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mydearlybeloathed · 6 months

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𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐌𝐘 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: even as you grow older, you'll always be his baby sister

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: strawhats x sanjissister!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.5k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: lowercase intentional, cursing, allusions to insecurities

𝐚/𝐧: this is basically just sanji curing my childhood wish for a big brother. i have more ideas about how sanji would be at his wits end with a reckless little sister so look out for those hehe

i imagine sanji is two years older than you, but it never felt like it. you and him were never apart for too long, more by obligation than choice.

so it was no surprise when sanji dragged confused little you with him as he hid from the pirates invading the ship, only outing your hiding place in the name of saving his food from oregano.

you'd hurried after him, of course; that's all you knew to do at such a young age.

and when zeff had sanji up against the wall, being so young meant you also knew only one thing to do in this situation: you bit zeff, latching your teeth around his arm and drawing blood from his broken skin.

zeff howled and very nearly threw you into the wall as well, before his eyes zeroed in on you, this little girl with wild eyes and a mighty strong jaw. he only jerked you off him, then, staring from you to sanji then back to you. "wha—? what kind of little gremlin just bites a man?!" your eyes were steely. "I'm not a gremlin." then, "bitch." though it was clear you didn't understand what it meant, probably catching it from the other chefs of the now sieged ship. gritting his teeth, zeff continued on his shouting. it made you and sanji angry, and zeff marveled at how your expressions were twin–like, despite your difference in appearance. then, the ship had wrecked, and it all went downhill from there.

sanji always made sure you’d eaten more than him on that damn rock, even when you fought him and scratched him as he forced a morsel of bread into your mouth.

he'd held your hand as you cried the first ten days, and he had mourned when on the eleventh, your eyes took on a dead sort of sheen, like you were now a decade older in the head.

it was unnerving, really.

sanji learned a lot on that rock. like what it meant to be the responsible one, or at least more responsible than you.

sanji just wanted you to listen, but it seemed like all his words went in one ear and out the other. you wouldn't eat despite all his begging, only staring at him with that horridly blank stare and pushing the food back toward him. tears started to form at the corners of his eyes as he held up the very last piece of bread. "please," he begged. "please just eat it." you shook you head, forcing the tears to stream down his cheeks. that broke through your indifference, your frown deepening as you inched closer to him. "we'll half it," you offered, taking his shaking hand and guiding him to split the bread, taking one half and waiting for him to calm down before you ate in silence. you really did feel older than him, and he didn't like it. only when that night fell did he realize you were simply a very, very good actor. your whimpers were like thunder in his ears as he sprang up from a featherlight sleep, his eyes locking on your quivering form just a hair's breadth away. "y/n?" he whispered, shaking your shoulder. you spooked awake, and in the reflection of moonlight he saw glinting tears traced down your face. "nightmare?" your nod and sniffle tore him up inside, and in seconds he was hugging you to his chest, telling you stories till he was sure you were at least sleeping better than him. "someday," he said, "we'll find a place where we'll never go hungry. where every flavor and ingredient can be found. the all blue. i'll take us there, and we'll never starve again." you were asleep by the time he started plotting to raid zeff's side of the rock in the morning. it had been sanji who guarded you from seeing the stump left of zeff's leg, ignoring you when you asked him to explain what was happening.

growing up on the baratie was an experience, for sure.

your only company were the crooks who worked in the kitchen alongside you and sanji, and you found them amusing company indeed.

especially when they started teaching you how to be a remarkable little con-artist. once in your late teens, it wasn't long before you'd abandoned your work in the kitchen to wait tables.

not only were the tips amazing to pocket away, but your charming smile and whimsical attitude made you a master of sympathy.

there isn't a customer you can't placate, a fight you can't break up; sanji would never admit it, but you'd save him from one too many brawls with just a single simper.

it was easy to hold that over his head, but for some reason, sanji never let it keep him from completely wrecking your social life.

to say sanji is protective of you is the understatement of the century; you'd be the first to attest to that.

it was growing to be annoying and just plain inconvenient, if you're being honest.

was it too much to ask for some time to yourself... with the company of a horny teenage boy... in your quarters... alone?

"sanji!" you hissed, face bright red as your brother dragged you and this young sailor boy--you hadn't caught his name--out of a broom cupboard, his grip on the boy's collar deathly. throwing the boy aside, sanji stormed back up to him. "did you touch my sister? you think you can just take advantage of her like tha'?" you ran your hands over your face and rushed to separate sanji, shaking in anger, from the boy, shaking in his boots. "stop! he wasn't takin' advantage of me, sanji. hell, i started it!" "y-yeah!" the sailor boy piped in, cowering behind you. "she was all over me and—" "shut up," you and sanji said in tandem, shooting the boy matching glares that sent the poor sailor darting for his crew's ship.

as the years dragged on, you and sanji couldn't deny that the idea of remaining on the baratie all your lives would be... well... sad.

you wanted more for yourselves—you specifically wanted to get sanji away from zeff's constant criticism, no matter how well–meaning it was.

but the years really were dragging, and could you ever really bare to leave the man you'd nearly called father on several occasions? could you leave the shit-hole restaurant that raised you in it's wooden arms?

probably not. you'd probably die washing dishes (snore) and burning water (whoops) and charming the pants off grumpy old men (yuck).

that is, it always seemed that way until a grand vessel with a goat for a masthead docked at the baratie.

the day had been it's usual level of boring, until two customers decided to have a little row which heated up with every word shot back at each other.

you, having a good track record, rushed forth to prevent the fight just itching to break out. but today was not your lucky day.

"gentlemen," you grinned. stepping between the two men, you held up your hands and settled each of them with batted eyes and a soft expression. "what's this about, hmm?" sanji loitered at a nearby table, refilling drinks with one eye on you. he was ripely kicked out of the kitchen, snug in his waiter's jacket. one of them huffed, "he's at my table!" "i don't see your name on it!" the other snapped. your patience wanned, your thoughts screaming man-child. "i'm sure we can work something out. just please, don't start anything in the restaurant." the first man seemed to consider you, his eyes dragging up and down your form, but any progress you might have made was destroyed by the next second. "i ain't movin', girl. he can go shit 'imself in the corner." that was how you winded up directly between them, your hands pushing against either chest to keep them separated, your heartrate accelerating as they pressed in on you as if you weren't even there. grunting, you called out, "brother?" in seconds, sanji had a grip on your sleeve in one hand and a fistful of the first man's collar in the other. he jerked you away from them and swiftly shoved the men away from each other. "sister," he said in turn, cracking his neck as the men continued to not learn their lesson. "take these rolls to table four, yeah?" you didn't need to be told twice, swiping the tray of bread from his arm and beelining for a booth housing a motley crew of people. behind you, grunts and winces and crashing could be heard, followed by the thick silence of your brother's victory. you set the tray down on the table, shooting a tight lipped smile up at the guests. a boy wearing a peculiar straw hat locked you in place with his bright eyes and wondered aloud, "he's a great fighter." "yep," you quipped. "a real hero. any drinks for the handsome crew?"

it turned out the boy with the straw hat was crazy: he intended to become king of the pirates.

you admired his tenacity, of course, but really? he had a death wish.

still, the more you spoke to luffy and the more you observed his character, being king of the pirates didn't seem so crazy. he had guts, that was for sure.

as crazy as it sounded, you started to believe he could do it.

so it was really no surprise you said yes when luffy asked you to join his crew.

he had already asked sanji the day before—before luffy's swordsman friend got obliterated by a warlord of the sea.

you didn't know him, but when you rushed onto the going merry after zeff an sanji, and you saw the bloodied man lying there, you could barely move a muscle.

you were never good around the air of death, and it was all around roronoa zoro, lingering like a knock you expected but never came. so you couldn't move, not even when they moved zoro to a bed, out of sight. not when zeff and sanji retreated back to the baratie.

you snapped back to life at the sound of luffy's voice, finding him leaning down to be directly eye level with you. he was still speaking, and it felt sort of like being under water, till finally, you surfaced. "sorry what?" "are you okay?" he asked, brows knit. you pondered your response while looking anywhere but his face. "yeah, sorry. i... i don't like feeling helpless, i guess." you vaguely gestured to where zoro's limp body had laid upon the nearby table. "being out of control makes me wig out." luffy tilted his head. "why're you out of control?" "because," you nearly laughed. "your friend is dying." immediately, you regretted your word choice, hating how the light fizzled from his eyes. "he's not dying," luffy snapped back. "he was injured and now he's healing. why does everyone insist he's dying?" you shuffled on your feet. "right, sorry." when you met his eyes again, there wasn't any frustration like you assumed there would be. instead, he settled you with a curious look. "you don't have to keep apologizing." luffy was an odd type of pirate, you thought with a forced little grin. "then how will people know i'm sorry?" he smiled. "fair point." taking a hold of your sleeve, luffy started to drag you deeper into the going merry, leading you right to where zoro was laid. his grip on you loosened as he passed into the room, but you stayed cemented in the doorway. nami was there, sullen looking. you watched as nami berated luffy and stormed away, shoulder checking you on the way out, leaving luffy smileless. that didn't sit well with you. walking up beside him, you took a kneel just as he did, and turned your eyes on zoro's pallid face. "hello," you murmured. silence was your reply. "i'm y/n. you don't know me... your friends care a lot about you. it'd be... sad, if you died." luffy stiffened at your side. "which you won't! i've heard of you. no way the demon pirate hunter will let—let a scratch get him..." as your rambling died down, luffy slowly shifted to look at you, all serious for a moment. unnerved, you chuckled nervously. "what?" a tiny grin worked its way onto his lips, a glimmer in his eyes. "will you join my crew?" you nearly laughed. "luffy, you don't want me." "yeah. i do. why else would i ask?" "i'm useless." "you're kind," he said, shutting you up as a flush bloomed in your cheeks. "not everyone can say that."

a long story short, you joined luffy's crew of strawhats right along sanji.

your parting from the baratie had been watery, to say the least. whilst sanji shouted curses at zeff and stormed out to luffy's ship, you stood shaky as zeff huffed, his eyes roaming toward you.

you very nearly tripped head over foot in your sprint to wrap him in a hug. he was the only father you'd ever had, really. leaving him was bittersweet.

the going merry was a very nice place to call home, in your opinion.

you were a jack of all trades amidst the crew, choosing to do odd jobs around the ship. most days, you found yourself asking around with a little list in your journal, taking note of everyone’s grocery needs and even keeping track of the ship’s supply inventory.

not only that, but you found your crewmates tended to lack the sense to take care of themselves in a timely manner.

that is, none of them could be faster than your attentive eye, and no one was safe from your protective inclinations.

nami was attentive, but she tended to disassociate, and when she did it was very hard to get her back. she would go on for hours, working herself to the brink of exhaustion, not accepting even a sip of water. (she couldn't stop you, however, from forcing a cup of ice water down her throat. even she was intimidated by your determination to hydrate her).

then there was zoro, who absolutely refused to allow anyone to help him dress his wounds; and since he wasn't the best at it, you often stared at his haphazard bandages with fear of infection. he brushed you off enough times to invoke your wrath upon him. (zoro quit refusing after the first three times you ambushed him, wrapping your arm around his neck and blocking his airway).

