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satinestales · 9 months ago

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❝self destructive tendencies❞ | qimir x fem!reader

pairing: qimir x fem!reader

● this is a 3rd pov, if you want to read 2nd pov, here●

summary: A week has passed since the battle on Khofar and the startling reveal of her former friend. Qimir, the man behind the mask and the murderer of her comrades took her to a remote island, far away from the Republic's surveillance, after she sustained severe injuries. She's been keeping her distance from him, trying to ignore her hidden feelings. Yet, when his thoughts merge with hers, the vow she made to herself becomes almost impossible to keep.

warnings: english is not my first language, sexual tension, lots of sexual tension, corruption, sexual themes/dreams, E Y E C O N T A C T, qimir, mentions of blood and injuries

author's note: I could not be a jedi I'd turn into aquaman if he asked me to join him

now playing, love in the sky by the weeknd

*:..。♡*ﾟ¨ﾟﾟ·*:..。♡౨ৎ 🍓｡˚🍰♡ ˚..。♡*ﾟ¨ﾟﾟ·*:..。♡ ︎

The moon hung low over the horizon, casting an eerie glow on the waves that lapped against the shores of the ghostly island. Qimir’s silhouette stood out against the backdrop of the night sky, his presence a constant reminder of the blood and carnage he left on Khofar. As she lay on the rough sand, the pain from her injuries pulsed faintly, and she could not shake the mixture of fear and thirst that his proximity stirred within her. The island was a planet unknown to her, and as much as she tried to examine the surface, its location remained elusive. She supposed it might have been somewhere in the Outer Rim or beyond. Somewhere where the Republic would have a difficult way of finding her. World away from the Republic’s watchful eyes, and here, with only Qimir for company, she felt both vulnerable and strangely contented.

She decided to relax on the beach, further away from Qimir’s constant presence that melted her thoughts. However, luck wasn't on her side; minutes after settling in, he walked past her to his favorite bathing spot, smirk on his face as he acknowledged her presence. It was late at night, her legs and arms sore from the repetitive training she put herself through. The island offered few diversions. Waiting for Qimir’s next move or for Sol to find her wasn’t her idea of a perfect day. The injuries covering her body were difficult to ignore, and she refused to let Qimir get close enough to her to heal them. She told herself she would rather bleed out than feel his touch on her skin. Deep down, though, she knew the real reason for keeping him at bay.

So, she lay there, absentmindedly playing with a rock she found, irritated by his presence but too weary to consider moving again. She had to admit her fault; she had set up camp right in front of his favorite spot. Over the past week, she had seen him bare many times. First unbothered but lately it had gotten under her skin. She had been friends with Qimir for some time before discovering his true identity behind the mask and his responsibility for her friends' murders. Their deaths pained her, but the betrayal and realization of his deception cut deeper. After many years, she thought she found herself a friend outside the temple. One that she could share her interests and secrets with, without the fear of being judged by the Jedi. She told him about her fears and likes. Her doubts in the order and her wish to help people as much as she could. About her hate and desire. The Sith emotions. Now he’s using them to lure her in and trap her on the other side.

She wasn’t the most perceptive, but his intentions were clear. He knew her feelings, her likes, and dislikes; she had shared them with him when she believed he was her friend and a supplier. Even a blind person could see his thoughts, and her strength in the Force allowed her to delve into his mind, revealing more than she wished to know.

She couldn’t tear her eyes away as he slowly shed his clothes to enter the water, a routine he seemed to relish. Despite her experiences in battles and missions, witnessing the horrible conditions and lack of hygiene, even her comrades didn’t bathe as frequently as Qimir did before her. She considered herself fortunate; at least he smelled good, even if the scent of sandalwood mixed with citrus fruit drove her mad. She smelled it when she woke up, during meals and training, and before sleep. She felt him everywhere. She wasn’t sure for how much longer she could endure it.

She studied the muscles of his back as he swam slowly, admiring them from her vantage point. He was undeniably strong, scars marring his skin a testament to the pain he had endured. She observed how his dark hair moved with his motions, how he ran his long thick fingers through it while washing it gently. His biceps tensed as he splashed water around his neck, and she noticed the way he caressed his chest, attempting to cleanse away the day’s dirt.

It was only when she accidentally crushed the rock in half that she realized the intensity of her stare. Clearing her throat, she sat up and leaned against the mossy bank behind her, feeling shame wash over her. She was convinced his own dreams had started to corrupt her.

One of the curses of being a Jedi was the ability to read minds, and Qimir was no exception. She saw his thoughts vividly, filled with bright colors that sent adrenaline coursing through her veins. She wondered if he wanted her to delve into his mind, to make her believe he desired her, or if he simply didn’t care. She feared he could read her thoughts too, despite her lifelong ability to block out others with ease.

She lied to herself, convincing herself that she was immune to his ideas, desires, and magnetic charm. But every time he looked at her, towered over her, or she smelled him in the air, her knees buckled, her stomach tightened, and she fought against the need to press her legs together. She felt sick, and his mind brushing against hers didn’t help.

She felt it every time he drew near. He visualized her hands in his mind, how they caressed his scars and shoulders. She saw his hair falling down as he towered over her, gently pushing her against the cold floor of his cave. She felt his breath against her neck, his fingers pulling her hair, his skin pressed against hers. In his dreams, she never resisted. He was corrupting her in his dreams, and she never once objected in them. She was embarrassed he got her mannerisms right.

She was so lost in their shared thoughts that she didn’t notice Qimir making his way out of the water, his eyes fixated on her with dangerous intensity. He carefully leaned down to grab a towel, amusement playing on his lips. He didn’t want to wake her from her thoughts, whatever they may have been.

As he gently dried himself with the soft cloth, not taking his eyes off her, he tried to read her mind, even if he failed millions of times before. He never had difficulty reading someone; one look at them and he could see their whole past. But with her, he had no idea what she was thinking or planning, or what images played in her head. She was strong, stronger than the ones he had met before, and he admired that. He praised her strength in the Force and her ability to protect herself from her nemesis. Like him.

But he could read body language. He noticed how she tensed around him when he walked past her. How her chest started rising faster whenever he stared her down. Her goosebumps when they brushed against each other. How she pressed her legs together when he towered over her. And how she was now crushing the rock in her hand, gazing in his direction.

“You can always join me, you know that.” He breathed out, letting the cloth fall to the ground, replacing it with his long blouse. She almost wanted to take the top from him just so she could continue her view, but when she finally recollected her thoughts, she wanted to slap herself. “It would help with your wounds when you don’t let me heal them.” He uttered, dressing himself, not breaking eye contact with her. He liked her stare. He liked how she fought with her emotions and how they reflected in her eyes. It pleased him.

“I’m okay,” she faked a smile, swallowing the ridiculous amount of saliva in her mouth. She forced herself to look somewhere other than his strong forearms or how he dragged the pants up his muscular legs. She found a cute shell, admiring it from afar.

She didn’t catch the grin on his face as her face turned pink and she clenched her fists. He was amused with her reactions, but her ripped bandage and the blood revealing itself underneath caught his full attention. His face froze, along with his movements while buttoning up his shirt. He would never touch her unless she wanted him to, but her leg was nowhere near being healed and with the lack of medical supplies on this island, she’d lose it long before she’d be able to leave the island.

“Let me help you.” It wasn’t a question, more of a subtle order. She didn’t miss it. A week ago, on Khofar, Qimir had stopped himself before fatally hurting her, but he still landed a strike on her leg that had trouble healing. She was stubborn enough to push him away when he offered his help, and now she started to slowly regret it.

“I don’t need anything from you,” she hissed at him, catching a glimpse of his unbuttoned blouse.

“You’re a powerful Jedi, and I don’t doubt you’d be still as fierce as you are now without your leg,” he murmured, making his way towards her, leaving his bag and shoes near the water. “If you want to risk it.” She watched him tilt his head as he slowly approached her. She could only see the images in his mind, his plans and ideas. But underneath it all, he didn’t mean it in a bad way. He wanted to help her. In his own way. He was her friend; he knew her weaknesses and strengths. He knew what she wanted, and he was willing to give it to her. But she couldn’t erase the lying and murder of her friends. She wanted her friend back. Maybe something else this time, but her trust in him had faded. Now it was just Qimir, confusing her thoughts and making her rethink her morals. She felt as disgusted with him as she felt with herself. But she understood him. Or at least tried to.

So, she didn’t oppose, letting him kneel in front of her, his hands carefully reaching out to her ripped bandage above her knee. He was so close she could smell him again. His hair fell into his face, covering his eyes that were focusing only on her wound. His fingers worked fast but tenderly as he lifted her thigh to unwrap the bandage. She swallowed hard, feeling his veiny hand below her leg. She was scared he could feel her burning skin, hoping he would mistake it as a result of the injury.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you on Khofar,” she heard him whisper, gripping the sand below her as he threw away the bandage, the cold air kissing her open wound. She almost heard pity in his voice. She was certain she imagined it.

She begged herself to look away, but her eyes betrayed her as they glared down at his hand that was almost as big as her thigh. He covered the wound, not touching it fully, concentrating on restoring her cells.

She was fascinated by how quickly the wound closed up, leaving only a small scar across her thigh. She had wanted to learn how to force heal ever since she lost her friend to a fatal injury as a kid, but the Jedi never taught her. No matter how hard she pleaded. Whenever she asked, they gave the same answer: only dark side users possess this power. She always felt it was ridiculous.

“How do you do it?” she managed to ask, ignoring Qimir’s confused stare as he picked up his head and drew his hand away from her. But he didn’t move position and kept kneeling between her feet. “How do you force heal?” she felt embarrassed asking, but he was one of her only chances to learn.

A soft smile crept to his lips as he moved his eyes from her face to her hands. She suddenly became aware of her vulnerable position.

“In order to heal someone,” he started, softness in his voice, no signs of mockery. “You need to focus on your own energy, imagine it and visualize it. Imagine its color, like you do with the Force.” He continued, his hands moving in motion with his words.

She could feel the warmth radiating off him as he sat centimeters away, his wet hair framing his sharp features. His eyes were dark, only the light of the moon reflecting in them. His lips were full, stretched as he shared his knowledge with her. She didn’t move a muscle and returned his stare. It was only the two of them.

“The Jedi teach only one way. Physical way. Taking your physical energy and giving it to someone who needs it,” he whispered, leaning his head to the side, giving her a view of his sharp jaw. His neck was thick, his collarbones defined. “But there is another way.” He stopped to look at her, examining her expression. She was listening intently, breathing fast, and her eyes bored so deeply into him he was certain she could read everything he was thinking. He let her.

“Below the surface of consciousness are powerful emotions. Anger. Fear. Loss.” He started listing, his eyes twitching between her eyes and her lips. “Desire.”

Her leg muscles twitched, her core burning up. She wanted to bury herself.

“Only Sith feel those emotions,” she whispered back, denying herself. She saw a smile tugging on the corner of his mouth before he lowered his gaze.

