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lemmetreatya · 2 years

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I have never requested anything so I have no idea where to do that and stuff, i hope you dont mind me writing it here.. I was thinking if you could write about platonic relationship between Polnareff and reader? like, them being siblings and after Sherry's death reader would disappear for some years, they would reunite while stardust crusaders is happening. they would meet between fight with Anubis and after that they would talk about how they've missed each other.. hurt/comfort type of thing with some fluff in it. oh and also reader has a healing stand perhaps? they could help Polpol and Joot with their wounds. I hope its ok with you! if not, feel free to ignore it

That’s fine! Your request was lovely but you’re also my first imagine request so we’re in this doing firsts together 🥺💕 Hope you enjoy <3

Everything, Everything for You, My Darling

Polnareff x Reader

Count: 4.1k+

‘For as long as you could remember, it had always been the three of you’

Contains: Angsts, Character death, Hurt, Comfort, Strong Language, Happy Ending, Not Beta Read

For as long as you could remember, it had always been the three of you.

“Sst!”

Looking up towards the younger girl, you softly mouthed an apology. Her leg was still brushed red, tinged with small specks of blood and razor like streaks but you tried to clean up her graze as lightly as you could.

Apart from this one injury, Sherry was fine. Maybe a slightly bruised ego but she was holding her own, unlike the other addition to your trio.

Within your peripheral, you could see Jean Pierre marching up and down the paved field edge you were all currently situated on, his footing light but his clomps loud nonetheless. He was currently seething, hot with anger; something that wasn’t a regular occurrence but definitely felt once present.

“I swear — I fucking swear — I’ll get them back for that. Those sleazy bastards…. think, think they can just get away with hurting my sister, huh?! Fuck, they so have what’s coming for them.”

The collection of red stained cotton buds that sat besides your leg stacked up in a small pyramid. You added another one to the pile before addressing the boy, a sigh in your voice.

“There’s nothing you can do about it, Jean Pierre. They’ve already run off and there’s about seven of them and three of us. We just gotta cut our losses as it is, you know?”

Sherry nodded in agreeal to your comment although flinched afterwards as you lightly stuck a plaster above her knee.

“Yeah, don’t work yourself up blaming them. It’s not like they did it on purpose. I just happened to be in the way is all.” Her voice was as soft as ever.

Visibly you could see Jean Pierre start to calm down, his feet finally stuck in one singular place and his box shoulders sagging, although you knew the fire of rage still bubbled deep within his gut.

“Mon coeur, still!” He exclaimed towards you before switching his attention to Sherry, “They should have minded you or something. At least turned back and apologise…”

A lumpy silence fell over the three of you; no one had much else to comment but everyone knew someone needed to say something to fill the gap. Something that didn’t seem like a topic divert or talking just for talks sake. But as always, you knew what to say.

“It’s okay, Jean Pierre. The fact no one’s seriously injured is more than fine. We got lucky.” You encouraged.

With a pout, Sherry aimlessly reached a finger down to lightly smooth over her plaster. You mundanely rubbed the uninjured part of her leg before adding: “It just means you’ll have to be Sherry’s personal chauffeur.”

A soft laugh left Sherry’s mouth at Jean Pierre’s bewildered expression, the boy seemingly offended at the task he was now endowed with.

“What?! No fair! That’s even more reason to get them back!” He boomed.

You weren’t related by blood like Sherry and Jean Pierre were, but the two were the closest thing you had to family. Sherry was soft spoken and as pretty as she spoke. Jean Pierre was boisterous and forever daring in his outlook. You all complimented each other’s personalities but you looked up to Jean Pierre with a different austere air.

The way the older conducted life about him — care-free but never too lenient — it always inspired you to fulfil life in the same manor. It always gave you that edge to be watchful over the Sherry. You liked to think that you and Jean Pierre aided her under a wing each. If only you had known that instead, Jean Pierre was protectively holding his wings over the both of you.

However, despite his disposition, you would never have known the hollowing loneliness he constantly carried with him. Sherry hadn’t much memory of their parents but Jean Pierre did. He had tasted warmth and protection before, he knew how secure it’d make one feel. Jean Pierre even believes he would be better off having never experienced it. Maybe at least that way he wouldn’t daily feel that he was concaving — rotting, from the inside out.

