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sofiiel · 1 year

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There & Back Again | Chapter 7

𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐰

↰ ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ | ᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛꜱ | ɴᴇxᴛ ↱

ᵂᵒʳᵈ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗ: ⁴²⁶⁹

After feeding Shelob, Myrtle was quick to get out of the house. She wasn't going to sit and be tortured by the smells and colors of Saturday morning breakfast at the dinner table. But as she made her way down the street to the dry cleaners, she could vividly imagine how good her mother's blueberry pancakes looked at the center of the table. She used to be given the one at the very top of the stack.

Giving her head a shake, Myrtle sighed, "just get to the dry cleaners and pick up the dresses, then go see Robin and see if you can patch things up." She thought. Robin had been working down at the movie theater as a ticket taker. Myrtle had her own special hate for the movie theater, but when you need a part-time job, anywhere seems nice at first.

Down at the dry cleaners, Myrtle stood in line behind a familiar face. Jonathan Byers had become a well-known face around town after the previous year, it was a story that took over the town. Myrtle could hardly imagine what it must have felt like being told your brother was found dead, even harder to imagine finding out later it was a horrible mistake, and he was still very much alive.

Myrtle found herself lost in thought and gazing out into nothing. "I wonder if someone out there wonders where I'm at..." she thought to herself. She knows the story, found in the road poisoned with venom and half dead from a blood infection. Her father always said that someone just didn't want her anymore and tossed her out. Rumor spread around that she was a missing child, and part of Myrtle had to wonder...." was I?"

Jonathan turned around from picking up his mother's clothes and nearly jumped, He hadn't heard Myrtle come in. She was as much of a ghost around school as he was, but sometimes she amazed him with how nonexistent she could appear, like she wasn't really there at all. He'd even tried to take pictures of her in the past, and somehow she would step away the moment the shot was taken. He found it a shame, she was great for the camera, sorrowfully photogenic.

"Hey, you're, Myrtle, right?" Jonathan asked, Myrtle, turned to look at him, unsure of what to do. "We've never spoken before." she thought, "We...we don't really talk. But...I've kind of been meaning to thank you. My mom said you and your family build that memorial back when...well..."

Myrtle waved her hand, "don't finish that thought." she said, offering a strained smile. Jonathan gave a nod. "It's fine, I mean - I guess my family figured considering my own story....we should have done something." She said. "I'm glad your brother is home and safe now."

Jonathan nodded, "my uh, My mom. Joyce, has been meaning to invite your mother over to dinner to say a proper thank you." He said, but Myrtle could read the skepticism on his face. "You've heard stories of my dad." Myrtle said bringing her ticket to the counter. "Ah...yeah." Jonathan gave an awkward sigh.

"They aren't wrong," Myrtle spoke quietly. Glancing back at him, she gave a strained smile, "my moms not much different, I suppose they aren't bad people...they just aren't people, people. They like cards...that should work just as well." Myrtle said. Jonathan gave a nod, He could see the gloom in the back of her eyes again, the very thing that made him want to capture her in a picture. It was a look that made her seem as if one day she'd vanish.

"Thanks for the warning, I guess I'll see you around," said Jonathan exiting the dry cleaners.

Myrtle sighed, "some days are harder than others to lie for them, about them." she thought to herself. Collecting the dressed in her arms.

Showing up at the Movie theater, Myrtle went inside and quickly spotted a bored Robin, "thank you, your movie is playing theater 3 on the left." Robin droned dryly, taking the ticket from an elderly man and tearing it, handing him back the stub.

Myrtle giggled quietly and waved from a distance. With a gasp, Robin waved back waiting for Myrtle to walk closer as she waited in line, "thank you for - oh theater 1 on the left!" Robin said rushing the next family in line and quickly taking their tickets. When Myrtle stepped up Robin grinned. "does this mean you're not mad at me?" she asked quickly, Myrtle gave her head a shake, "I overreacted....but you know me, I can be overly sensitive." she said.

"No, no - it's probably something you suppressed for years and years from the life before you were found by your family, and I probably should have known better. Besides, I've been told I am heavy-handed, and it probably could have been a lot worse, like I could've knocked out one of your teeth or something...or given you jaw arthritis... that's not what it's called but..." Robin rambled.

Myrtle smiled faintly, "He was right." she giggled. Robin smiled confused, "he?" she asked. Myrtle's eyes grew wide, "um what?" she asked. "W-who's he?" Robin stammered. Myrtle side glanced, "n-nobody!" she peeped, her voice nearly falling into falsetto. Robin gave a sly smirk, "oooo finally over Harrington the hair?" Robin teased.

Myrtle blushed, "It's not like that," She said, "let me be like a proud mom, alright, my little girls making new friends - let me have this. So long as they don't replace yours truly." Robin said playfully. "But...seriously details? Who?" Robin asked, the line behind Myrtle getting longer and more impatient. "Nobody, really - look, I'm holding up the line and I really should be going. I'm running a to-do list for my dad." Myrtle said quickly.

"Fine, but I will get you to talk!" Robin called out to Myrtle, who was trying to flee from the angry line of moviegoers.

Eddie waited in his van on the corner, patting his hands to the drum snare of Fire in the Brain. His buyer was already seventeen minutes late, and Eddie had his mind set on band practice. They didn't know it yet, but he was determined to practice their set right into the ground. "If she shows up Tuesday, if she actually shows, It's got to be perfect." He thought, gazing out the window.

"Of course," he sang in his head in a sigh, "she might hate metal and be there thinking, wow these guys are awful..." He thought, leaning his head back against his seat. "But with eyes like hers, even if she's never listened to it a day in her life, she might just feel the sound, right?" Eddie asked himself.

"Sorry I'm late man, My dad almost caught me..." Called Eddie's buyer, a senior of Hawkins High, as he pulled his car up next to Eddie's. "All the time in the world, dude." Eddie reassured him, hopping out of his van.

Leaning over into the buyer's convertible, Eddie held out a small case, "First things first, you usually get weed from me. Do you even know how to use this stuff?" Eddie asked. The guy rolled his eyes, "Yes, I'm not stupid." He said holding out the money. Eddie watched him skeptically, as he could see on the guy's face he wasn't telling the truth "it's powder, so up the nose" Eddie started dryly tapping the side of his nostril, "around the red hills," He added showing and pointing out his gums, "Pour it in your drink or bomb it, but I didn't give you any bombing papers, so please don't" He warned as they exchanged.

Briefly, Eddie drew back the case, "and under no circumstances...you know." Eddie murmured, making an injecting motion. "Not the best idea." he mouthed, finally passing the box of Speed.

"Are all dealers such moms about it?" The buyer snickered. "Yeah, be glad I am, something tells me you'll thank me later." Eddie muttered. Catching a glimpse of a familiar black car from the corner of his eye, Eddie quickly dropped, hiding behind the buyer's car.

"Shit, shit, shit...." He cursed under his breath, eyes peeking above the door, as they spotted the car slow to a stop. "Shit, god-damn it..." Eddie continued on. It was too late, and he wasn't going to be caught hiding. Popping back up to his feet, Eddie placed on a smile.

"Eddie?" Myrtle asked, getting out her car. "U-um, heeey McKinney." He called, head screaming as he tried his best to remain casual. "What are...what are you doing around here?" He asked, rubbing his upper arm. Sure, he might have been conducting his sales on a public corner, but it was a corner in the backstreets. Nobody up to any good lingered around the backstreets. This wasn't the most ideal situation he wanted to be caught in.

"Ok, so worst-case scenario...." Eddie thought to himself, "she'll cut and run," He exhaled. "And possibly calls the cops, and never wants anything to do with you ever." He's mind sulked. "Munson you need to get her out of here."

Myrtle halted her footsteps as she tried to read the situation, She could see Eddie's eyes silently warning her, "um...am I...interrupting something?" She asked timidly, "no, of course not" - "who are you?" Both boys said together. Eddie chuckled airily, voice shaking with nerves. "Ehm...I'm just..." He stammered. Myrtle watched Eddie stammer, for a moment, when a light bulb went off in the mystery guy's head.

Eddie's buyer burst into laughter, "Oh my god, you're the strawberry!" He snorted, Eddie covered his eyes with one hand and bowed his head, "perfect" he thought.

"Hey, hey?" the buyer called, leaning out the side of his car. "What are you selling?" He asked, wiggling his eyebrows mockingly. Myrtle's mouth tumbled open, and a mortified blush flew across her face.

"DUDE!" Eddie shouted, "Not cool!" His voice rose higher as he glared at his buyer.

"I um..." Myrtle said tumbling over her words, "I um...um, I'm going to just..." she said pointing over her shoulder to the car.

"McKinney!" Eddie called, running around the convertible trying to catch up.

"Of course, of course, I know that he was probably embarrassed to be seen with me." Myrtle thought, wishing she could kick herself.

"No, no, no..." Eddie's mind thought, spinning. "Myrtle!" He called, nearly running into her car as she closed the door. "It's ok Eddie, I'm sorry. Um...I'll see you on Monday," she said quietly.

"Monday?" Eddie exhaled, "the show...." He said. Myrtle looked about, "I wish he wasn't still trying to be nice about it..." she thought.

"I've fucked this..." Eddie's mind shouted at him.

"Look, I don't know what you thought happened back there, and I'm sorry the guy's an idiot." Eddie tried to talk fast, pointing his thumb over his shoulder. "But-"

"You don't have to be nice, Eddie, really. It's ok." Myrtle said, turning to look at him. Eddie deflated, and he glanced back at the buyer, turning around his mouth fell open, and he flashed Myrtle big saddened eyes as it hit him.

"Wait" He said slowly, "I wasn't...I'm not..." Eddie stammered, He could smack himself, "why can't you make words!" His mind raged. "Tell her it wasn't about her!" it screamed at him in his own pitchy anger.

"I've gotta go..." Myrtle said carefully, starting to back her away. Eddie took a few steps back. His hands on his head as he watched her pull off,

"It was a drug deal!" he finally shouted, but she was already up the alley and out of view.

"Dude don't yell that out!" his buyer shouted.

"Damn it!" Eddie raged at himself, kicking over a trash can.

Myrtle sat petrified in the office of her church, clad in an ankle length long sleeve dress. "It's so itchy...what is this wool, I'm gonna pass out!" she thought to herself, keeping the fake smile on her face as she nodded to what Pastor Alvin was saying.

"You should be listening." she thought, "no...this always goes to the same place...just get through the meeting." she told herself.

"So, Myrtle, are you ok with running the kids morning show with Saundra?" asked Pastor Alvin. Myrtle gave a complacent nod, "yes of course pastor, I'm sure she and I will think up a great list of songs and hand motions." Myrtle said. She fought the urge to want to puke at the flirtatious smile she was receiving from the man old enough to be her grandfather.

"Right, of course, you will need to come early in the mornings, there may be some...discussions that need to be held." He said. Myrtle gave a nod, "yes, of course." she said simply, her eyes falling on Pastor Alvin's hand as it rested over hers.

A loud knock came on the office door, snatching his hand away, Alvin cleared his throat and Myrtle sighed with a breath of relief. "Pastor? decon Warren has requested you come and look over the work that's being done to the leaky ceiling in the chapel," called June, the church secretary.

Opening the door she peeped her head inside, giving Myrtle a gentle smile, "oh hello there Myrtle good to see you." she chimed. Myrtle gave a quiet wave, "You could tell her, June would believe you....she's so nice. This could be over." Myrtle's mind thought briefly.

"Yes, I'd better go, I will see you next Wednesday, Myrtle. Tell your father we all miss him at men's bible study." pastor Alvin said before leaving.

Myrtle waited a moment and then followed June out. Looking at June's swaying brown braids, she gave a sigh. "no, better not." thought Myrtle as they came to the front entrance. "I look forward to this year's VBS don't you?" June said with a bright smile, Myrtle tried her best to return it. "Yes..." was all she could say before stepping out the door.

"I messed up bad." Eddie's words were muffled as he hid his face in his hands.

He and the band were resting after practice in Gareth's garage. Playing had taken his mind off of the fiasco that happened late that morning. But as Noon was turning to dusk, it was creeping back. "Well, just tell her it was a misunderstanding on Tuesday." Scott said.

"Wait, how are we back on this?" Jeff asked.

"Dude, have you ever had a crush? It takes up the function of one whole side of your brain" Gareth said. Jeff rolled his eyes, "yes, I've had plenty, it does not." He said. "Then you clearly aren't doing it right." Scott jumped in.

Eddie watched his friends with a blank gaze, eyes darting between each one. "You can't like someone a right or wrong way." Jeff said. "There is a right and wrong way to everything, dude." said Gareth.

"Well maybe she'll forget." said Jeff taking a sip of soda, really he'd rather the conversation be over. "Have you ever met a girl?" Eddie asked him calmly, to which Jeff nodded, "They never forget anything!" Eddie shouted in frustration.

"Chill pill man, at least now if she shows up, you have your answer." said Scott with a sly smile.

"My answer?" Eddie asked. "Well, you kinda have to like a guy at least a little to show up for him somewhere after you get completely brushed off like that," said Gareth. Eddie groaned and laid back on to the garage floor.

"Damn it!" he shouted.

"Real smooth." Jeff said, turning to the drummer, who gave an apologetic smile.

Night came around quickly in Hawkins, Myrtle sat alone in her room watching the pretty pink dress hanging near her closet. With a heavy sigh, she put the cap back onto the ointment in her hand and looked down at her legs. "The bruising going away relatively fast now." she thought. "I could hide them with stockings, maybe?"

But the truth was even stockings seemed incredibly silly so close to summer.

"Better than itchy wool dresses." Myrtle murmured. Downstairs, Myrtle could hear things shattering, and the muffled shouts of her parents, music came blasting from her brother's room. Myrtle sighed, "every night this week it's getting worse." she thought. She could imagine her mother tossing glasses, plates, and vases.

Each somehow missing Mr. McKinney, though she shouts it should have hit him. She would toss wine onto the floor, it's all why they traded carpet for wood a year ago.

Her father would remain the Stoic he was and not say a word above a perturbed murmur and eventually, Mrs. McKinney would storm up to stairs and stomp straight to Myrtles' room. Fortunately, this fight had just started and Myrtle still had time to tend to her bruises for a moment more.

Still, the sounds of fighting got louder, and Myrtle could hear the front door slam, feel it shake the walls.

Myrtle watched her door with wide eyes, "that's new." she thought crawling back into the bed, Her bother's music stopped playing, "Patrick's noticed too." she thought gazing at the closet wall. The lights in Myrtle's room flickered rapidly, almost enough to make her head hurt. She could hear the soft humming of the electricity in the bulbs as if they would burst.

"What's going on?" Myrtle asked herself, her bedroom door opened slightly, and from the crack she could see her mother's face, angry with mascara running down her cheeks.

Before her mother would utter a word, the door slammed on its own, causing the already furious woman to knock her forehead against it.

"Myrtle Lillianne McKinney!" her mother raged outside the door. Myrtle watched stunned, "what just happened?" she thought, eyes glued to the door as the light continued to go haywire.

Mrs. McKinney jiggled the doorknob and hit her fist against the door. "Open this door up! Your father will hear of this!" She shouted. Myrtle shivered and ran for the door, "it's not me!" she called out, reaching for the doorknob herself, but doing, so spiders covered her hands, each one lightly nipping.

Myrtle shook them free and scanned her door with frantic eyes. "It's stuck!" Myrtle cried out. "Lair!" Her mother called, "there's no lock on the inside of this door, it's stuck!" she said again.

The lights stopped flickering and instead hummed louder than before, the light becoming even more blinding by the second, Myrtle yelping as the lampshade burst into flame from the heat. "Oh, shit!" she shouted.

"Oh, shit is right! Do you have any idea how much t-"

"Fire!.... M-Mom!" Myrtle cried out, looking about her room for something to put the fire out.

With nothing looking like a good option, Myrtle opened her window and looked out at the yard below. Her eyes fell on the pale blue water of their raised deck pool. "I could throw it," she muttered, rushing to the lamp, she ripped the plug from the wall and tossed the burning light out towards the pool. It sank with a sizzling splash.

Myrtle exhaled and dropped to the floor.

Everything had fallen silent, and Myrtle could hear her mother's feet heading back downstairs. "You're so fucked." Myrtle thought to herself, "but what could I do? What even was all of that? God, this is mental!" her mind panicked.

Getting to her feet, Myrtle took cautious steps to the door, carefully giving the knob a twist, "it still won't budge." she whispered.