“You can draw energy from them, direct them in any way you want,” he purred, looking back at her, letting her feel his emotions. “However, whenever you want.” He lowered his voice as he stretched the last words, reading her face.

He knew she read his mind. He knew she saw the images that kept him awake and his wishes. He had had them since he met her months ago, and when he sensed her attraction toward him, they only intensified. He wanted her and was simply waiting for her to admit the same to herself, no matter how long it would take.

#star wars #qimir the acolyte #qimir #osha x qimir #star wars qimir #qimir smut #qimir x reader #qimir fic #acolyte ep6 #the acolyte #star wars the acolyte #starwars fic #star wars smut #starwars

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bigmomma25 · 28 days ago

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Character Analysis of Pete Dinunzio (Comic Vs. Pilot)

Disclaimer: This is by no means a very good or professional analysis or anything, this is just me whipping out my Honors English high school powers for fun, to put these guys in a jar and shake them. Getting as much content out of this comic as possible even if it means yapping. Pete goes first because he's easy, lol

The Comics Highlight His Flaws

The first difference I noted when watching the pilot first and then delving into the comics is; Pete is aggressive. Much more aggressive. He's the most argumentative member in the first few panels, with most of his comments being rather pessimistic or sexual in nature. He always has some sort of retort or comeback to defend himself and his views, and his passions come out mostly in anger.

There's also a silent shame that comes with his behaviors, much more likely to complain about what he doesn't like than happily explain what he's passionate about. When he does have passionate moments, it's because these things that make him very vulnerable are being criticized, and he gets defensive. Like his love for Christopher Lee.

Without any prior knowledge of these characters, it can be assumed that Pete comes from an abusive household. His behaviors are major signs. He's most likely so combative because he's used to constantly being under fire, especially with (I think) 8 other siblings who are implied to be mostly older men. If he didn't have a slick comment or keep up this "tough" persona, he'd be their personal punching bag - figuratively and literally.

All Pete really knows is aggression, being canonically the poorest member (he states that he couldn't even afford to be in the Boba Fett conversation in the comics). It's been shown that the club lives in a shitty area in Staten Island. Plus, they're heavily bullied. It's shaped the way he communicates and interacts with the world around him. Even his obsessions - he likes seeing people get ripped apart to the point it becomes a kink.

Even the way he speaks sets him apart. Not necessarily his accent, but his word choices are usually much simpler and his points are very blunt. He's not portrayed as booksmart, and his swagger comes off more as a performance (both of masculinity and of nonchalance) than a natural way of being.

It's also worth noting his position in the very first panel of the comics. Bill is head of the table, of course, it's his house and he's the leader. (I'll get to that symbolism in Bill's analysis). But Pete is sat right next to him, lower than Bill and somewhat distant from him, but still seeming closer and getting more focus than Jerry and Josh.

His position is meant to draw your eye from an artistic perspective, he is unconsciously trying to secure himself a good spot for control and stability. If you're on Bill's bad side, you end up like Josh (I'll get into the lolcow-ification of Josh later on too), but Pete gets the least shit from Bill. Pete is not a pushover, and he feeds into Bill more. Their bickering seems almost comedic.

Totally different dynamic than he has in the pilot, so them getting along so well may be retconned. He has much more of a moral compass in the pilot, and while both versions show Pete *attempting* to be a mediator and a voice of reason, the pilot shows it more. Almost like Pete didn't want to be there, much preferring Jerry's company since they were both reasonable.

Bill and Pete's dynamic also goes to solidify Pete's relationship with his father and the toxic masculinity he displays constantly. Pete has the urge to stray and separate himself from the obviously immoral tendencies of his father, but still seeks approval from an authority figure in which he admires. Someone he sees as "cool" and capable, teeter-tottering between loving him and fighting him. His father is very authoritative, Pete was never allowed to question anything. He associates anything "girly" with pain - like how Bill associates women with sexist stereotypes, expecting to be hurt by them because of their shared experiences with bullying and Bill's mommy issues. Except Pete had it literally beat into him.

Him connecting masculinity to being capable and independent leads directly to his tendency to make choices on the fly. In a house that's always arguing, someone has to make a decision. And Pete wants to be seen as the macho man who knows what he's doing, but also doesn't care that much. So he mainly makes decisions with common sense, emotion, and whatever he's compelled to. A very "pull yourself up by the bootstraps" mentality from living in a conservative household.

Though I do feel that most of his decisions come from a place of shame. If you're secure, you usually don't have to make it a point, or brag about it, or defend it so vehemently. You just... are secure. This directly ties into his canonical bisexuality along with his horror passions. His whole life he's been told everything about him was fundamentally wrong, and he's trying to run from it. Which is why he tries to separate his personal love for horror makeup and SFX from traditional gay and drag art forms. Those things are looked down on. He hates being looked down on. Which is why he uses gays, along with Josh, as scapegoats.

The Pilot Highlights His Positives

From the first 25 seconds of the pilot, Pete is already a more positive version of his comic alternative. He's more successful in diffusing the bickering between Josh and Bill, and is more level-headed and goal-oriented. He's calmer, seeing things go wrong and actually wanting to find solutions instead of dwelling on the small details and who-did-what. He almost feels like a disgruntled mother with more humor. His independence also shines, but so does his tendency to run into danger without thinking.

Pete also sits much farther in the pilot at their meeting table. He's at opposite ends of the table, like the other head, or leader, willing to criticize Bill and never really seeing eye-to-eye with him. He tries to lead before Bill does, starting with the "Sexy Sirens" tape, and has a little bit of a power struggle. He's leaning back, to distance himself, and his nonchalance is more natural, it's just who he is. Josh and Jerry seem closer to Bill than Pete is, which is a total 180 from the comics.

A big point of Pete's character in the pilot that isn't touched upon at all in the comics is his sense of justice. He wants things to be fair - from the trivia-off in Joe's shop, to the DnD game. He tries to break up fights but will hit back if he's being hit, or someone else is being hit unjustifiably. Much like a shephard dog instead of a guard dog, like his comic alternative. But only to the club, he's still a menace to his general environment.

His trauma is shown more subtly but it is still made a point - while Pilot Josh is unconcerned when Bill's mother is yelling at the club, Pete seems the most worried and distraught, the first to start sweating and holding his head. His body language screams abuse. His introduction panel also shows he's relatively used to beat downs, seeming silently resigned and defeated rather than horrified like the other characters.

His sexuality also seems more on-par with a teen boy and less hypersexual, and there's less sexist comments. He's definitely still a little freak, shown with his creepy little faces, clawing at the glass, and his comments about "Battle Broads" the series, but he's not trying to repress nearly as much.

Combining the Two

Since the point of the comics was to be an exaggerated version of real life incels, I'd say the pilot is a more realistic representation of who Pete is as a person. But with such a short run, it didn't get to show the entirety of his character, which would have to be fleshed out across multiple episodes. The comics is a satirical piece mocking and displaying the worst of the worst, and t pilot is a commentary on the societal failures that lead to children with this kind of behavior.

There are some parts where they undeniably intersect though. Like Pete's tendency towards violence to solve his problems, and one specific comic panel (which I can't exactly find right now) where Pete comments that sewing's for sissies, and Jerry insists that he's not. Pete's reply is "Of course not you, Jerry, you're a wizard. Keep it up." This can be seen as him just wanting his clothes repaired, but it can also be interpreted as Pete putting his own insecurities and internalized feelings aside because he loves and respects his friends too much. It shows that he doesn't actually believe what he's saying to the degree he insists. Pete is the second most likely to have the capacity to change his ways, if he ever so chose.

Honestly, it's up to interpretation how these traits are combined. Some fans like the comics more, some fans like the pilot. Though Evan seems to be leaning more into the pilot interpretations of the characters now than the comics, showing a possible reboot or retcon of their old traits, just like the retcon of Epilogue Pete.

Summary (MBTI, Enneagram, etc.)

I'm gonna use my general knowledge of personality quizzes to get my point across, lol.

I honestly believe his MBTI is ESTP, as someone who studied it for a very long time and spent way too long on PDB. But he is a very unhealthy ESTP that never found an outlet for his more creative attributes, and lives in unhealthy environments that disrupt his peace.

On the good side, he can adapt easily, read his environment and the people in it well, and he is extremely passionate. He's pushed by his love of horror and film, seeking out people with the same interests and motivation to get things done. He's very experience-based, seeking out adventure, and has a lot of energy. He's very down to earth, lives in the moment almost too much, can easily improvise and comes up with decisions very quickly. He's a quick thinker, but thinks after he acts, not before, and is very life-smart. He's a good communicator, he's practical, hedonistic, and fair.

Deep down, he seeks validation from his peers, wanting to be seen as competent, talented, valuable. At his best, this helps him connect with others in a meaningful way like he craves. But he never really gets there, which leads to him forming a persona he believes will get him that respect. He's actually a very sensitive person in that way, not necessarily emotional but very touchy when it comes to what he loves. He's prone to pessimism, doesn't think about the consequences of his actions, and doesn't see himself in a world in which he's truly successful.

He's selfish, rude, doesn't trust others, has an intense aversion to rules, and doesn't look at any information that goes against what he believes. He can be bossy at times, or judgemental of others who don't meet his standards, and doesn't keep other people' feelings in mind. This leads to an internal struggle with seeing everyone as fake or not as dedicated, but also wanting, needing connection with other people. This can lead to him being rather conspiratorial, which leads to the whole "Jock vs. Nerd" conversation.

I also think he's a sp/so (self-preservation social) 8w9. His biggest fear is being hurt and betrayed by the people he loves, so he seeks out control and stability so that can't happen. He tries his best to be self-reliant so he has no need to open up to others and make himself vulnerable, and he's hard to warm up to. But once he likes you, he's loyal for life. He isn't very loud about these traits, trying to maintain an air of calmness while also being no-nonsense. He doesn't want to lose control of his anger, but also has a tendency to do so, leading to small outbursts of strong aggression. While he craves connection, if he has too many failed relationships, he may start to see them as a waste of his time and become very introverted, like how he became in the epilogue.

Yep, that's it, enough yapping for me. Those are all the things I noticed, hopefully it's entertaining to somebody lol.

#eltingville club #welcome to eltingville #the eltingville club #pete dinunzio #holy yap

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traumadumpwriter · 2 months ago

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JJ Maybank X Reader ~ Relapse and a Half

My first OBX fic. I hope y’all like it.

Summary: The Pogues feel betrayed by the readers sudden relapse into hard drugs, but they’re unable to be angry at her for too long as something terrible leaves her needing their support more than ever.

Trigger warning for: drugs (obviously), guns, sexual assault, violence

Part two

Part One:

You'd been on the edge for a while now. The relapse should've been seen from a mile off. Your uncharacteristic quietness, the way you'd get lost in your thoughts, the distant look in your eyes. Everyone could tell that something was up, but even when they questioned you about it you had no real answers to give - uncertain yourself of what was making you feel so withdrawn.