Instead, he used the previous love he’d once received on the both of you.

Not once had the thought that the three of you could ever be apart cross your mind. Even if it did, there was no need to dwell on it as life was already as harsh as it was; why would you dream or even prepare yourself to be away from your only life sources? However, only naivety could fool you that deep.

When Sherry was killed the brutally dehumanising way she was, the only thing you could think to do was pull apart from your rootings.

Pull apart from everything that once made you happy, starve yourself of knowing what Home meant and felt like because why should you?

Sherry had lost her life; never again to see how burnt orange would tickle the vineyard horizons at early dawn or how the stars would wink goodnight under the heavy smell of olives in the evening. The sweet song of rushing brookes! How the clear current could surprise you with its strength if you were to comb your hand against it. No longer was Sherry here to experience those beautiful parries of life so how could you possibly live in the very vicinities she once did and constantly feel like you weren’t dying yourself?

You had fled from the town not even seventy-two hours after her death. It honestly had felt longer by then, but there was no sound voice of reason to warn you against that, and so you had acted on the fleeting decision once you thought it.

It was selfish of you really to not think of everyone else involved — especially concerning how much it would have affected Jean Pierre, how the burden of losing both of you would solely fall on him. You know you could never fear Jean Pierre, with utmost certainty you knew he wouldn’t even dare think about harming you.

But it's when you saw the rage, how the always lit but never boiling flame suddenly unleashed within the older boy towards Sherry’s killer, a part of you feared that you had lost him to an overdue battle.

Running never worked for anyone and to be honest, you’re not sure why it seemed right.

The grief, the pain, the hate all still remained. Everything you tried to run from, stayed. Your dear Family that you wanted to protect, gone. The only thing you had left of them was the faint shadow of their silhouettes that were engraved into the flesh of your eyelids, haunting you for as long as you drew breath.

Still yet, life went on and in due time of being a wanderer, you found yourself in places you could only have dreamt of visiting.

Currently, you were situated in Edfu, a small city that sat on the west bank of the Nile. Cairo had been a bit busy for you, even though you’d spent about a week or so there, and so you ventured more of the country to see what it offered.

You’re not quite sure what drew you to the ancient settlement of Edfu but from the moment you got here, you knew you were there for a reason.

It was just approaching noon when you were sat in the outside seating of the small cafe. It was also then that you heard a loud crashing bang.

When you looked, the trouble seemed to be coming from the barbershop that was placed just four doors down from where you sat. Most of the locals who were around you turned or gravitated towards the source of commotion, surprised at the sudden disturbance in their mostly quiet dwelling. You on the other hand turned the other way in your seat.

“Khan! Khan! Is everything okay?!”

You could only make out the few phrases of Arabic being used around you but you still chose to disengage and move away from the noise. Without even a look at who was involved, you quickly got up and slinked into the inside of the cafe.

Don’t get it wrong, it’s not like you didn’t care nor wanted to help. It’s just… everywhere you went, trouble seemed to follow you. The first few times, you engaged and tried to help out but after awhile, you realised it was always you who the attackers turned on.

This is one of the major reasons why you found yourself becoming a traveller. No matter where you landed yourself, bizarre occurrences always seemed to happen whilst you were in the vicinity.

In your opinion, you saw this as a curse — Sherry’s Curse. This was your judgement on earth already being served to you, this is what you got for running away.

As you sat by the peeling bar, you could only sigh with your head in your hands, the ruckus outside continuing on. The bartender had the same disposition as you. Whether they were used to the noise or just too dully complacent with their job to move from their position, you wouldn’t know. They didn’t mind you for the duration of the time you were there. They only gave you a nod once you entered and that was it. The rest of the time they spent quietly polishing away at the crockery.

A few minutes had passed and the sound of fighting continued crashing throughout the streets. At one point you wondered if it’d ever stop. You were willing to try and leave, slip out in the other direction of the commotion and find yourself somewhere else to occupy. That was until you heard the sharp sound of barking.