you always listened to usopp's stories, but oftentimes you grew tired of the repetitive and clearly fake tall tales. you wanted to know his real stories, and you told him so. he'd laughed awkwardly and replied that he wasn't interesting enough for that. (he was fairly surprised at your insistence, and was warmed at your fascination with the silly story of how he met kaya).

luffy, your captain, was a walking migraine most days. he was smart, but just as brave, and jumped to action faster than you could process. it left you stressed beyond what you could handle, and this alone was enough to make luffy more cautious. (he never wanted to make you unhappy, so you'd inadvertently given him some of your common sense).

finally, sanji, who you'd been dealing with all your life. you knew all his tells, whether it was baking macarons when he was upset or going eerily silent for far too long. you always knew what he needed, and when he needed it. (more often than not all he needed was a compliment, and not just from some doe–eyed woman at a bar; a word of sentiment from his baby sister could drag him out of any stupor).

overtime, the crew took to calling you their boatswain. after all, you fit the job description, and you took the title with pride.

as time flew by with the strawhats, you began to listen to the dreams and aspirations of the others, and began to wonder what exactly you wanted out of life. the all blue was sanji’s dream… so what was yours?

the going merry was docked at a friendly port for the next few days, meaning the crew was free to explore and roam the city as they pleased. you, however, remained behind that very first night.

as far as you knew, the others had decided upon a bar for the night’s celebration. The quiet dwelling over the ship was calming, and from your sweat crisscrossed on the afterdeck you had a wide view of the stars.

your notebook rested on your belly, pen tight between your fingers, thoughts moving a million miles an hour. there hadn’t been time to get shopping done that day, so you would rouse the ship early the next morning and assign them to fetch groceries in pairs of two—just to be safe.

and though the heavy thinking could wait till the morning, you were stuck in a spiral of inventory and lists. it was… exhausting, and offered little to no fulfillment. still, it was what you did to help.

A familiar patter of boots broke your reverie, and you peeked up to find sanji coming to loom over you, his hands shoved in his pockets. his suit jacket was draped over one shoulder and his hair was a mess—he wasn’t drunk though, which was a very good sign.

silently, he disposed of his jacket and laid down beside you, resting his hands behind his head. for a split second, you got a glimpse of the damn rock imbeedded in your memory for all time, and how sanji used to make up stories about the stars.

since then, you’d come to know their true stories. you knew every constellation by name, having memorized them upon the baratie and spoken to them every lonely night. the stars had been your friends in your youth, and though your conversations with them were few and far between now, they always shined for you. so as far as you knew, you were never alone.

sanji raised an arm and pointed in a random direction. “bet you can’t name that one.”

a grin worked its way up your face. “how much?”

he turned his head, eyes boring into you. “if you can’t, you tell me what’s on your mind.”

“that’s hardly fair.”

“take it or leave it.”

you huffed, but complied, glaring up at the sky. “cassiopeia. cursed to remain in the stars for claiming her daughter was more beautiful than the nerieds.” you kissed your teeth. “hardly a punishment. i’d love to be in the stars.”

there was a weight behind your words; a truth so deep you had to take a long breath to recover. wetting your lips, you asked your brother, “do you think, someday, i could study them?”

“why someday?”

“well, you need supplies. tools. there’s only so much our eyes can tell from down here.”

“tools,” he murmured. “so, you want to study the stars?”

the words flooded from your lips. “i want to know everything about them. i want to know why they shine, how far they are, what’s beyond them… can we get there?” you sighed into a smile. “there are some cities that have observatories dedicated to astronomy, but you’ve got to be some kind of noble scholar to get in.”

sanji listened, and he listened well. He laid by your side and listened to you tell him about the stars till nami and zoro came lugging a drunk usopp between them, luffy taking the lead. he remained in thought for most of the night, and sought out nami to ask about expenditures, and then set out to find luffy.

it was safe to say you weren’t quite as upset at sanji and luffy for disappearing all evening when they returned at sunset, some beri short, with a gift in hand.

you stood slack jawed as they revealed a beautiful telescope, the metal polished and bright and shining. how they had managed to sneak it past you and set it up on the afterdeck was beyond you, but you hardly cared to ask.

you threw your arms around your brother, whispering your thank yous, and quickly turned to tackle your captain in a hug just as tight. the night to follow was marked by your awed sighs and the excited way you told the crew about ursa major and ursa minor, then about castor and pollux, and so on till you could barely keep your eyes open.

and sanji would never say it out loud, but he admired you. you turned out pretty damn good despite having him as your big brother. someday, you’d reach the stars. he knew that for certain. he could only hope you’d come visit once or twice.

“g’night,” he muttered to the crew as he stood, making his way over to where you’d drifted off against a barrel. he scooped you up in his arms and was veyr careful to not wake you as he made his way to your and nami’s quarters.

sanji rested you down and moved to take off your boots and pull the blanket over you, and he found himself frozen all of a sudden. lips pursed, he patted your hair, and turned to go. at the door, he paused and looked back. you slept so soundly for once, something he was so very glad for. he wasn’t blind to how you’d been overworking yourself.

perhaps he would talk to you about that in the morning, but for now, he simply smiled. “good night, sister. love you.”

and whispered back to him, just in time for him to hear: “g’night, sanj. i love you.”

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sonofcrowx · 2 years

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{ – He is charismatic, magnetic, electric and everybody knows it. When he walks in everyone's head turns and everybody stands up to talk to him. He's like this hybrid, this mix of a man who can't contain himself. Everyone always gets the sense that he become torn between being a good person and missing out on all of the opportunities that life could offer a man as magnificent as him. – }

#young wild reckless and free

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lucysarah-c · 1 month

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Thinking about Levi being this amazing lover who leaves you breathless is great, amazing, perfect. Love it.

Then why does my mind tend to wander so much to Levi being sexually frustrated? Like this man closed up in the scouts after being taken out of the underground, stuck with a bunch of other guys in the barracks. Levi cherishes his privacy; he may have been young when he left the underground, but there's no way he's going to be jerking off under some thin blanket with the stink of mothballs while the others sleep. Then he finally gets his own room, his own office, bathroom, everything, but... he's so overwhelmed with work that he hardly has time to think about anything else.

He knows he's the one who reprimands the cadets if they are being hormonal little shits. But then some nights he simply can't help it. Hand on the slippery tiles, gripping it in vain as he bites his bottom lip and his hand works relentlessly on his cock. Squeezing it in all the right spots, playing with his own balls the way he knows drives him crazy. Some nights he gets off more than twice, but it's not the same. His mind replays vivid memories from the humid, dark dead ends of the underground city. With rushed quickies and the passionate recklessness of youth. No, his hand even pales in comparison to the memory of having his dick milked dry by some warm, slippery cunt.

Then, that's when you come into his thoughts. He simply can't stop thinking about you; he feels like he's a teenager all over again, and he hates it. He wets his sheets like a pre-teen having dreams. He brews you a tea that you softly blow on because it's too hot, and he simply can't help but imagine your gorgeous lips so close to his dick, smiling mischievously but not touching him. Your body in the harness only fuels wild thoughts of how he would tie you up, force you into position, snap those belts against your skin until it's boiling red.

And perhaps, just perhaps... the real reason why he asks for a blow job before he ravages you in bed is eagerness under the guise of dominance. He's scared of not lasting long enough if he doesn't finish once, perhaps making himself look like a fool and cumming as soon as he finally feels the welcoming heat of your velvet walls.

But Levi would never admit it, of course not.

Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @i-literally-cant-with-this @angelofthorr @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @s0meb0dy-0nce-t0ld-me @trashblackrainbow @l3visthighs @@hum4n-wr3ckag3 @hannieslovebot @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored @flxrartsstuff @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @katharinasdiaryy @ackermanswifee Wanna join my tag list? Here!

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quinnred · 2 months

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Tilshek: God of the Ugly Rage, WindRammer, He-Who-Drums-The-Summit.

Tilshek is the embodiment of warm storms, tantrum, frenzy, spasm, drunken fury, and unjust punishment. He is represented by the Urchin and Cactus in the South and by the Porcupine and Thistle in the North. Berserking warriors may don quills to evoke Tilshek in their rages, while others may wear a flower of a thistle or cactus to evoke his merciful servant, Mahtaa.

Tilshek was born from the abuse of two Feather Gods within the halls of The Sun. He emerged stillborn, fused with the bestial Jak that all Feathers Gods are pregnant with, and was denied feathers by his reckless parents. The babe was tossed from the sky and quickly forgotten upon the land. No god dare claim parentage as even they know shame.

Abandoned and with no guidance, the naked and pained god became a wild storm of knuckle and claw, scarring the land and terrorising all that lived on it. Only one, a young Manava named Mahtaa, would recognize this mindless wreaking as the divine bawl of a newborn god and calm it with soft word and tenderness and succour. The beaked giant would ever seethe, but placation allowed Mahtaa to guide Tilshek to the home of the Shell Gods, The Mesa.

The Shell Gods were impressed with the mad orphan’s strength and the wisdom of his guardian, asking what drove the new god to such a rage. He cawed to them that he was born of poor love and left naked and wronged, wishing that he could return to his home if only to pluck and maul his kin until The Sun hung red. The chief of the Shell Gods, mighty Zridtara, was greatly amused and sympathetic to Tilshek’s rage against their rival pantheon, welcoming him into his Mesa home as an honorary Shell God. Being too rowdy to live within it’s halls, Tilshek was appeased by sitting atop The Mesa, tended to by often smashed Godler servants and the soothing Mahtaa as he stared at the ever enraging Sun.

While the Godlers would serve their master divine boozes and sacrifices (and suffer pummeling due to minor grievances), Mahtaa’s role was to herd the ram skulled god away from fool furies. He became most needed whenever Tilshek was sent on an “errand” by his new kin, a distraction so the Shell and Feather god pantheons could visit and negotiate without conflict. As Tilshek would rampage across the mortal lands, Mahtaa would outwit his master and aim his rages away from innocent mortals, earning him the title “Storm-Guide”.

One day the tantrummer had been told of a piece of the moon that held Jak yolk, as it was the egg that The Mountain and The Sky conceived the Jaks from, and that it may yield him god feather. Mahtaa did not take this seriously, seeing it as yet another teasing of his master, yet Tilshek was ecstatic that his solar massacre dreams may yet be fulfilled. As they travelled Mahtaa would ponder that, if the moon yolk was real, should his idiot charge receive such a boon, even if it was his birthright as Feather God and as a Half-Jak? Surely he would not only kill his sun kin but also be slain himself in such a mad fervour?

And so Mahtaa would deny Tilshek his prize upon it’s discovery, allowing it to be taken and hidden by Godlers of the Feather Gods. In confusion, the normally unhesitating Tilshek paused for once in his life before striking down an offender. In those moments Mahtaa stood strong and loving, even as his god sprouted a pair of arms to strangle him with. But rather than suffocate, his head bloomed into a kind flower, his godhood blossoming into a champion of mercy due to his many good deeds. From then on Tilshek would ever carry the flower faced god as punishment for his betrayal, and in part as a comfort, like a child may clutch their blanket.

This arrangement would only end upon the coming of the Deiomachy, when peace between gods eroded and fate grew hungry for war. Tilshek silently granted his one and only mercy, releasing his beloved and loyal prisoner so as to spare him from the doom-drum of divine combat.