When you'd first moved to OBX with your busy mum, you'd instantly found a group of friends - a really good group of friends - the Pogues. And they'd been quick to suss out that you were hiding things - particularly JJ. You were practically never sober, for starters, and though he wasn't either, you had a way of taking it to the next level. This was fun most of the time, but sometimes it got to a level that was concerning - even to the most problematic Pogue on the island. Whenever he'd pushed you for answers, trying to figure out what exactly you were self medicating for, you got extremely annoyed and so he never really got a straight answer. You couldn't bare to be so vulnerable with anyone - let alone the boy you'd started to develop feelings for - so you remained somewhat of a mystery.

Sure, there had been nights when you'd shared a bed - both of you very drunk. You'd convince yourself that maybe JJ liked you, maybe the sex meant more to him than just sex, but then when he'd continue to treat you like just a friend the morning after, your hopes would be crushed. It’s not like you ever gave him any reason to think that the sex was anything other than casual, but that was because you didn’t want him to be able to reject you. And besides, could he not tell that you wanted more? Kiera could and she wasn’t even in the bedroom.

Then the overdose happened. The Pogue's had suspected that you'd been taking something other than just alcohol for a while. The night that you'd almost died at the Chateau their suspicions became a painful fact. You'd taken a few too many pills - benzodiazepines to be exact - and though you'd known that you were reaching a point of no return, after hearing all about the gorgeous touron that JJ had been obsessed with, you couldn't bring yourself to stop.

That night had been awful for everyone, and you'd ended up tearfully promising that you would get clean after that, unable to bear the hurt on the Pogue's faces. So you'd been almost a year clean now, blossoming into a new person that the Pogue's liked even more than the old you. Yours and JJ's relationship remained just as complicated though - still having the occasional hookup but largely seeming as if you were just friends. Now that you weren't on pills and you could actually fully remember the sex, it hurt even more in the morning after. Still, you continued, desperate to feel wanted even if it was just for a night.

You hadn't realised how much this routine was actually bothering you until in a night similar to the one you'd overdosed on, JJ had been making out with another gorgeous touron.

*Your POV*

I'd watched jealously from across the party, ignoring the sound of Kie in my ear telling me that "I was much prettier than that touron."

I appreciated the sentiment, but I knew it was a lie, and so in a split second decision, I told Kie that I was going to go home. "I'm going to have an early one." I said, knowing it was a lie. "I'll see you tomorrow."

In that split second decision, I'd decided that all of my progress didn't matter if I still felt this worthless. What was the point in being clean if it meant that I wanted to die? JJ's insistence had been one of the things that had motivated me to stay away from the pills, but he hadn't been interested in me for a while now. He hadn't even asked me for a fuck. Had he grown bored of me? Or maybe I had gotten uglier without realising it. Maybe I had put on some weight or he didn't like my haircut. Maybe he’d developed feelings for a different girl - a better girl.

Kie nodded worriedly, clearly not sure whether to believe me or not. I hadn't even directly confessed to her that I liked JJ, she was just the only one in the group who wasn't too stupid to see it.

"Okay. Be safe." She smiled, pulling me into a hug, and though I felt bad, I still hopped on my bike and headed straight to Barry's as soon as the coast was clear.

Kie would be devastated if she'd known where I was actually going. So would John B, and Pope, and maybe even JJ, but they would forgive me quicker than her. At least, I thought that they would.

Blurred memories of the night I'd overdosed filled my mind; the sound of shouting, someone's fingers down my throat, a muffled sob, flashing lights. A shiver of shame ran down my spine as I struggled to push the images from my mind.

The ride to Barry's was short, though it felt like a lifetime as all the things I hated about myself bounced around in my head like a torturous broken record. Of course JJ didn't want to be with me. I wasn't beautiful enough. I wasn't cool enough. I wasn't good enough. I would just continue to be his slutty friend that he could stick it in whenever it was convenient for him, and he didn't even seem to want that anymore. The thought made me even more ashamed, remembering all the times I'd let him fuck me, hoping that he'd found me beautiful, thinking that maybe he liked me, just to realise in the morning that I was easy to him.

Yet I knew, that if he were to approach me in that moment and ask for a fuck, I wouldn't say no. I wanted to be wanted so badly, even if it was just for a fleeting moment, and the feeling was unbearable. It ate me up inside, making my chest tight and my eyes water. I was quick to blink any dampness away from my eyes though, focused instead on the high that I would soon have - the comfortable numbness that it would bring me. My clean streak meant nothing, a stupid concept when compared to the internal anguish I felt. From my low self esteem to my repressed trauma, I had no fight left in the battle to stay clean. Sure, the Pogue's would be upset if they found out, but I wouldn't let them find out. I would keep it low-key, unlike I did before.

When I knocked on Barry's door, I was relieved that he was the one to answer and the house was seemingly empty, meaning I only had to speak to him. His friends were annoying, and though I didn't particularly like Barry, I found him funny sometimes.

"Well shit, Y/N. Been a while." He grinned.

"Yeahh. Well I'm back." I said with a mock smile.

"Come inside."

The transaction had soon been completed; a pot of pills in my hand and some cash in Barry's. I leant back into the sofa and took one immediately, swallowing it down with a beer handed to me by him.

"Bad night?" He questioned with an amused scoff.

"Something like that." I answered. "How about you? Place ain't usually this empty on a Friday."

"Want my own company sometimes. That a crime?"

"No. Just strange is all." I murmured, taking another swig from the beer.

Paired with my already drunkenness, the feeling of the pill was starting to hit - hard and strong - and I felt my body slump comfortably into the sofa. My head felt light whilst the rest of my body felt heavy, creating a strange, cosy sensation. It was a feeling I'd missed.

"Well what happened with you, party princess?" He scoffed, cracking open a beer for himself.

I let out a light chuckle at the question, now feeling as if it didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

"Dumb shit."

"You looked pretty upset when I opened the door. Boyfriend troubles?"

I raised my eyebrows in mock offence.

"Why would I have a boyfriend?" I questioned with a laugh "Who'd you hear that from?"

Barry laughed too.

"Cus a girl like you - you're pretty. I'm surprised some Kook hasn't swiped you up."

I snorted at that and rolled my eyes.

"Well thanks I guess."

I thought about having sex with Barry in that moment, just to hear him call me pretty again. But I decided against it, slightly sickened by the idea, and pulled myself off the sofa.

"I should go, see you around?"

"You sure you can ride that thing safely?"

"Yeah. I'll be fine." I chuckled before heading out the door and throwing myself back onto my bike.

The ride home was perilous, and though I did almost crash a few times, my body went into autopilot and I was soon safely in my bed, mind too numb to pick myself apart for the first night in a while.

For the next week I was able to keep the pill-taking to a minimum, only popping two a day at most. I only did it to make the thoughts stop - to bring on the comfortable numbness so that I could actually bare to be awake. So that I could actually bare to be around my friends.

I'd always managed to keep my feelings for JJ locked up and manageable, but for some reason seeing him with that touron had bothered me in ways I hadn't been bothered before. Perhaps it was because she was so gorgeous, or maybe it was how pleased JJ looked to have pulled her. Either way, it just reinforced to me how worthless I was. He brought her up one day at the Chateau and it instantly made me feel hot with annoyance.

"That touron from the other night just texted me, should I go there again?" He said with a proud smirk, looking around the room.

I rolled my eyes and picked up the half smoked blunt from the ashtray, relighting it and sucking on it in hopes that it would make my jealousy fade.

"Didn't you steal like a hundred dollars from her purse?" Pope scoffed, eyes focused on the television. Adventure Time was playing with the volume on low, and both Pope and Kie seemed more interested in it than the conversation that JJ and John B had been having. I'd been drifting lazily between the two, too high to properly contribute to anything, but now JJ had my full attention.

"Yeah. Obviously didn't notice though. Girl had too much cash for her own good." He mused, eyes on his phone screen. "Ooh! And guess what she just sent me."

"Tit pic?" John B asked, a grin crawling onto his lips.

"Tit pic." JJ confirmed, chucking his phone over to John B.

"Nice." He chuckled, looking at the phone before chucking it back to JJ.

"You guys are disgusting." Kie scoffed. "I mean like really JJ? Did that girl send you that picture for you to show your friend? You have no respect for women sometimes."

"I respect women very much, actually Kie. I respect you and Y/N. I respect your mums and Pope's mum. I just don't respect easy, spoiled touron's like her." He said defensively, and I loudly scoffed at that. He didn't respect me.

"What? You think I don't respect women too?" He asked me with furrowed brows, crossing his arms.

He was sat across the room from me; myself, Kie and Pope spread out across the sofa whilst him and John B sat in chairs. I looked him up and down, pleased that there was no lump in my throat to swallow, no butterflies in my stomach to squash and no loving gaze to hide.

“Sure, you really respect women JJ. Whatever you say.”

He looked surprised by that response, probably expecting me to get defensive, then continued on a rant about how he wasn’t misogynistic. Kie argued with him for a little bit, and John B and Pope eventually joined in too. Usually I also would’ve joined, just for the amusement of it all, but no words came to my mind. Instead I just watched, chuckling at the occasional insult being thrown and smoking my blunt.

Two weeks later and I’d upped the dose to at least four pills a day. The thoughts had gotten harder to crush, growing a tolerance. Much to my relief though, none of the Pogue’s seemed to suspect anything.

It was a hot day and we’d decided to go swimming, using the inner ring of a tire as a floaty - which we all fought over.

“I stole the tire, so I should get it!” JJ proclaimed, and though he was right, I wanted the ring.

“Okay well if you’re not a woman hater, prove it by letting me and Kie have the ring!” I grinned.

“Yeah! Prove it!” Kie added, high-fiving me.

JJ groaned and rolled his eyes, but eventually gave in with a slight smirk to me.

“Okay fine - but we’re sharing it!”

I giggled at his childish nature, feeling the butterflies rise up in my stomach that I’d been managing so well to suppress. The second that I realised what I was feeling, I knew that I needed to take another pill.

“I’m gonna go pee. Don’t wait for me.” I said, heading back indoors.

Once I was in the bathroom, I dug through my bag to find the orange pot, irritated when I realised that I didn’t have a lot left. I’d have to go back to Barry’s soon. That was annoying. I swallowed one of the pills with some water from the sink and looked at myself in the mirror before heading back out. I looked tired and unattractive and I sighed at that, thinking of how good the girl that JJ had been dancing with at the boneyard this week looked.

I reached into the fridge and took myself out a beer, cracking it open and downing half of it before stepping out of the kitchen. I didn’t expect to see JJ stood on the porch waiting for me, a slight furrow to his brow. I purposely hadn’t been alone with him in weeks and it sent a pang of anxiety into my chest.

“Starting this early? Haven’t seen you do that in a while. You feeling alright?” He asked, his voice soft.

“Yeah. I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know. You just seem.. different.” He was wording himself carefully, I could tell, which was very out of character for him. What could he possibly want from me?

“I’m just tired.” I said with a huff and tried to walk past him.