The floor lamp in her room brightened and then dimmed again. Myrtle eyed it, "oh please don't start again." she begged it, hurriedly walking to unplug the light from the wall. "There" she sighed watching the play lay on the flooring. Yet something was off, the room was still bright.

Fear and unease caused Myrtle's gaze to move slowly, she almost didn't want to look. But when she did, she found the lamp was still on, and its light was even brighter than before. Myrtle's hands flew up to her mouth. "I've lost it...or-or I'm dreaming? maybe?" she spoke quietly to herself.

"It's just a different nightmare, it's a normal one instead of the usual one...and I am sleeping... I'll wake up with those sleep scratches I do. Yes. Yes, that's it." Myrtle thought to herself, but it was doing very little to calm her.

Feeling herself on the edge of hyperventilating, Myrtle quickly shut her eyes. "Think of something nice!" she told herself, but as her heart thundered, her mind could only recall the odd events that had just occurred.

"No stupid something nice, something nice!" her mind shouted, "umm...fun times with Robin, summer, shaved ice, terrible horror movies...anything!"

With a soft whine, the gentle orange glow behind her eyelids faded.

Myrtle lingered in the new heavy silence with closed eyes. Breathing in something tickled her lungs and made her want to cough. Slowly Myrtle's eyes opened, looking at her feet, she could see the floor of her room.

Something was wrong. Yes, the lights were out but, "why is it so dark?" Myrtle whispered.

Looking around her room she gasped, slowly strafing in a circle, Myrtle looked about in horrified awe. "It looks...like I live in a rotted log." she thought.

Thick familiar vines made mazes along the walls, floors, and furniture. They wiggled about and pulsed, leaving faint squelching sounds. Little whips of snow-like dust gently fell all around her, but they made her nose tingle and lungs burn.

Looking around Myrtle noticed, her room looked different, "Shelob!" she called, rushing to her dresser, her eyes fell on the blank space where a spider tank should have been, and instead there was nothing but a small antique hand mirror.

Myrtle gently picked the item up, holding it lightly in her hands, "I....haven't seen this since my 13th birthday." she murmured. Looking at her reflection in the mirror made her heartache, "mom used to have me hold it for her, while she did my hair in the mornings." Myrtle whispered.

Closing her eyes, she could almost feel the comb sliding through her freshly pressed hair all over again. "Wait..." Myrtle muttered, she could feel it. In the mirror behind her, she saw a comb floating on its own as it moved through her hair. It was hardly comforting and with a strangled yelp Myrtle ran to the window, her wide eyes watching the comb fall to the ground.

Thunder and rumbling sounded in the distance, looking out the open window, Myrtle could see a violently red-hued storm looming over the horizon, some strange black cloud in its center, like a host of twisters. "What dream is this?" Myrtle whispered.

"Not a dream," A voice called, it made Myrtle shiver.

"I've heard you before," she muttered carefully turning around, looking down she spotted a small child - but he had the voice of a grown man.

He looked up at her with clear blue eyes, "who are you?" She asked.

He tilted his head, "Oh, but you know the answer." he said.

Myrtle frowned, the voice-to-face mismatch was unsettling. "I do not. Are you lost?" She asked him. "I used to be, but not anymore. You are, however." He said to her, carefully backing away. "I will show you the road home."

Taking a step forward, Myrtle watched as the boy allowed himself to be engulfed by the odd vines, "hey wait kid, that doesn't look healthy!" Myrtle called out in panic, but he only chuckled as he vanished. She ran towards the mass of vines and as she touched it, they all flopped to the floor.

The boy was gone. Myrtle started to choke as the surrounding dust settled in her lungs, nose, and throat. Try as she might, she couldn't catch her breath. Her legs gave way below her. Myrtle grasped at her neck as her vision wavered, and soon darkness took her.

The ground was damp with the morning dew, but the earth was warm, Myrtle groaning softly lifted her head. Leaves and twigs tangled in her hair and a foul taste in her mouth as she spat out dust and ash.

"Where on earth?" she asked, voice hoarse as she propped herself up. Glancing at the surrounding woodlands, she lay there puzzled.

Sitting up made her leg muscles scream, and her arms felt weak, lungs burning as if she'd run a Triathalon. "What happened to me?" she thought, wincing as she looked down at her arm where a shallow gash lingered. Looking carefully, Myrtle spotted a sliver of twig embedded in her skin. "A splinter?" she questioned, finding more of the same on the other arm.

"It's a bad sign when you wake up in strange places." she sang to herself, gingerly standing on her feet, even that hurt.

"Barefoot," Myrtle thought looking down, "and they look worse than my arms, what the hell...." she exhaled.

"Better just get out of here." Myrtle said, looking around, "only....where is here?" she asked.

Walking about the trees, Myrtle could spot a small structure not far ahead. "Someone built that, so maybe there's someone's house around." Myrtle reasoned with herself, trying to pick up her pace, "at this rate, I'm never going to want to see the woods ever again." she muttered.

Myrtle circled around a very sturdy seeming wooden fort, It held an American flag and many signs. Made from tree branches, twigs, ropes, and scrap wood.

"Friends Welcome, Home of Will the Wise..... Castle Byers." Myrtle read quietly.

"It belongs to the missing kid they found." she thought. Myrtle sighed, "well, I can't go to them for help, they've been through enough without coming across my madness." Myrtle said, quickly heading off in a new direction.

↰ ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ | ᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛꜱ | ɴᴇxᴛ ↱

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halfvalid · 7 months

Text

the blade daughter, pt. 1

ABOUT

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

alternate title: dracule mihawk cures your daddy issues!

rating: mature

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader | live action!dracule mihawk | live action!straw hat ensemble

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 23.6k total | 8.3k this part

description: as the daughter of dracule mihawk, you've been living alone at home, unwilling to go out and find a life of your own due to the belief that your father needs you around. but when he sends you off to buy him a jacket, you end up running into a pirate crew—and a particular swordsman—that end up changing how you feel.

tags: mihawk's daughter!reader, female reader, canon-typical violence, cursing, no use of 'y/n', pet names per mihawk ('dear', 'darling', 'sweetheart', 'little hawk'), emotional hurt/comfort, sexual harassment (from nameless OC), slow burn

author’s note: finally she's here! i'm posting it spaced out because i don't want to overload you all with a 23.6k fic in one post... IMPORTANT NOTE: i did some research from the animanga for mihawk's personality, weapons, and home, but this is still very much only a fic for OPLA and not the other iterations of the material.

the fic is not exactly only a romance; it focuses a lot on the reader's personal character development along with her relationship with mihawk too. i hope you guys don't mind! i kind of lost the plot lol.

reader is mihawk's biological daughter, but is stated to take after her mother and doesn't bear similarity to mihawk. so the fic is poc reader friendly!

Your dad was late to dinner again.

To be fair, Dracule Mihawk didn’t exactly follow a schedule. He was fickle—back when you’d been a girl, he’d been around all the time, because although he was a lot of things, Mihawk was not an absentee parent. But as you’d grown older, he started being less strict, leaving you alone for days and weeks until you’d finally matured into an adult. Mihawk spent most of his time away from the house, now—but you agreed to have dinner together every week, no matter what part of the ocean he was in.

And he was late.

You’d started cooking the meal early, only for Mihawk to not show up when everything was ready. Or after everything was ready. Or even when everything had cooled, and you’d eaten your fill, and waited in your chair for him to arrive. He finally showed up a quarter past two in the morning, the doors of the dining room bursting open to announce his entrance.

You cracked an eye open from where you’d been dozing in your seat. “You’re late.”

“I’m sorry, darling,” Mihawk said, taking his hat off and bowing with a flourish. He pressed a kiss to the back of your hand. “I got a little busy. Garp had me deal with a pirate in the East Blue.”

You made a face at him as he sat down to eat. “Could’ve at least let me know. Den den mushi exist for a reason.”

“Ah, well, my apologies.” Mihawk sighed, dramatic as ever—you couldn’t find it in you to be mad at him for more than a few minutes, though, something he knew well. “It would’ve gone quickly had some upstart not challenged me to a duel. So I had to spend the night.” He tsked, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “And then I went to visit an old friend. Red-haired Shanks.”

“I remember him.” You got up from your seat, moving to the kitchen to rifle in the icebox for a popsicle. “Another duel? What’s this week’s body count?”

“You know I don’t tally such trifling matters, sweetheart,” Mihawk said. You shrugged, leaning against the doorway of the kitchen to watch him start eating. “This pasta is cold.”

“Wasn’t cold four hours ago,” you said, languidly licking at your popsicle. “No sympathy here, dad.”

“Fine,” Mihawk said. “Anyway, I don’t suppose you’ve ever heard of the man. Tall, green hair, three swords.” He wrinkled his nose. “Said people called him the Demon.”

“Roronoa Zoro,” you affirmed, slipping into the chair beside your father. “Scariest pirate hunter in the East Blue. You killed him?”

“Clearly not much of a pirate hunter, considering he’s a pirate now,” Mihawk said, the scrape of his knife and fork ringing around the room. “Joined the man I Garp sent me after, this little boy in a straw hat. And no. I let him and his crew go.”

You paused, voice faltering as you registered the words. “You let him live?”

“Yes. He was rather interesting. I expect he’ll come find me later,” Mihawk answered. You stared at him, still baffled. Your father was a lot of things, but a man of mercy was not one of them. Your earliest memory of him exacting his power over others was when you’d been two, watching from your crib as he speared the nanny for calling you a brat. A touching gesture, for certain, but still. “But enough about work. How have you been, little hawk?”

“Bored,” you said with a sigh. “It’s so dull on this island.”

Mihawk looked amused. “You could leave. I’m not restricting you here anymore.” Back in your teen years, Mihawk hadn’t let you leave the house—something about enemies wanting to kill his daughter or whatever else nonsense. He’d trained you personally, though, so you were nearly as fearsome as your father—able to beat anyone in combat in the blink of an eye. “You don’t have to stay.”

“The house would get all dusty,” you protested, lips tugging into a line. And it wasn’t like you hadn’t done any exploring. Mihawk had taken you to all four seas throughout your adolescence, and you’d taken vacations to everywhere of importance. You just—didn’t have much of a point to leave, really. You very much preferred not to, something tying you firmly to the island, to your castle. “And besides, where would I even go?”

“I hear the East Blue is interesting this time of year,” Mihawk said. “You could venture around here, but…” He shrugged. “The Grand Line is dangerous.”

You made a face. “I’ve lived here my entire life. I can take care of myself.”

“Certainly,” Mihawk agreed easily. “But it’s simply not worth it. You really should get out more, dear. It’s not good for your health.”

“Maybe,” you said, but you weren’t very enthusiastic about it. “Here, I’ll clean Yoru for you while you finish eating.” You moved around the back of his chair, lifting his sword off the jacket he hadn’t bothered to shed from his back. You grimaced upon seeing a line of dried blood along the blade. “Dad.”

“Sorry, dear,” Mihawk said, and you rolled your eyes, carrying the sword over to the living room. You set Yoru down with a heavy thud, pulling out a box of materials. Mihawk came over to watch you, one arm propped against the doorway as his aureate eyes gazed down as you worked.

Compared to your dad, you looked relatively normal. You’d always taken after your mother—a mysterious woman you barely had any memories of—and the relation between the two of you was never immediately obvious. The fact your eyes were plainly normal instead of bearing the golden hawk eyes Mihawk had was another factor added to that, too.

You pulled out a bottle of oil, pouring it generously over Yoru’s blade before grabbing a cloth to carefully wipe it with. “Where in the East Blue?” you asked abruptly, not looking up. Mihawk’s fork clinked along the ceramic of his bowl, presumably surprised you’d actually consider the offer of leaving.

“Well, I could send you out to run some errands if you wish. I’ve got some things to attend to,” Mihawk optioned. “There’s this one store in Loguetown with a rather nice jacket I’ve had my eye on.”

You shot him a disbelieving look. “You want me to go to the East Blue to buy you a jacket.”

Mihawk shrugged. “My birthday’s coming up.”

“No, it’s not.” You slid your rag along the edge of Yoru’s blade, folding it in half before wiping the entire thing again to ensure there was no grime left. “Finished. Maybe I’ll just stay—”

Mihawk gave you a look.

“Fine. Loguetown it is,” you said with a sigh. “Don’t give me a crew. I’ll just take one of the sloops. I’ll get your dumb jacket for you.” You got up, tossing the cloth over a shoulder to hand wash later. “I’ll leave later today.”

Mihawk clicked his tongue. “You’re so enthusiastic, darling. I can practically see the excitement oozing off of you.”

You rolled your eyes, moving past him to go up to your room. “Short trip,” you said. “No more than a couple of days.”

“The little hawk, so incited to leave the nest.”

“Shut up.”

Mihawk had complied with your wishes, as when you woke up the next morning, he had already prepared a sloop for you to board alone. You packed some of your things, not being too fussy about the clothing or other objects, knowing that the boat was already well-stocked on its own. Mihawk waited to send you off, though you knew he probably had affairs to attend to by now.

“Be good, darling,” he said, while you were loading up the last of your stuff. Just like your father, you preferred to wear your sword on your back; a present he’d given you at the age of thirteen. “I’ll call you. I’ve got business in the South Blue.”

“Have fun,” you said, and he kissed the back of your hand before pushing you off.

Loguetown was just how you’d remembered it, buzzing with civilians and pirates alike. The stores were plentiful, and filled to the brim with customers—it was all a little overwhelming compared to the peace and quiet you were used to. Still, it wasn’t a bad place to stay for a few weeks, and you might as well take your time there.

You slung your coat on as you exited the docks, glancing around the town in search of something to do first. Since you weren’t especially interested in retrieving a jacket for your father just yet, you beelined to the nearest tavern to grab something to eat. It was a lot easier traveling without Mihawk at your side—as much as you loved him, he had the habit of attracting both trouble and fear wherever he went, and he was near impossible to go out with.

The tavern was full, but not too crowded, and you managed to slip over to the bar without much trouble. It seemed to mostly consist of pirates—rough men with flowing jackets and holsters of guns and swords at their hip, clustered together in groupings that clearly proved their alliances with each other. You were one of the only patrons who was alone.

You gestured for the barkeep, and she bustled over from where she was serving a particularly ragtag group of pirates. They were mismatched, colors oddly paired—a girl with neon orange hair, a short man with a straw hat, one wearing a flowery shirt and goggles and the last man dressed in clothes far too formal for a bar. “What can I get for you?” she asked, a thick brogue dragging down her words.

You told her your drink order, still eyeing the group. The barkeep followed your vision and let out a sigh. “Don’t bother. Three men have already tried to capture him for the bounty. Broke half my furniture. And we got a rule here, anyway—no fightin’.”

“Does he have a bounty?” you asked with a frown. She scoffed.

“Does he ever. Thirty million berry, child. Highest in the East Blue.” She shook her head. “That crew won’t let anyone touch ‘im. Hell, I think his first mate’s still outside cleaning up the bodies.” She sighed again. “Well, I’ll have that drink out for you in a moment.”

You nodded, slipping into the closest available chair. Now that you were paying attention, you could see practically every pair of eyes fixed on the group—specifically, on the man in the center wearing the straw hat.

Before you could ask another question, the door to the tavern opened, and a lean, green-haired man filled the doorway. You glanced over at the barkeep, a flash of recognition in your eyes. “That’s Roronoa Zoro.”

“Aye,” she said, setting your drink in front of you. “If there’s someone who might be able to cash in that bounty, it’d be him. But believe it or not, he’s with the Straw Hat.”

You watched as the pirate hunter made his way to the table the others sat at. The glint of his famed three earrings reflected off the tavern lights, and the sword on his hip swayed as he walked—but there was only one rather than the three you’d heard tales about. “Yeah, my father said something of the sort.”

The barkeep hummed, turning to attend to a pirate who’d taken a seat at your left. “And who’s your father, lass?”

“Dracule Mihawk.”

The pirate beside you raised his head, turning towards you in almost alarm. Beside him, his crew quieted, and the barkeep glanced up to meet your eyes. “Dracule Mihawk?” she repeated incredulously.

“He sent me to buy him a coat,” you said. “I don’t suppose you know where any shops are around here?”

“Er, there’s a shop off main you might want to see,” the barkeep said, eyes flickering over to the pirate crew that had changed their focus to you. “Anything else for you, then?”

“I’m good, thanks,” you said, taking another sip of your drink. She nodded, leaving the bar in favor of moving over to another table. The pirate beside you turned slowly, stool scraping against the floor as he sneered down at you.