The Mesa would be capped by a false peak as Tilshek flung himself with a rising storm towards his twin-by-fate: Shrileket the Sun-Dropper. Their clash would announce war between the Feather and Shell, booming as only gods could for days until they fell upon each other’s impalements.

#slaughtermauch #tilshek #gods #quinn red #art #fantasy

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steddielations · 8 days

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- nsfw, age gap, rockstar Eddie, drummer steve

Eddie should not be wearing a plug here.

It’s stupid. It’s reckless. But that inner voice that led to decades of being stupid and reckless says it’s fine, it’s just for Eddie. Steve doesn’t have to know, unless he wants to find out.

It really is just for Eddie. It’s more for confidence than kink. It’s a trick he learned back when he was still getting comfortable on stage, back when he could still handle the fast life. Started way back when he was a teenager, dear old dad made sure to turn his talent into cold hard cash.

Now here Eddie is, way too many years of coping with drugs and never any therapy later, retired rockstar doing the whole studio owner mentoring baby rockstars thing. Someone’s gotta keep rock and roll alive so long as Eddie’s still kicking.

So the first thing that comes with years of being stone cold sober is realizing he spent too much time on the road and in the closet, not enough time growing roots so he’d have someone to settle down with when he stopped being so afraid of it.

The second thing is a dick that doesn’t work half the time because maybe if someone told him doing drugs would land him limp-dick at 40, he would’ve stopped sooner. The third thing is that he’s going to die alone with his floppy dick and trust issues.

So with the wild life Eddie lives nowadays, it’s no surprise that a couple smiles and smooth words from a good looking young drummer sent him into a spiral.

Steve’s a session musician, an independent guy that looked good on paper and even better in person. He’s got more heart and grit than the last few ‘frontmans’ Eddie tried to get something real out of. Steve knows it too, the way everyone does at 28.

He’s got the same cockiness in his skills as Eddie, but he knows he’s more than just his skills in a way that Eddie wishes he could’ve known at that age. He’s confident enough to make his own suggestions to Eddie, calls him old fashioned and he’s smooth about it, strikes up debates about music and he’s fucking sassy about it.

Eddie’s gotta be under some kinda spell to be considering Springsteen is one of the greats like Steve insists.

It’s not just because Steve’s younger, there’s always been girls much younger than late 20s trying to get with him for his name, status, money. Bless their hearts, maybe if he was still 20 years deep in the closet. It’s not just because Steve’s a guy either, there’s plenty of young guys now that dare to bat their eyes and call him Daddy and want to get fucked.

No, it’s because Steve’s different. The opposite, even.

Eddie slips up and calls him sweetheart once and it’s like Steve was just waiting to open that door and let every babe and handsome and honey slip out from his lips.

He notices Eddie checking out his biceps as he’s banging away on the drums once and sends him a wink that nearly makes him flatline.

He’s not intimidated to get in Eddie’s space. He has no reason to ever be in the control room, but Eddie doesn’t question it when Steve’s close, leaning over him with a warm hand pressed to the small of his back for one second. Eddie’s so hot faced and flustered that he gets his long hair caught in some of the board switches.

“Fuck, fucking, god damn it,” Eddie curses, tangling it even more trying to yank it free and vowing to chop it all off later.

“It’s alright, here, let's get you sorted out.” Steve’s steady hand closes over Eddie’s, gentle and warm as he eases the lock of hair free. Eddie’s breath lodges in his throat when Steve reaches up, fingers brushing Eddie’s face as he combs through his long silver streaked waves and says, “Don’t ever cut your hair. I love it too much.”

God. Steve makes Eddie feel like he’s a pretty young thing getting moves put on him in the kinda club that he was always too famous, too busy and too afraid to go to at that age.

It can’t be real. Steve can’t be serious. Eddie’s mean. Bitter. He talks shit about everyone and everything. He’s nothing without a guitar. He’s got the prickly rind of daddy issues and doesn’t even have Wayne to make it better anymore. The whole world adoring him all his life only fed his ego. He’s worth millions of dollars and feels like nothing most days. His only real friends are his bandmates that he doesn’t call often enough because they love each other, but they’re sick of each other, being stuck together all those years.

Surely, Steve’s just bored and playing with him. Eddie needs a kick of confidence to deal with it until Steve’s contract ends and he’s done playing with Eddie.

So that’s why Eddie’s got a plug up his ass at the studio. At work, technically.

It helps. It gives him all the inner fire he needs to ignore when he feels Steve’s eyes burning into him, and push his hand through his hair that Steve loves, and sway his hips as Steve’s gaze follows him walking out to the bathroom.

Oh yeah, Eddie’s still got it.

And he has to piss. Really bad. His bladder just ain’t what it used to be and when he’s gotta go, he’s gotta go and for whatever reason, he can’t do it with the plug inside him.

Eddie’s locked in a stall so he doesn’t hesitate to undo his belt and reach inside to pull it out. He holds it while he uses the toilet, so distracted sighing in relief like such an old man that he doesn’t realize how lube-slippery the thing is.

It’s too late. He drops his plug and it rolls out from under the stall just as the bathroom door opens and shuts slowly.

Then Eddie feels both relief and panic when it’s Steve’s voice that asks, “Eddie, did you drop something, honey?”

#no one look at me #little cliffhanger the rest tomorrow i promise #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #subeddieweek #sub eddie week

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ftwraw · 18 hours

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People feel things at different levels.

When I was young I would wonder why every time anything hurt me or someone around me I would feel the magnitude of it throughout my entire body at levels that were incomprehensible at the time. All my friends would do things and never think about it again, while I’m overthinking enough for the both of us. I felt entirely too much and understood too much; too early. I didn’t know how to process the emotions that I was forced to deal with and would constantly daydream about ending my life so that I didn’t have to feel this way for the rest of my life, I was only 8 when the thought first crossed my mind. My family only knew me as the happy go lucky kid I always was, so I would put up a front, a facade , while knowing full well I was gonna have another attempt that night. Hand fulls of narcotics, cuts to the bone, carelessness is all that I’ve known. My fatal attempts were never to be known, even now as I tell it, I’m a faceless name as my story unfolds. I’m 26 now and I’m no longer alone, I have my family by me, but no place to call home.

#love #inspiring quotes #life quotes #love quotes #quoteoftheday #quotes #relationship #relationship quotes #trippy #young-wild-reckless

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mightymizora · 6 months

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Does anybody else hc that Gale was probably pretty dreadful to be around in his early twenties?

I just imagine this cocky, attractive, very confident in his own abilities young wizard. In a city known for revering magic. Maybe he had a group of friends from his studies that were also talented and confident and had money and connections. They’re in one of the leading cities in Faerun, full of nightlife and luxuries.

Because he does have that side to him. For all his humility and belief that one should be a gentleman, we also know he is extremely easily led and I can only imagine how much worse that was when he was young. What would Dekarios be like as a young man, perhaps with a group of older friends (he strikes me as having progressed through his studies quickly) who only encourage that reckless side, because it’s fun to be powerful.

I get a big feeling of that moment when you’re sitting in a restaurant in a university town and then the medical or law students come in en masse and you just get the bill and get out of there because you know it’s going to get wild.

#gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 #maybe he distances himself from the name because of that #then he gets involved with Mystra too and oh he’s insufferable #but then those friends abandon him #and he has nobody

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amournoir · 8 months

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Hi can u do a fic where the reader and Klaus are in a relationship and the mikaelson's hate her .

Thanks

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐭 ┄ 𝐢

pairing: niklaus mikaelson x f!reader

count: 1.4k

warning: angst

author’s note: thanks for the request hun! 💋 p.s, here's part 2

The streets of New Orleans pulsed with life, and Y/N, Klaus Mikaelson's spirited and vivacious girlfriend, seemed to embody the very essence of the city's energy. She reveled in the thrill of the night, seeking joy and adventure wherever she went. But little did she know that her vibrant spirit was causing a storm within the Mikaelson family.

Rebekah and Elijah, Klaus's siblings, observed with disapproval as Y/N led Klaus into the wild festivities of the French Quarter. They detested her carefree nature, seeing her as a disruption to the carefully constructed order of their lives. In their eyes, Y/N was a distraction, a youthful folly that would only lead Klaus astray. The siblings had made their opinions known countless times, urging Klaus to end the relationship. They saw her as a threat to their family's stability and tried to set him up with a "more suitable" woman— a 30-year-old socialite whose poise and maturity contrasted sharply with Y/N's exuberance.

One evening, as the Mikaelson family gathered for a somber dinner, tensions reached their breaking point. Rebekah and Elijah, fueled by their desire to protect their brother, confronted Y/N, leveling accusations of infidelity.

“You're nothing but trouble,” Rebekah hissed, her eyes flashing with disdain. “You're not right for Nik.”

Y/N's face paled, her heart pounding in her chest. “What are you talking about? I love Klaus with all my heart,” she protested, her voice trembling.

Elijah shook his head, his tone cutting like a blade. “You're young, reckless, and unreliable,” he stated coldly. “You're only going to hurt him.”

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes as she struggled to find the right words to defend herself. She had always tried to be honest with Klaus, to give him everything he deserved, but now she felt like she was being torn apart by the very people she had hoped to call family.

“I love him,” she repeated, her voice breaking. “I would never hurt him, and I would never cheat on him.”

But her words fell on deaf ears, and the Mikaelson siblings remained adamant in their disapproval. Klaus, torn between his love for Y/N and his loyalty to his family, was caught in the crossfire of their bitter dispute. For days, the rift between Y/N and the Mikaelson siblings grew wider. Each encounter was fraught with tension, with accusations and misunderstandings that only deepened the wounds. Y/N felt isolated and alone, her heart heavy with the weight of their judgments.

One night, as the moon hung low in the sky, Klaus found Y/N sitting alone by the fireplace, tears silently streaming down her cheeks. He approached her, his heart aching at the sight of her pain.

“Love talk to me,” he pleaded, his voice soft with concern.

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with sorrow. “Your family hates me,” she whispered. “They think I'm not good enough for you.”

Klaus wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. “I don't care what they think,” he said firmly. “I love you and I won't let them come between us.”

But as the days turned into weeks, the constant pressure from his family weighed heavily on Klaus's mind. Doubts began to seep into his heart, and he found himself torn between his love for Y/N and the desire to mend the fractures in his family. In the depths of his turmoil, Klaus faced an impossible choice— to stand by the woman he loved or to appease his family by letting her go. His heart and mind waged war within him, leaving him in a state of inner turmoil that threatened to consume him.

As the darkness of uncertainty loomed over their once blissful relationship, Y/N and Klaus were left to navigate the shadows of doubt and find a way back to each other. The storm of angst and heartache showed no signs of abating, leaving them with the ultimate question…could love conquer all or would the family's disapproval be too much to bear?

A few months had passed without another confrontation from his siblings but that silence period was over today. The Mikaelson mansion stood in silence, its opulent halls shrouded in a heavy tension that seemed to seep into the very air. Y/N, the vibrant and spirited love of Klaus Mikaelson's life, felt the weight of disapproval from his siblings bearing down on her like a storm cloud. At 23, her heart beat fiercely with a passion for life, but to Elijah and Rebekah, she was nothing more than a youthful whirlwind that threatened the delicate balance they had carefully crafted.