He suddenly put his hands on my waist, which was exposed in a bikini, holding me still. At the initial contact, I felt electrified, but I was quickly reminded of what I had missed - and the reasons why. I worried that my flesh felt too squishy under his fingers, that there was too much of it, or that the dip of my waist wasn’t defined enough. Compared to that touron I probably felt like a whale.

“What’s going on Y/N? Are you mad at me?” He asked, his eyes wide with concern, but I couldn’t think about his words - only the crippling self hatred his hand on my waist was making me feel.

I stepped backwards so that he was no longer touching me, something that only seemed to deepen the crease between his eyebrows, and blinked a couple of times before I could speak.

“I’m, uh- I’m going to grab a shirt.”

And with that I paced back inside, finishing the beer and pulling one of John B’s oversized vests over my bikini. The pill hadn’t kicked in yet and I could still see JJ stood waiting on the porch so I decided to go into the bathroom and take another. Then I grabbed another beer from the fridge and downed it, relieved when I felt the relaxing effects kick in almost immediately.

“Why are you downing beer? Since when do you do that?” JJ’s voice from behind me made me jump, his face critical.

“I’m just having a good time.” I smiled at him.

“Really? Because you don’t look like you’re having a good time. You look miserable, Y/N.”

Was it that easy to see through my charade? It irritated me that he cared now when he should’ve cared a couple of weeks ago. Now it was too late.

I huffed and shook my head, managing to walk past him this time undisrupted and lead the way to the water.

“I’m fine. Come on, let’s go.”

He didn’t bother me for the inflatable ring at all. In fact, he didn’t speak to me for hours after that. I wasn’t bothered by it though, the mix of booze and benzos that had finally hit making me entirely unfazed by everything. The comfortable numbness that I craved so badly.

I lay floating in the ring for what felt like hours, my eyes closed as I felt the waves move me freely around. The water was so cold compared to the beaming sun, but the two extremes together made me feel more relaxed than I had been in a while. Maybe I had fallen asleep, I wasn’t too sure, but when someone was suddenly directly next to me, interfering with the natural direction of the waves, I jumped up at their presence.

“What are you thinking about?”

It was Kie, her tone lighthearted though her face was concerned.

“Not much. The sound of the water mostly. You?” I answered truthfully.

“Honestly, right now I’m thinking about you.”

“Why? You into me or something?” I teased, not expecting her tone to change to match her face.

“No Y/N I’m serious. What’s going on with you? You’ve been acting weird ever since that party with the blonde touron.”

Kie was catching on, which was bad. It wouldn’t take her much to figure out what was really happening, so I had to come up with a lie, or maybe not a lie but a distraction.

“Yeah. Okay. I’m sad about JJ… But it doesn’t matter. I’ll get over it.” I confessed, relieved when I saw the stress in Kie’s face relax.

“He’s a total idiot. You can do better than him anyway.” She said with exasperation, stroking my hair.

“No I can’t.” I laughed. “But like I said, it doesn’t matter.”

Kie sighed.

“I wish you weren’t so harsh on yourself. If you could see what other people could see you wouldn’t be.”

I smiled at her, feeling appreciation for the girl buzz through me.

“Love ya Kie.”

She smiled too, but it was weaker than usual.

“Love you too… Now give me the floatie.”

When it got dark some hours later we all piled back into the Chateau and put on a movie, squeezing onto the couch. I sat on the edge and much to my displeasure, JJ sat next to me. That displeasure only lasted a second though before it was washed over by a tidal wave of carelessness, and I was able to relax my body against his like he was anyone - not the most problematic Pogue on the island.

The movie went on for a while until JJ shifted positions, wrapping his arm around me and placing his hand on my leg.

This had been a fairly standard position for us, his fingers creeping up my thigh in the darkness of the room and our friends none the wiser. Now it felt different though, and instead of being excited by it I was annoyed. Was I only good enough to touch in secret? Was he touching me now just because I was there and it was something to do? Could he only bare to touch me when he was drunk? I needed to take another pill.

With a wobble, I flicked JJ’s hands from me and pushed myself up, grabbing my handbag and heading to the bathroom. Pope and Kie had passed out on top of each other and John B was too engrossed in the movie to look up. So when I heard a knock on the bathroom door, I knew who it was before it even opened.

“I didn’t say you could come in. I could’ve been taking a shit.” I teased.

JJ’s stoney face didn’t offer a crack of amusement as he stepped closer to me.

“What’s going on with you? It’s like you can’t stand to be around me. Have I done something?”

“No. Everything is fine.” I answered with a fake smile.

He didn’t buy it, becoming visibly annoyed.

“You’re so full of shit Y/N. Don’t try to play dumb with me right now. I know you’re pissed off about something.”

“Why do I have to be pissed off about something?” I said combatively, crossing my arms.

“Because you’re acting like my touch is gonna make you sick or something and you clearly can’t stand to be around me! Is this because of that tit pic I showed John B? I don’t get it. Are you jealous or something? Or do you just think I’m a sexist pig too?”

“My world doesn’t revolve around you. Have you ever considered that I just stopped giving a shit about what you do?”

I usually felt horrible about lying to my friends, but looking at his beautiful face, thinking of how he didn’t want me, the lie came out easily. He clearly didn’t buy it though.

“Oh really? Is that why you don’t want to fuck anymore? Because you stopped giving a shit about me? Yeah right.” He scoffed and I felt my face start to angrily heat up. “What the fuck is going on? Did someone tell you some bullshit about me? Do you have a boyfriend now or something?”

I scoffed right back at him, widening my eyes in disbelief.

“Would that make you jealous? If I had a boyfriend?”

“Do you or do you not?” He demanded with gritted teeth.

I didn’t answer for a moment, enjoying the stressed expression on his usually uncaring face. Did he really care if I had a boyfriend? Surely not in any way that mattered. Just in some stupid male ego way. I sighed at that and uncrossed my arms as I answered.

“Obviously not. Who would want to be with me? Don’t be stupid, JJ. Now what did you come in here for?”

He looked at me incredulously, as if he couldn’t believe the words coming out of my mouth. I didn’t understand why he seemed so stressed for and it was irritating to me.

“For this conversation, right now! What do you think I came in here for?” He said exasperatedly and I rolled my eyes.

“I don’t know but can you leave? I need to pee.”

“No, I can’t leave until I know what the fuck is going on with you. Jesus! How much have you had to drink?”

Had I been slurring? I couldn’t tell.

“Not enough for this.” I tutted bitterly.

He sucked in his lips and took a deep breath, eyeing me like he was trying to work something out.

“Wait, look at me straight for a second.” He muttered, reaching his hand out to touch my face, angrily repeating himself when I questioned why.

His thumb stroked over my bottom lip and I straightened my back, trying to match his stare but unable to stand completely still. He hadn’t looked at me with such intrigue in a long time, and I was glad I was so high or else I would’ve completely submitted under his blue gaze. His next words instantly shattered any fantasies that could’ve been playing in my head though, instead filling me with unreasonable rage.

“You’re high aren’t you?”

I knew it wasn’t a question. The steely look in JJ’s eyes and his flared nostrils made it abundantly clear that he’d already figured out the answer for himself. But I couldn’t let him think he was right.

“I mean yeah, I’ve smoked a lot today, you have too-”

“You know that’s not what I mean.” He hissed, dropping his hand from my face. “I can’t fucking believe you. This is why you’ve been acting weird. I should’ve known.”

I rolled my eyes and mumbled “You’re overreacting, I’m just drunk” to which he quickly shot back “Oh yeah? Why are your pupils the size of mars then?”

“They’re not.” I felt my footing slip slightly as I lied, and I had to quickly lean against the wall to stop myself from falling.

“And now you’re just lying to my face. Nice one Y/N. How long had you been clean? A year, almost?”

I thought of the hours that he’d spent with me when I’d first gotten sober; looking after me when I was being sick, bringing around food, washing my hair. I’d felt so loved. I’d felt like there was no reason for me to ever pick up a benzo again.

The betrayal in his voice told me that that would never be happening again. With a huff, I picked up my bag from the side and shoved past the blonde, gasping when he grabbed my arm.

“Where are you trying to go now?” He laughed humourlessly.

“Get off me, JJ. I’m going home.”

“What because you’ve been caught out?”

“No. Because you’re being a dick.”

He wouldn’t loosen his grip on my arm despite my desperate pulling and so I started to speak louder, hoping someone would intervene and give me a chance to slip out.

“Get off me!”

“I’m not letting you go.” He said with gritted teeth, tightening his grip. “What have you taken?”

“Get the fuck off me!” I repeated louder, relieved when John B appeared in the doorway.

“What the hell is going on?” He looked between us with a concerned expression and JJ loosened his grip.

“She’s on fucking drugs again, John B.” JJ hissed and though I wanted to argue and try to prove him wrong, I quickly slipped out of the bathroom and paced out of the house, ignoring JJ’s shouts from behind me.

“What the fuck is going on Y/N?”

“Do you just not give a shit about yourself? About your friends?”

“How could you do this? You were clean for so long.”

His words stung, and though I rationally knew he was right, I was too ashamed to feel anything other than anger and embarrassment. The Pogue’s would hate me now, and rightfully so.

I understood why JJ was so annoyed. I’d listened to him seethe about his dad, about how he was an abusive drug addict - but yet, when the blonde came home and he was passed out on the sofa, JJ still always checked if he was breathing. I’d seen the bruises, and met the man who left them, begrudgingly shook his hand and tried to forget what he’d done with them. Was I reminding JJ of that? Was I like his piece of shit father?

In a rush, I picked up my bike and went to get on it but instantly fell over, dropping the bike as I did.

“You’re gonna ride home like this? Seriously?” JJ’s voice came from behind me, loud and aggressive.

I struggled to pick my bike back up, almost falling over it again, and his hands were suddenly on top of mine, holding the handles and stopping me from going. John B was quick behind him.

“Are you really on drugs, Y/N?” John B questioned, eyes wide.

“I’m just drunk.” I hissed, trying to pull the bike out of JJ’s grip.

“Right, she says she’s just drunk, let her go JJ.” John B said harshly but JJ scoffed.

“She’s lying! Look at her! She can’t even walk properly!”

Then he turned to me, his voice suddenly pleading and face full of pain. It caught me off guard and I felt another pang of guilt ripple through my body, tears attempting to escape my eyes but being successfully pushed back by the Xanax.

“What have you taken, Y/N? Please don’t lie to me. I know you’ve taken something.”

I wanted to tell him the truth so bad. The whole truth. I wanted to break down and beg for his forgiveness, to tell him I loved him and that I would get clean again.

But I couldn’t do it.

There was no point.

I’d ruined everything now anyway.

“I’m just drunk. Leave me alone.” I slurred and tried to pull the bike from his grip again.

It didn’t work. I fell backwards onto the ground, landing on my butt with a groan. I laughed at my fall instinctively, forgetting the situation I was in for a second, but when I looked up and saw my friend’s distressed faces my laughing stopped. Even John B looked suspicious now, his eyes snapping from mine to JJ’s. He bent down and pulled me up with ease, though he huffed after he’d done it.