“Dracule Mihawk’s daughter, eh?” he asked. “Care if I buy you a drink?” Behind him, the rest of his crew tittered. You just sighed.

“Sorry, my father doesn’t let me go out with anyone who hasn’t bested me in combat.” You knocked back the rest of your drink, glancing up and down the pirate’s figure. He didn’t look like much—two pistols strapped to the hip, a longsword on the other, a raggedy leather jacket with a hat to match.

The pirate scoffed. “Please,” he said, though you could see his skin turning rapidly crimson. “I doubt you’re even related to him. No hawk eyes or nothing.”

You met his gaze, lips tightening into a line. “I take after my mother.”

“Biggest lie I ever heard, aye, crew?” The pirate turned back towards the rest of his men, and they cheered in agreement. You huffed out a sigh, trying your very best not to turn combative—despite everything, you were proud of your relationship with your father, and anyone trying to call you a liar for your lineage just left you vexed and angry. Before you could step away, though, the pirate turned towards the rest of the tavern, apparently having had a bit too much liquor. He raised his voice, practically yelling now. “Oi! This girl thinks she’s the daughter of Dracule Mihawk!”

Out of your peripheral vision, you saw Roronoa Zoro look up, the rest of his crew glancing over at you at the words. You were distracted within a second, the pirate shoving your arm. “Hey, don’t look away, girl. I’m trying to—”

You grabbed onto his wrist, nails razor-sharp as they embedded into his skin. “Don’t touch me.”

“Oh, you think you’re tough, do you?” The pirate yanked his hand out of your grip. “Did your daddy teach you how to fight, huh? Think you can beat me?”

“I know I can beat you,” you answered. The pirate reached for his sword, then, fingers tightening around the hilt.

“Alright, let’s make it a bet then. You beat me, I believe your claim about being Mihawk’s daughter.” His lips curled back into an ugly sneer, and you debated stepping out of the conversation and just going off to find that shop for your dad’s coat anyway. Fights like these were never worth getting into, and you really didn’t want to break any more of the barkeep’s furniture after she’d let out her annoyances to you.

Before you could, though, the pirate opened his big mouth once again.

“I beat you, and you go to bed with me.”

You were whipping your sword out before you could even think, red flashing in your vision as you scraped your blade out from the holster on your back. The metal gleamed under the lights, white steel bright as day as you leveled it in your hand. It wasn’t the largest weapon, a perfectly balanced cut-and-thrust spadroon with a golden hilt wrapped in white ribbon. You tightened your grip on the handle.

“I beat you,” you hissed, voice low, “and you’re dead.”

He lunged for you, pulling his sword out in one solid stroke and meeting yours in a loud clang. You shot an apologetic look towards the barkeep, spinning on your back leg and kicking the pirate away. The force caused him to stumble, sword skittering to the side as you shoved it off your blade.

One of his crew members had cocked a gun to your head, and you spun your swords toward him, blade cutting through the metal like it was butter. The rest of the crew stepped back, one or two of them lunging for you. You parried all of their attacks, shoving them to the ground until they stopped trying to fight.

The captain had gotten up, a fierce snarl upon his face as you slammed your blade down towards him. He blocked it with his sword, and then went for various attacks towards your figure—you dodged each one of them, parrying them easily as you moved backwards. At the last one, you used your weight to buck the sword back in his direction, and he stumbled again.

You ducked down, sweeping him off his feet with a well-aimed kick to his shins, and he fell, sword clattering out of reach as he dropped flat on his back. You towered over him, pointing the edge of your blade at his throat.

“You want me to go outside to kill him?” you asked. The barkeep sighed.

“If you don’t mind, lass.”

“Not at all.” You bent over, grabbing firmly onto the pirate’s shirt and yanking him upwards. His crew made a move towards you, but you just shoved your sword in their direction, and they stepped away. You spun your sword’s hilt around in your hand with a flourish, then started dragging the captain out the tavern door.

“No—wait—let me go,” the pirate begged, once you dropped him to the gravel outside and moved your sword to his throat again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—I didn’t mean it—you’re a pretty girl, that’s all—”

“I don’t date men who can’t beat me in combat,” you said coolly. “Lower your expectations.” With that, you spun your sword again, sliding it back on the holster of your jacket. “I’ll let you live just this once. If you ever make any comments towards a woman again—”

“I get it. I’m sorry,” the man said, scrambling to his feet. You just eyed him.

“I need another drink.”

The tavern was dead silent when you returned to your seat, gingerly sitting back down on the stool you’d first occupied. “Another drink, if you don’t mind,” you said to the barkeep, and she nodded. A moment passed as she filled your mug, and then she asked—

“Is Dracule Mihawk really your father?”

“Unfortunately,” you muttered, taking the drink she offered and taking a swig. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the Straw Hat pirate and his crew muttering amongst themselves. One of them nudged Roronoa Zoro in the side, and he grimaced, the loose shirt he wore parting with the motion. You caught a glimpse of bandages, wound tight with blood seeping through a familiar line. Yoru’s doing.

Zoro stood up, making his way over to the bar beside you. He propped his elbows on the table, but he didn’t sit, nodding at the barkeep. “Another round for my friends,” he said. His voice was quieter than you’d expected; a low mutter and almost soft in timbre. He glanced over at you, eyes flickering down and up again before he spoke. “I tried to kill your father.”

“Yeah, he told me,” you said. “Roronoa Zoro. What happened to your other two swords?”

Zoro scoffed. “Your dad.”

“He can be a little dramatic sometimes,” you said apologetically. He glanced over you again.

“You don’t look much like him.” He paused. “Figured I’d know if Mihawk had a daughter.”

“I take after my mother, and he’s very overprotective,” you said, getting just the slightest bit annoyed about everyone questioning your parentage. The barkeep returned then, sliding five beers across the table over to Zoro, and you stood up. “Now if you’d excuse me, I have some shopping to do.”

You exited the tavern after paying your tab, wandering around the streets of Loguetown to find the closest clothing store. Your father’s style was ridiculously grand, so it’d be something in the nicer branch of the city—you had just entered your best guess when you pulled out a shell phone, pushing the little snail into your ear and calling your father’s number.

He picked up on the first ring. “What is it, darling?”

“Did you have a specific coat in mind?” You glanced through a row of black leather, trying to find one that’d match Mihawk’s liking. “I’m at this place called Lady Tide’s Dressing Boutique. It’s the bougiest place I could find.”

“Lady Tide’s would be correct,” Mihawk said. “I trust your taste. Pick something I’d like.”

“You better be paying me back for this,” you threatened, turning the corner as you spoke. You jumped back in surprise, letting out a squeak as the Straw Hat pirate from before appeared right in front of you, a grin stretching up his face.

Mihawk’s laugh crackled through the line at your surprise. “Get startled, dear?”

“The pirate Garp sent you after is stalking me,” you deadpanned. The Straw Hat pirate’s grin only widened. “I’ll call you back.”

You hung up, taking the den den mushi out of your ear and back into its case. “What?”

“You’re a really good fighter,” the Straw Hat said brightly. “I’m Monkey D. Luffy, and I’m going to be King of the Pirates. You should think about joining my crew!”

“I—” you stared at him in disbelief, mind reeling from the whiplash of his words. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m not a pirate.”

Luffy tilted his head to the side in question. “But your dad is Mihawk.”

“That doesn’t make me a pirate. I just stay at home for the most part,” you said. Luffy continued following you around the store, however, even as you stepped past him to browse more jackets. You glimpsed the rest of his crew hanging around the store, though none seemed to do any actual shopping. You figured Lady Tide’s was probably out of their price range. “Why are you still following me?”

“I think you should join my crew,” Luffy repeated. “Have you ever been to the Grand Line? That’s where we’re headed next.”

You gave him a look. “I live in the Grand Line.”

“Whoa,” Luffy breathed. “Well, you must know all about it, then!”

You turned away from him, picking a jacket off the rack in front of you and appraising it. Golden buttons, long tailcoat, wide lapels—not really Mihawk’s taste. You set it back. “Not really,” you finally answered. “Like I said, I stay at home for the most part. Haven’t done much exploring.”

“Don’t you want to?” Luffy asked, taking a step closer to you. You flinched. “Your dad’s one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea! You should be going out and adventuring, not just staying at home and doing whatever Mihawk tells you to!”

“Don’t,” you snapped, voice low. “I stay home because I want to. Not because my dad forces me to.” Your words bore no lie, but still, there was a rumble of uncertainty deep in your gut. Mihawk had always been supportive, but pirating had always been his thing. You preferred the solace of your own home, and there was no point in adventuring when Mihawk had seen it all before.

“I’m just saying, what do you even do all day?” Luffy asked with a quirk of the lip. “Stay home and clean? Go out once in a while to buy groceries or get stuff for your dad?” He gestured at the coat you were holding, and you flushed, shoving it back onto the rack. “Isn’t it boring? Don’t you want more than such an average life?”

“I’m perfectly happy with my life right now, thank you,” you snapped. “Go preach to someone else.”

Luffy had stopped walking, then, looking at you with an almost sympathetic expression on his face. “Living isn’t the same as thriving, you know,” he said. “You should go out. Find adventure. Aren’t there things you want to know? Questions you want answered?”

“Luffy.” You turned to see Roronoa Zoro move to his captain’s side, head dipping as he spoke to him. His tone was quiet, but you could still overhear— “Leave her alone. We’ve got business.”

Luffy looked dejected at that, but he agreed, bowing his head towards you before turning to the rest of his crew. They’d gathered by the mouth of the store, engaged in their own various activities as they waited. You watched Luffy turn to leave, words climbing up your throat even as you tried to swallow them down. “Wait!”

Luffy turned, that bright smile reappearing on his face. “What?”

“I want to know one thing,” you said, taking a step closer to the captain and his first mate. You glanced up at Zoro, who met your gaze. His face seemed carved of steel, skin bearing no grimace, eyes betraying nothing. “Why did my father let you live?”

Zoro looked away, and you realized he probably didn’t know the answer himself. Before you could speak again, though, Luffy interrupted.

“Because Zoro’s the best,” he declared, capturing your attention away from the injured swordsman. He slapped Zoro’s bicep with a heavy thud, and you were surprised when the other man didn’t even flinch. “And he’s gonna be better than Mihawk one day. He’s going to defeat him in a duel and take his title and become—”

“The world’s greatest swordsman,” Zoro finished. The words were muttered under his breath, clearly to himself rather than intending for you to hear.

You watched them for a moment before finally turning away. “Okay,” you said. “Good luck with that.”

Luffy stared at you for a moment longer, but Zoro was already turning away and walking towards the rest of the crew. There was an unsettling feeling in your gut, one you tried to squash. Whatever—you had better things to do than worry about some Straw Hat pirate and a retired pirate hunter.

You returned to your browsing, looking through various jacket designs until you finally fell across one you were certain your father liked. It was ridiculously expensive, but your father’s taste had always been so—you purchased it without a second thought, slinging it across a shoulder and returning to your sloop for the rest of the day.

To your great disappointment, the Straw Hat pirate’s words continued to echo throughout your head. His demeanor was off-putting, to say the least—the extreme amounts of candor and cheeriness he had made for a disorienting combination. Even as you tried to stop thinking about his terrifyingly honest words, you couldn’t. Don’t you want more than such an average life?

You sighed, mood irritable from the day's events. You’d returned to your sloop and hadn’t done much of anything for a few hours—past having a meal and cleaning up your boat, there was nothing to do. You mulled over your options, wondering if you shouldn’t just start the journey back home. But Luffy’s words came back to you.

“I need a drink,” you muttered, donning your coat and leaving to attend the first bar you could find.

You went someplace ritzy this time, near the peak of Loguetown where neon lights glimmered in the dark hour. It was crowded, and music blasted through the bar, pounding bass nearly making the floor reverberate. You slipped inside without much trouble, squeezing through the crowd and making way for the bar at the other end of the room.

You bought yourself a drink, knocking it back in just a few gulps. There were marines patrolling around in the building, although none of them seemed too keen on completing any of their duties. Pirates walked around freely too, but these ones were more dignified than the ones you’d seen in the tavern at town.

“You hear Straw Hat Luffy’s here at Loguetown right now?” someone muttered to your right. You glanced over with a furtive gaze to see who was speaking—two men, dressed in fine silks and coats. Swords dangled from their hips. Pirates, maybe, or pirate hunters. “His ship’s docked over by south port.”

“You’re not going to try and nab him, are you?” the other pirate hunter asked, fingers pinched around a thin glass of something. “That bounty’s hefty, but fighting them’ll be…”

“I’m getting a bunch of hunters together,” the first one said. “We’ll split the bounty. At midnight, once the whole crew’s asleep. I followed the navigator; seems they’re not leaving until the morning.”

“Thirty million split between many isn’t much.”

“Well.” The hunter made a vague gesture, a smirk playing at his lips. “I doubt we’ll all be alive by the end of the night, if you know what I mean.”

“Right.” The second hunter downed the rest of his drink. “I’ll be there. Where’s the rendezvous point?”

“Slip forty at south port. Come at midnight,” the first one replied. “My boat. Theirs is at fifty-two.”

You turned away, knocking back the last of your drink before setting the glass back down on the counter. Your mind reeled, and you pulled out a pocket watch to check the time. Nearly eleven. Only an hour left.

“Another drink,” you called, but you stopped after that one. Logically, you knew the Straw Hat crew would be able to handle themselves. Your father wouldn’t have let Zoro go had he not been an impressive fighter—and Luffy certainly had to have some tricks up his sleeve, having such a high bounty and all. But an ambush was an ambush.

You needed to go home.

You paid your bill and slunk outside, taking the long road down to the port. You were docked in the east, but you found yourself wandering towards south port, hands shoved in your pockets and sword heavy on your back.

There was no logical reason to get involved with pirates, you tried to tell yourself. That was Dracule Mihawk’s area of expertise. That was Dracule Mihawk’s life. Not his daughter’s. You were not a pirate—there was no point in being one. Mihawk has done everything already.

You stepped onto the pier of south port, the wooden ramp trembling under your feet. They were shoddily constructed; oak on water, with pegs every few feet or so and ropes thrown casually across the walkways. It was overcrowded with boats, too—ships of every kind and size, smushed into spots not big enough for them depending on how much you paid the dock men. The moon shimmered on the surface of the East Blue. She was calm today, waves lapping at the edges of the docks, tranquil in the night.

You checked your watch again. Nearly midnight.

Dock forty moored a relatively small ship, but it was crowded with men—ten or fifteen, maybe, and you knew they’d be killing each other when the fight was through. Thirty million berry divided between so many people was barely worth it. You slunk past them, counting the numbers of the boat berths.

You knew the boat before you looked at the slip number based on appearance alone. It was large in size, a caravel sporting a gigantic goat figurehead. You stared at it, brows furrowed, jaw slack. Well, it was certainly a ship. There was a large sail boasting the ship’s jolly roger—a crudely designed skull and crossbones sporting the same straw hat their captain wore.

With a sigh, you pulled yourself onboard, careful to not make a sound as you landed on the deck. It was quiet, but you doubted the crew didn’t have at least one lookout for trouble. You tiptoed around the mast, moving towards the foredeck.

You were just about to step a foot on the staircase when a gleaming katana came to your throat.

“What are you doing here?”

Roronoa Zoro was as calm as ever as he held a blade to your jugular, posture perfectly straight, eyes tilted in your direction. You glanced down at the blade, registering the smooth metal. It was the white-handled one; upon seeing it closer, you could better register its quality. It must’ve been insanely durable, more so than his other blades considering Yoru hadn’t shattered this one in battle—one of the strongest blades in the world.

“What’s the sword’s name?” you asked.

Zoro ignored your question. “What are you doing here?” he repeated.

You sighed, turning towards him, although you were careful not to touch the sword. Zoro’s grip didn’t budge. “There are pirate hunters coming here,” you answered. “At midnight. An ambush.”

Zoro still didn’t move. The night sky cast his entire face in shadow, the only light on board being a trembling lantern by the interior doors. You could just barely see the gleam of one eye, yellow light shining on his cheekbone. “Why would you come?”

“Honestly, I don’t know,” you answered coolly. “My father let you go for a reason. It’d be a shame if you died before you realized why.” It was an easy lie—because the real reason was one you didn’t want to think about. Because Luffy’s words struck something in you. Because they rang true.

“We don’t need your protection.”

You shrugged, only one shoulder moving upwards before relaxing again. “Just a friendly warning.”