It was a chilly evening, and as Y/N wandered through the dimly lit corridors, her footsteps echoing emptily, she couldn't shake the sense of unease that seemed to linger around her. The disapproving glances, the hushed conversations that ceased when she entered a room— all of it gnawed at her soul. It had been months since she had embarked on a romantic journey with Klaus, a love that burned with an intensity she had never known before. But even that powerful connection couldn't shield her from the critical eyes of his siblings.

Rebekah's icy words had sliced through the air like a blade. “You're just a child, Y/N,” she had said with a condescending tilt of her head. “My brother deserves someone who understands the dangers of our world.”

And Elijah, the embodiment of elegance and poise, had looked at her with a mixture of pity and dismissal. “Klaus is not one to be taken lightly,” he had warned. “You need to be more mature, more level headed.”

Each word had etched itself into Y/N's heart, a constant reminder of her perceived inadequacy in the eyes of those she so desperately wanted to accept her. As she entered the living room, she found Klaus standing by the grand window, nursing a tumbler of bourbon in his hand. His gaze was distant, his features etched with a mixture of frustration and weariness. She approached him, her heart aching at the distance she felt growing between them.

“Klaus,” she murmured, her voice soft and uncertain.

He turned to her, his eyes meeting hers with a mix of conflict and affection. “Y/N,” he said, his voice tinged with a hint of regret.

The silence that followed was heavy, a chasm that seemed to swallow their words before they could be spoken.

“I can't do this anymore love,” Klaus finally confessed, his voice breaking the stillness.

Y/N's heart shattered, the pain more intense than she could have ever imagined. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Klaus's gaze was tortured, his emotions warring within him. “Elijah and Rebekah,” he said with a sigh. “They won't accept us. They think you're too young, too impulsive.”

Tears welled in Y/N's eyes, and she felt a lump forming in her throat. “And what do you think?” she choked out, her voice quivering.

Klaus reached for her, his hand cupping her cheek with tenderness. “I love you,” he said, his voice raw with emotion. “But I can't keep going against my family. It's tearing us apart.”

The pain in Y/N's chest was suffocating, a weight that threatened to crush her. “So, what are you saying?” she asked, her voice shaking.

“I'm saying that we need to take a step back,” Klaus admitted, his voice barely audible. “Perhaps it's best for both of us.”

Y/N's heart shattered completely, and she took a step back, her eyes welling with tears. “You're choosing them over me?” she whispered, her voice cracking.

Klaus's eyes filled with anguish, and he reached out to her, his fingers brushing against her cheek. “Y/N…” he started desperately. “I love you, but I can't keep fighting this battle. I'm sorry sweetheart.”

The room seemed to close in around her, and Y/N turned and fled, her heartache echoing in the emptiness that surrounded her. Days turned into weeks, and the absence of Klaus felt like an ache that she couldn't escape. She could feel the weight of his absence in every corner of her life, a constant reminder of what once was.

As she stared out at the moonlit night, Y/N realized that love was not always enough to conquer the obstacles that life placed in its path. She had lost the man she loved, not because he didn't care, but because the world they lived in was too complicated, too tangled with expectations. lol She whispered his name into the night, her heart heavy with sorrow, Y/N learned that sometimes love wasn't enough to mend the fractures that threatened to tear their world apart. And in that painful realization, she felt the bittersweet ache of a love that had been both beautiful and heart wrenching—a love that would forever remain etched in her soul.

🏷️ taglist:

⤷ @mrs-maximoff-kenner @thatfanficstuff @elijahmikaelsontrash @mxacegrey @thatfictionalwh0re @catmikaelson20 @loverswillowed @sweetwrathoflilith @panic-at-the-fiction @iiskittles16ii @original-siphon @hellotvshowtrash @onlyfreds @onlyfredslibrary @imgoingtofreakoutnow @slinthoex @i-love-nora @multiversediaries @decoffinated-vamps @hopester08 @aloneatpeace @hopes-wife @softcoremaybank @klaustopia @dreamingwithrafe @sweetestdesire @cottontears @cottonreads @buckyysdoll @spnandtvdudeservedbetter @impossibleheartflower @madetragic @spike-and-angels-gf

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#aurora.r fics #request 💌#klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson x y/n #rebekah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #the originals #the originals fic #the mikaelsons #angst

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suuuupernovaaa · 1 year

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tìyo’

tìyo’ [tɪ.ˈjoʔ̚] n. perfection

Anonymous Request: Could you write a neteyam x reader as she fell first, he fell harder trope and by harder I mean him literally being obsessed with her (in a good way ofc)?

3.2k words

Though our clan was large, it was not so large that I did not grow up knowing all the other children my age, and those my older brother's age, as well.

Neteyam wasn't my brother's friend, per se, but he did run in similar circles; after all, they were small circles. My brother was unimpressed with the chief's son, but he was unimpressed with most people, so it wasn't surprising.

I paid Neteyam little to no mind until we were older. Lo'ak was my age, but we scarcely interacted, though I thought he was a nice boy, if not a little reckless.

In our pre-teen years, Lo'ak and I had come together by happenstance; going on the same hunts, choosing our ikrans on the same day, finding out we had common interests and overbearingly perfect older siblings.

In our growing, still casual friendship, it was then that I really noticed Neteyam.

At first, I was just impressed and somewhat intimidated by him. Even though he was barely 17, he was the best hunter in our clan, by far. He was also an impressive fisherman, skilled at weaving nets and tossing his spear, and on top of it all, he seemed, from our limited interaction, kind and caring.

Lo'ak complained about him, but I knew they were close, and he admired his brother, the way I did mine. It was almost a resentful admiration; our brothers possessed qualities that were admired by all, that we didn't possess.

Neteyam was a model eldest son, admired by all and rarely admonished by his parents - Lo'ak was a little wild, erring on the side of breaking the rules.

No'vu and I had a different dynamic. He was the wild one, with a free spirit and very little care towards what others thought of him. I had always been more reserved and buttoned up, cautious and a little anxious, and I envied his relaxed demeanor.

It brought Lo'ak and I closer, as friends, and afforded me more opportunities to be around Neteyam. And every time I was near him, my crush deepened, until I was nearly 21, and the crush was turning into something more; something I was almost growing worried about.

Because I didn't think he had really noticed me, and wasn't sure he ever would.

All of the responsibilities that come with being the oldest son of the Olo'eyktan had nearly taken over Neteyam's life, and by the time he was approaching 23 years old, he realized how all-consuming they had become.

His father was still young, very healthy, and would be their leader for years to come.

Neteyam felt now that he was ready to step back from training, to live a life and find a mate, and enjoy himself before true responsibility sat on his shoulders.

It wasn't easy to approach his father and tell him this, but surprisingly, Jake understood. Maybe years of focused training had paid off, plus, Jake did mention this would afford him more time to focus on Lo'ak, who he sometimes worried felt overlooked.

The next morning, Neteyam woke up feeling directionless. Without a rigorous schedule to follow, he wasn't sure what to do with his time. His father had woken Lo'ak up early for a hunt, and he knew Lo'ak would be equally pleased and pissed, so Neteyam simply rolled out of his hammock and grabbed something to eat.

"What will you do today?" Kiri asked, and Neteyam just shrugged in response. "Come help me then," Kiri said. "No'vu and Y/N's mother is ill, and I'm paying her a visit."

With nothing really better to do, Neteyam agreed. It would be interesting to watch Kiri work, and he hadn't spent much time with her lately. He knew No’vu, but hadn’t been aware the wild Omaticayan man a sibling. Y/N was an unfamiliar name to him. He wondered if she was as brash and fearless as her brother was known to be.

When they arrived to the family's home, Eik Te lay on the floor, covered by a blanket, with her daughter at her side. She appeared to be asleep at first, but Neteyam noticed then that her eyes were open, just barely. She looked beyond sick - she looked gravely ill.

Kiri knelt by her side, next to Y/N, who was holding her mother's hand. No'vu was pacing outside the hut, and their father, Onpxew, was nowhere to be seen - likely hunting or fishing for the family.

"How is she today?" Kiri asked, and Y/N tried to muster up a smile, glancing up at Neteyam.

"Better," she said. "She said a few words, drank a little water. Better than yesterday."

Kiri sighed. "Good, that's good."

She rummaged through the basket she had brought, pulling out different powders and liquids, mixing something together. She felt the woman's forehead, focusing. "Her fever seems to be going down. I think this will pass, but it may be a few days yet before we can be sure."

Y/N nodded, looking stoically down at her mother, who's eyes were open a little wider now.

"Thank you, Kiri," Eik Te said, her voice dry and slow, and Kiri shushed her.

"You just get better. Step outside with me, Y/N," Kiri said. "Oh, also, this is Neteyam. He's learning a little about healing today."

Y/N stood up, and nodded to Neteyam. "We've met," she said.

Neteyam was sure that was true, but he didn't remember this woman - which surprised him.

When she stood, she was taller than average - much taller than Kiri, likely taller than her mother, and most other women in the clan. Her eyes were wide, a beautiful amber, and the spots around them danced even in the day light. Her hair was long, nearly to her waist, braided in tiny braids that looked like they must've taken days to complete.

As they walked, she carried herself with assuredness and grace. As she and Kiri spoke outside about her mother's condition, he watched her round lips move over straight, white teeth.

He had never seen anyone so beautiful. He tried to remember her, but nothing was coming to mind. Had he truly met her, and overlooked her?

Before he knew it, Kiri was saying her goodbyes, and Neteyam felt obligated to say something. "Let us know if you need anything, Y/N. I'm happy to hunt for you, or bring you more blankets and rugs."

Y/N smiled, and it was stunning, practically stopping his heart. "Thank you, Neteyam."

Next to him, Kiri was rolling his eyes. "I just said that. Let's go." She pulled on her brother's arm, and reluctantly, he followed her.

After that day, Neteyam saw Y/N everywhere he went. She was at the fire pits when he brought in a kill, and she was ascending to ride her ikran at the same time as him; she was even at the same swimming hole. When he wasn't running into her, he was thinking about her, and asking Kiri for anything she knew about the girl - which wasn't much. Just that she was quiet, seemed very much unlike her rash older brother, close to her family, and a very talented ikran rider; one of the most impressive in the clan.

Neteyam obsessed over her, going over every detail of her again and again in his mind; her tall stature, her soft, light voice, the concern in her eyes when she spoke to Kiri about her mother; he even dreamed about her at night.

He wondered what he had thought about, before he met her, and he wondered how it was possible that he had never before noticed someone like her.

Four days later, they were finally able to speak, when Neteyam ran into her just outside of Home Tree.

"Y/N," he said, jogging over to her. "How is your mother?"

He could see the relief in her eyes as she smiled. "So much better, thank you! Kiri is a miracle worker. I am trying to think of a gift for her, actually. What would she like? I could make a necklace, or…”

Netyeam blurted out the first thing he could think of. "A friend."

Y/N's eyebrows rose. "Oh? Well that's certainly an easy gift to give. After all, Lo'ak is already a friend."

Lo'ak was friends with Y/N? Since when? Jealously sparked in Neteyam. "Sit with my family, at the feast tomorrow. You can... talk to Kiri," he said. But of course, that wasn't why Neteyam wanted her to join his family.

