Sanji. Wow, staring contest of the goddamn century.

"She's obviously been there before and could even be working for the bastard. God you guys are stupid. If I were you I'd ask pretty crucial questions before just throwing any random board my ship."

Luffy is quiet, looking from the map, and then back to you.

"You're already dealing with the aftermath of that as we speak HA! You'll end up doing it again if you keep bringing these random broads. " The clown head speaks, that same grin on his face.

"Yeah well, it's not like the fishy bastard took a chunk out of this 'broads' shoulder. You were stuck in a fuckin bag for that part though, huh Ronald Mcdonald?" Ouhhh the irritation in your voice is wicked.

His jaw drops as he fiends offense. This jackass has been active for no more than 5 minutes and he's already worked his way under your skin. Speaking of which, it's practically melting off as the rest of your 'crew' continue to stare for an answer. The clown had a point, they hadn't asked any questions and you'd just ended up being aboard with Sanji.

"Now's a good time to start talking," Zoro speaks finally, his hand ready at his sword. The last thing you wanted was tension among the people you'd most likely be spending an extended amount of time with. Despite this, your finger itches towards your picks in response.

"Oh yeah 'cause you talk plenty, don't you. I know the way because I've seen Arlong before. I made an assumption if you were even listening that he MIGHT be there still. That'll be the last time I call myself trying to be helpful. Or is 'useful' more of a term you'd like?" You'd hardly realized how close you'd gotten to the man, the sneer ever-present on your lips. Sanjis' at your side, giving a touch over your hips to try and reel you back.

It's quiet again but that clown's laughter rings loud and clear enough to offset the current debacle.

"Ha! Struck a nerve there. Listen, she is right though, you're gonna head in that direction. We get to the island and sing kumbaya, I get my body you get the girl, and everyone's happy!" He jokes, hobbling again to turn his head.

What a fabulous start to the tip. A panic attack and almost a fight. Simply fucking splendid. God, you needed a drrink.

It's dark now, and you hadn't left this room since you'd found it hours ago. You needed to reset. Gods know the longer you stay and interact with these strange characters you'd fucking explode. For some odd reason, in your newly adopted quarters you can still feel his phantom touch.

It lingers, something you make note of. The small of your back tingles, as does your waist and shoulder. Your neck and chin tinge and tingle in delight, resulting in a shiver that shimmies its way up your curves spine. Oh right...that's why they so prominent right now. Becaus you were filthy and couldn't help but let your fingers slip past your panties.

The ship rocks and creacks and with each splash of waves against the hull, much like the waters, you drip.

Promiscuous and touch-starved.

How long had it been since someone had been gentle with you, let their hands ghost over your skin. It didn't matter, you'd found ways to satiate the need, even if it was just temporary. You freeze when there's a knock at your door.

You take a breath, notn quite trusting your voice.

"One moment."

Slipping on a spare night dress in a hurry, you open the door.

She's beautiful. Her eyes were low and glossy, and her pupils were blown wide. Her chest rises and falls as the ruffles on the nightdress adorn her body so prettily. What is it she reminds me of? I can't seem to put my finger on it.

"I saved you a plate. Luffy was supposed to come tell you but he sid you didn't respond." I speak, seeing her breathe catch for a second.

Her lips part just a pinch and it finally rings in my head.

A doll.

"Thank you. I'm sorry I couldn't join you sooner, bad attitude still."

I smile, my hand clenched in my pocket. Fuck my palms are sweaty. Shaking my head in response, I panic at the silence that follows. It was just like earlier when we first parted. I wanted to ask her if she was okay. If anything I'd know what a panic attack looks like and with the way her face seemed paler than before, and her hands shook, I couldn't be far off. Or maybe it was just sea sickness. Didn't matter, some things just were my place to ask. But I can't catch the question before it's out my mouth and in the air.

"Are you alright?"

She breathes heavily, shoulder slumping in exhale as she avoids my gaze. There it is. Whatever it was she was either gonna tell me a half-truth or a lie.

"Splendid."

Lie

I nod looking down the hall as if it'd help me escape and prevent any further questions I had from prospering. I was wrong.

"Fancy a drink?"

It's simultaneous and we laugh, so natural and her laugh is damn melodic.