Carefully, Zoro lowered his blade, the steel scraping along the edge of its scabbard opening before he slid it closed. “The Wado Ichimonji.”

Your eyes were still on the sheathed katana. “Hm?”

“The sword. Its name is Wado Ichimonji.”

You tilted your head back, angling it towards the sword strapped to your jacket. “Hiru,” you said. “That’s mine.”

“Day,” Zoro translated. “You have matching swords with your father?”

“Just matching names,” you answered. “It’s a spadroon, not a kreigsmesser. Much smaller than Yoru. Birthday present. When I was thirteen.”

Zoro eyed you. “I’ll wake the rest of the crew,” he said. “You can go.”

You made no move to, consulting your watch as Zoro rang the ship’s bell. Five minutes to midnight. You could already hear the near-noiseless patter of footsteps on the pier.

The orange-haired woman was the first out, fingers wrapped around a short wooden rod. She exchanged a look with Zoro, and he nodded towards the pier. She somehow knew exactly what he meant from that, dodging back inside the ship and returning, dragging a dark-haired man out.

“Uh, what’s going on?” the man asked, stifling a yawn as he fiddled with a slingshot. Both Zoro and the woman shushed him. “Jeez, okay.” He noticed you then. “Oh, hey, you’re the hawk dude’s kid—”

“Shut up, Usopp,” the woman snapped. She’d moved by the boat’s side, ducked under the rim. The footsteps were getting louder.

The blond man came out next, hands shoved casually in his pockets and dressed in clothes you genuinely did not think functioned as sleepwear. “Hunters,” the orange-haired woman said. “Ambush.”

“Isn’t that lovely,” the blond man murmured. He caught your eye, and a smile lit up his face. “Well, hello there.”

Both Zoro and the woman rolled their eyes. Before the blond could say anything more, though, the hunters’ footsteps abruptly stopped.

The orange-haired woman spun up from her crouch, wooden stick extending into a long staff as she whipped it out. She slammed one end of the staff into an incoming hunter’s gut as he leapt aboard the ship, forcing him off the side of the vessel.

Everything happened all at once, then—you heard the slick shing! of Zoro unsheathing his katana, and the blond was up and running towards another gaggle of hunters within the second, legs flying in an assortment of well-placed kicks.

You reached over your shoulder, tugging Hiru out of its straps. The blade shone bright under the moonlight, and you caught an incoming hunter’s sword with the lick of it, shoving him backwards as you spun.

“Why’s Mihawk’s girl here?” the blond called, as he slid across the deck, leg raising up into a spinning hook. “Not that I’m complaining, of course. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” He met your eyes and winked, leaving you staring in utter disbelief until another hunter distracted you. “I’m Sanji!”

“Okay?” you asked blankly, letting out a huff of exertion as you whipped your sword toward the hunter. He’d pulled out one of his guns, wielding his blade one-handed as he fumbled with the trigger. You breathed in, recalling your father’s words from the thousands of hours spent training. Take advantage of any imbalances, sweetheart. Focus on the center of gravity.

You aimed a sliding kick at the man’s gun, using Hiru to push against his blade. The pressure caused him to fling halfway across the ship, body thudding against the mast before falling to the ground in a heap.

“Impressive,” Sanji whistled from his spot across the ship.

“Shut up,” Zoro and the orange-haired woman said in unison. Zoro was beside the fallen hunter in a second, katana slashing cleanly through his torso before he spun and shoved the blade straight into an incoming man’s stomach. Sanji just scoffed.

“Show-off,” he said accusatively. Zoro rolled his eyes, turning towards Sanji to argue, when you glimpsed someone at his back. You lunged for the man, sword cutting cleanly through his jugular before he fell across the deck, decollated.

Zoro turned, glancing over his shoulder at the body and then up at you. “You’re welcome,” you said, flicking Hiru to the side. Spatters of blood dripped off its blade.

“...Right.” The number of hunters had considerably thinned, only three or four left. The orange-haired woman was still fighting two of them, placing hits of her bo staff along two mens’ skulls. Usopp had crouched by the forecastle, firing pellets off with his slingshot. Sanji dusted off the final two men, until only the ringleader was left.

“Wait, wait.” The hunter backed away until he ran into the ship’s railing. He scrambled for his pistol, but as Zoro, Sanji, and the orange-haired woman advanced on him, apparently realized the idea was in vain. “We—we can talk about this.”

“I don’t think we can.” You turned at the new voice, watching as Luffy slipped out from the captain’s chambers. His hand came up to adjust his hat, crowned atop his head as always. “You came aboard my ship and tried to hurt my friends.”

The hunter’s jaw fell slack, mouth drying over as Luffy came to stand in front of him. The rest of the crew had parted to allow him space, and Luffy titled his head up, the lick of light from the lantern shining against his skin. A crescent-shaped scar under his eye glowed bright, the skin paler than the rest of his face.

“Gum gum…” he started, voice steadily rising in volume as he extended his hand backwards, fingers curled into a fist. To your surprise, his arm just kept stretching back, limb getting longer and longer with a distinctly rubbery stretch until it was all the way at the other side of the ship. “Pistol!”

His arm snapped back all in one, knocking the hunter straight in the jaw and shoving him off the ship in one, devastating blow. You stared at his flailing body, watching as he dropped straight into the ocean ten or so meters away with a loud plop.

You turned towards Luffy, one brow arched in question. “You’re a Devil Fruit eater?”

“The Gum Gum fruit,” Luffy said brightly. He adjusted his hat once more, fixing it atop his head before reaching an arm out to pat you on the shoulder. “Thank you for warning us. You’re a good person.”

“Don’t mention it.” You glanced down at Hiru. “Have anything I can clean my blade with?”

“Sure! Let Sanji cook you something while you’re here,” Luffy said. “It’s the least we can do.”

“Of course,” Sanji said with a little bow. “What would you like? Name anything and I’ll make it.”

You eyed him. “…Anything.”

Sanji let out an exaggerated sigh. “So uninspired. Meet you in the kitchen, then. We can leave the mosshead to clean up the bodies.”

The orange-haired woman just rolled her eyes. “I’m going back to bed,” she declared. She glanced over at you, appraising you in one solid sweep up and down your body. “I’m Nami.”

With that final word, she departed, snapping closed her staff and slipping back into the boat. Luffy, Usopp, and Sanji shuffled into the boat, presumably the kitchen. Zoro just sighed, setting his katana to the side to start cleaning up the corpses left after the battle.

You made no move to follow the others inside, watching as Zoro easily lifted up one of the hunters. The lines of his biceps strained as he climbed off the ship, still hefting the body before finally placing it down on the pier.

“Just toss them into the ocean,” you called. Zoro glanced over his shoulder, registering you standing there. He picked another body up.

“I don’t want to block our slip,” he answered.

“Fair enough. Any oil around here?” You wandered to the ship’s side, glancing through the boxes fixed to the deck. Zoro gestured in some direction that harmed more than it helped, really, but you dug through some boxes before unearthing something you could clean Hiru with.

You worked in silence, slicking the blade with the oil and rubbing off all the blood and mess that had gotten onto it. Zoro was quick, piling up all the corpses and barely-alive bodies by the dock. He shoved a few of them awake with his boot. “Go find a doctor,” you heard him mutter under his breath. You suppressed a laugh.

Eventually, Zoro climbed back on board, searching for his sword only to find it in your hands. You carefully polished off the last of the blade, then presented it to him. “You’re welcome.”

“…Thanks,” Zoro said, sheathing it in one smooth swipe.

“The cut,” you said, glancing down at his torso again. His shirt was covering the bandages, but you knew they were still there. “It was Yoru that did it. Not Kogatana.”

“The big one, yeah,” Zoro answered. You watched him thoughtfully, although you didn’t say a word. He seemed to get impatient by that, and was speaking just a moment afterwards— “Why?”

You gave a quick shake of your head. “Nothing,” you answered, the lie slipping easily off your tongue. But your mind churned with thoughts, the mere brain activity making your stomach curdle. It hadn’t clicked before, but now—your father didn’t use Yoru on anyone who wasn’t worthy. And letting Zoro live—letting the entire crew go, against Garp’s orders?

This was a more interesting group than you’d anticipated.

Zoro eyed you for a moment as you were lost in thought, though he didn’t say anything to interrupt you. Once you finally looked up, he adjusted, clearing his throat. “Should go inside to make sure the waiter isn’t burning down the kitchen,” he said, straightening.

You stood up, sliding Hiru into its scabbard on your back. “The… waiter?”

Zoro shook his head. “Long story.” He gestured with his head, nodding towards the double doors. “Kitchen.”

You followed him, the soft aroma of garlic and meat wafting around the room the instant you stepped foot inside. Everyone was crowded around the kitchen island, propped on chairs and staring as Sanji prepared a meal before them. You joined the group, glancing over Usopp’s shoulder to watch.

There was a stir-fry on the stove, garlic and onions joined by various other vegetables. Sanji drizzled soy sauce along the pan, scraping it around once with his spatula before turning down the heat. He added in some rice—leftover, it looked—along with some battered eggs, mixing it all together.

“Vegetable and chicken fried rice,” Sanji said, turning off the heat once everything had cooked through and starting to distribute it into servings. “I went for something universal because I don’t know what you like.” He met your eyes, flashing a giant, warm smile again. You took the bowl he offered, fingers wrapping around the warm ceramic.

“Thank you,” you said. The four of you stood in silence, and you had the feeling that you were intruding. The crew was a tight unit, that much was certain—wound tightly around each other, ropes intersecting in delicate knots and bows. You turned your attention to your meal. You hadn’t had a real supper, so the food was a welcome surprise, and it was damn near close to the best thing you’d ever tasted.

“So,” Luffy started, “Not to bug you about it a hundred times, but…” You glanced up. His expression was earnest as he met your eyes, lips tugged upwards in an encouraging smile even as he spoke. “Are you joining us?”

“Am I—? Oh,” you said, realizing what it was Luffy was referring to. “Is the offer still standing?”

“Always,” he answered brightly. “You’d be a good fit for our crew, you know.”

Would you really? There wasn’t much of anything special about you besides your parentage. You were as skilled a swordswoman as any, but there were hundreds better and stronger than you. There was no one thing you truly excelled at. “I’ll think about it,” you said hesitantly.

“Well, think quick. We leave at dawn,” Luffy said. “Meet us back here at blue hour if you’d like to join up.” He smiled again, all unassuming, and it was hard to believe a boy so pleasant had a thirty million berry bounty hanging suspended over his head. He yawned, stretching out his long limbs. “Well, I’m off to sleep. Sanji’s next watch.” He glanced over at Zoro. “Why don’t you walk her back to her slip, Zoro?”

Your brows furrowed, about to object, but Zoro was already standing up. He opted to say nothing, leaving you to set down your empty bowl and say your goodbyes in a hurry to follow him out.

The bodies on the pier had thinned, the alive ones presumably having dragged themselves to town to find a doctor. Zoro stepped over the heap of corpses, and you followed suit, walking in silence down south port. “I’m a little far,” you said. “You might lose your way heading back.”

“I’ll be fine,” Zoro dismissed. “I’m… sorry about Luffy. He can get overly enthusiastic.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” you said with a shake of your head. “Are the rest of the crew open to me joining, though? It didn’t seem like he consulted any of you.”

Zoro’s brows lifted at that, though you weren’t certain why. “We’re all fine with it,” he said eventually. “Luffy wouldn’t invite someone who wouldn’t fit.” He hesitated, the plod of your footsteps creaking against the dock walkway for a few paces before he parted his lips again. “I’m going to fight Mihawk again, you know.”

“I figured,” you answered. You could feel Zoro’s eyes on you, scraping along your skin like they were blades themselves.

“You’re not upset by that?”

“Everyone wants to kill him for some reason or another,” you said. “You’re not the first.” Though there was something undeniably special about him. The fact he was still alive, for one. “I figure you’re a long way from that, so I’ll have a father for a few years more until you try to kill him again.”

There was something in the way you phrased your words that sounded so very ironic, and Zoro couldn’t suppress the light grunt from escaping his lips. It was dry, brittle—but closer to a laugh than a scoff, you could tell. “Is that your blessing?”

“Sure,” you said. “I, Dracule Mihawk’s daughter, hereby allow you, Roronoa Zoro, to murder my father in a duel.” The lightness in your tone dropped. “If you don’t mind me asking…” you took in a light breath, letting the taste of the words melt on your tongue before slipping them out. “Why do you want to, anyway? Defeat him, I mean?”

“I made a promise to someone a long time ago,” Zoro answered. His footsteps slowed as you reached your slip, the small sloop you’d sailed all the way to Loguetown calm as ever where it was moored. The black sails—vague, nondescript—sucked away all the light the moon attempted to cast on it, so it was even darker than the rest of the surroundings. “I told her I would become the world’s greatest swordsman.”

“That’s heavy,” you remarked, turning to face your companion. His skin was waxy and dull under the moonlight—aftereffects of the injury he still hadn’t fully recovered from. Zoro just shrugged.

“Maybe. It’s my life’s dream.”

“He’s a good father,” you said. “I think he’d like you.” You paused. “Well, he does. He wouldn’t have let you live if he didn’t.”

Zoro stiffened, the lines of his body tightening, spine pulling up just slightly. You noticed the change—you always did. Observation had always been one of your biggest strengths. Maybe you hadn’t gotten the golden irises your father had, but you had hawk eyes of your own in that way. Never missing a thing, picking out all flaws and details in a scene. “I’m not sure if I want him to like me.”

“He doesn’t feel hatred for a lot of people,” you said. “Just disdain. Though I’m fairly certain he’d have skewered that drunk at the bar earlier if he’d been with me.”

“The one who—” Zoro looked distinctly uncomfortable as he remembered what the pirate had offered you. He made a vague gesture instead, just mildly vulgar in motion. You suppressed a laugh.

“Exactly,” you agreed. “He doesn’t have patience for that sort of thing. He also feels no man who’s weaker than me in combat isn’t man enough to be with me, though I have questions about that particular rule.”

Zoro snorted. “You could definitely do better than the drunk pirate.”

“Right.” You glanced up at the moon, watching the steady silver glow of her face along the edge of the horizon. She was full, round and white, soft powder creasing the dents and shadows of her face. “I’m out for the night, then. Thank you for walking me.”

Zoro shrugged. He didn’t say anything, so you turned away, stepping onto your sloop without another word. You ducked into the interior room, closing the door firmly behind you so you could finally relax.

You had only a handful of hours of rest ahead of you, after all.

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

i'll be making a taglist for this series; just comment if you'd like to be added!

#opla zoro #opla roronoa zoro #opla #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #reader insert #x reader #one piece live action #one piece netflix #one piece live action x you #one piece live action x reader #opla fanfic #opla fanfiction #dracule mihawk #opla zoro x reader #kiki writes!

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pixiemunsons · 2 years

Text

baby, baby, baby (sh)

steve's always discovering new things about himself, usually with your help

breeding kink!!! i can't state enough if this isn't ur thing click off because that's all it is. unprotected sex, p in v (f! reader), fingering, discussion of babies and breeding, hint of jancy, rough-ish sex, bit of misogyny surrounding birth control (reader goes on the pill.) one use of the word daddy during sex but not rly daddy kink. no use of y/n, no spoilers, no reader description. steve’s into cringy pet names i don’t make the rules (2.2k words)

a/n; a really lovely reader made it clear to me that some of my language wasn’t POC or plus size friendly. this absolutely wasn’t my intention and i’ve edited this language out to ensure that this is a fic for anyone, as intended. pls let me know if i do make any mistakes like this - being exclusive is absolutely not something i ever intend to be. thank you angels<3

it had started growing in him one day, and he hadn’t felt the end of it since.

a sort of weird, deep urge he felt in his bones, gnawing at him from the inside out and churning his brain and boiling his guts. if he hadn’t known better, he might have called it animalistic. neanderthal. his most base instinct. for months, he hadn’t been able to think about anything else. twisting his mind and driving him crazy.

steve harrington wanted to fuck you full of his babies.

you hadn’t even known you were doing it. how could you? you knew he wanted kids, and a lot of them, but it felt miles off in your mind. when he told you about you and the six kiddos and the camper van, you thought he meant five, maybe even ten years off. so you’d thought nothing of it when your friend liz had asked to come over for a coffee with her almost brand-new baby and you’d spent the afternoon playing with her in front of steve.

he’d seemed a bit more tense than usual, and you thought maybe he was uncomfortable around the baby. you knew he had a relatively small, relatively disconnected family, and the last kid born was more than ten years ago, so he’d never really even been around infants. he seemed to be watching intently as you picked her up, smoothing her tufts of hair back and nuzzling your nose into her hair to absorb her uniquely baby smell. you’d never brought it up though, never thinking much of it. until it started happening more.

you’d see a toddler sticking their tongue out at the grocery store and stick yours back before steve would half drag you away by the arm. you’d mention your hairdresser’s imminent due date, and he’d find a way to change the topic. hell, you’d cooed over the baby in look who’s talking one time and he’d switched the channels, claiming he hated john travolta even though you’d watched saturday night fever with him at least four times. you were starting to get confused. the two of you had talked about kids; why was it becoming such a problem now?