“Y/N, can we look in your bag?”

My heart leapt into my throat and I quickly jumped to defence.

“No way you fucking pervs. Let me go home.”

He turned to JJ with an straight face and both of them exchanged a short look before looking back at me.

That was it. He believed JJ. He knew.

“I’m not letting you ride home. I’ll drive you.”

His voice had been so monotone, so void of any real offering, that it caught me off guard. He was angry. I looked at JJ. He was angry too.

“N-No. I’m fine. I can ride-”

“I’m fucking driving you home, Y/N. Get in the Twinkie.” John B cut me off sharply and I jumped backwards, almost falling again until he caught me.

They both looked so disappointed and I was so ashamed at that point that all I could do was nod, following him silently to the van. JJ said nothing and I didn’t dare look back to see if he was looking, though I felt that I could feel his stare on the back of my head. This was the worst thing that could’ve happened. Why did I have to take it so far? Why did I have to lie to their faces like that?

The short drive back to mine was agonisingly silent, all John B said was “Look after yourself” before I stepped out of the van.

My voice got caught in my throat and all I could force out was “Y-Yeah” before closing the door and stumbling towards my house.

Had I destroyed my friendship with the Pogues? It certainly felt like I had.

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radio-fmm · 10 months ago

Text

Bathing suit

Sanji x reader

Warnings: afab reader, comfort fluff but a little suggestive, CW reader is not comfortable with her body so she talks terrible about it (don’t worry this has a happy ending)

Word count: 1.6k

Summary: In which you hate how you look in your bathing suit and Sanji comforts you

Masterlist

It was a hot sunny day, the waves of the ocean made their way to the shore in a calm rhythm, so steady that the Strawhats found themselves having to dock on the beach for the day, awaiting for the ocean’s ferocity to comeback so they could sail away to continue their adventure

A day in the beach, everyone was more than happy for the idea. Having to spend your days at sea with the same faces looking back at you every waking moment could be a little nagging, having this time to unravel and enjoy the beauty of the island was something everyone looked forward to. Franky and Ussop had even set up an improvised tiki bar, just an excuse for Sanji to make everyone drinks really

And there he was, mixing up a fruit drink that he handed Nami which she took gratefully, before making her way back to her assigned place under an umbrella besides Robin. A smile was quick to make its way to the cooks face, everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, wether it be savoring his drinks, fooling around in the ocean or constructing an impressive sand castle near the shore

But his smile was quick to fade when he noticed you were nowhere to be found, how strange. Earlier that day, when Luffy happily shared the news of how the crew was going to spend the day, he clearly recalled your enthusiastic response, happy to finally have some sand under your feet and enjoy a relaxing day under the beaming sun; so… where were you?

Worry seemed to be building up on Sanji’s core when he asked about your whereabouts and no one really knew where or what were you doing

“Last time I saw her she was getting ready, said she’d catch up to us” Robin commented, which did nothing to ease his worries since that had happened when you had just docked

“I’m just going to make sure she’s ok” Sanji said after taking a drag of his cigarette that burned hastily under his fingertips. Robin smiled and nodded, knowing that whatever it was, Sanji would take good care of it

So he looked for you, all over and under The Sunny, but it seemed like you had dissipated into thin air, that was until he heard a sob reverb from behind the girls quarters door. Thinking something absolutely terrible and unthinkable had happened to the sweet sweet you, Sanji kicked open the door, making you jump out of your skin as his eyes examined the room

When he saw you, eyes puffy, nose red, wrapped under a blanket looking like a sad wet dog Sanji found himself stunned, glad you were in one piece, but his heart breaking at your sight

“My dear… what happened?” You stayed in place, only answering with a sad sob and a shiver, the blonde eased his position, softening as he approached gently “dear?”

“Nothing… I’m just, not feeling well” Sanji had never seen you like this, in his eyes you were a strong and brave woman that carried herself proudly, to see you so vulnerable made his heart clench. Hesitantly, he sat at your side of your bed, his eyes never leaving your form, taking note of your fingertips dragging your tears away in a hurry. A salience fell, deafening as you fought back the pain blossoming form your being, hiding into yourself

“Are you sure?” A sigh left your lips, your eyes watering meeting his blue worried ones, you shook your head slowly

“Do you want to talk about it?” His voice was barely a whisper, as if afraid you’ll get scared and run away again. You stayed still for a moment, hesitant but too hurt to even deny, you nodded shutting your eyes as new tears peeked at the sides

Sanji scooted closer, his hand reaching for your back rubbing confronting circles “I feel disgusting”- your voice came out broken and tired.- “I look so bad in my bathing suit, nothing like Nami and Robin… why am I like this?”

Every single word that came out of your mouth was like a dagger hitting Sanji’s stomach repeatedly, hurting him like nothing had ever before and leaving him confused

Every since Sanji had landed his eyes on you, he was absolutely star struck. He swears he had never crossed paths with someone like you, your beauty beyond compare. Sure he was known for his admiration for women and tossing around the word perfect almost to every single one he met, but you? Perfect was not enough of a word; it was not only your dazzling beauty with your star lit eyes and your addictive smile framed by those soft lips of yours, your sun kissed skin and your free hair waved by the ocean’s breeze the only thing leaving him breathless, it was your heart, your bravery and kindness that you always extended towards the people around you, your soul was even far more precious than anything Sanji had ever encountered in the vastness of the sea

It was really confusing to know that you couldn’t see what he did

An incredulous “What?”- was the only thing that slipped from his mouth at the idea of it, your eyes turning confused just as he was

“But, you’re gorgeous” Sanji expressed without hesitation, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, as if stating a clear fact

“You’re just saying that to be nice” he immediately shook his head repeatedly, his hands reaching to hold yours in hopes you’ll understand

“I mean it!”

“You don’t have to pretend, I know loving every woman on earth is part of who you are but be honest with me Sanji. I am not as skinny or gracious as all the girls you fawn over, I am not the kind of girl someone double takes at-“ you paused your rambling when you were met with something you had never seen before, Sanji was upset… upset with you; angry eyes piercing you in place, holding his breath hoping that the words you used to talk about yourself would stop flowing out of your mouth, he was fuming

“Sanji?” His strong grip shifted from your hands to your shoulders, blue eyes full of determination burning right into yours but not a word was spoken. The cook knew if he was to spill every thought that swam around his mind right now it would only bring to the surface his clear love for you, a feeling he had tried to bury deep down on his being and failing every time you’ll cross his line of vision; regardless, he weighs his options, you deserved better than him he said to himself but… maybe he wanted to be selfish

“Darling, it’s true… you’re not like Nami or Robin, but that’s exactly why you’re so…”- his heart jumped to his throat as he tried to get his words out, desires being held back by a thin rope about to snap.- “so perfect” Sanji’s words echoed trough the room, blush settling on top of your tear stained cheeks, but still you doubted him

“I am no-“

“Y/N!” he shook your shoulders in hopes you’ll come back to yourself

“You think I’m lying? Look!” You stood up getting away from his grip and tossing the blanket that shielded your body aside, opening your arms as you showed your bathing suit “My belly looks so bad, my thighs are huge and I have marks all over and…” your voice faded as Sanji admired you from his seat, ogling you form head to toe, his heart went from his throat to the floor reddening his face and hitching his breath

Fuck it

The cook stood up just to fall on his knees immediately after; there he was in front of you, his hands on your plum thighs as pure adoration looked back at you -“If you only knew what you do to me” your pink tinted cheeks turned red at his words and your heartbeat went wild, threatening to make your heart jump out of your ribcage. His slender hands touched your cold skin with pure devotion burning themselves into you, his eyes made another roll of your figure taking in every detail he was able to as he remained close. Sanji’s grip faltered only to move his hands around your legs, savoring the way your skin felt under his fingertips; his hands reached near your bottom making you jump immediately pulling his hands back to your thighs

“SORRY!” He exclaimed as his mind catches up with the actions of his body, hand pulling away from you leaving you cold.- “You’re just so… unreal”

There it was again, that twinkle in his eyes that made its appearance whenever he glanced at you, beaming over your insecurities and making them disappear on its wake, but why? why you? In your eyes you were just pathetic but for him… you were everything

“Sanji” you called and he answered without a doubt, raising to his feet as he awaited for your words.- “Do you mean it”

Finally, a shadow of a smile casted on your lips, melting the cook in a puddle at your feet, but he managed to not crumble because he needed to answer

“Sweetheart, theres so much more I want to say to you and nothing would be enough to show you how crazy you make me” hearing the thrumming in his chest sparked the idea to maybe just show you. Again, his hand took one of yours in his and placed in on his chest, there it was clear as day, his heart jumping around because of you… for you

You flushed at the feeling, another smile gracing Sanjis view as you thanked him in a whisper, both of your gazes staring back at each other lost on the feeling of one another, awaiting for time to take you

“I feel so much better now” taking advantage of your position, you jumped on the cooks arms, wrapping yourself on his tall frame smiling like an idiot which Sanji welcomed happier than ever, you body melting into his in a sweet hug that he would forever remember

“Glad to be of service”

—————————

This was supposed to be a prompt with several characters but I got carried away… anyways Laws version is in the making

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otkuhotgirl · 8 months ago

Text

─── 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐔𝐄 .

# with roronoa zoro.

roronoa zoro had a bounty of over one billion berries for his head — and prided himself in it. particularly, out of all of his crimes, you thought that his most heinous one yet had been to dress himself that fine while you were not around to see it.

⎰ & suggestive. mdni. thirsting over wano!zoro. reunion after whole cake. implied fem!reader. no y/n used. i need this man carnally. no spoilers!

W.C: 1.7K

the whole cake island incident had taken less than a week to be solved, and yet, it felt as though you had spent an entire decade and more into that miserable and forsaken place. upon approaching the location where the rest of your crew was stationed at — with your stupid swordsman you so yearned to reunite with — you foolishly believed that the coast was clear.

one single hour with him was all you hoped for. hell, ten minutes would have been enough for the time being. but as so it seemed, fate was a sadistic worm that threw battle after battle onto your lap, against foes stronger than you would have wished for, and whose mere existence was enough to divide the crew for yet longer periods of time.

glimpses of him were what you had been offered amidst that never-ending nightmare, and seas be merciful, wasn’t he a luxury meal course.

you had been praying to whoever listened for a mere opportunity to get that man alone, and at last, the deity of couple-who-spent-two-years-apart-and-now-can’t-keep-it-together-for-more-than-a-week — or something like that — was merciful enough to grant you that desperate wish.

zoro had snatched you by the waist once the opportunity seemed fit enough, and that monument of a man dug his calloused fingers so deep into your figure that it threatened to leave bruises longer-lasting than the ones you received at whole cake. his lips brushed near your earlobe, before traveling lower; chests pressed against one another as he whispered lustful-filled promises amidst small confessions of how much he had missed you.

and oh, hell knew those words were more than reciprocal. unfortunately, your tongue seemed to weigh more than a hundred sea kings as your fingers gripped the hems of his kimono, lips half-parted while your eyes drowned in the sight of him.

at your lack of action, zoro froze. he was an experienced man — so long as the subject involved alcohol or sword-fighting or your detailed schedule. the love matter? he was as proficient in it as he was in differentiating north from south. zoro moved his face from where it was buried in your neck, a tinge of uncertainty shown in his glance.

the silence lingered as zoro’s face scrunched in concentration, gears turning inside his head as the poor and clueless man attempted to understand whatever thought was going through in yours.