Looking down at your feet, you noted a small boston terrier yapping for your attention. With a warm smile, you got down from your barstool to pat it on the head.

“Why, hello. Hey, who’s a good baby?”

The dog basked in your petting for a few seconds, clearly enjoying the attention before unexpectedly bolting towards the entrance of the cafe.

With a surprised face, you took it as the dog just being wryly but when you realised it was still watching you from it’s place you, frowned.

“What’s wrong, buddy? You lost?”

The dog barked once, twice and then turned in a circle a few times. You weren’t entirely sure what drew you to follow after it as it dashed out into the street, but you realised whatever it was felt urgent.

Meanwhile, having just come back to his senses, Polnareff was in distress.

With a sigh, the Frenchman crouched himself down next to the currently winded Jotaro. Never again does he ever want to be controlled to do something against his will like that. Anubis was tough but he believes he knew he was winning that fight anyways.

The Frenchman wasn’t as hurt as the younger male but he definitely did feel like he’d been in a hefty battle. Polnareff shuffled within his pockets, pulling out an old malted plaster before offering it to Jotaro.

“Here, I’ve got a plaster.”

Jotaro didn’t even look at what he was being offered, only grumbled out:

“No, I don’t want it.”

Polnareff didn’t take it to heart. He knew the male could be acute with the words he used and so he only shrugged before getting up to observe the area damage behind him. Before he knew it, he was met with the familiar flash of tuffed black and white fur.

“Oh, it’s Iggy! Where did you come from?” He couldn’t even be relieved for long as he grimaced over at the bull terrier, unaware of the figure who followed him.

“Beurk! Eating candy now are we? And right off the floor too, you disgusting…dog.”

As Polnareff’s words faltered, your feet came to a sudden stop, no longer allowing you to follow the small animal. Your mind went completely blank seeing the now older boy, no, man in front of you. With a dry gulp, you quietly called out his name.

“J-Jean Pierre…?”

There was a tense flicker of eye contact the both of you shared.

The facial expression the silver haired man wore was crushed into that of hurt and rage. Maybe it was because of your presence, maybe it’s because of the previous battle he just had. Either way, the smithereens of the anger you could smell on him at the day of Sherry’s death was the same smell you were smelling now.

Your heart raced with utmost speed, so much so you thought it’d explode right there, spray guts and blood down your chest and all over the man in front of you. After years of suppressing whatever you were trying to bury, suddenly it had all come to the surface. Forget that this was one of the most bizarre places to meet, the fact that the boy you had abandoned was here — right in front of you — was daunting.

You took a faulty step back, your footing wobbly as it almost failed you. Polnareff on the other hand desperately reached his hand out towards you.

“No, no it’s okay.” He cooed. I’m not mad at you, is what he wanted to say but for the record of their current company, he held his words.

You gulped, unsure of whether to stay or not. However, once he saw you weren’t going to fleetingly run away from him, Polnareff tasted the name he thought he’d never be able to use come the rest of his days.

“Mon coeur...”

The familiarity of the name churned your heart with nostalgia. Your breathing was still hitched but you were able to break through a reply.

“Hey…” You could barely whisper back, your facial expression twisted between final joy and sorrow.

Polnareff took a tentative step forwards, his arms opening in that welcoming way it always did once he knew you were unsettled. Without a second thought, you found yourself moulding into his chest —like the prodigal child finding Home again. Eyes peppery with tears, your arms dug into the man with an action that could only be described as desperation.

Whether he was in pain or not you wouldn’t have known, as Polnareff made no move to adjust you or place you where he wasn’t sore. He only engulfed you, no questions asked or uttered.

You both stayed like that for a good several seconds although it felt fleeting and short. The only reason why you let go was because Polnareff had suddenly switched and pulled his attention towards the Nile situated several yards behind you.

“Regardè! That cow is freaking out about something…” He pointed, almost childishly to the disturbed cattle and rocking boat.

Feeling slightly disorientatated, you didn’t even have time to reply or pay proper attention to his observation as it seemed that his shared company had more words to say about it than you did.