───

‘i got on the pill, y’don’t have to bother with a condom.’

steve stopped stock still. in seven years, he’d never been able to go without. shitty blue state indiana had made contraception for unmarried women a fucking nightmare, and while he really wanted to marry you eventually, he wasn’t about to do it just so he could go raw. steve’d half-hoped he wouldn’t be able to until you were married; he didn’t know what he was capable of if you let him do that to you. but you’d sprung it on him. while you were naked under him and he was halfway to the bedside table, you’d laid a small hand on his arm and looked up at him with that expression on your face he loved so much and stuck out your bottom lip. he’d never said no to you before. how could he ever start now?

‘a-are you sure? y’know i don’t mind, sweetness, i’m happy to wear one.’ he was frowning now, deep lines etching the ordinarily soft skin of his forehead, and you reached a hand up to smooth out the creases.

‘kinda thought you’d be a bit more excited than this, honey.’ you were half-smiling, half-worried, head tilted as you observed steve. you’d known him for fifteen years, been dating him almost half as long. knew him like the back of your hand, knew when he was worried about something, when something was playing on his mind and he just couldn’t shrug it off. he shook his head vehemently, stroking your face with a shaky hand.

’s’not that, babe. i’m really excited, like, really excited. didn’t think we’d be able to do this until- well…’ he trailed off, leaning down to kiss your bare shoulder in a feeble attempt to hide his reddening face from your eyesight.

you sat up a little then, peering down at him. the pill wasn’t even something you’d thought much of until nancy had told you all about it, hush hush over a coffee.

‘it’s changed my life, honestly. everything’s more… regular, and well, you know…’ you’d raised your eyebrows at her to hasten her explanation and she’d blushed bright red and hidden behind her hair when she whispered ‘jonathan loves being able to, like… y’know, do it inside. everything’s so much better in the bedroom.’

you’d left your lunch date hot under the collar, and almost sprinted straight to your family doctor. the idea of being so intimate, so close to steve for the first time ever without having to worry about the consequences excited you.

‘until what, stevie? we can carry on using a condom if you w-‘ steve’s eyes shot open, shaking his head wildly until his hair bounced.

‘no! no, i just.’ he cleared his throat, itching the back of his neck nervously.

‘i’m worried if we do it without, i won’t be able to hold back. the idea of doing that to you, of cumming inside you… it makes me so hard i can’t think.’

his confession left your mouth open and mind whirring, thinking back to the last few months and the way he’d been acting around you and babies and all of a sudden, everything clicked.

‘stevie,’ you cooed, smirking at the expression on his face. ‘you wanna get me pregnant, don’t you?’

a guttural groan broke free from his throat and he lunged forward like a man possessed, capturing your lips with a ferocious heat that had you moaning into his mouth. large, rough hands gripped your stomach, your hips, and squeezed so tight you groaned. steve took his chance, tongue surging into your mouth and licking the top of your mouth, the back of your teeth. he pushed himself up so he was kneeling above you, manhandling you up so you were facing him, knees touching.

‘y’can’t say that to me, baby,’ he looked frantic, still kissing you between words. ‘god, you’re so… so fuckin’… h christ, can’t believe you said that.’ your mind was reeling, all consumed with the idea of it.

‘i’d be lying if i said the thought of trying for a baby with you wasn’t on my mind recently, stevie.’ you looked up at him, eyelashes fluttering, and his fingers dug into your flesh so hard you were sure there’d be bruises the next morning. ‘when liz came over with the baby, y’have no idea how much i wished she was ours.’

steve was totally fucked.

he couldn’t get his breathing under control listening to talking about carrying his babies, and his head was swimming in pictures; you, lying on the beach in a bikini with a cute bump. lying on your front cautiously while steve rubbed your tired back muscles. tying your shoes for you ‘cuz you couldn’t reach over your swollen tummy. most of all though, he couldn’t stop imagining the sight of his cum seeping out from your pretty little pussy, your hips propped up on a pillow, hoping it’d take.

‘think we should?’ he spoke before he could even think about it, and he almost apologised. almost. because when he looked down at your face, instead of seeing shock or disgust, you were fucking smirking up at him. a manicured nail traced its way up through his chest hair, the other hand gripping the back of his neck, and steve felt lightheaded.

‘you gotta be off the pill at least a week before it stops working, you know.’ you cocked your head to the side. ‘doesn’t mean we can’t start practising though.’

steve helped you onto your knees so you were face down, ass up. his favourite, especially when he wanted to go a bit harder, a bit rougher, and the anticipation sent shivers down your spine. behind you, the bed shifted, and the distinctive sound of elastic cracking skin rang out from behind you as steve shed his boxers, the final (and only) barrier left between the two of you.

‘you want me to lube up, baby? i’d ask you to do it with your mouth, but i think i’d bust.’ you laughed together and he grabbed your left hand, intertwining your fingers. no matter what, steve never made you doubt how much he loved you, and small moments of intimacy like this always made you wanna cry every time.

‘just a bit, babe, ‘m ready for you,’ you whined your hips back into him, ass brushing his hairy thighs, and he groaned at the trail of slick you left against his hot skin. reaching into the drawer and, for the first time, straight past the open box of johnnies, steve grabbed the half-empty bottle of lube that lived there. you could hear him squirting it into his hand, slathering it all over his thick cock, all the while muttering away almost mindlessly.

‘you’re gonna be such a good mommy, honey, s’ good for me and our baby. so full of our children, so beautiful and round for me, gonna look after you. gonna be the most gorgeous little family, sweetness.’ he reached down, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

‘baby, i really need to just fuck you full,’ he whispered, and you looked over your shoulder at him. there was an almost feral gleam in his eyes, and you swallowed thickly. he pushed two long fingers into you, whining when he found you were already soaking wet and more than ready to take him. you keened your hips back again, pleading, pretty eyelashes fluttering.

‘take me, steve.’

he was up to the base by the time you’d taken a breath, heavy balls resting at the curve of your thighs and ass, and the sensation was like nothing either of you had known before. you could feel every ridge, every vein pumping through his cock, and he felt so warm in you it could have almost been too much. steve had never felt anything so hot, so tight, so unbelievably natural in his whole life, and he had to stop still as soon as he was balls deep lest he cum in seconds.

‘oh fuck,’ he was groaning behind you, legs trapping the bottom half of your body to the bed in an attempt to stop you squirming. ‘this is- jesus christ, this is something else, baby.’ under him, you were desperately trying not to rock your hips back into steve’s. he was so heavy and hard inside you, twitching and leaking precum already and he hadn’t even moved, hadn’t even started to fill you up.

steve’s hips pulled back slowly, leaving just the head still wrapped in you, before plunging back in and starting up a brutal pace. his hands were gripping at your pelvis and your head was buried in the pillow at the head of your bed, fingers reaching behind you to intertwine with his own against the fat of your hips. he thrust particularly hard into one spot that had your mind reeling, almost screaming his name into the pillow and pulling forward from the pleasure of it all. steve chased you, the front of his thighs almost stuck to the back of yours with sweat. by now, he was barely even pulling out, just chasing his own thrusts deep within you as he panted above you, sloppy kisses pressed into the skin at the back of your neck. skilled fingers reached around to your clit, rubbing it in that way only steve ever managed to do it, and your legs felt like jelly under you. if it wasn’t for the way he pressed right up against your hips, you’d be on your front by now, crushed under his weight into the bed.

‘’m really, really close, baby, fuck. c’mon sweetness,’ he was rambling behind you, hips working even quicker to turn you to goo under him, melted into the mattress and taking what he gave you. you could feel it building deep in your stomach, and you just needed something else, something to push you over the edge-

‘cum for me, let’s make me a daddy,’ steve was crying out and you were cumming, thighs clenching and back arching, screams buried into the pillow and teeth clenched so hard your jaw popped. steve wasn’t long behind you; the way you gushed when you came, the vice-like grip on his leaking cock? it was all too much, and for the first time, steve harrington came inside the love of his life, hot and gasping and flashes of you with a baby bump running through his mind. carefully, gently, he pulled out, cock softening against his thigh and then growing half hard again. your pussy was swollen, his cum leaking out of your hole. unthinking, steve reached up to push it back in with two fingers, rubbing your ass with the other hand when you flinched away from the stimulation.

‘sorry, baby, just gotta make sure it takes.’

you rolled onto your back, and he couldn’t help but smile at the way you rolled your eyes at him.

‘told you stevie, gonna be at least a week until i’m all fertile and shit again.’

he flopped on top of you, grinning.

‘i guess we’re gonna have to practise over,’ a kiss to your cheek.

‘and over.’ your shoulder.

‘and over.’ your nose.

‘and over again.’ finally, your lips. ‘i love you.’

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dykeomania · 3 months

Text

lovergirl!hazel headcanons

｡.｡ just some evidence of a love that transcends hunger, tbh.

a/n: i needed a break from writing a fic and wanted to write something sappy. this is the something sappy in question. wanted it to give how-you-become-hazel's-lover -> what she does when you're actually her lover vibe but it just got real mushy. i like it. i hope you like it, too. proofread, but i'm blind as fuck + i'm rusty, so.

tags: gender neutral (i think. i may have fucked up once or twice. please correct me if i did, i proofread fr fr over time. not intended for cis men), body neutral, and poc friendly. some niche reader things (tarot mention, reader wears makeup). mild nsfw -- kissing, making out, heavy petting. almost third base. starts in high school, ends in college.

practice fanfic etiquette. please don't plagiarize or repost my stuff.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who sits up straight on the edge of your bathtub and looks up at you in complete awe when you're getting ready. she's got the dumbest, most lovesick puppy look in her eyes as she watches her lover line her lips, and apply a sheer coat of gloss on top. when they turn around to ask if it's even, hazel smiles so wide that it makes the apples of her cheeks sore.

she doesn't really know if it looks okay, she just knows that she wants to kiss you.

she only manages an mhm because it's what you want from her and, well.. at this point, hazel's convinced that she'd drop just about everything to give whatever you want.

you snicker, closing the space between you in slow and steady strides. "what are you looking at, huh?" you teases, grin stretched across lips lined nude, gleaming pink.

"mmm..." hazel can't help but like, drunklenly (she's dead sober).. haphazardly loop you in by the belt loop, head tilting easily to the right. "yyyyyou."

her eyes droop as she falls victim to the familiar spell that you cast over her. one that starts with you taking her face in her hands, and bringing yourself close enough for to take in all at once. she's made dizzy by the smell of your conditioner, made defenseless by the familiar trace of your body wash radiating off of your skin.

"what're you looking at me for?" you grin, your hands hot on her cheeks as you stand between her legs.

"why wouldn't i wanna look at you?" hazel gently manages, hand finding comfortable purchase on your hips. she grips gently with admiration, fingertips pressing into sacred flesh of something, someone, who she couldn't believe is hers. "you're just so pretty."

but let's take a few steps back first,

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who meets you purely by coincidence. you don't go to fight club, and you don't do cheer. you don't have any classes together, you hardly even know of each other. you do, however, have to work concessions for football together one night.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who doesn't talk much, and honestly standing next to you feels kinda stupid with the bruise that she has on her cheek. she usually never really cares and she's usually super talkative -- she doesn't talk much because well.. she doesn't really know.. how to. how to talk to pretty people -- well, it's not like she finds you pretty, it's just.. anyways,

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who makes some dumb joke about athletes and you kind of snort.. and she's immediately charmed. hazel callahan who has a desire to keep you entertained, and continues to do so throughout the remainder of the game.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who actually is in your class, but, neither of you just really noticed. hazel callahan who sits next to you in the weeks following. who spends her free periods with you. who eats lunch with you. who eventually gets around to telling you about fight club, over turkey and rye sandwiches.

"so you just, like..." you take a break from chewing, tonguing some bread out of your back molar. "punch the shit out of each other, and it's school-sponsored?"

"...well, yeah. but in like a self-defense, queer way. bring people together, create some solidarity. a safe-space on campus for queer community, kind of thing."

"oh okay, so like, in a slay way," you revise.

hazel stares. scoffing out a gentle laugh. "uh... yeah.." hazel furrows her brows, shaking her head. "um.. what does that.. what does that, like, mean?"

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who becomes your best friend.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who really likes you. like, as a person.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who likes you maybe a little bit too much.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who doesn't know how to embroider, so when you embroidered her converse -- creating a wreath of vines, speckled with bright little flowers around the all star symbol -- she was so happy. but she felt so bad because she didn't know how to repay you.

"let me make it up to you?" she insists, fingers playing with your own, but not creating enough distraction to prevent you from protesting.

"what?" you scoff, subconsciously locking her hands with yours, as though you're about to declare a thumb war. "no, how?"

"i don't know! this is so nice, let me like..." hazel shrugs voice dropping timidly, "..take you out or something."

a beat passes, one that feels like forever. a large enough one to create space for all the butterflies to rumble around both of your stomachs, and for the elephant to pass through the room. hazel can't tell if it's your hand that's begun to sweat in your grasp, or if it's hers.

your eyes narrow at her, grin stretched into something cheshire as you shake your hand, and hers. "i think you just wanna take me out on a date."

hazel smiles sheepishly, cheeks flushing a bright flamingo. she shrugs, next words quiet and intentional,

"so what if i do?"

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan doesn't know how to embroider but she does have an eye for wildflowers. when the girl who shows up at your doorstep, it's with a dorky smile, a batch of spring, and a bandaid wrapped around her index finger and her thumb. the flowers that she biked about an hour north to pluck -- from a field she discovered after having simply gone too far -- are bunched together and wrapped in a trader joe's paper bag, the kind that her mom always leaves in the kitchen under the sink. she put the boquet together herself. spent too much time thinking about whether or not you would like the arrangement or the colors, probably went to the store to grab a few of your favorite flowers that she couldn't find.

"oh, these are for you. see, i tried to make this whole thing, like.. semi.. transactional. again, like, i don't really know how to embroider flowers, or like anything really, so... these were next best thing, i guess." she offers, as though it's nothing.

"you look.. really nice." hazel's eyes linger, stricken and dumb. she fills her lungs with air, huffing out her next sentence. "are yoooouuu.. ready to go?"

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who thinks that star signs mean nothing, and doesn't know jackshit about crystals or anything of the like. but hazel callahan who is all eyes and ears, criss-cross-apple-sauce with you on her floor, as she watches you knock your knuckles on a deck of tarot cards and shuffle through them for what you called a "semi unreliable, two-card reading."

hazel callahan who jumps a little when two cards fly out from the deck. who furrows her eyebrows when you turn the over. an the lovers and two of cups, both upright.

"what..." she snorts. "what does that mean?"

"um.." she watches you blush. "it means.." and she blushes when your eyes linger on hers, and then look up. feels her stomach flutter when she watches you take a deep breath in through your nose, like you're shuffling through all of the words in your head.

"...let's just saaaaayyyy... nnnew connections might be coming your way, soon."

hazel has no fucking idea what that means, looking at you, she surely could hope that that's true.

...

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who is shocked that you want to like.. have a sleepover with her. this doesn't really happen to her. like at all. but it's happening with you, so she's down.. but it has to be planned. hazel callahan pulls out all the stops to try to make sure that it's.. well, perfect, she guesses? she makes sure that it's on a weekend where her mom is out of town (not even because she wants to do anything but you know how her mom is). she asks you what all of your favorite snacks are beforehand, and offers to go get more if you run out. she makes sure that you have satin pillowcases if you have textured hair, just in case you forget a bonnet, or anything. probably does that regardless of whether or not that's applicable to you, because she hears it's better for your skin and what not. she gets a weighted blanket for you and some extra pillows + takes out an extra throw if she knows that you get cold easily, or damn near strips her bed down to just one comforter and gets a desk fan to face her bed if she knows that you get too hot.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who you create a shared movie list with, and who will sit with you and watch all of your favorite movies. all of your least favorite movies. will watch movies that you insist that she must see and will do so with very little fight because it's whatever you want, really. hazel callahan who is very quickly realizing that she would do whatever you wanted, as long as it meant that it got you to smile.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ (hazel callahan who, granted, talks through a lot of those fucking movies. like. hazel callahan who has a really fucking hard time paying attention to movies.)