“if you want to speak about what happened during the time we were apart—” he began, seemingly planning on taking a step back and further from your body.

you tugged at the kimono and pressed him to your figure, a lonesome finger trailing down the bare skin of his chest, losing itself under the fabric of his clothing. you felt him shudder due to your touch, though your mouth remained sealed and you were sure your eyes were as wide as the four seas. zoro’s own hands were hesitant. there he was — the terrifyingly strong swordsman, the one who’d be the strongest, the one whose name was uttered in fear — completely vulnerable at the palm of your hand.

you wanted to swallow him whole.

“do i need to kill—” he spoke again, and you shushed the attempt yet again. as much as you valued his immediate instinct to eliminate whoever had dared to bring you pain, that was anything but the time for such declarations.

zoro’s grip regained its usual strength as he became more impatient, his words coming out with an edge as sharp as the swords sheathed and carried at his hip. “what is it, woman?!”

“was this given to you?”

he blinked, dumbfounded. “huh?”

“the kimono, zoro. was this given or borrowed?”

the swordsman rolled his eye as he, once again, pressed your chest flush against his, returning his ministrations to your neck once he was sure that nothing was amiss.

“why does it matter?” he rasped against your sensible skin.

as much as you wished to surrender entirely to that sinful mouth, a glimpse of the dark green of the cape he wore made you push his shoulders. your eyes were transfixed, unable to tear themselves from his appearance.

“of course it matters! i need to know whether or not i’ll need to bother stealing them once we leave this place,” you answered, eyes so focused in his chest you failed to notice the darkening of his glance.

zoro’s usual attires consisted of overused pants, the green haramaki that was close to infusing itself with his skin, and — if he felt the need, which was rare — a plain coat or t-shirt. the instances in which your lover dressed himself with such fine clothing were rare. truth be told, the entire crew was more well-dressed in an hour in wano than in an entire month in the sunny. the lack of money was far more common than you would’ve wished, and zoro himself refused to waste his slim fair share of berries and gold with — at least to him — vain and useless things such as new clothes.

hence why you were planning on robbing at least two entire wardrobes worth of those kimonos. the absolute urge to have him like that was gnawing at your insides. you wished for nothing but to have your arms around him for the entire day, acting as though an insistent pendant dangling from his neck and clinging to his chest due to the sweat from battles.

your mind trailed on, wondering if that pirate-surgeon would’ve been able to perform such a feat.

“keep wearing that, at all times,” you punctuated, allowing his hand to raise your thigh to the height of his hip. “you don’t bathe whatsoever, so it won’t be hard.”

he grinned against the skin of your exposed collarbone. “liked it that much?”

you hummed your agreement. zoro pressed your back against the nearest solid surface and opened your legs for further access to where you needed him most. the pair of you had half-an-hour of privacy — if not less — and he clearly didn’t mean to lose those precious minutes with meaningless gestures and words. zoro tossed the cape on the ground and started to undo the knot that kept his kimono shut.

you stopped him in the spot. “nuh-huh.”

“the hell you mean nuh-huh?” he bit back.

“clothes on.”

“how am i supposed to fuck you with shit on?”

you craned your neck to the side, offering him a clear glimpse of the wickedness gleaming in your eyes. “you’ll figure it out. unless you’re not up for the challenge. i’ll understand if you’re feeling like backing out. maybe someone more flexible would’ve—”

he wrapped both of your legs around his waist, supporting your entire weight with the arm placed under you. he moved and aimed for a distinct position, and you blinked a bit surprised at his decision. zoro had suspended you midair, with neither a wall nor a table to aid him. a gasp of delight and awe passed through your lips as zoro’s clothed thigh roughly rubbed itself against your arousal.

a calloused finger guided your chin up with roughness, adjusting your eyesight to his face.

“me,” rough voice wielded in a monosyllabic command whose further intentions he was sure you would understand.

the trance upon the first glance of that set of clothes — and the sinful thoughts thereafter — managed to distract you from the fact that you and zoro had been apart for almost three weeks. and for an instance you had forgotten that the yearning fed by distance was reciprocated. that zoro had been just as eager to have you in his arms as you were to be drowned in the sea of his lust.

that brief pledge — me, look at me — had such a meaning hidden underneath, that for a second you felt the urge to cradle his face in your hands, if only to caress the man beyond the demon with the care he ever so longed for.

most pirates sailed around the seas with postures and expressions that nearly seemed to shout “sex for free”. to them, the act itself conducted with strangers was but another trivial aspect of adventure; an adrenaline-filled activity not to be taken seriously. to zoro, sex symbolized the deepest shade of intimacy. an instance where he laid himself bare to you. not in the sense of nakedness — for he couldn’t care less for the sight of his body beyond the physical strength required to wield his swords and protect his crewmates —, but rather in the act of offering you his soul on a silver platter.

he was not a man of words. his devotion was made explicit through the manner with which he served you. zoro thought himself a wretched creature at your service, meant to protect and please. there was no space available for the hesitation born from the thought of vulnerability. sex was the act of tearing his skin apart with his own blade in order to offer you a warm solace within the walls of his heart. it was a sacred transaction where you were the worshiped deity; the ground beneath your feet the altar he knelt upon. and one should treat the object of their faith with the utmost respect.

yet, due to the scarce time unmatching the accumulated desire, zoro wasn’t given the chance to adore you properly. hence the reasoning of such a request.

a heartwarming action, truly. but your eyes were attracted to the way that stupid kimono hugged his frame, offering a scarce glimpse of his chest — only enough to leave space for imagination. both a curse and a blessing was bestowed upon you.

zoro turned your chin towards him yet again, a vein nearly popping on his forehead, wearing an expression you’ve grown to know too well. “eyes on me.”

you grinned. perhaps your stupidest decision yet. “are you jealous of a kimono?”

that taunt was his undoing.

“up for the challenge,” zoro echoed, tone dead, pupil blown. “clothes on.”

zoro flexes the muscles of his thigh, his entire expression brightening up with wickedness as his other hand reaches for your clothed arousal. “let’s test that, huh?”

“i need my legs to fight!” you suddenly felt the urge to remind him.

he grinned like a devil. “you’ll figure it out.”

— 🐈‍⬛ wrote this while rewatching some zoro moments in wano!!!!!!!! the exclamation marks are a shout for help!!!!!!

#one piece #op #op x y/n #op x you #op x reader #zoro #roronoa zoro #zoro x y/n #zoro x you #zoro imagine #zoro roronoa #zoro x reader #op zoro #wano zoro #one piece zoro

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bowandbrush · 1 month ago

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sorry for patronizing you mutuals with my sudden avatar fixation!

having rewatched the series, I decided to check out the live action series out of curiosity (I jumped straight into the Kyoshi island episode, to see what the interaction between Sokka and suki was like. Yeah)

In the new series we have much more screen time with Suki and more story on her past, but it’s not written half as well as the original. I understand they’re trying to change some things up and erase sexist Sokka, but that was the entire point in the original story.

in the new version, Sokka just…stares a little and tries talking to her. Which is fine I guess. He’s impressed with her skill in fighting and devotion to being a warrior. It’s understandable, as he develops a bit of a crush after watching her in combat. Later discovering her training dojo, Suki just decides to train him. Out of nowhere. There are a fair amount of scenes and dialogue that insinuates she has a thing for him too, a lot. The entire training segment is just them standing close, tripping over each other, staring, etc. basically the same formula so many writers use to build tension between two characters.

It lacks substance. There isn’t much reason for them to like each other here. And for Pete’s sake, we don’t get to see Sokka wearing the traditional Kyoshi outfit!

In the original, Sokka saunters in with prideful arrogance, dismissing and underestimating the female warriors. Y’know, because they’re girls. This scene wasn’t being sexist, Sokka was. I still don’t understand why they erased this, because it was a very important character development.

When Sokka ‘demonstrates’ his combat skills, Suki sets him straight without a sweat. In humiliation, Sokka realizes how much how wrong he was about women and their strength. How disrespectful he was.

that gives him a reason to ask for training. For forgiveness, and to better himself. It’s also a great scene when we see Suki sharing her culture with him. Although she wouldn’t normally “train outsiders, much less boys”, she still gives him a second chance.

There is so much authenticity here. He grows to admire Suki as a fighter and as a person. For her kindness and forgiveness too, not just strength.

we can see Suki grow on Sokka, appreciating his unbreakable loyalty and bravery. As well as his silly demeanor. We all like funny guys!

It’s a really nice Strong and brave woman + smart and silly idiot duo, and I love it.

live action is just,,,watered down a lot. I don’t know what the live action series will do in the future. I don’t really care anyways. BUT what I really appreciate with Suki and Sokka is their vulnerability with each other.

nowadays, every “strong” girl is defined with outer works/action. That usually means no crying, no soft side, no fear. Especially if she’s in a relationship with a man. She has to be tougher than him. Because I guess vulnerable and defeated girls can’t be strong. At least, that’s the trope I see most often.

Suki is very strong, brave, and tough. But when the appropriate time comes, she lets herself be open and exposed. She can let her guard down and expose her inner pain, because she knows Sokka is there for her.

it’s perfectly normal and healthy for a man to be able fall apart in his girls’ arms. But I feel like that’s suppressed the other way around, because it displays weakness. And I guess we’re cancelling weakness in women now. Because of woke

#Haha sorry this isn’t tmnt #My rottmnt phase isn’t gone #Atla #avatar the last airbender #sukka #atla analysis #Avatar gets women so right #This show is perfect #PLEASE TELL ME if I made any grammar or spelling errors

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dindjarindiaries · 8 months ago

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Clouded

summary: One year after Eriadu, you and Hunter unknowingly seek one another for comfort, achieving a new kind of vulnerability that could change everything.

pairing: hunter (the bad batch) x reader

tags: mentions of character death (tech), angst & fluff, grief, hurt/comfort

rating: T

note: This story is being done in collaboration with @p-aulinart, whose “Hunter's mental health runs” WIP completely inspired this. The drawing will be available on her blog soon!

word count: 3.101k

main masterlist • hunter masterlist

Even Pabu seemed to hold the weight of this day within the dark clouds that hid the sun from view. It cast a gloomful shadow across the island, swallowing up all its life in the same way grief often did. For you and the rest of the Batch, that feeling was all too familiar—especially today.

Today marked one full year since Eriadu.