She reached out, touching his arm just momentarily, and he froze up at her gentle touch. "I'd be glad to! Come find me before, so I don't wander around looking for you."

Mom was still tired, so the rest of my family was staying behind and skipping the celebratory feast, but my father insisted I go - especially after he found out I had been asked to sit with Lo'ak's family.

Or should I be referring to them as Neteyam's family?

Our meeting earlier had been so strange. The nervous energy around Neteyam was catching, and I felt a little anxious as I dressed for the feast. Mom painted my face, down to my chest, and the moment she was done, No'vu was announcing Neteyam's approach.

Wanting to avoid an awkward encounter with my family and the eldest son of Taruk Makto, I charged out of our alcove to meet Neteyam, waving and calling goodbye over my shoulder.

Neteyam looked stunned to see me charging towards him and I stopped, a little embarrassed at my eagerness. "Sorry," I said when I reached him. "Mom is still feeling a little sick. I didn't want to disturb her."

"Oh, sure," Neteyam nodded, and an awkward pause surfaced between us that I was unsure how to get over.

When I was with Lo'ak, he did most of the talking. Neteyam was a little more quiet than his younger brother.

"You look beautiful," he said, and my jaw nearly fell open.

I had been trying to figure out all day why Neteyam would invite me to sit with his family, as the idea of him hoping I would become friends with Kiri seemed unlikely, but I couldn't sort out another motive.

It seemed impossible that it could be because he wanted to spend time with me. After all, I could tell the other day when he and Kiri had come to visit mom, that when I said we'd met before, he had no recollection.

It had stung a little bit, but ever since then, he'd been looking at me so funny every time we ran into each other. If I didn't know better, I would've thought he was staring, but I couldn't figure out why.

"Thank you," I replied, casting my eyes downward. "Let's go!"

He extended his hand, and eagerly, I took it.

As we walked, Neteyam asked me about my ikran, and even though he couldn't have known, it was the easiest way to get me to open up. I talked about her the entire way; our first meeting, our best rides, everything we'd accomplished together and how much I loved her.

"She's my best friend," I said with a shrug. "I know that's kind of silly but she's just, so wonderful. You'll have to meet her."

"I would love to," Neteyam replied with a smile.

The festival was well underway when we arrived at the Tree of Souls, the drums pounding, the smell of spices and fresh food in the air.

Pulling my hand, Neteyam wove his way through the crowd, to the Tree of Souls, where his family and those closest to them sat.

Neteyam nodded to his father, who nodded back. "Father, this is Y/N, daughter of Onpxew and Eik Te."

"How's your mother?" Jakesully asked.

"Thank you, Olo'eyektan," I replied, touching my hand to my forehead, then lowering it as I bowed out of respect. "Much better, thanks to Kiri." I turned to smile at his daughter, who smiled back. Lo'ak, standing just next to her, waved, a confused look on his face.

"That's good to hear. Join us."

We stepped up, and I took a seat just next to Neteyam, between him and Kiri.

"I'm so glad your mom is doing better," Kiri said. I reached out and touched her shoulder.

"It's thanks to you! You'll have to stop by, she'll want to see you again when she's feeling fully herself."

Kiri smiled. "I will!"

Lo'ak leaned forward. "Y/N, what are you doing here?"

I had to laugh, because it was so like Lo'ak to be blunt. Anyone else saying that would have made me feel awkward and out of place, sitting here with this prominent family, but Lo'ak was just genuinely wondering.

"Neteyam invited me. I haven't seen you much lately, so I had to make new friends."

Lo'ak rolled his eyes. "And of all people, you had to keep it in this family."

I shrugged. "I like this family."

Neteyam's father gave a long speech about the prosperity of The People, and Neytiri and Nina sang a beautiful song, and afterwards, the dancing begun.

Before Neteyam could ask Y/N himself, Lo'ak had swept her into the dance floor, leaving Neteyam to stand and watch, his arms crossed and his brow furrowed.

"What's wrong with you?" Kiri asked, trying to follow Neteyam's gaze, but the dance floor was moving too fast.

Then, she saw it. Lo'ak, spinning Y/N around, the both of them laughing and having fun. She'd always wondered if Lo'ak was secretly in love with Y/N, but the more she observed the two, the more she saw it was a poor fit, and neither of them was interested.

What she saw in Neteyam's eyes was very different. He was jealous of Lo'ak.

"You like Y/N," Kiri said.

"Of course I do. You've met her," Neteyam replied matter of factly, and Kiri laughed.

"I have. She's great. Lo'ak thinks so too, but he doesn't like her that way. He would have told her."

Neteyam narrowed his eyes. "It doesn't look that way to me. I didn't even know they were friends."

"How? She's one of his closest friends. You didn't notice?"

“I don’t know,” Neteyam said, reaching behind his head, shrugging at his sister. “It’s like I never saw her before.”

“Well, do you see her now?” Kiri asked, trying but failing to keep the annoyance out of her voice.

Neteyam’s arm fell to his side, and he sighed. “She’s all I see.”

"Well, just tell her," Kiri replied, and Neteyam snorted.

But... it wasn't a bad idea.

Lo'ak and I had been spinning around for far too long, and I was growing tired. We returned to his family, but Neteyam was no longer there.

Lo'ak and I sat down, and he handed me a drink.

"Neteyam invited you to join us?" Lo'ak asked.

"Yeah. He came with Kiri the other day, to visit mom, and he's been like... acting a little funny since."

Lo'ak narrowed his eyes. "Hm." That was the extend of the wisdom he had to offer me, and I wish he was Kiri instead.

"Do you want to dance?"

I whipped my head around to see Neteyam standing over me, extending a hand, and I clambered onto my feet as fast as my lanky limbs would allow, grabbing his hand in the process, allowing him to lead me back into the crowd.

This dance was slower, more traditional, and though Neteyam knew all the steps and fell in sync with everyone else, I was a little unsure, and a little behind, fumbling over my feet. With Lo'ak, I didn't care, because I knew he didn't take it seriously - but Neteyam was so precise and perfect, I didn't want to mess up.

Halfway through the song, we were brought together again, his arm around my waist and mine around his neck. "Let's take a walk," he whispered, and without hesitation, I nodded.

Away from the crowd, the night was cool, and the paint we were adorned with glowed in the darkness, along with the forest around us. We walked quietly, our hands still entwined, and finally, Neteyam spoke.

"I must apologize to you, Y/N," he said, stopping us in our tracks. I turned to face him.

"What for?"

"The other day, in your home, you said we had met before, but I... I didn't remember meeting you before."

Though the words weren't a surprise, they stung; it meant I had spent years having a crush on someone who hadn't even noticed me, even though we'd frequently been in close proximity.

"That's okay, Neteyam. I'm just your little brother's friend. I don't know all of No'vu's friends either."

He shook his head. "No, but I should have noticed you, Y/N. I was busy with training, and preparing to lead the clan, and just recently I told my father I want to take a step back from all that. To enjoy life, to form... relationships."

To find a mate, he was saying, without saying it.

"And I think, if I hadn't been so focused, I would have noticed you. I can't believe I didn't before. Something about you..." he trailed off, staring down at me, and I wondered if he could hear my heart wildly beating in my chest, or feel my hand growing cold and clammy inside of his.

"Well, I noticed you," I said finally, as he searched for his next words. "I mean, of course everyone knows who you are... but when I became friends with Lo'ak, I really noticed you."

Finally, Neteyam's nervous face relaxed, slowly replaced by a teasing smile. "Oh yeah? What did you notice?"

"Well, I was only like 14, so at first not much. But then I noticed how handsome you were becoming, how skilled you are with a bow and a spear, how kind you were towards your family and friends... I had a crush on you, when I was 17."

"And now?" he asked, the teasing smile growing even wider still.

"Oh, I still think you're handsome," I replied with a laugh, giving him a playful shove.

"I think you're the most beautiful woman I've ever set eyes on, and the kindest as well, and I'd like to spend every spare moment from now forward getting to know you better," Neteyam said, and I could tell after, he was shocked that he had said it.

"Okay," I replied, unable to hide my smile.

"Okay?"

I nodded. "Let's do that. Spend time together. Get to know one another. I would like that." The joy I felt in that moment was undeniable, and overwhelming.

Neteyam's heart was going to leap out of his chest and onto the forest floor. He had blurted out exactly what he wanted - to spend every moment of every day obsessing over every small detail of her life that she was willing to share - and she had agreed to it.

She had eagerly agreed to it. He knew it was impractical to worship the ground she was walking on after only a few days, but he didn't care.

He was going to make this woman his mate, he knew it. He was going to fall in love with her - it was already happening.

"You are perfection," he said, reaching up to touch her face as he had been dreaming of doing. He ran his fingers along her jaw, over her cheek, down her nose and over her lips, and she closed her eyes, allowing him to. It sent a shiver up his spine.

No amount of time with her would be enough, but he would take anything she would give him.

TAG LIST: @purplepursepaint @lu-the-ghost-reader @loquatious-josephi-krakousky @fanboyluvr @moslaying @moony-artemis @halibanana

#neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam fic #avatar 2 #avatar twow

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alienpossession · 8 months

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My stepson is a rather troublesome kid, especially after his mother's passing. He soon dropped out of college, losing the sense of direction he had and just straight out spiralled into a mess. Not to mention that his coping mechanism involved him to hung out with the wrong crowd and start smoking too despite his mother in the past clearly forbid him since he was a prospective star athlete. He also started to grow agitated to the world and overall just disrespect authorities, which included me as the last person that is bold enough to reprimand him while on his way to do his antics

After one of our early morning argument as he arrived back home from clearly a long night he did doing God knows what, he just stormed into his room after giving me a middle finger and cursed under his breath. I decided that enough is enough and I did what I knew best to handle reckless and wild human like that

You see....I was not from this planet. I arrived around 20 years ago into this farmland where I stumbled with this young studly farmer that just about to start his days. I slid into him and never left his body as I decided that I would be safe and undetected as long as I did not slid out of him while the search for me was still active. I was paranoid that if I ever left this body, suddenly the detection system spotted me so I resisted the temptation to leave and remained hidden inside while controlling this human that I cultivated into the best version it could be. But this little punk really pushed me to my limit. I'm just so desperate trying to prove my humanity and ability to disciplined the smaller and younger human I supposedly have authority over, I pushed myself out and slid into the sleeping body of my stepson. Once I slid in, I went straight to his brain and started to work it while he's sleeping soundly with zero awareness that a far more intelligent being is currently rewiring his organ responsible for free thinking into one filled with obedience and submissiveness. I was not necessarily the expert on brain's anatomy but I know which part I should and should not touch. Once I felt like my job has been precisely executed, I slid out of his brain and entered back to my original vessel.

Now, imagine my surprise that not only I made that punk into a more docile and submissive version of himself, I somehow made him gay too as I checked on him after the rework I did to his brain. And I guess I graced the part where he can pick up aroma even more strongly this time and that caused him to be a musk-whore for everything's sweaty and pungent. His obsession to his own pits clearly were a sight to behold as it was a far cry from his womanizer self I have to witness for the past few years he brought home girls to his bedroom.