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who clearly has overthought everything. who laughs at and understands all of your dumb jokes and is always a little shocked when you laugh at hers. who lets you rest your head on her shoulder when you watch movies in her home-theater. who lays with you in her bed and compares your tiktok for you page with hers and finds it a little too easy to poke fun of you. finds it not as easy to remain calm when your head rests comfortably on her chest, and thus hopes to god that all of the cringy tiktok audios are masking the sound of her heart beating out of her chest.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who looks at you when you mention that it's getting late, and insists that there's a guest room if you wanna sleep in there, or an air mattress that she was supposed to blow up.

"it's too late for that, though." you frown.

"no," hazel, being hazel, is quick to reassure, shaking her head. "no, no, i could totally blow it up. we have an automated pump, it'll take like 20 minutes."

"mm, i don't know, it's still kinda late for all of that..."

hazel blinks at you. her eyebrows raise, corners of her lips gently upturning. "okay. i mean, do you wanna take the guest room?"

you look up at her, eyes big on purpose. "that guest room's kinda scary." you lift a brow. "it's dark. and cold."

hazel thinks she might.. be tripping. she has to be. her blink is slow, and her face knots together, and releases -- the way it does when she gets all timid and indecisive. "o..kay..." she grins nonetheless, furrowing her eyebrows. "so then .. where are you gonna sleep?"

"..i mean.." you burn, and so does she. "...i could just sleep here with you?"

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who can't help but feel girlish and vulnerable laying in her bed with you, her stomach tied in knots over how there is nothing usual about this situation. fully seeing you in your pajamas. feeling the gentle flesh of your bare calves rub against hers. being within such close proximity of you that she can still smell the lingering remnants of soap on your skin from your shower.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who dares to let her finger dance on your upper bicep, but that's just about it, really.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who only nudges closer only when you nudge closer. who only lowers her voice, when you lower your voice. who only holds eye contact when you start it, but is always the first to look away.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who falls into a trap: eye contact held after some conversation that did not, and does not matter. she follows your eyes down, chocolate eyes focusing on the arch of your cupids bow. she does tilt her head up to find her nose nudging softly against the underside of yours. she doesn't know how you two got this close. hazel callahan who feels her hands grow sweaty, feeling your breath linger over her the chap of her lips. who nearly stiffens when she feels your hand press into her back, but instead arches into the crevice your body makes and presses her palm against your hip.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who does what she thinks she's supposed to do, and kisses you -- soft and gentle, like the whispers that fluttered over both of your lips earlier. brief, and endearing.

her lips stick to yours, and then her lips press into yours. and then her lips open when yours do, and her hand tightens on you when yours does.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who has no fucking idea what she's doing. like, seriously. she kind of knows -- i mean, okay, yeah, she knows how to kiss, but this is, like.. not just a kiss. hazel's kisses are brief. gentle, maybe a little slow. never this deep. hazel callahan who forgets herself when her fingers weave through your hair. hazel callahan who doesn't recognize the way her breath shakes in your throat when your fingers ambitiously sift through her thick, black locks and pull.

hazel callahan whose lips slot over yours, and unlock. who leans forward when you lean back, and is almost nearly on top of you.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who doesn't know what to do with her hand, so she puts it everywhere. glides it over your side, presses it over the expanse of your lower back. who smooths her hand under your shirt and marvels in the way your skin burns against her palm. who itches to explore, traversing over your stomach, venturing up, up, and up--

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who stops dead in her tracks when you hum something sour in her mouth and grab her wrist. who looks at you stunned with parted lips as you softly shake your head against hers.

"not yet," you pant, opening your eyes to look at her. "not yet."

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who bats her lashes, dizzy with affection yet sobered from your action. she knows how you sound. not like you're rejecting her, but like you're admitting something, which you.. might be. something that she understands. regardless, she understands.

but she burns bright with embarrassment, stomach rattling with a guilt that crawls up her throat and wraps around it, tightening and tightening...

"yeah," she manages a whispers after a while. somehow, it's still raspy. "yeah, okay.."

"okay.."

"...m'sorry--"

"don't be," you shake your head. "keep kissing me."

you rush, and it's kind of just in time. whatever stinging was lingering in her chest subsides as you bring yourself closer, lips softly capturing her lower lip in affirmation after hazel just stares at you.

hazel callahan who blinks, oscillating between consciences, dazed and a little confused. she's cautious and readjusted, her hand only lingering over your side as she whispers a faint "are you sure..?"

the sentence dissolves when on the tip of hazel's tongue when her lips find yours again, at your action, which is her answer. hazel callahan who listens. who lets you take her hand and place it somewhere that feels more comfortable, somewhere that's right and yet still sensual.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who is wiped, but intentional with every kiss that either you or her leads, every swipe of her lips over your jaw, every tender kiss that you let her place against the stretch of your neck.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who will admire within her bounds. kissing you, and drowning in you until she is simply too sleepy to continue. until she is dizzy and feels comfortable enough to nuzzle her face somewhere into the crook of you, breathing you in until you become a part of her dreams,

and she will wake -- in the morning, and in the middle of the night -- only to have a hard time believing that she isn't still dreaming.

...

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who kind of has to get used to.. all of it. who crushes, even though she's already "achieved," so to speak. who grins at her phone when she's texted, who finds any excuse to facetime you and keep you on the line -- sometimes just so that she can look at you. who finds any excuse to be around you.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who you can't get rid of once you go both go to college. who facetimes you whenever, who visits you on weekends. who comes into your space and steals all of your sweatshirts and your pajama pants and of course, all of your spare time.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel "no, i can make that for you" callahan who can't embroider, but can crochet. she will buy you that jellycat that you really want, a hundred percent. hazel callahan will also greet you with a fucked up rendition of said stuffed animal that you wanted (giving jamdog, perhaps) and furrows her eyebrows when you have to hide your laugh with your hand.

"what?" she asks, grin dulling only for a moment. "do you not like it?"

"no it's--" you cover your mouth. "it's perfect." you cackle. when you cup her cheeks, all the worry and fear of judgement fades. sort of. at least enough. "you're perfect, babe. i love it."

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who does, in fact, keep a picture in her wallet of her lover, ready at all times. hazel callahan who weaves her lover into casual conversation.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who still doesn't really understand figure of speech all that well so when you say things like "i wish you could just come over," she literally goes "..well like, i could,"

and then proceeds to make like, a three hour drive.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who keeps the picture that you hate of yourself as her lockscreen and it's not to spite you, it's because she thinks you're beautiful, and she has no idea what you're talking about.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who figures out what names you like to be called by throwing everything at a wall and seeing that sticks. pretty. handsome. lover. angel. baby. and when she does find one, one that makes you blush just about as hard as she does every time you even look in her direction, she holds it over your head to high heavens. makes it your contact name. uses it to punctuate reassuring sentences, when she greets you, when she tells you goodnight.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who gets to take you on real dates, and gets excited to. who gets giddy when you get ready. who gets to fix your hair and come up behind you when you take mirror selfies once you're finished. who now feels comfortable enough to place her hands at the mid-point of your waist and let them venture toward your frontside while she rests her chin on your shoulder, and leans in to kiss your cheek. who tells you you smell nice, and makes you smile when she buries her face into some part of you and literally just goes rahhhh!!!!

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who is also stuck sometimes, in moment such as these, watching the wonder who she has had a crush on since high school -- jesus, has it really been that long? -- with gentle eyes and a completely disarmed disposition.

hazel callahan who is honestly such a fucking loser -- like, literally, loser-since-birth, no-hope-since-middle-school, gay-haircut-and-new-repotoire-can't-save-you, loser, and can't help but ponder and marvel over how someone like you is in her hands. in her face. in her life.

"m'not that pretty," you insist, fingers weaving through her hair, nails etching at hazel's scalp in a way that hazel has grown to like. love, even.

her eyes flicker over your face, smile lopsided and eyes heavy like despite everything, you don't even know the half of it. she scoffs, voice hardly above a whisper,

"yeah no, you are so much more than pretty."

#hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan #lesbian #wlw #bisexual #sapphic #ruby cruz #ruby cruz x reader #bottoms movie #bottoms 2023 #lets go lesbians

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just-here-for-the-moment · 1 year

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JHFTM Fic Recs - blank slate Reader Insert fic recs - The Ezra Edition

JHFTM Fic Recs Main Menu

February 28, 2023 fic recs

Blank Slate Reader Insert Fics - These are fics I've really enjoyed and where I did not find any racial descriptors of the Reader Insert character. No blushing, no red marks, no visible bruising, no white-coded hair or skin descriptors that I could see! 🌟🌟🌟

My own notes are added here, but please heed all author warnings. My blog and all fics that I recommend are for 18+ friends only. Minors do not interact.

Dear Writer by @lowlights - Ezra and Cee meet their favorite authoress. 💖 This is fluffy and sweet and I love it so much.

I'll be damned if anyone makes you feel like you aren't worthy of being loved by @cyantomatos - Ezra feels unworthy, and he tries to talk you out of loving him

Hold Fast to Dreams by @brandyllyn - Ezra x f!bookseller/librarian. Ezra returns after far too long, only to find he owes thousands in fines. And he can't stay away from the feisty librarian. A lovely, deeply dreamy story.

Keep your eyes on me by @lowlights - A short, HOT smut prompt for Ezra x f!reader

Confined by @imtryingmybeskar - You land in a prison cell and get to know the loquacious prospector. A lovely little slice of characterization!

Deeds of Green Thrilling Light by @highsviolets - Modern Voice Actor Ezra AU x GN sound engineer reader insert. Smoldering, HOT HOT HOT shenanigans in the recording studio with Ezra.

Washing Ezra in the tub by @foli-vora - Ezra returns home to you with his arm missing and Cee in tow. You welcome him with a loving rubdown in the tub and a very HOT handjob.

#jhftm fic rec #jhftm fic recs #fic rec #fic recs #poc friendly fic #poc friendly fanfic #poc friendly fanfiction #race neutral reader insert #race neutral fanfic #ezra prospect fanfic #ezra prospect #ezra prospect x you

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quartzalynlove · 11 months

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Dating Hobie Brown Would Include

Summary: various hobie x black fem reader hcs

A/n: this man yall...THIS MAN. Also listen I know very little abt British slang but I did my best-

He will pop up at your house at any hour

Early in the morning bc he wants to say hi

Going to take a little superhero break in your room

Or chilling with you at night

I think he would dabble in video games but if you're more into them than him he could sit and watch you play for hours

He likes stealing the job of your game chair and having you sit in his lap while you game

And omg don't be wearing his clothes he thinks you're so hot in his stuff

He'll just give you his clothes sometimes just to see you wear them

If you're also punk he'll give you so much gear

And probably get you two matching jackets and pins

You aren't entirely sure what his love language is

It's pretty much an even mix of everything

Insecurity is not an option around him

He'll either tell you how he loves you the way you are or how perfection is a construct of society to pressure people into conforming

He really can't believe that YOU are HIS

You're just so bad like a dream girl come to life

Calls you babe and sometimes "peng ting"

He almost never calls you by your name tho

He likes pda

His hand will always be on your thigh no matter where you're chilling

And he'll give a few cheek kisses in public

I feel like he'd be obsessed with just doing stuff to your hair

Give him a box of rubber bands and some beads or other accessories and he'll go ham

It's always really cute and unique so he's lowkey like a personal stylist

He also just knows how to do your hair in general

So if you don't feel like dealing with wash day you know who to call

He cannot cook or bake but he does have your regular orders from your favorite restaurants memorized and will surprise you with fast food

He'd do whatever for you in a heartbeat

Sometimes you don't have to ask he just knows

He acts as cool as he is all the time but you be having him mentally swinging his feet

You can tell by a lazy smirk he does or he'll just tell you

"You're actin' mad cute rn, peng ting"

Most of the time when he's gone he's just thinking about seeing you again

He will definitely bring you up in conversation at least once a day

Taught you how to play his guitar

He wrote a song about you that's his favorite to practice alone in his room

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random0lover · 1 year

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Hi! I was wondering if u can write how simon ghost riley reacts to if u want to fem!reader being all dolled up for an event or sumn. you imagine the rest 😭😭😭😭😭. love ur writing btw 🙏

A Day for First’s and Adding a Second

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x wife fem!reader

Summary: It’s your and Simon’s son’s kindergarten graduation so you have to dress nicely and Simon loves it. Also a little surprise at the end.

Word Count: 1,686

Warnings: slightly NSFW (grinding while fully clothed) so 18+, established relationship, fluff at the end, reader is called love once, Simon being all hot and bothered, Price is your dad 🫣, pregnancy mentioned towards the end, is fem!reader and should be POC friendly! If you notice anything that makes you feel otherwise please let me know! I never want anyone to feel excluded with/in my work ♡

Notes: This is my first Simon fic and I honestly don’t know how to feel about it. Part of me adores it and the other thinks it’s trash, either way I wanted to respond to this request as it’s so sweet and the idea is adorable. I hope I was able to do your request justice my love! Also flashback are in italics.

You don’t often dress fancy but today your and Simon’s son was going to be graduating kindergarten. He goes to a private school at the moment so there were certain expectations and dress codes that you had to follow whether you wanted to or not.

The kids were all to wear navy blues and the parents were all to wear white or black. Everyone dressing formally.

You were currently getting ready in yours and Simons shared bathroom while Simon was helping your son finish getting ready.

You decided pretty quickly that while you would’ve loved to wear a white dress, being around children for up to three hours did not go well with the color white.

So you went with a black dress that reached right above your knees with loose sleeves that went down your arms to help make sure that you wouldn’t be cold with a neckline that was set right above your chest. The dress wasn’t to form fitting so that you would be able to sit for an hour or two without being uncomfortable or feeling constricted.

You were just finishing up your preferred makeup look when there was a light tap at the bathroom door.

You call out a small come in but start digging through the jewelry box on the counter that Simon had slowly been filling up over the years that you had been together no matter how much you protested against it.

You heard the door click open but didn’t hear Simon come in but you could feel his presence there, you always could.

“Hey Si, which necklace do you think I should wear?” You’re holding a necklace in each hand. The one in your right hand was the first necklace he had ever gotten you for your 6 month anniversary. It had two pear-shaped diamonds at the center surrounded by round-cut diamonds on a sterling silver chain.

The one in your left was a necklace that had been passed down through your family line and not too long ago your dad gifted it to you as a birthday present. It has 20 round shaped diamonds and in the center sits an oval shaped diamond with a white gold setting on a Singapore chain.

You usually didn’t have a hard time choosing a piece of jewelry but today you were slightly conflicted and his silence wasn’t helping.

You finally look up from the jewelry in your hand to look into the mirror and find Simon leaning against the bathroom door frame in an all black suit with gloves to match. He usually wears a black face mask out in public but he doesn’t have it on yet leaving it off until you were all ready to leave.

You feel his gaze slide along your body leaving a hot trail in its wake and you patiently wait until his eyes connect with yours in the mirror. Once they do you can’t help the sharp breath that escapes your mouth from the intense look he is holding in his dark brown hues.

A hum starts in your core when he steps towards you in three large steps and slightly leans his weight into you causing you to lean over the counter slightly.

You squeeze your eyes shut relishing in the heat surrounding you. Your lips part in a silent gasp when he slides his hand down your spine leaving it to settle on your hip and in the same moment runs his mouth along the arch of your neck and up to your ear.

“If we didn’t have somewhere to be I would take my time ravishing you against this sink.” His deep voice wraps around your body making goosebumps trail the lengths of your arms.

The impact of his words on your hazy brain makes you grind back against him, he lets out a small groan and rocks his hips into you while tightening his grip on your hip and pulling you back against him causing the perfect amount of friction.

You’re both lost in the moment trying to keep your moans and his grunts as quiet as possible so that your son didn’t hear.

Your body is getting hotter the longer you both claw at each other. It has been too long since the last time you’ve had the chance to feel each other's skin without being interrupted. You can tell that he’s getting close from the way his breath is puffing at your ear and he’s pulling you into him harder and harder, almost lifting your feet up off the ground.

Your ears are starting to ring from the pleasure and the rope in your stomach that is pulling taut when you hear little feet running across the house combined with giggling when you yank yourself away from Simon and open your eyes for the first time since this whole ordeal started.