You exhaled and held the mug of tea even tighter between your hands. The stone underneath your elbows was rough, but it was more welcome than the sharp ache that tore across your chest each time you let your thoughts and memories linger. The fast pace of the last year had helped to distract you all from the inevitability of this day arriving, no matter how painful those events were.

It wasn’t lost on you, any of you, that you only had the peace you had now because of him. His sacrifice had meant something, and while it should have made it better, it still didn’t erase any of the pain.

Everyone was dealing with it in their own ways today. Wrecker had already embarked on a fishing trip with some of the other islanders. Omega was with Lyana, who was no doubt acting as her perfect distraction. Crosshair didn’t want to see another soul, which meant you wouldn’t be seeing him again until tomorrow at the earliest. You were seeking reassurance in nature, letting the painful memories wash over you like the waves lapping at Pabu’s shore.

Hunter was harder to figure out. It was ironic, considering he was the one you knew the best of all. But he had grown less and less communicative as this day lurked closer, and hiding his emotions was a skill he had mastered as greatly as those he used in battle. It was the reason why you still had yet to make a breakthrough in your relationship that had certainly crossed all the necessary lines.

Your lips pulled tight as you blew another worried exhale through your nostrils. Your worry for him swallowed you up almost as much as your grief did.

It was still early in the morning on the island. Even without the dark clouds overhead, the sun would only just be starting to shine. It was quiet, and while that would usually give you peace, today it was unsettling. It gave you too much freedom to think, to remember.

And the sky looked too much like the clouds did when you were up that high on Eriadu, the ones that had ultimately hidden him from view as he…

You stopped that thought by focusing on lifting your mug to your lips and drawing a long sip of your tea. Blinking back the tears, you lowered your drink and closed your eyes, hanging your head and steadying yourself with a few breaths.

You forced your thoughts to go to Echo, and you hoped he was surrounded by enough support from Rex and the others to get through this day without the rest of you. Even though this wasn’t the first time Echo had to grieve someone on an anniversary like this, no loss was easier than another. You made a mental note to try to comm him later if you could.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps crunching over the landscape. You opened your eyes and lifted your head, looking down from where you still stood just a few levels above the shore. A distant figure was getting closer as they jogged along, and it easily became apparent who it was.

Even just seeing Hunter caused the worried knot in your chest to loosen, but he quickly tied a new one deeper within you. The humidity on Pabu had led him to forego a shirt, and as he slowed to a stop right in front of you, it became easier to see the glistening beads of sweat that clung to his toned muscles. His chest heaved as he set one hand on his hip and raised the other to push some of the curling strands of hair away from his face.

Damn. It was like the galaxy had heard your silent plea for a sweet distraction from the tumultuous turmoil of this day and delivered in the best way possible.

It was impossible not to stare, even if he hadn’t noticed you yet. That alone was still concerning; his senses should have been able to pick up on you quite easily at this distance. Your brow furrowed as you forced yourself to focus on his expression. His brown eyes, normally golden when the Pabu sun decided to shine, were even darker than usual before he shut them tight.

You clutched your cup of tea when you noticed his set jaw and quivering lips. It wasn’t exhaustion that had stopped his run. That wasn’t even what was causing his chest to heave.

Hunter reopened his eyes and looked down at his waist, reaching to the side you couldn’t see at this angle and taking something from it. When he held it in both his hands, treating it with all the care in the galaxy, your fractured heart shattered within your withering chest.

He had taken Tech’s broken goggles from Shep’s collection, where Omega had left them for safekeeping.

You lifted a hand to cup your mouth as you continued to monitor Hunter. His left thumb had only just traced the indicator light when he closed his eyes again. Hunter lowered his forehead to the goggles at the same time his body lowered into a crouch, as if he was folding in on himself entirely. Then, his shoulders started to heave again.

You couldn’t stand by any longer. You left your tea where it was for now and hopped over and across the stone that separated you from him and the shore. Taking extra care not to alarm him, especially in such a fragile, vulnerable state, you kept your footsteps steady. By the time you reached him, he had sat fully on the shore, the goggles pressed between his head and his propped-up knees.

As badly as you wanted to touch him for reassurance, you kept your hands to yourself, instead giving him a worried once-over as you spoke in a soft voice. “Hunter…”

If you were going to say something else, it was completely lost on you, especially the moment he raised his head and revealed his misty eyes to you. The air was knocked from your lungs as if someone had shoved you against the ground. You had been with this squad long enough to share in their lowest moments, but never before had Hunter let you see him with tears in his eyes.

And here he was, not only sharing that vulnerability for a moment, but also freeing a hand from the tight grasp he had on Tech’s goggles to wrap around your arm. The gentle tug he gave it was the only invitation, or desperate plea, you needed to act.

You took your place beside him, and you were ready for him when he all but crashed against you. The hand that had been on your arm wrapped across your back, his fist catching the material of your tunic as his face buried itself against the inside of your shoulder. You secured one arm around him and lifted the other to the back of his head to keep him there.

If this, your embrace, was where he needed to be right now, then you were going to make him feel as safe as possible within it.

You didn’t say anything, because there was nothing you could offer that would dull the pain. Hunter’s hand that still clutched the broken goggles to his chest made that sentiment even more true. You just rested your head against his and looked out upon the cloudy Pabu horizon.

The light in such a moment of darkness was that Hunter had ended up in exactly the right place at the right time, which brought warmth to your chest. The place he had run to was the same place you were planning on spending this morning. It was a spot you had shown him a while ago, on a night where you were hoping to make a breakthrough with him.

If you had only known then that he just needed a little more time, even if this wasn’t the way you planned on earning such vulnerability from him.

You sat with him until he was ready. Hunter lifted his head from your shoulder, and you loosened your grasp on him. His hand slid over your back until it found your hand, which he gently interweaved with his own—as if the movement was as natural as breathing. The corners of your mouths pulled up in a small smile, though it faltered when you caught sight of his bloodshot eyes.

Hunter’s gaze couldn’t meet yours, and he kept his focus on the goggles again as he spoke. “He should be here.” His voice was so genuinely distraught that it was almost unrecognizable, even lower and hoarser than usual.

Your free hand cupped his cheek to brush a fallen tear away from his eye. You still didn’t say anything, instead giving him another once-over as you waited to see if he had more to offer.

“He deserved to see what he gave us.” Hunter looked up, his gaze scanning the Pabu civilization behind you. “This life. I was supposed to keep him safe so that he could.”

You clicked your tongue and shook your head at him. The hand you kept against the tattooed side of his face had started to run soothing strokes with your thumb across his damp skin. “It was his own sacrifice. His own decision.” You offered him a reassuring nod, though his eyes still couldn’t meet yours. “He chose to let us get away safely.”

Hunter’s grasp on the goggles tightened, but not nearly enough to further fracture the broken glass. “And who put him in that position?” It was then that his stare found yours, void of any of its usual sparkle. His voice faltered when he answered his own question. “I did.”

You frowned. “You all knew the risks with every single mission you did. You think those guys were ever too scared to tell you no?” The light tease at least earned you a small sparkle in Hunter’s eyes. That was a major win in your book. “If Tech didn’t agree with your directive, he would’ve said as much. I mean, it was Tech. He wouldn’t have been able to help himself.”

Hunter huffed, and the small smile that tugged at the corners of his lips overwhelmed you with a wave of relieved warmth. He looked down at the goggles again, but this time, his brow was lifted in fondness. “True.”

You traced the outline of the tattoo on his cheekbone. “And he wouldn’t have wanted you to spend the life he gave you carrying a burden of guilt that isn’t yours to bear.”

Hunter looked at you again. His gaze was searching, and you never once looked away as you went on.

“‘Adapt and move on.’ Isn’t that what he used to say?”

Hunter held his breath before he responded with a single nod. As he exhaled, his entire body began to relax, including the tight grasp he had taken on both your hand and Tech’s goggles.

“That’s obviously much more easily said than done, but…” you paused, raising your gaze to the cloudy sky for a moment as you thought, “try to think of what he would have wanted you to do rather than what you think you were supposed to do.”

Hunter blinked a few times as he processed your words. He looked down, but this time, his focus was on your entwined hands. Another small smile appeared on his lips as he let out a soft chuckle. “I know what he would’ve wanted me to do.”

You brightened. “Yeah?”

Hunter nodded. “Yeah.”

He didn’t say anything else. Your brow started to rise. “What is it?”

Hunter kept looking at your hands, his thumb circling yours before he spoke. “Like you said before, Tech could never help himself. If he noticed or knew something that no one else was acknowledging, he just had to point it out himself.”

You hummed when he paused. Hunter’s stare rose to yours.

“One of the last things he ever approached me about in private was…” his chest inflated with an uncertain breath, “us.”

Your brow shot up in disbelief. Hunter set down Tech’s goggles in his lap and raised his hand to your wrist, gently lowering yours from his face to set it between his own and yours that were still entwined.

Hunter let out a soft huff. “I don’t know if it was what he was experiencing with Phee or what.” You smiled at that, even if it reminded you of another fracture in your heart. You would have to comm her later too to make sure she was holding up okay. “But Tech told me what he saw between us, and it didn’t make sense to him that I wasn’t acting upon it.”

You were beaming, ready to fold entirely for him, but you still held on to your resolve and quirked up an eyebrow. “And why didn’t he tell me the same thing?”

Hunter was trying to fight a guilty smile as his gaze found Tech’s goggles again. “Because he knew I was the only one standing in our way.”

You let out a soft laugh. “Well, he’s not the only one who knew that.”

Hunter looked back up at you. His brow was furrowed in severity, but before you could rush to reassure him that you were joking, he spoke in a firm yet achingly soft voice. “Then it’s time for me to get out of our way.”

Your lips parted at the genuine weight of his words. Hunter’s gaze flickered between them and your eyes, a silent invitation that wasn’t necessary—because you were already closing the gap.

The moment your mouth met his, an unprecedented warmth washed over you, as if the clouds had parted to finally let the bright sun shine once again. You parted from Hunter to realize that’s exactly what had happened. Overhead, the gray clouds hovering over Pabu began to split, allowing the bright sun and blue sky to take over.

Real subtle, Tech. Of course he was still within the clouds. In your mind, he had never left them, even when they had hidden him from sight that day.

Hunter’s gentle hand wrapped around the back of your neck to bring you back to him. Your smile melted against his as you lifted your free hand to his chest, running it along the warmth of his skin until you reached the back of his head. Your fingers caught the curling strands of hair and held on to them, minding the sensitivity he would have to the feeling as you kept him in place.

But Hunter was the one who wanted you closer. He eased the goggles into a safer position before inviting you to take their previous place, all while he continued to meet each passionate, desperate stroke you offered. It fueled your shared fire of longing even more, causing your entwined hands to unravel as you kept one in his hair and let the other explore.

No one would see. That’s why you had picked this spot. But even if they did, you didn’t care. Not when you had finally gotten the breakthrough you’d been waiting too long for.