Aside from his own self, he also loved me. Not the usual familial love, this boy is clearly fucked in the head as he viewed me as some sort of authority to please. It's like him calling me daddy is laced with sexual innuendo rather than the usual way a kid called up his parents. So, like the good father I am and to avoid getting him jumped on me while I sleep as I didn't satisfy his needs, I decided to change our family time where I asked him to have dinner with me to him sniffing my feet and servicing my needs. It's not as cool (and normal human looking) as having him seated next to me watching the TV together or having warm dinners, but that's the way we live nowadays and not like he's complaining anyway.

I guess I really need to do better with all this brain rewiring

#alien possession #male mind manipulation #mind manipulation #father and son #family possession

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mydearlybeloathed · 2 months

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𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: all his life, zoro had been dragging you away from danger. but sometimes, you just slip through his fingers.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: roronoa zoro x sister!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.8k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: swearing, use of Y/N, reader is zoro's sister, fluff before the angst, canon typical violence, death, can be interpreted as both anime and live action zoro, apparently all i do is angst now 🥰

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: fine line, instrumental

For as long as Zoro could remember, he’d been the one looking after you. Day and night, he watched your every move, ensuring you didn’t do anything stupid. Doing stupid stuff just happened to your favorite hobby. It was taxing keeping you out of trouble, sure, but Zoro was all you had left, so despite only being a year your elder, he took it upon himself to care for you.

But he was so young, and you were so… unhelpful.

Reckless. Wild. Unthinking. A menace, that’s what you were. Zoro could barely even blink before he was dragging you away from a cliff’s watery edge by your ear.

“But Zoro!” you whined.

“But nothing,” he gritted.

You grew more restless by the hour, it seemed, always trying to tug him along on an adventure you swore would be worth his time. Zoro relented most days, if only to keep you alive (Because he’d never admit your adventures were actually fun).

Zoro supposed your habit of wandering off wasn’t so bad. You were the whole reason he’d found the dojo in Shimotsuki Village, after all, having wandered so far you reached another end of the island for him to chase you to. Besides, he was in no place to talk; he got lost just as easily, if not more.

Difficult didn’t do the feeling of trying to keep up with you justice, and it only grew harder the older the pair of you got.

“Come on, Zoro!” you pleaded, gripping his hand.

“I’m busy,” he muttered, shrugging you off.

He spent his days studying the blade, and you were left to your own devices until an old tutor got her hands on you, teaching you mathematics and literature day in and day out. Every night before bed you complained and complained, whining that you’d much rather be running around the pastures or, better yet, training with Zoro.

But there was an ever-widening gap between you and your brother, even if you didn’t see it just yet. In your eyes, things were just the same as always, but your brother was headed on a very different path.

He would go down in history, no doubt. Your tutor and most of the village agreed. And you… well, no one knew what to make of you. You were simply there most days.

And as days came and went, Zoro paid less and less attention to you. It used to be easy to distract him into playing make believe, pretending to be pirates battling over treasure, but then he and Kuina made their vow, and Zoro threw himself further into his training.

And you, more interested in pretending than actually fighting, fell behind.

All you’d wanted to do was play with him and Kuina, but Zoro seemed adamant on being mean that day.

“We’re not playing,” he snarled back at you. “We’re training. Go play with someone else.”

You huffed and tried to stomp on his foot, missing by an inch. “Nobody here likes me! And I can train too!”

“Really?” Zoro scoffed. “You can barely even walk without tripping.”

Kuina stood off to the side, waiting for her friend to join her again, when she’d had enough of his sour tone. “Zoro, don’t be cruel.” Her sharp eyes roamed to you. “If you go find a training sword, we’ll let you come with us.”

Your whole face lit up, nodding quickly as you set off at a sprint to the dojo. Zoro groaned and turned to glare at her. “Why would you say that?”

“Because,” Kuina snapped, gripping his wrist and dragging him back down the path. “Now we have a head start.”

A few minutes later, you rushed back to where you’d left Kuina and Zoro, a training sword in hand, and briefly tripped over a raised stone. When you lifted your head, smiling brightly, they were gone, far off into the forest to train alone.

Some of the other kids from the dojo walked past, heading inside, when they spotted her. One leaned into the other, whispering just loud enough for you to hear: “Pathetic. Does she not have a life?”

Your lips curled into a frown and you threw down the sword, gritting your teeth.

Zoro apologized later, of course, eventually feeling bad when he came home to find you sulking in the corner. He promised he’d teach you how to wield a sword someday, which did wind up dragging a little smile out of you. Yet, that day never came. Weeks and months went by and Zoro drifted further and farther away.

But you just couldn’t let him go, nagging and nagging and nagging.

“Can I train with you and Kuina today?” you asked, meeker than usual. You figured you knew the answer, but still, you had the nerve to hope.

But then Zoro shifted awkwardly, hesitating to answer, and you just wanted to go back to your books. You’d gotten a new one recently, about the ocean and its mystery.

“Listen,” he started. “I’ll play with you when we get back, okay?”

Your jaw set. Usually, you backed down pretty quick. You respected yourself enough to not chase after him all day. Today was different, though. Today was your birthday. “I don’t want to play. I want to train to be strong like you and Kuina.”

“Then I’ll train with you later.”

He was gone the next moment, kicking up dust as he left you all alone. You wanted to hate him, since hating was usually so easy for you, but you couldn’t.

Zoro was all you had left.

But he had someone else besides you, someone he much preferred to spend his time with: Kuina.

You found it was much easier to hate Kuina.

You weren’t at all subtle either. From little jabs to plain glaring, Kuina got the message. To your great disdain, she found it funny, cute even.

It was your obvious dislike of her that eventually brought her to give you the time of day, approaching you whilst you were reading.

“Good book?” came the voice of your arch nemesis.

Glaring up at her, you pushed your reading glasses up your nose and shifted away from her, refusing to respond.

Her breathy laugh only spoiled your evening further. “I take that as a no…?”

“Leave me alone, Kuina.”

Instead, she sat down beside you, leering over your shoulder to see what you were reading. “History? Sounds… fun.” You shifted away from her, and she followed. “Do those glasses really help?”

You snapped your book shut just as she reached to touch the page, nearly getting her finger. “I don’t know why Zoro likes you so much. You’re annoying.”

She grinned at you like you’d fallen right into her trap. “Is that why you don’t like me? ‘Cause Zoro won’t hang out with you anymore?”

As if she wasn’t infuriating enough, she was also very right. You jumped to your feet and glowered down at her. “You know what your problem is?”

She was standing in an instant, towering over you with that damn smile. “You gonna tell me, Roronoa?”

“Yeah!” You clenched your fists and grit your teeth. “You’re—You’re a brother stealer!”

“A brother stealer?” She had the nerve to laugh. “Please. We’re training to be the greatest swordsman or swordswoman in the world.”

You exasperated, “So?”

“So,” she said, “I’m not trying to steal your brother. But I can help you steal him back.”

Breathing heavily, you slowly lost your fire, confusion washing over your face. “What?”

Kuina shrugged. “I’ll train with you.”

Sputtering, “And why would I wanna train with you?”

“Because I’m the only one here who can beat Zoro.” She leveled her gaze with yours, something evil in that smirk of hers. “You wanna impress him? Train with me.”

“I…” She was serious. You’d seen the hard look in her eyes before; it’s how she looked right before she kicked somebody’s ass. You swallowed thickly. “Okay.”

That was how it started. An hour before Zoro was up, early before the sun, you and Kuina got to work. You were a tough student, with a spitfire attitude akin to your brother’s and all the clumsiness he lacked.

When you tried to quit, Kuina advanced with her sword two times as fast, forcing you to block and parry like she knew you could.

Months went by, and Zoro was all too unaware. You and Kuina had done a good job of keeping up pretenses, sharing secretive grins when Zoro’s back was turned. The one time he nearly found you out was when Kuina’s sword nicked your arm, and Zoro found you haphazardly trying to bandage it up. His line of questioning was rapid fire, panicked in every sense of the word as he did it for you.

Then, Kuina caught you by surprise; she said you were ready, and no amount of frantic head shaking would make her think otherwise.

You didn’t have a real sword, you said, showing her your wooden practice weapon as if to prove it.

She’d simply given you that damn smirk and swapped the wood for her own sword. All breath left you as she closed your hand around her family sword.

That was all the encouragement you needed, and she left you standing outside your little home to get ready for her training session with Zoro. The sun was barely peeking up over the horizon. You could barely hear the sound of Zoro rustling around inside the house behind you, and your fist tightened around the hilt of Kuina’s prized sword.

Zoro briefly wondered why you’d gotten out of bed so early when he noticed your blanket tossed aside, you nowhere in sight. You must be playing somewhere else, he decided, finally ready as he headed outside.

You were certainly not what he expected to find waiting for him. Your hands were held behind your back, your eyes ever like a does. A sigh dragged out of him as he approached you, meaning to walk right by you like he usually did.

“I’ll play with you later—”

In a blink, the shining edge of a blade was in his path. Stumbling back he followed the blade to that familiar hilt, now held by his little sister. The doe eyes were gone, replaced by a serious gaze he was unaccustomed to.

“What about now?” You retracted the sword and took a battle position, arcing the blade around before placing both hands on the hilt.

He backed away from you, crossing his arms, not wanting his hands to be anywhere near the hilts of his blades. “I’m not fighting you.”

That only spurred you on. “You don’t have a choice.”

There was a wary look in his eyes before you surged forth to begin the duel. Kuina stood off to the side, eyes alight, and helped you dust off your clothes when Zoro inevitably knocked you to the dirt in a matter of minutes.

Your chest heaved as you leaned on Kuina, eyes dangerously narrow. You refused to look at Zoro.

“You’ve been training her?” Zoro guessed, not sounding angry or frustrated… just confused, and maybe sad.

Kuina nodded. “We’ve been working, yeah. She’s good, right?”

The compliment meant nothing. Humiliation coursed through your veins, the Wado Ichimonji burning through your skin.

“Whatever,” you murmured, shoving Kuina’s sword back into her hands before stomping off into the woods.

Zoro watched you go, unable to ignore when Kuina bumped his shoulder and said, “She admires you. It’s about time you give her the time of day.”

So he trudged after you, wondering what the hell he was supposed to say.

Zoro wouldn’t say it out loud, but you were good. Far better than he remembered you being. Kuina was probably a better teacher. More patient, most likely.

But… he couldn’t help but wish it’d been him to train you up to be able to wear him out like you did. Zoro swallowed that thought and settled on finding you first, and having regrets later.

He found you sitting on a patch of grass, wiping at your damp face. Zoro made you cry. and he had the sense this wasn’t the first time.

Some brother he was.

So he ditched his hesitation and settled down on the grass beside you, testing the waters. You didn’t sprint off into the brush, so he took that as a good sign.

“What do you want?” you said first.

“I… You did well. Really well.” He pulled at some grass, ripping it apart. “I’m sorry I’ve been…”

“An asshole?” you supplied. “A major dick? A stick in the mud?”

Zoro huffed a laugh. “All of the above?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you said, turning away, going serious again. “I didn’t beat you.”

“Did you expect to?” Your huffy silence was answer enough. “Y/N, I’ve been training for years.”

Your eyes found him then, all slits and sadness. “And I haven’t, yeah, I know. Why’s that, ya think?”