You're busy trying to fix your dress and Simon is adjusting the bugle in his slacks when you hear the running stop outside yours and Simon's shared room before picking up again and the giggling sounding farther away.

He’s staring at you again when you look up at him making the fire in your body that was slowly sizzling out to start up again.

“The one your dad gave you.” You look at him confused for a moment and he smirks lightly, “the necklace.”

You look over at the two necklaces that had been carelessly tossed onto the counter during your moment. You pick up the necklace he said and offer it to him while moving your hair out of the way making your neck available for him.

You face the mirror and once he’s behind you you look into his eyes in the mirror, “Speaking of my dad,” you let out a sigh,”he offered to babysit tonight.”

He pauses mid wrapping the chain around your neck, his eyebrows lifting, “Price actually offered to watch him?”

You roll your eyes, “How many years have we been together and how old is our son now? I’m pretty sure my dad being mad at you is gone by now.”

He latches the necklace and slides his hand around you to grip your chin making sure your eyes stay connected in the mirror, “I don’t know,” he moves his mouth right up against your ear making you shiver, “I can still hear how mad he was when he found out his lieutenant was doing more than helping his captain's daughter move into her new flat.”

You sigh, mind flashing back to the day that all the tension between you and Simon finally snapped.

You had found a flat to finally move into and your dad was supposed to help you but something came up at work that was a bit more important so he sent over a man he knew he could rely on. What he didn’t know is that you and Simon had been fighting the urge to give into one another and you two being alone all day? It was bound to happen.

Price had walked in when Simon was helping you put the last of the furniture in which was your couch. You weren’t in a compromising position or anything but your neck was littered with love bites. You had a glow to you that you didn’t have that morning when you saw Price, and you were wearing Simon’s shirt leaving him with just a black wife beater on.

The man flew into a rage slamming his fist into Simon's face and a shocked Soap was left gawking until he kicked into gear yanking his captain up off of his lieutenant which was not an easy feat.

Simon didn’t fight back one bit as he knew that this was the reaction he was going to get. The captain had made one rule with his team, “Don’t touch my fucking daughter.”

It took months for your dad to even be okay with seeing you together at all. He could see how in love with each other you were and so the day Simon asked for his blessing he of course said yes.

You're pulled out of your thoughts from Simon sighing into your neck and gently kissing a sensitive spot. “Was thinking we could maybe make your favorite dinner and watch a movie?”

He nods, stepping away from you, “sounds good to me love.”

You give him a smirk in the mirror, “I also have a surprise for you.”

His eyes glide over you again focusing on how the dress hugs you in all the right places, “oh really? I’m going to hold you to that so no getting all cuddled up in my lap and falling asleep early.”

You know he’s teasing so you snort and roll your eyes before shooing him out of the bathroom trying to keep a knowing smile hidden, “I’m almost ready so why don’t you go get our little energy ball in his car seat.”

He gives you a quick kiss before walking out of the room and you hear him calling for your son. You listen for a moment to make sure he won’t be coming back and once you're sure you pull out a little key to unlock a part of the jewelry box.

You dig your hand into the open drawer and pull out a light blue rectangle box with a pink ribbon tied around it. Inside the box were three positive pregnancy tests. You wanted to be sure and didn’t want to get your hopes up so you wanted to take more than one.

You were so excited to tell him about the pregnancy as a few weeks ago he came to you asking if you would ever want another baby. You were hoping for a little girl this time around, the perfect addition to your family of three. Adding a second bundle of joy to your lives.

You hear Simon calling into the house for you and you yell back that you were coming. You put the little box back into the drawer and grab your purse and leave the room thinking about how your life is so different than what you thought it would be and honestly you couldn’t be happier.

Hi my lovelies, I hope you liked this little fic! I wasn’t sure how to go about the ending so personally don’t know how to feel about it and would love some feed back. Anyways I hope you all have amazing days <3

Requests are open! I can not promise when or if I will write them but I do prefer requests that are slightly more specific as I find them a little bit easier to write but it’s not required. Thanks for reading my darlings ♡

#cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #call of duty #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #task force 141 #simon riley #captain john price #Price is your dad #mw2 #cod #ghost simon riley #simon ghost riley x you #fem!reader #wife fem!reader #simon riley x wife!reader #ghost cod #random0lover my writing

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justanotherkpopstanlol · 1 year

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Did I make you scream?

Pairing: Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1,7K

CW: non spoiler fic, smut, fluff, p in v, unprotected sex, slight praise, oral (fem receiving), fingering, soft dom(?) Ethan, aftercare, confessions, poc friendly

The sun was bright, the warmth leaking through the gaps in the blinds and illuminating your skin. A ray of light shone directly on your eyes, making you squeeze them shut. You tried to turn on your side but a firm grip stopped your ability to do so. Fighting against the hold but ultimately giving up, you open your eyes to see none other than Ethan Landry. You had known Ethan since the beginning of the year, going to the same university, and had had a rather large crush on him for a long time. It seemed like neither of you two would ask the other out and Chad, tired of seeing you two pine over each other, decided to play matchmaker. As you admire Ethan, you remember the events from the night before. The very events that led you in nothing but a hoodie next to Ethan in his bed, him holding you so tightly to his chest as you listened to his heartbeat. You remember it all in perfect detail.

It was a classic Halloween frat party, your best friend Tara had invited you, and you went dressed up as an angel, the short dress leaving little to the imagination. Form fitting, fur lining it, a lace corset style top, semi sheer fabric and off the shoulder long sleeves. You thought it was funny and Tara laughed out loudly, thinking it was the funniest thing. You hooked arms and off you went, passing a weird kid from your university named Jason on the way there. When you arrived, the party was already in full swing. Tara went rushing over to get drinks while you went looking for Mindy and Anika, finding the pair making out on the couch. You snuck up behind them, carefully, and yelled a loud “boo!” over the booming music effectively scaring the two. You laughed, Mindy joining you while Anika sat wide eyed, still processing what just happened. Mindy gave you a high five, hugging her girlfriend in comfort.

You move to the kitchen, still laughing, and grab a red solo cup filled with mysterious liquid you didn’t even bother questioning. You see Tara dancing with her friends, smiling towards her when you two make eye contact, and she beckons you over. You oblige, downing the red solo cup then dancing with Tara, the two of you grinding on each other.

You fail to notice, however, Ethan’s eyes landing on you for the first time that night. He thought you looked beautiful. The way the dress hugged your curves, the way you moved in it, the sheer fabric, the bottom of the dress slowly riding up our thighs. He was mesmerized. Chad noticed, grabbing Ethan and pushing him in your direction. Despite his resisting, Chad was easily able to push his roomate to you, Tara having gone to get another drink at this point.

You felt someone stumble into you, mumbling a “sorry” under their breath. You turn around to see none other than Ethan.

“Hey.” You breathe.

“Hi.” He replies quietly.

“You okay?” You ask, concern lacing your voice.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry about that.” He says, scratching his neck.

“No, you’re good,” You began. “don’t worry about it.” You chuckle at the look of guilt still adorning his face.

At the reassurance, he relaxed and a soft smile now graced his lips. You hold your hand out, smiling at Ethan. He takes a hold of it, barely grasping your hand. You both dance together, having the time of your lives.

While you dance, your friends look at you and Ethan with knowing smiles. Chad and Mindy share a look and a high five while Tara and Anika fist bump, all looking very proud of the situation. All was going according to plan, just as they intended. They all knew how much you both liked each other, never working up the courage to be anything more than friends and much too oblivious to how the other felt. They all went back to what they were doing before when Mindy yells at everyone for being weirdos and to stop staring. No one, however, was able to rid themselves of the happy expressions they all wore as they went back to enjoying the party.

You and Ethan kept dancing for what felt like hours, the longer you both danced the more risqué it seemed to get. You turn around to face him, a slower paced song coming on, guiding his arms to wrap around your waist and you wrap your own around his neck. You look into each other's eyes, getting lost in his warm dark ones. He leans in close, you following his lead. He stops just barely shy of your lips, very nearly touching at this point. You close the gap, gently kissing in the middle of the dance floor of a frat party. You both pull away slightly, immediately going back for another, then another and another.

Eventually, you both make your way off the dance floor and out the door. holding hands and feeling giddy, you walk to Ethan’s dorm, kissing occasionally as you go. You both stumble inside, him gently pinning you to the door to lock it as you both kiss more passionately. Your hands find themselves in his curls, slightly pulling. At this, Ethan moans into the kiss. He gently lifts you up, carrying you to his room.

Laying you on the bed, he finally breaks to kiss to remove his shirt. His fingers trailing down to the hem of your dress, looking at you as if to ask for permission. You nod and he slowly, teasingly, takes the dress off your body revealing only a pair of sheer and lace white panties. You reach to remove them, Ethan stopping you.

“Keep them for now,” He starts. “They look nice. Pretty.”

At this, you blush and he lets out a breathy laugh. He leans down, kissing you once before beginning to trail them down your neck. He sucks and bites, leaving marks. His canines graze your skin when he goes lower and lower to your breasts. One hand playing with a breast as he uses his mouth on the other. You let out a breathy moan, him switching his attention to the other breast. His mouth still licking, sucking and biting your nipple, his hand goes down. Finger rubbing you over your panties for a minute before slipping inside them, playing with your clit. He slips a finger inside, a gasp leaving your mouth at this. Moving slowly at first, he increases the speed and adds another finger.

His mouth finally leaving your breasts, he kisses his way down your body and removes his fingers. You let out a whine, him removing your panties. He plants a gentle kiss on your clit, making you blush. He takes it between his lips and enters two fingers inside you, going much faster than before. He sucks on your clit, adding a third finger and removing them again. You look at him, a hurt and confused expression on your face. He licks a strip up your pussy, now fucking it with his tongue and his fingers went to rub at your clit. You let out moan after moan, chanting his name and you got close to your high. He quickened his pace, tongue moving at a near impossible speed. With a scream of pleasure, you came hard, squirting all over Ethan. He licks you clean, leaning up to kiss you and you taste yourself on his tongue.

He takes off his pants and boxers, lining himself up with you. With an encouraging nod from you, still recovering from your orgasm, he pushes inside slowly. He’s gentle, you note. Once he was all the way in, he stilled, letting you adjust to him. You let out a moan, thrusting your hips upwards. He starts to thrust at a slow pace.

“Faster, please. Please go faster.” You plead, arching your back off the bed. Ethan swears it’s the most attractive thing he’s ever seen.

He listens, picking up speed and soon jackhammering into you. Both of your moaning grew louder and louder and you got closer to orgasm. As if he could tell you were close, he reaches between you two and rubs your clip harshly. The stimulation is enough to push you over the edge, Ethan following soon after and riding out your orgasms. He mutters praise after praise. ‘Good girl’ and ‘did so good for me, pretty’ seem to take over his vocabulary. Of course, you preen at his words. He stills for a moment and pulls out after a minute, both of you panting.

After catching his breath, he gently picks you up and takes you to the bathroom, you drifting in and out of sleep. He sits you down on the toilet, letting you do your business and wash your hands. He cleans you up, helping you wear one of his hoodies, the larger size drowning in the fabric. He takes you back to his room and places you on his bed, sliding in next to you and pulling the blanket over you two. He pulls you to his chest and you fall asleep listening to his heartbeat.

Ethan shifted slightly, grip on you tightening before going slack again. When you look up at him, you see he’s finally waking up. He blinks a few times, eyes unfocused, then looks at you. His eyes widen in surprise at the sight of you, just like your own had this very morning, and he smiles as if remembering the events from the previous night.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” He greets, suddenly so much more confident than he was the night before. Then again, after what you two had done, it came as no surprise.

“Good morning indeed.” You respond, him leaning down to kiss you but you stop him. “Morning breath.” You state. He blinks at you, as if you were insane.

“Fuck morning breath.” And with that, he kisses you. Again and again, peppering small kisses all over your face resulting in giggles from you. He stops to admire you.

“I love you.” He says suddenly, taking you by surprise.

“I love you too.”

I'm literally so in love with Jack Champion and Ethan Landry so here's a fic. I saw Scream VI last Friday and it is easily my second favourite (original is first ofc). Anywho, hope you guys enjoyed, thank you for reading and lmk if you want to be added to the taglist by either commenting or messaging me!

Edit: Thank you guys for all the love, I really appreciate it <33

#ethan landry x reader #ethan landry #scream #scream vi #scream 6 #scream x reader #jack champion #jack champion x reader #ethan landry smut #ethan landry fluff #no spoilers #x reader

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enamoredwithbella · 5 months

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I have such a deep hatred for (character)sister!reader. I don’t exactly know why but maybe it’s because the character reader (me) is meant to be related to (mind you it never says adopted) is always WHITE.

You may be saying “it’s really not that serious, calm down bitch”

To that I have to say

1. Don’t call me a bitch without a strap-on attached to you

2. It is that serious cause (and I will never shut up about this) white coded fics literally FLOOD every single crevice of the fan fiction world and it’s tiring. Same goes for skinny coded and short coded fics while we’re on the topic of exclusion.

Like can you imagine how frustrating it is to find a bomb ass fic with such a good plot and a word count that could have you reading till you’re dead, and you’re immersing yourself in it and really getting lost and throughly enjoying the story envisioning yourself however you want just to be broken out of it by

“she flushed a bright red”

“she craned her neck up at him”

“her thin pink lips”

“gripping so hard her knuckles turned white”

“Her petite frame”

Ect.

Like I’m not gonna police you on how to write your fics cause heaven knows I do not have the motivation to become a writer and posses the skill. But could we at least TRY to be POC, Plus Size, Tall person friendly? At least once in a while?

Cause I feel so pathetic when I get overly excited seeing descriptions that I can actually apply to myself or just neutral descriptors in general.

Anyways sorry not sorry ramble but 🤷🏽‍♀️ what can I do but complain until there’s change 🥰 MWAH 💋

#ellie williams #lgbtq #the last of us #bella ramsey #bella ramsey x reader #the last of us hbo #tlou #wlw #tlou show #ellie williams x reader #jj maybank x reader #percy jackson x reader #lily evans x reader #james potter x reader #hope mikaelson x reader #especially Ellie Williams #baffles me when I see white coded fics for her #like that girl likes SPICES

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sofiiel · 1 year

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There & Back Again | Chapter 6

𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬

↰𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 |

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ : 3,930

At the end of the school day, Myrtle perched herself atop the hood of her car, her knees drawn to her chest. "I can't believe you hugged them," she thought to herself, "or that you balled all over him." Myrtle hide her face in her arms, "or that you cried so hard your nose ran, god he must think you're gross," she murmured.

Myrtle lifted her head to look at the sky, "I wonder if Robin needs a ride home. I still never faced her today." she thought.

Then again, maybe it was for the best, after all - she couldn't take Robin with her to check on Amy. That would also be a hard one to explain.

"Oh, and how do you two know each other? Oh, well you know survived a horrible sex party together, ran back into each other and I hid her from the police....you know as it goes." Myrtle thought to herself, instantly sucked into her frantic thoughts.

Eddie leaned on the hood of Myrtle's car, resting his head in his hands as he looked up at her, calmly waiting for her to notice him there.

Sure, he could call out to her, "but what's the fun in that?" He asked himself. Eventually, she would see him, and she would get that look, it was a little like startling a puppy.

Eddie smiled to himself, "I wanna be right where you look when you least expect to find someone." He hummed in his head. "I want to be your surprise."

As if his mind had spoken to her, Myrtle finally looked down, slipping a little from the hood of the car.

Eddie chuckled, "what was your horse racing against this time?" He asked her. Myrtle slipped off the hood altogether and twisted the ends of her hair between two fingers. "Umm....nothing really just, friend problems I guess." she murmured.

"Well, do you want to talk about it?" Eddie asked, hooking his thumbs into his pants pockets. Myrtle peered down at the ground still fiddling with her hair, "Or you know....not, that's fine too." Eddie said, "sometimes it helps to see from an outside perspective. I mean, think of how much easier it would have been for Frodo Baggins if he could have asked the readers if they thought Smeagol was two-faced." He said.

Myrtle glanced up at him and couldn't help but smile.

The tiny smile on her face made Eddie's heartbeat quicken as he grinned down at her.

"Or if someone could have warned Bilbo to carry some bug spray." He added. He wanted that smile to stay, he wanted to turn into a giggle, and "I'm going to drive myself crazy-er, trying to keep that smile there." he thought.