Sanji was without a doubt one of the most talented chefs you'd ever had the pleasure of eating from. The food in front of you was proof of that. You can't help but melt at every bite of the dish before you, it was just so freaking good. Maybe it's cause you haven't had a proper meal in about a day or two as well. Mix that little fact with the wine he keeps pouring and you're done for.

Conversation flows easily, the two of you letting whatever comes to mind simply pass with each moment.

"So, about what he said earlier.." Sanji begins, inhaling from his cigarette as you swallow down the wine you'd just drank.

"The clown or Zoro? Either way, they were right to be cautious. I'm not a threat that's for sure though." You explain.

He hums in response, leaning against his hair with spread legs. Fuck his thighs look good strained against the fabric of his slacks.

"It's been a long time since I've been on a ship. I... I was on one years ago and I traveled to the exact island were going to. Arlong was stationed there and I guess I just never forgot my way back." You explain, tracing the rim of the glass. Not like you had a choice to forget where it was...

"You don't have to explain to me. We've both got trauma, we grow and we get better. You seem to have gotten better." He admits, gaze unwavering.

"Damn, I should be an actress then cause I'm one traumatic event from falling apart." You spoke as he laughs

Sarcastic humor seemed to be his forte and you couldn't help but feed into it, each giggle that slips past your lips creeping its way closer to a full belly laugh. And when he smiles like that, so pretty it makes your chest squeeze. His piercing peeks out just a little, mouth wide with a smile as he tilts his head back.

You sigh, sipping at the wine again, your both a bottle in, the second one nearing its end.

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you're spoiling me Sanji." You hum, his smile was still present, blue eyes scanning your frame.

He stands, taking your empty plate before approaching the sink and speakng.

"You think so? Pretty girls shouldn't have to eat alone. Thought you'd like company" He admits, washing the dish, awaiting a response.

You finish off your glass and set it in the sink. He pauses for a moment, realising just how close you were, almost pressed against his back.

"Not a girl blondie." You whisper, the wine definitely sinking into your system if it hadn't before.

He swears, squeezing the sponge and plate. Any harder and it'd shatter.

The veins in his forearms are strained and you let yourgaze linger. As if your thought weren't far from ur at the moment this was only making it worse. You reach around him, just barely missing the curve o his hips.

"What're you-"

"A woman."

You shut the water off, stepping away from him with coy smile

"Thank you for the meal and the wine. It was lovely, Sanji."

He swears again, trying to cove it up with a laugh and another smile. Too late, you can see right past the facade.

"Ah, of course. Get some rest, Y/n"

Safe to say you love how Sanji says your name.

Morning comes quick and docking is quicker. Sanji is carrying the clown head sack this time and he doesn't seem too thrilled about it. You figured it best not to these him cause you could very well end up carrying the damn thing yourself if you didn't find his body. You manage to slip into some extra clothes, considering the ones you were wearing when this little excursion started were thoroughly torn from the fight.

Your shoes weren't practical but they'd have to do for now. A simple cream-colored blouse with a neckline that dipped almost too far down paired with some pants that were almost too tight was what you sported. Until your next docking point, you'd definitely have to make this last and maybe not have it get fucked up in a fight.

Though you didn't know much about this 'Nami' besides her name, you could feel whatever anxiety from the rest of the crew sink into your skin and turn your tummy. No one really spoke. Well, besides Usopp trying to convince everyone that he should go back to the ship.

You try keeping pace, Luffy and Zoro at the front, Sanji in the middle, Usopp and yourself lagging behind. Since he was the only one really talking, it wouldn't hurt to chat back.

"Soooo Nami, you guys know each other long?" You ask, slowing down so that you're side by side.

"No, but it feels like I have. I know she wouldn't do this to us just because. She's not that kind of person." He speaks, eyes solemn. If you were thinking correctly, each one of these 'crew' members, yourself included was picked up from somewhere else.

"I see. How did you end up on this crew anyway?" You ask, opening a door you had no idea about.

Usopp was about to tell you the story of a lifetime.

Authors note: heyyyy everyone here's chapter 4 a little longer than chapter 3. I'm really trying to like build this up before we get to the super 18+ parts but uhhh we got our first little taste lol. As stated before lmk if you'd like to be added to the taglist :D

Taglist: : @waannty @strangermeats @nymeriiia @noom147

86 notes · View notes