He ruffled slightly. “You could have joined us in the dojo.”

“Like hell I could have. I’ve said it before—those kids don’t like me. Besides, it’s your thing. You would have found some reason I should quit.”

Did he really make you feel that way? Zoro felt it was fair, all the times he’d brushed you off coming to mind, and he grimaced. Then, he started to think. “Why do you want to learn to fight? I didn’t think that was your thing.”

You took your time to answer, tugging at your own grass and tossing it into the wind. “I hate being left behind. I thought if I could impress you, you’d… you’d play with me again.”

Hearing that made Zoro feel so much worse. The pair of you might be getting older, but at the end of the day, you just wanted to be around him. Zoro let the silence hang in space between you for a few moments, before he rolled to the side and swiped a long stick on the ground.

Your confused eyes followed him, widening when he pointed the stick at you. Zoro grinned and started to poke at you, causing you to scramble back on the grass.

“Stand and fight, pirate!” he bellowed.

Immediately, you jumped to your feet, an exhilarated smile popping onto your face. You dodged left and took up your own stick sword, holding it in front of your face as you circled your brother.

Who were you today? A fellow pirate? A pirate confronting a marine admiral? Perhaps you were brother and sister pirates, crossing paths after years of pursuing the other for vengeance. Whatever make believe you and Zoro were in today, you relished in it, knowing someday you’d have to accept the fate of growing up.

So for now, you fought your brother in the only way you were equals: pretending, your imagination spinning circles around his as his skill spun around yours.

Zoro had missed you, he realized. Being so caught up in being better for you, in being the one to make you proud, he forgot how fun simply existing alongside you could be.

So he followed you deep into the woods, tripping over his own feet and grunting at your lofty laughter. You led him up hills and through brush, up trees and back down, and all around the island till Zoro couldn’t help but wonder what exactly you saw in the forest that he didn’t.

“That girl is wild,” your tutor said once. “It’s like she’s more at home in the trees.”

She said it in some kind of scornful way that mothers do, when they’re half upset and half in reluctant wonderment. He had to agree with the old woman, for if Zoro couldn’t find you, chances were he’d discover you in the forest, atop a rock or up in a tree.

Oftentimes, if it wasn’t Zoro clinging to the lower branches while you laughed at him, Kuina was with you. Neither of you had ever wanted for a sister, but neither of you were exactly complaining either.

Zoro stood with his hands planted on his hips, head tilted back and still not exactly able to see where you and Kuina sat giggling amidst the branches of the ancient oak tree.

“Y/N!” he shouted, hoping his voice would at least reach you. “Come down!”

“No!” you laughed back down. A few leaves trickled down, and a pang jerked Zoro’s heart around. How high up were you?

“It’s not safe!”

Kuina rolled her eyes. “Says you! We’re fine!”

He hardly believed her, his nails starting to dig into his palms. “C’mon! It’s gettin’ dark!”

You looked toward the horizon line, spotting the sun just as she dipped behind the mountains. Instantly, you were entranced, aching to join her. The wind whistled in your ears, as it often did, and you leaned forward just a bit.

“He’s right,” Kuina huffed. “My dad will be mad if I get home after dark.” When you didn’t reply, she tried to catch your faraway gaze. “Y/N?”

Despite your hummed acknowledgment, your eyes were shut, a pleasant grin pulling at your face. Air tickled your cheeks, ruffling your hair, sending you the scent of miles away cherry blossoms.

You could have sat in that tree all night and into the next, but Kuina was tugging on your arm, dragging you out of the moment. You blinked like you were awakening from a deep slumber. “Sorry, what?”

“It’s time to go home,” said Kuina.

“Oh. Right.”

You descended the tree without much thought, finding purchase for your feet and hands to grip as if the tree was reaching out to catch you, whereas Kuina very nearly fell to the ground more than once. Zoro awaited at the bottom of the tree, arms crossed and brows taut.

He watched as you grinned, eyes somewhere else entirely, and trotted back to the village all merry-like. Kuina plopped to the grass beside him, teetering on her feet before he caught her arm.

“Thanks,” she sighed. “I don’t know how she does it so naturally.”

Zoro thought back to what the old tutor once told him. It’s like she’s more at home in the trees. “I dunno. It’s… cool, though.”

You were cool, he meant to say, but wouldn’t ever say it out loud. His little sister, who could catch fish with her bare hands and find four leaf clovers like they were nothing, was very much cool in his eyes.

He thought it again that night, when Kuina joined them for dinner with food her father had prepared, and you lurched forward to tuck a forget-me-not behind Kuina’s ear.

“These don’t grow on the island,” Kuina pointed out. You simply grinned, like you had some secret nobody else could understand.

Kuina became just as important to you as she was to Zoro. Which is why her accident was such a travesty.

Out of the whole entire village, it hit Zoro the hardest. You would know his look of pure, unadulterated shock till the end of your days. Zoro was beside himself, and you were no better. With your only other friend gone, you had no one to lean on.

Zoro only thought of the blade—of his vow to Kuina—leaving you to mourn and dwell and be all alone. You tried to be bitter, you really did, even going to the lengths of hiding all his clean clothes just so he would talk to you, but you were still terrible at being angry with Zoro. (When all Zoro did was exist in his dirtier-by-the-day clothes, you didn’t know whether to be angry or just plain sorry for him. You settled on both).

You tried to confront him, talk to him, anything, but all he’d done was sigh and say, “Just… go read, or something. It’s good for you.”

Like you’d listen to a word he said… but reading was all you could do. It was how you winded up back on your tutor’s door step with a ducked chin and folded arms. She pursed her lips, setting a hand under your chin, cupping your face as she beckoned you inside. Each day you poured over texts and tomes till Shimotsuki Village was completely dry of new literature.

The old woman taught you till she died. Despite how life had fled your eyes, she called you Wild till her last day. “You can’t stay,” she said in her dying breath. “Wild things never last here.”

Like you’d ever think of leaving Zoro.

But soon came the day when Zoro, like you, could learn no more from that village. You assumed the pair of you would set out together now that your paths led you away from home. Zoro had other plans.

Three swords rested at Zoro’s hip, one heartachingly familiar with its white hilt and glimmering blade. He was hunched over a bag, collecting supplies from your little home.

“So that’s it?” you spoke into the tense silence. “You’re leaving?”

“I have to fulfill my promise to…” He didn’t finish, her name hanging in the air. “We always knew I’d leave one day.”

“And what about me?” you demanded, daring him to admit he was abandoning you.

Instead, he closed his satchel and stood, back still facing you. “Sensei promised he’d look after you.”

“Even if I wasn’t already an adult,” you snarled. “I don’t want your sensei. I want my brother.”

Your eyes glistened with tears behind your readers, still sat on the bridge of your nose from where you’d been annotating the last of your tutor’s dusty books. He glanced up, catching your eye, and immediately returned his gaze to the floor.

“I need to become the world’s greatest swordsman,” Zoro said as he walked past you, brushing shoulders with you before he stopped just at the door. “For Kuina. And I need to do it alone.”

Catching your breath, you shook your head at him. “No. All my life I’ve been so patient with you. I’ve forgotten every time you forgot me, everytime you were mean to me—I let it all go! You—You don’t get to let me go. That’s not how this works, Zoro!”

You felt hysterical, tears streaming down your face. And all Zoro could do was stare at the ground.

“You’ll understand someday.”

Hot anger boiled beneath your skin, making you warm all over. Your cheeks burnt and your hands balled into fists. You folded your arms over your chest to keep from lashing out at him with the fury of a sister scorned.

You would never understand.

He breathed shakily. “I… love you, Y/N.”

It was like a bullet to your heart. You peered over your shoulder to find his back just over the threshold of the door, one hand on his three swords and the other rested on the doorframe. You hadn’t stood up to Zoro in many years, mostly because he hadn’t given you reason to. Until now.

“You really are stupid.”

“Y/N—”

“Don’t waste your breath,” you snarled, sweeping over to your desk and grabbing your ready-and-packed satchel. Wiping your nose and eyes on your sleeve, you steeled yourself and swallowed up all your cries. “Where are we headed?”

You turned, adjusting the satchel on your shoulder, and lifted your gaze to your brother, who had turned to stare at you. Faltering, you tried to gauge what Zoro was thinking, what had always been an impossible task. Zoro had never looked at you like this before, his eyes void of any hostility or pity or annoyance. For a moment, he wasn’t an apprentice or a swordsman, nor was he Kuina’s legacy.

He was Zoro, the brother who could have hung the stars with how much you believed in him.

And for a moment, Zoro wasn’t looking at his baby sister, helpless in every sense of the word, desperate to prove herself—Zoro saw what Kuina had, once upon a time; a warrior more mind and spirit than strength, the force of a thousand soldiers behind her puffy red eyes.

It was terrifying, to say the least. You weren’t so little anymore, and he didn’t feel so big anymore.

“First,” he grumbled. “We’re getting you a sword.”

Your eyes shined, not from tears (he was glad you still had your wonder intact). “And second?”

“We’re going after Dracule Mihawk, the greatest swordsman in the world.”

Standing at the docks a while later, preparing to depart, you nudged his shoulder to catch his fleeting attention. The silence had been tense all evening. Your grin was soft and unsure as you mumbled, “I love you too, by the way.” Zoro ruffled, nodding, and you pressed on with a smirk. “You’ve never said that to me before.”

“Sure I have,” he countered, but you shook your head.

“Nope. Never. But that’s okay.” You turned to stare at the ground, the captain of the ship taking you away starting toward the pair of you. “I’ve never said it either.”

And in the underbelly of that big merchant ship, sitting on the small cots allotted to you for the journey, you lifted your gaze to lock him in place. “Let’s make a promise.”

Zoro stilled, setting his swords beside him as he met your gaze. He wasn’t opposing the idea, so you pressed on, presenting your pinky to him. Zoro had the nerve to scoff. “Don’t laugh. This is a sacred ritual.”

Rolling his eyes, Zoro rested his arms on his knees, reaching to interlock his pinky with yours. A smile tugged at your face. “What’s our promise?”

You hummed, not having thought that far ahead, before getting excited again. “I promise to stay by your side. No matter how much of an idiot you are.”

For a while, he said nothing, staring at your hands in the space between you. He started to speak, thought better of it, before pressing on. “That’s a big promise. Sure you won’t change your mind?”

“Maybe,” you shrugged. “If I do, I’ll just break my pinky.”

He blinked, trying hard not to let his smirk through, and he laughed despite himself. “Fine. I promise I won’t abandon you. Ever. No matter how much a menace you are.”

Satisfied, you retracted your pinky, letting your eyes flutter shut. You yawned and laid on the less than comfy cot, and were out like a light in minutes. Zoro stayed awake at your side all night, hyper aware of every motion all around, threatening each thing that creeped in the dark recesses with a single glare.

For you, this was a dream. The world was your playground, an adventure just like the ones you’d read about. On the contrary, Zoro was stressing. You had this penchant for getting into trouble, always finding danger wherever you went.

Tiffs between you and your brother were never far away, but unlike when you were younger, these fights lacked a certain fire, almost as if neither of you cared to pick at the other anymore. That realization was odd, to say the least. It was almost like the pair of you were growing up.