“Gimme a break, Polnareff. Who the fuck cares? Just go find Avdol and Gramps…”

As you looked towards the grimacing black haired man, you realised why Polnareff may have been reluctant to say much to you. Was this his friend?

“I’ll look for them, don’t worry.” Polnareff gave you a look to wordlessly excuse himself as he trotted back towards the other man who was still crouched.

The black haired man was definitely aware of your presence, well, you think he was. But he didn’t seem to acknowledge you as he spoke to Polnareff. You looked at him closely, unsure why he seemed so defensive but either way you weren’t phased.

All of a sudden, an inward fizzing sound occured and it was like you were looking at him with a different set of eyes.

Your vision was suddenly tinted purple, your surroundings all tinted in that very colour. The crouching man’s body highlighted yellow and orange in various places in the shape and size of incisions and cuts. One orange on his cheek and a yellow dotted around other places. However, his lower stomach seemed to blare an alarming colour of red. Even without the changed vision you could tell there was a pool of blood dripping from the very same place.

Your vision quickly changed back to normal but you lightly gasped before also crouching down by his side.

“Oh my goodness, are you okay?! That wound looks pretty deep.”

The black haired man didn’t look offended at your now invasive presence but he definitely watched you closely from underneath his hat.

“Ah, Jotaro will be alright. We just gotta find the others and then Avdol’ll be able to patch him up or something.” Polnareff chirped in.

Your brows furrowed between your eyes. Who were all these people Polnareff suddenly knew?

“Others?” You turned your head to hushly asked.

“Long story, I’ll explain later.” Polnareff answered.

“Yeah, but that’s only if we can find them in time.” The black haired man, (You’re guessing whose name was Jotaro?) grunted his piece as he finally sat down onto the dusty side road. His legs were spread out infront of him as his hand pressed painfully onto the crimson wound that stained just below his stomach.

“Fuck, I’m never going out with you alone ever again.”

Even though he directed that comment towards Polnareff, you could feel the bothered annoyance emitting from Jotaro. However, your concern was still towards his heavy gnash that didn’t seem to stop flowing red.

“I don’t know who this Avdol guy is but I’m sure I could help heal your wounds in the meantime.” You blurted.

Both Jotaro and Polnareff looked to you with questioning stances. Without much explanation, you tentatively laid your hands onto the bleeding area of Jotaro’s stomach.

Unexpectedly, the same purple tint that shaded your vision earlier glowed around your hand. Even though the healing wasn’t obvious due to the covering of his clothes, Jotaro’s visible discomfort started to ease.

With a dry laugh, Polnareff rubbed the side of his palm across his forehead.

“I never knew you had a stand?!”

As you continued to concentrate on the man’s wounds, you briefly uttered your reply.

“Oh. Is that what it’s called?”

Polnareff laughed again, yet this time it was full of bright colour.

“Now that I think about it, it makes sense. You were always the healing type. Whether it be a soothing word or just a plaster. You always knew how to make people feel better.”

You briefly looked up at your Home, smile warm as it radiated off of your face.

“Thanks.” You looked back down to where your hands hovered over the other man’s stomach. “I guess I needed to hear that.”

“You two know each other.”

Jotaro gruffly stated more than asked. His voice didn’t sound as pained but he was definitely worn out. Rolling his eyes, Polnareff answered for the two of you.

“Yeah, well, no shit.”

The black haired man didn’t scoff but he might as well have concerning how he lowered his cap further over his eyes.

Even though you weren’t familiar with their dynamic, you felt like you could figure it out quite quickly. If anything, it reminded you of the one you used to share with Polnareff all those years back. With a soft laugh, you shook your head.

“We all grew up together. Me, him and…”

You felt Polnareff freeze besides you. The distraught that was briefly dormant finally came back in a flow of cracked nostalgia. A pained expression dressed your face before you begrudgingly finished your sentence.

“…and Sherry.”

“The dead sister.” Jotaro stated.

Polnareff seemed distant now that the girl’s name was brought up. He nodded dutifully before heavily answering.

“Yeah. The one I avenged.”

You took heed of the older’s words.

Avengement.