You parted only when your lungs demanded it, though you rested your forehead against his. Lazy yet pleased smiles were exchanged between you as you gently panted in time with one another. Now that the Pabu sun had emerged, your back was to it, and its golden glow was catching the flecks in Hunter’s gaze.

Breathtaking, even more so than his kiss had been.

The beautiful sight of them was taken from you when he closed his eyes and let out a soft chuckle. He reopened them and looked down at the goggles that sat on a rock nearby. “Thanks, Tech.”

You laughed, closing your own eyes as your nose brushed his. “Is this what you planned on doing today?”

“No, but… I’m not surprised.” You reopened your eyes when you sensed Hunter’s stare on you. He was beaming. “Tech was always the best problem solver.”

You smiled, leaning away from him only to make your observation of him even more obvious. “Well, you certainly dressed for the part.”

Hunter gave himself a quick once-over, as if he had only just realized what he was—or wasn’t—wearing. A blush crept up his neck, and he tried to shrug it off while you laughed. “It’s too warm here to go on runs with a shirt.”

You raised your brow. “Really?” You drummed your fingers against his bare chest. “Or were you just hoping I’d notice?”

Hunter’s blush intensified, but he still managed to let a charming smile shine. “Maybe a little bit of both.”

You hummed and wrapped your arms around his neck, this time letting yourself fall into his embrace rather than vice versa. Hunter held you close, his warm skin muffling your words as you spoke. “At least you can have a workout partner, now.”

Hunter was surprisingly quick with his cheeky response. “What kind of workout?”

You burst out laughing and shook your head. “You’re really wasting no time, are you?”

You caught the sight of Tech’s goggles nearby. The heavy weight of what you’d been feeling all morning threatened to return, but you leaned further into Hunter in a silent plea for him to take some of it for you. He did.

“Let’s just get through this day first.”

Hunter’s agreement came in the form of his comfort, which was his head resting against yours. This grief wouldn’t disappear, but at least now, you had someone to share it with—and so did he. Everything else would fall into place soon enough.

All thanks to Tech.

main masterlist • hunter masterlist

hunter tag list: @zenrobbins0021 @cw80831 @yunggoblin @maddiedrmr @Molmcb @jellybeanstacey0519 @violetlilly2020

#in this house we love tech so so bad. love him so bad.#hunter #hunter bad batch #tbb hunter #hunter tbb #hunter x reader #hunter bad batch x reader #tbb hunter x reader #hunter tbb x reader #sergeant hunter #sergeant hunter x reader #the bad batch #dindjarindiaries

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rin-sith · 3 months ago

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Is it just me, or should we maybe talk about Poseidon's final line to Odysseus, "After everything you've done, how will you sleep at night?" some more?

Thank you to my lovely mutual @glisten-inthedark for making me think even more about the Vengeance saga ending than I already was because there is SO much there to unpack.

Because, like, if you think about that line for more than 2 seconds ... what the hell even is that? Only a complete 180 turn from his "You are far too nice; mercy has a price" attitude.

First and foremost, it feels like such a human thing to say, not least because of his tone. I don't think it is mockery or anything of the sort; it took me a while to notice, not least because he is speaking in a chopped voice due to his injuries, but he actually has the same genuine tone of voice as in his "I can't," one song earlier.

In short, it feels like something someone would say after being shown a glimpse of mortal vulnerabilities and pains, the way that I am convinced he was (for more on that, check out my full torture scene essay; I believe it's one of my best ones.)

Like, my man, are you genuinely asking the guy you specifically tried to make more ruthless how he's going to live with this newfound ruthlessness? What are you so concerned for? That it's too much? Why would you think that? Maybe ... because you've been there yourself? Is that it?

The funniest part to me here is that Odysseus is not nearly as "monstrous" as Poseidon would view him as. Poseidon only sees the "monstrous" actions, which he knows ... but Odysseus, at that point, is so much more than ruthlessness (more on that also in my essay.)

And yet here he is, essentially asking Odysseus, "How will you live in my shoes?" because that's the image that he now has of Odysseus; when he saw Odysseus wield the trident, he saw him in his own shoes, and due to personal limitations, Poseidon cannot comprehend that Odysseus isn't actually committing to a life with his philosophy because he probably doesn't understand that there is a middle way.

Honestly, the more I think about the effects such an exposure to vulnerability would have on Poseidon, the more I worry for him.

Some people point out that this defeat may have ultimately been pointless because the moment Poseidon recovers, he could just immediately come after Odysseus and drown his island or whatever he wants ... He won't do that. I can't tell you why I know this, but I am like 100% sure that he won't.

Physically, he will recover. But emotionally/mentally? My man is f*cked ... and that's putting it lightly. He will feel the effects of this exposure excruciatingly for a long, long time ... Because, in order to fully recover from this, I wager he would have to actually process what happened there and reflect on his own actions in the way that Athena did ... which we all know he won't do.

Athena managed to use Odysseus' confronting her with her own flaw/fear to reflect and grow, which is why she had that beautiful character arc and learned to open her heart. Poseidon? I mean, maybe in a couple centuries, I don't know ...

... If I had a nickel for every time that Odysseus out-topped humbled a god to the point of being forced to confront their own vulnerability, I would have two nickels, which isn't a lot, but it's weird AWESOME that it happened twice. Keep slaying, king; they need it.

#epic the musical #epic odysseus #epic the vengeance saga #epic poseidon #jorge rivera herrans #poseidon epic #odysseus epic #epic musical #yeah poseidon is screwed #i can see a couple ways in which this confrontation might affect him #and none are particularly good #yes one of them is his obsession with odysseus manifesting in a ... *different* way #yes i'm writing a fanfic about that #go check it out if that's your thing haha #epicssay

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windcarvedlyre · 7 months ago

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Rewatched part of ch1's trial and found something else that's really interesting in hindsight!

We're all familiar with Komaeda's FTE; over a decade later, there's still some room for debate wrt whether he was telling the truth about his diagnoses or not. My stance was already that he was telling the truth, instantly regretted it, and lied that he was lying, and I will die on that hill. I think the above lines reinforce my stance further.

Hear me out. I might as well make this a comprehensive 'Komaeda wasn't lying' post while I'm at it.

For reference, here's the entire final FTE.

The reasons I already had to believe him are as follows, ordered from strongest to weakest:

Komaeda almost died from despair disease; he was much more severely affected than Owari and Mioda. Lymphoma can weaken your immune system, leaving you more vulnerable to infections. While Komaeda's degree of illness could also have been due to bad luck, this could easily be an intentional hint about him.

He claims he's wanted someone's love all along. Again in chapter 3, after the trial, Tsumiki targets his lack of loved ones and seems to genuinely perturb him, indicating this is a real insecurity:

Behavioural variant frontotemporal dementia, or bvFTD, can have symptoms that align with a lot of his social and behavioural issues in the game. bvFTD symptoms can include saying socially inappropriate things/being rude and insensitive, rash/impulsive behaviour, empathy issues, and rigid thinking, among other things. Do I even need to cite examples of these? He can still hide things and manipulate people sometimes, but his ch4 investigation segment proves he's genuinely socially impaired. He sometimes fails to understand the emotional nuances of other people and the impact his words will have. For example:

(Though he still has moments of self-awareness and introspection; he acknowledges he's pessimistic in his introduction and worries he'll make Hinata hate him by saying weird things in Island Mode.)

Issues with memory, cognition in general, etc, are more of a thing in later stages of the disease, so Komaeda having significant social impairments but still being extremely sharp and lacking noticeable lapses in memory makes sense.

Physically Komaeda just doesn't seem healthy in general. He's pale, skinny, his hair is white (possibly fading into a pinkish brown that I could see being his hair colour in the past), and- at least in Japanese- he sounds really breathy and wheezy. I once laughed in a way uncannily similar to his ch1 breakdown when I had a chest infection. With asthma. Stage 3 lymphoma symptoms can include chest pain, shortness of breath, weight loss, loss of appetite and fatigue. If it's still stage 3 it's present in lymph nodes above and below the diaphragm but hasn't metastasized outside of the lymphatic system yet, but if it's advanced to stage 4 since his diagnosis then it may have spread to his lungs as well- having further potential to cause respiratory issues.

In his second-last FTE he starts to tell Hinata about something before he entered Hope's Peak but stops himself, not wanting to 'burden' Hinata. And leaves immediately to end the conversation. He'd just told Hinata how his parents died in front of him, showing zero awareness of how bad it was or how it would affect Hinata, so it must have been real bad for him to do this. And makes it less plausible he was impulsively repeating something from a book later, imo.

Iirc at least one spinoff manga runs with it being true, depicting him in a doctor's office during a nightmare. I'm too tired to hunt this down now; maybe I'll edit it in later.

On a meta level I just find it less compelling for the final reward for spending so much time with him to be 'Here's some actual vulnerability- lol psyche, remember he's manipulative? He might still want sympathy, you be the judge'. It would make the aborted confession at the end the only thing we can't infer from elsewhere in the game already. On the other hand, the diagnoses being real, and him trying to take it back and distract Hinata with an incitement to kill him (before also trying to confess his crush and aborting that too, he's a mess there), really really adds depth to his character.

Semi-tangentially, some people with bvFTD also develop neurological problems that affect movement- eg. making them slow and stiff. There's no evidence for or against Komaeda having this in canon afaik, and I've read it's more of a thing in later stages of the disease, but in the ch1 trial he talks about the threatening letter as if it's in his actual handwriting, and if so... it looks pretty stiff, doesn't it? Either it was angular on purpose or the writer has trouble with fluid hand movements. Let me know if he displays fine motor skills anywhere else, I guess.

The only real counterargument is that he's outlived the 6-12 months he was expected to, but:

The estimate is presumably from the cancer, which is treatable. FTD can take years and years, even 10+, to reach the later stages.

That's an estimate, not set in stone, and real people have survived after being told they have X months to live without supernatural luck.

In either case, it doesn't matter how dire the prognosis is if Komaeda's involved. If the chance of him surviving something isn't zero it will probably happen. When he finally managed to kill himself it wasn't even real.

Anyway, the thing I started the post with! Compare the lines below.

In both cases he's said something that could make others feel bad for him, immediately takes it back, and claims he did that on purpose.

But he wasn't actually lying in the first line, albeit hamming it up a little. He wanted someone to kill him. This happened while he was still pretending to be the killer, after Saionji asked him why he sent the letter. He dropped a hint about the truth and then deflected away from it, likely intentionally antagonising people to distract them from thinking too hard about what he just implied and make them more averse to empathising with him.

So what could that imply about the lines from his FTE?

TL;DR: He told the truth about having cancer and dementia, your honour. There's not only strong evidence for this but precedent for the sort of deflection he made afterwards.

#danganronpa #dr2 #sdr2 #komaeda #nagito komaeda #dr analysis #you think you've seen my komaeda brainrot in its entirety? FOOLS.#god i spent ages on this i hope it's coherent lmao #inb4 kodaka's been like 'yeah he has them' since and this entire post is pointless haha #edited this to rearrange something forgive me if it breaks some formatting #komaedology

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