Word quickly spread across the East Blue about the Pirate Hunter Zoro, so deadly they took to calling him a demon… and then there was you. People tended to ignore girls, looking over your head and not caring to lower their voices when you lurked nearby. You were Zoro’s main informant, picking up on locations and secrets before your targets had any clue they were being hunted.

And as weeks flew by, you and Zoro found a new kind of camaraderie; respect. After years, it looked like Zoro was finally respecting you as an equal. As a friend.

You had quite the temper, never backing away from a threat, mostly because you knew your big brother was behind you. You don’t like the price for those apples? The vendor isn’t willing to barter? You're cursing their mother and demanding a fair price, and just as the vendor is reaching for a knife there appears this giant of a man, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. You always get the price you want.

Zoro liked to shine and sharpen and clean his swords himself, but one day he was so tired he fell asleep while doing the first one. He woke up to all three glittering up at him. You said it was no problem, and went out of your way to get to the task before he did each time.

Your habit of climbing trees returned, and with it a newfound love for scaling buildings as well. Zoro’s not sure how he doesn’t have a head full of gray hairs, but he feels for sure it's coming.

Still, despite your insistence on remaining a menace (he’s certain it’s on purpose), Zoro was happy you’re with him. Things nearly reached a new kind of normal; he hunted the pirates, you helped him, you both got paid.

But he saw how restless you became, always itching for the next adrenaline hit. Somewhere inside, Zoro feared the day you’d get so restless you turned back to recklessness. Mostly, he feared he wouldn’t be there to save you in time.

Zoro’s footsteps were ghostly, not a sound coming from him as he slinked up the gangway of the little pirate ship. His bandana was tight around his head, two of his swords brandished and at the ready. On his left, a pirate stood guard and was swiftly knocked out by a blow to his skull.

A routine operation, sure to bring in enough beri to get you and Zoro to the next island over. Maybe you’d even have enough left over for some decent food, he pondered, turning and laying eyes on the door to the lower decks.

It should have been a routine operation, but the moment he stepped into the winding halls of that ship, the pirates were all over him, coming at him left and right. They drove him back up to the main deck, landing blows against his three swords yet never getting through his defenses.

But if he stayed on the defense, he doubted he’d actually find an opening to get the hell outta there. Zoro swiped his swords in an arc to drive the horde of them away just long enough to make a break for the docks, but a gunshot rang true, whizzing past his head before he could take a step.

He whipped around and found the man he’d intended to murder in his sleep, and drag his body back without ever alerting the crew. The captain reloaded his pistol, a maniacal grin splitting his face.

“Roronoa Zoro,” the man drawled, stepping down from the stern of the ship. “Your reputation precedes you.”

He blinked up at him, readjusting his hold on his swords. “Sorry, who the fuck are you?”

The smile dropped instantly. “Only the man who will end your sorry life, pirate hunter.”

Zoro scoffed. “I’d like to see you try.”

He heard it, but it was so soft he tried to convince himself he was delusional; but then it got louder, till he heard the sound of feet bounding up the gangway as his blood ran cold, and there you were, shouting his name, your sword held before you.

“Zoro,” you gasped, ignoring everything else as you gazed upon him with wild eyes. “It’s—It’s a trap.”

The captain’s laugh was like a ringing in his ear. Zoro’s stare was zeroed in on you, begging you to run away, horror flooding his senses. No. No. No.

“A little too late, kid,” the captain bellowed, slinging around his pistol and eyeing you predatorily. “Here to die with the hunter?”

Zoro’s heart dropped when you spat at the ground, shooting the captain a glare. The man growled, nodding at his awaiting crew. “Take care of her. I’ll take Roronoa.”

You had lunged before Zoro could do a thing, clashing your blade against your opponents and dodging each strike with ease. Zoro made to run to you when a sword swiped through the air and caught his arm, forcing him to face the captain of the ship.

A routine. This was meant to be a routine. You were meant to be safe at the little inn, awaiting his return with a gripy comment about having woken you up, despite knowing fully well you’d been up the whole time.

But you were here, fighting for your life against ten or so men twice your size. You could only hold them off for so long. Zoro set his jaw and set his third sword between his teeth, taking on the slimy excuse for a captain.

“Y/N!” He shouted, muffled around the hilt of his blade. “Get out of here!”

“No!” you shouted right before wincing as you took a wrong step and twisted your ankle, attempting to walk it off as you evaded being skewered.

His eyes followed you, spying a pirate jumping down from the stern. Zoro sprinted away from his own fight, vaulting over you and decapitating the pirate, landing on the deck in a roll. You heaved, awestruck, and giggled despite it all.

Zoro stood, eyes dark as a demon’s, and looked right at you. It was as if the sun was held captive in your eyes, even now. A spot of blood seeped into your shirt, and he parried three men’s attacks to reach you. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine,” you snapped, your back to Zoro’s as you drove back another blow. “I’m sorry. I should’ve known something was up.”

“Don’t—” he kicked a guy to the side “—Don’t be. Just—”

He whirled on you as you let out a whimper, now clutching your shoulder. In a flash, Zoro severed the arm of the man who’d hurt you, letting you lean against him for a moment. Maybe four men were still standing, yet the captain had gone out of sight. The coward.

His heart raced, the sound of it blaring in his ears and making it hard to gather his wits up off the ground. Zoro could barely breathe, but he managed to berate you still. “Stay down. I’ll handle this.”

You glared up at him, your eyes going wide a moment later. Your hands landed on his shoulders and pushed him down with all your might, and he keeled over, not expecting it. He rolled to the side and stood, taking out another pirate by his leg in the process, and whipped back around to yell at you.

But… something was wrong. You teetered precariously on your feet, and your face was all scrunched up, and why were you clutching your chest like that? Was there that much blood on your shirt before?

Even when he saw the captain standing behind you with a bloodied sword, Zoro couldn’t believe what he was seeing. If anyone had seen what happened next, they would understand precisely why Roronoa Zoro was compared to a demon; the three remaining men and their captain were dead before you ever hit the deck.

Zoro fell to his knees, his swords clattering to the ground as he scooped up your head and held you to him. Your name fell from his trembling lips, his wide eyes pleading with yours to stay open. You were fading before his very eyes, the sun behind them setting fast.

“Hey,” he stammered. “Hey, don’t go—you can’t. Remember? You don’t get to leave. That’s not how this works. That’s what you said.” You smiled up at him, and it all got infinitely worse. “Stop being—stop being stupid. You’re not dying. Get up.”

“It’s okay,” you whispered as black fuzz clouded your vision. “I’m… okay…”

You went limp in his arms. His tears didn’t make a sound, nor did he as he carried your body back to the inn, passing the innkeeper solemnly, and laid you down on the bed. He stood guard at your side till morning, and he went back for the body of the pirate captain, cashed in the bounty, and made preparations to go back home.

Your grave sat beside Kuina’s, on a nice ridge overlooking the village. The sunset in beautiful from up there.

The demon pirate hunter roamed the East Blue without an ounce of mercy, earning himself his title and reputation once and for all. No one ever dared to trap him again, not after they heard what happened to the last guys who tried. The whole crew died in twenty minutes, is what they said.

He barely spoke to anyone besides a bartender, becoming more specter than man. His eyes always had this dark tint to them, a haunting behind them that struck fear into the very soul of anyone who looked into them.

And he liked it that way. He didn’t need anyone getting a closer look at him, not when everyone he ever cares about winds up—gone. He swore he’d never let anyone get close ever again. It was safer that way.

No one touched his swords. No one so much as brushed past them without getting an earful. Only he ever cleaned, shined, or sharpened his blades. He claimed no one ever did it right.

In truth, the demon pirate was getting sloppy, as much as he hated to admit it. He had a mission to complete, yet each day grew more difficult than the last. He took on bounties without much thought, fought anyone who spared him a glance.

Reckless. He’d grown reckless.

It’s what led him to Shell Town. What led him to that restaurant. What led him to defending that little girl and her mother (he sees you in every child with just an ounce of wonder). It’s what brought him here, tied to this post under the blazing sun, starving and thirsty, and he felt deserving of it.

But he couldn’t die here. He’d let one promise be broken. The other would be fulfilled. He just had ten more days left, then he’d be on his way. Surely, Hawkeye Mihawk can’t hide forever. Then, after… he could rest. Only then. Only then.

“They say you’re a bad guy.”

Zoro frowned, lifting his eyes from the dirt, squinting through the blinding sun to make out who stood before him. Their outline came first, a boy, with something on his head. He blinked a few times and took in this kid who dared to step into this yard.

He looked him up and down, took in the straw hat on his head, shielding the kid’s eyes from the sun. Yet, somehow… despite the shade being cast on his face, there was a bright glow in his complexion, but Zoro couldn’t decide where it was coming from (he refused to admit it was coming from his eyes).

This kid had the nerve to smile at Zoro, giving him the sense that maybe they had met before. Why else would that unrestrained, recklessly true smile make Zoro’s heart stop?

(Zoro would only let himself think it some weeks later, when he’d long since accepted the offer of first mate, and long since the Straw Hat pirates found a ship of their own—Luffy reminded him of you, as terrifying as that was).

(Maybe he would let one, or two, or however many people were on that ship get close. Just maybe, it wouldn’t hurt to try).

“Zoro!” Luffy called, racing toward the afterdeck in search of the mossheaded swordsman. He jumped to a stop, finding Zoro sitting under the tangerine trees, slowly peeling one in his hand. “There you are! What’re you doing?”

He barely cast him a glance. “Trying to be alone.”

Luffy laughed at that, plopping himself down next to Zoro. “Me too.” He reached up a rubber hand and swiped a tangerine, only thinking how odd it was a moment later. “Hmm, Nami would normally skin us for eating her fruit.”

Zoro stilled before popping a slice into his mouth. “She said it’s fine. As long as I’m alone.”

The captain tilted his head, skeptical as he slowly chewed a piece of his tangerine. “Why?”

Luffy received no answer, not right away, not until Zoro finished his tangerine and set the peel in front of him to dispose of later. And Luffy waited, shredding his peel into lots of pieces just for the fun of it.

“I had a sister,” Zoro finally confessed, causing Luffy to freeze up. “It’s her birthday.”

So many questions bubbled under the surface. Why hadn't he mentioned her? Why hadn’t Luffy met her? What’s her name? Does she have green hair too? But… Zoro’s solemn expression had Luffy falling silent, watching his face carefully.

No explanation came, but Luffy gathered the gist of it. Whoever this sister was, she wasn’t around anymore. “Do you… still want to be alone?”

Zoro hesitated, hands squeezing his knees tightly, his throat gone dry. “No.”

“Okay,” Luffy smiled softly, plucking his hat from his head and setting it on Zoro’s, slightly missing the mark and pushing it down over his eyes.

The swordsman huffed a laugh, peeking out from under the hat. “What’s that for?”

Luffy shrugged. “Dunno. The hat makes me feel better.”

Zoro shook his head, gazing softly upon his captain before adjusting the straw hat on his head and shifting to stare at the sea. “Thank you, Luffy. For everything.”

“No problem, Zoro. Hey, do you when dinner's ready?"

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @100520s @raspberrymuffings you mentioned big bro zoro A WHILE ago on my sanji's sister fic

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