Long gone were the days where you daily thought about reclaiming back power from Sherry’s killer. You found the task hopeless, time consuming and no use. Not because you didn’t care but because what use would it do you?

For ages, the guilt of Sherry simply being a victim haunted your psyche. It was only through suppression of feelings in which you could even bear to stand yourself, live on with your choices.

Maybe now it was finally time to face just one of your many demons.

“Let me help you.” You blurted out.

With a wild expression, Polnareff looked in your direction.

“What?”

A flurry of small tiny ants could have crawled along the inside of your chest with how it was seeming to burn. You cleared your throat once before explaining further.

“With whatever you’re doing out here. Fighting, avenging, I don’t know but just let me help.”

Conflict plagued Polnareff’s face. Even though it’d been so long, even though he’d grown a lot taller, older and even in a sense, more mature — that same expression he would wear as a child decorated his features.

For a split second you recond, to a certain extent, that Polnareff still counted as a child.

Polnareff searched his eyes over your face.

“No, mon coeur. It’s too dangerous.”

“Says who? I’ve survived long enough on my own and I turned out fine. You won’t need to look out for me and I won’t get in your way just…” You couldn’t even meet his eyes. “Just let me make it up to you.” You finished with a murmur.

With sagging shoulders, Polnareff stretched his hand down to you.

“You don’t owe me anything—“ is what he started with but as you moved your shoulder out of his arms reach, you seemed to unexpectedly burst.

“Jean Pierre! For the sake of finally being able to sleep easy. For the idea that I can finally say I’ve done something worthwhile with my life and stop running away — for me to avenge Sherry in my own way, let me help.”

Too stunned to speak, the older man simply didn’t. His mouth left agape at the sudden chagrin you spilt. The sudden realisation why life after Sherry’s death panned out the way it did for the both of you.

Having not been an active part of the conversation, Jotaro found himself being the one to keep the train of conversation going. God, Polnareff really did put him in the most awkward of situations.

“I don’t see why not.” Jotaro directed towards you. “Your stand will be useful anyways.”

Blinking over at the man, you realised that this was the first time you got a proper look at him. At first you presumed him to be at least Polnareff’s age or even older. But now that you saw his face, you realised that he was probably around the same age as you.

With a mild scoff, Polnareff wildly pointed his fingers in Jotaro’s direction, accusatory and boisterous air finally pumped back into him.

“And since when did you make the rules?” He fired.

Jotaro only sighed loudly.

“Gimme a break.”

As the six of you walked to your hotel destination for the night, you and Polnareff lagged behind the others.

It’d been a lot, taking in the story and journey Polnareff’s life had taken him on. Even the whole explanation of stands, stand users and the nefarious DIO seemed light in comparison to the eventual opening up of how the older man had barely been coping.

It was natural that you still felt bad about leaving all that time ago but Polnareff was adamant in affirming you that he understood — That he wasn’t angry.

“I won’t lie and say it was easy. I still struggle with coming to terms with her death, even after avenging her.”

As you kicked a lone stone, a flurry of dust followed its path. Polnareff continued.

“Avenging doesn’t do much for the dead. It’s only a way for the living to cope.”

Your shoulders raised and descended in a defensive shrug, your head held high.

“Doesn’t matter, I still want to help.”

Shaking his head, Polnareff disagreed. One of the guys walking in front of you, the one who you learnt went by the name of Avdol, glanced back towards the both of you. You watched as Polnareff shared a knowing glance with him before he continued speaking to you.

“I’m not trying to talk you out of it. Like you’d stand down if I said no, anyways. It’s just… Don’t think it’ll solve or heal anything. It just widens the hole.”

Sighing out of your nose, you shrugged once again only this time it was more of a mutual action.

“Jean Pierre, I know. And I guess— Well, thank you for looking out for me first of all. I do appreciate it, don’t get me wrong. But it’s okay. I’ve come to terms with whatever happens, what has happened.” With a soft smile, you directed Polnareff a warm gaze. “I know she’ll be proud that we kept on moving.”

Polnareff could only hazily smile back, a small nod in agreeal.

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess she would.”

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