Eddie had fully realized he was probably overshooting his shot, but he had grand designs on getting a date, summer was coming up fast and if he was going to have time to get closer, He needed her to want him around after the school hours ended.

"I'll probably screw up one way or another, hit the BFF blanket, and fly right over the boyfriend material or some shit." Eddie thought to himself, "and then there's the shock and horror of good ol' dad trying to run me out of town with my reputation." He mentally sighed.

"And she probably wouldn't want the freak." He thought his head tilting as he watched her face, "Look at her, fantasy nerd or not she probably dreams of some...pretty stud who could lift her over his head on the field of the winning game." Eddie's thoughts started to create a nervous knot in his stomach and without realizing it he began to twirl his own hair.

Myrtle watched as Eddie's seemed to be staring right through her, she glanced behind her but saw nothing. "Um" she hummed, daring to take a step closer, peering up at him, she waved her hand before his face, "Eddie?" she asked.

With a small twitch of his body, Eddie snapped free of his thoughts, "huh? Sorry... I swear I meant to listen...." He said with a sheepish smile.

Myrtle matched his smile, "It seems I'm not the only one who's got race horses up in there, huh?" she asked.

"It would seem so," Eddie said, he gestured his hand out to her, "But...It lost its race. I'm serious if you need someone to talk to. I'm all ears." He said.

Myrtle exhaled, "there's no way I can tell him all the details. I can be vague, though. Maybe it'll be enough?" she thought.

"Well.... Robin kind of hurt my feelings...she didn't mean to, I just... overreacted, it hit some.....sensitivities? I guess. And I don't know how to go up and say I'm sorry. I can't build up the courage and I haven't seen her all day, which is odd, so I think she's avoiding me." Myrtle confessed.

Once the words got going, they wouldn't stop.

"She's the only friend I have here, and she means a lot to me. I can't afford to mess up," she murmured. "I'm told I'm hard to put up with." She murmured.

"If you're hard to put up with, people are a lot more squishy than I thought they were," Eddie said.

Myrtle looked back down at her hands, "anyway...you're talking about Buckley...that, kind of spaztic girl in the marching band?" Eddie asked. Myrtle giggled, "that's Robin."

"People overreact from time to time, it happens. It's not a critical hit for a friendship. If anything," Eddie sighed, offering Myrtle a reassuring smile, "she was giving you time to cool down. I'm sure she's probably just as freaked out. If you talk to her, it'll be fine again." He said.

"You think?" Myrtle asked timidly, Eddie winked.

"I'm positive, you're a magnet McKinney, you pull people in." he said. Eddie's eyes spotted Chelsea sulking amongst her friends as they headed to a pink convertible. "Even if it's the wrong kinds of people for the wrong kinds of reasons." he murmured.

Myrtle glanced over her shoulder to see Chelsea and her crew drive off, spotting Myrtle, one of the girls kindly gave her the finger. In an instant, both of Eddie's hands flew up in response. "Back at you!" He shouted out, a long disapproving scowl on his face.

"Eddie!" Myrtle gasped.

"You weren't gonna do it, and someone had to." He reasoned, "It's not nice to flip off a girl." Myrtle said. Eddie squinted his eyes, "Oh right, because that's a girl?" He asked with a hard roll of his eyes.

"I'll have you know what you just faced today was a whole...well" Eddie leaned forward and whispered, "have you ever seen The Deadly Spawn?" He asked.

Myrtle burst into laughter, covering her mouth with both hands. "That's mean!" she shouted between giggles. "Yeah, well, she's mean. So it's perfectly fair, isn't it?" He hummed.

Myrtle shook her head, "I've got to go... I'll see you on Monday." She said, walking past him to the driver's side of her car. " Summer vacation starts next Tuesday you know, you think about coming to our show?" Eddie asked, holding her car door open for her.

Myrtle bit her lip, "I'd like to go" she thought to herself, "but.... Dad's probably got a schedule already planned out for me" she sighed mentally, already feeling drained from the thought of it. As she looked up at him in silence, Eddie tilted his head back.

"Riiight, just tell me this," he said glancing about before lowering his voice, "it's because of your old man right? And not because I sounded like a dying animal on stage today right?" he asked, voice fading from serious to playful as his eyes crinkled into a smile.

"Huh, no, no of course not you and the guys were great up there...." Myrtle said quickly from the seat of her car. Eddie beamed, But it faltered as a worried glimmer filled Myrtle's eyes and she looked away.

"But yes Dads...a little....wait -" Myrtle sent a concerned glance towards Eddie? "How do you?" she asked.

"My Uncle works under your Dad, says most people aren't fond of him because he's a bit of a tight ass." Eddie said with a shrug. "And between that and him not answering his own daughter's phone call in the middle of the night - past the middle of the night. It's not hard to piece up that the guy is a bit of an asshole...no offense." Eddie confessed.

"N-none taken." Myrtle stammered, sighing heavily as she started the car.

"It's not because of you or the band," she said quietly, turning to look at him, she gave an apologetic smile, "all I can say is I'll try, and I want to go. But I can't promise anything, unfortunately." Myrtle said.

"I'll take it," Eddie offered a smile and started backing away from her car, turning he could see his friends waiting for him near his Van across the parking lot.

Myrtle sat in her seat watching him go, her heart pounding in her chest. "You should thank him again....he saved you from at least total humiliation." Myrtle thought. She shut her eyes tight, gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles hurt.

"Just do it and regret it later," she told herself.

"Eddie?" Myrtle called out.

Eddie stopped, turning back around he looked at her with a question on his face, a giant smile quickly forming as she waved him over.

"You change your mind?" He asked, leaning down to the level of the window.

Myrtle looked at him baffled, she had planned on it being a quick thank you but he'd just ruined it. "um...n-no, I just...." Myrtle's face slowly turned red as she leaned around to the side of his face.

Eddie's eyes grew wide, and his heart skipped a beat, It hardly felt as if her lips had touched him at all, but they left a lingering warmth on his right cheek.

"You're grinning like a fucking idiot, Munson." He told himself, but try as he might, he couldn't stop.

"Thank you again for the save today," Myrtle said, her words nearly rushing together as her eyes tried to look everywhere but at him.

Backing away from the window, Eddie gave a playful bow, "milady Tinúviel," He said, only causing Myrtle's cheeks to redden further. "Whenever you need me." Eddie added dramatically, placing his right fist to his left shoulder, "If I can, I will." He said.

Myrtle cleared her throat and gave a nervous giggle, "you're a lot, Eddie." she said, shaking her head. "I get that," he said, waving, "have a good weekend, McKinney." He called, finally heading back to his friends.

Myrtle rolled up her window and briefly covered her face, mentally screaming. "You just did that." She thought to herself, leaning back on the headrest.

Myrtle tried to catch her breath before backing out of the parking lot.

Eddie had tried to walk calmly back to his van, but once he'd seen Myrtle leave up the street, he nearly pranced over to his friends on the balls of his feet. "Did you see that!" he cheered, nearly dancing in place, his hand held to his cheek.

Gareth shook his head, "I can't believe your luck sometimes." He said, to which Eddie smirked.

Before heading home, Myrtle stopped at the old Creel Mansion. Going around back and slipping into the hidden entrance. Her eyes were wide as she looked around, while the place was no less dusty, it was certainly made more of a resting place.

A tent made of blankets and pillows had been stacked into a fort of sorts in one corner, a small fold-out table held a battery-powered radio, and the floor was littered with snack bags and pried open cans of food.

Amy sat in her fort, munching on Sardines. She watched Myrtle look around amazed, gray eyes stuck on the flashlight hanging from the ceiling. "Pretty neat, huh?" Amy said with pride.

"You're certainly...an old hat at this." Myrtle said quietly.

"And here I was worried." she exhaled, looking down at Amy.

Amy grinned and held out a bag of cheese puffs, "want some?" she asked. Myrtle shook her head and knelt down on the ground. "I can't" she muttered. Amy made a face, "what? Don't tell me you're allergic to cheese...that would be a sad affair." she said, tossing a puff into the air and catching it in her mouth.

Myrtle smiled faintly, "No, um..." she paused, she could tell Amy right? After all, who would she tell?

"I pissed my mom off last night, wasn't listening to one of her near-constant rants on how much of a disappointment I am and how amazing she used to be...." Myrtle sighed, "So I'm not allowed to eat today until She deems I have learned my lesson." She said.

Amy leaned her head back and scowled, "bullshit!" she called shoving the bag towards myrtle "go on, scarf it!" she said, "that bitch can't tell if you've eaten shit!" she raged.

Myrtle carefully handed her back the snack bag. "Actually...you'd be surprised..." Myrtle sighed. Amy snorted and laughed, "what? Does she smell your breath? Check your teeth for residue?" she joked.

Myrtle wanted to crawl into a hole at how ridiculous it all did sound, "and my toothbrush bristles, backpack, and car for crumbs, wrappers, or condiment spills..." she explained.

Amy's mouth tumbled open as she leaned forward. "Shit," she whispered. "Shit! You're not kidding!" she gasped.

Myrtle shook her head and her stomach growled loudly, "no, trust me, I'd kill that whole bag if I could." she sighed, getting to her feet. "I came to check in on you, I should head back home, I'll try to come back tomorrow." Myrtle said, heading back to the window.

"Try not to get into too much trouble in your searching." she warned, before climbing out.

Myrtle trudged into her house, into the kitchen, where she found her mother waiting, clad in one of her beautifully made dress suits. Myrtle could remember the days when she wanted to be just like her. Eleven years old and trying to fit into her high hills and jewelry. Often getting playfully chased around the house so that she might get her earrings back before it was time to leave for work.

The memory of that smile back then made the sneer on her mother's face now soul-crushing.

"I'm home," Myrtle spoke quietly, setting her backpack on the counter she slid it over to her Mother. With a skeptical glance, she started to rummage through the bag.

Myrtle bit her lip and watched. There shouldn't be anything in there, but the 'What if' was always nauseating. A crumb, a candy paper, a whiff of anything edible would mean another day to learn.

"It's clear, come here." Her mother demanded, before Myrtle could move forward, her mother's long fingers reached out and snatched her wrist, drawing a yelp from Myrtle who lunged forward.

"I w-was coming!" Myrtle shrieked, "don't talk back to me!" her mother growled, giving Myrtle a shake.

Falling silent, Myrtle shut her eyes tightly, she didn't mean to speak out, it just flew from her. The back of her mother's hand swatted her jaw, "open up." Her mother demanded. Myrtle opened her mouth wide, and her chin became pinched in her mother's grasp. Myrtle let her mother tilt her head around, looking at the back of her teeth.

Pushed away roughly by her face, Myrtle took frantic steps away from her mother.

"I didn't touch anything all day," she said quickly.

"It seems that way, I will be checking your car, later. For now, no dinner." Her mother said. Myrtle deflated but gave a nod, "yes Ma'am." she murmured, collecting her backpack and heading for the stairs.

On her way up she spotted Patrick coming down the stairs, He gave her a hard glare, "w-what's wrong?" Myrtle asked. "You are, why'd you embarrass me like that today?" He asked.

"I-" the air left Myrtle's lungs.

"I didn't...that wasn't me, Chelsea made me - she's evil, Pat." she reasoned. "Right, because you couldn't just not show up to the stupid thing? Or at least reject the dumb costume?" Patrick raged.

Myrtle blinked a few times, "he thinks it was a school event...." she thought, "Pat it wasn't a real event! Nobody volunteered," she said, shaking her head. "Chelsea was getting revenge for-"

Myrtle watched as Patrick shoved by her.

"I don't even care, I tried to tell dad, but big surprise! He didn't care. The McKinney princess just got praise for being so active in school...could hear him gushing about his 'sweet little girl' to his co-workers in the background." Patrick grumbled, continuing down the stairs.

With a huff of air, Myrtle looked about the stairwell baffled, frustrated tears started to well up. Taking a deep breath, she continued to her room. She wanted to slam the door, to shout, but that would end badly. So, closing it as softly as she could, Myrtle dropped her bag and collapsed onto her bed.

Face down into the pillow, she hugged it, and let her mind scream for her. The lights of her room flickered softly.

She could feel the spider's legs as they crawled onto her arms, and up her shaking shoulders. A startling amount that would prompt anyone to call and report an infestation.

But you don't fear the things that are gentle with you.

Myrtle shut her eyes, "So water?" she could hear Eddie's voice in her memory.

Myrtle opened her eyes, "coming right up." she heard.

Rolling carefully onto her back, she held her pillow to her chest, feeling the spiders crawl to safer places, "Here you go." his voice echoed.

She didn't know why that part of the memory was stuck in her head. But closing her eyes again she felt her rushing thoughts and heart rate slow. A calm slowly seeped over her and before she knew it, sleep had taken its hold.

"Myrtle!"

Mr. McKinney's voice boomed from downstairs.

Myrtle jolted awake and hopped out of bed, quickly running down the hall and stairs, into the living room. She stood straight with her eyes fixed on her father, compared to her rigid posture he was completely relaxed, looking through a daily planner in his hands.

Myrtle clasped her hands behind her back. "Yes, Sir?" she asked.

"Patrick told me about your show of school spirit today well done," He said, voice pleased while Myrtle inwardly cringed, "school spirit? Try a personal hell." she thought.

"It went over well with the CEO, He's impressed that I could raise such a selfless young lady who would go as far as wearing a humiliating costume to show respect to those who've taken time out of their lives to help further her in life." He said with a smirk.

"Even if both you and I know, that's not entirely what happened, is it?" He snickered.

Myrtle remained silent.

"Anyway, I have your schedule planned for the weekend." He started clearing his throat. "Mr. Ford would like to see you again, and to...apologize for the behavior of his other dinner guest." He said.

Myrtle could feel the blood rush away from her limbs and face, "dinner guest?" She thought bitterly.

"Yes Sir...what time?" She asked.

"Sunday, night around ten pm." He answered, "Your dress is in the cleaners, you'll need to pick that up tomorrow as early as you can."

Myrtle gave a nod, "yes sir." she droned.

"Tomorrow you will also be meeting with Pastor Alvin to discuss, helping with VBS this summer," said Mr. McKinney. Myrtle's teeth sunk into her bottom lip. "B-but...you said last year was my last year." She stammered, voice breaking.

Mr. McKinney glanced up at her with eyes void of emotion as he slowly set down his planner. "Now, now you owe Pastor Alvin a great deal. If not for him, we'd have never been pushed through your adoption process as fast as we were." He said.

"And He helped us prepare a space for you in our home, he baptized you, remember?" Her father asked.

Bitter tears welled into Myrtle's eyes. "How could I forget." she whispered, her insides hurt just at the memory. Swallowing hard, Myrtle tried to hold back her tears.

"We have a lot to be grateful for, one more year won't kill you." He chuckled. Myrtle looked down at her feet.

"Won't it?" she thought.

"Anyway, the meeting won't be long, from there I need you to go out to and inspect Lover's lake for me for the next couple of days." He said.

"Lovers lake?" Myrtle questioned. "Why yes, I was tasked to look over the area and find where would be a good place for a new project the plant wants to have built, a cooling system. However, I've not the time to handle it personally." He said.

"I don't know what makes a good place for-"

"I have a list prepared that will tell you what you are looking for." Mr. McKinney stated.

Myrtle gave a feeble nod, "right...yes Sir." she sighed.

Her father reached for a plain gift bag sitting beside him. "For handling the situation at the Dinner as well as you did, Ford suggested I go out and get you a gift." Her father sang.

Myrtle's eyes fell on the bag being held out before her with a hollow stare. Her fingers reluctantly reached out and took the handles from his hands.

"Well, open it." He said, offering a conceited smile.

With soft rustling, Myrtle drew out a long silk and lace dress, held up by dainty straps, and floated on white soft tulle below. What hurt more than anything was that it was the very same dress she had been looking at longingly earlier that year when Prom had come around.

Myrtle could remember standing before the dress store, daydreaming. She could see herself in that dress as some faceless prince took to the dance floor with her.

And now the dream was horribly tainted.

Myrtle tried to control her breathing as she clutched the dress. It was hard to fight the tears this time. "Don't worry, your arms and legs should be healed by the time you find a use for it." Her father said, causing Myrtle's head to snap up in surprise. "I've gotten you a longer dresses for your meetings." He said.

Before Myrtle could react, the front door slammed, the furious footsteps of her mother rushing in. "You honestly thought I wouldn't find this?" She shrieked.

Startled, Myrtle turned around, wide eyes stuck on the empty bag of cookies in her mother's hands in confusion. "What?" Myrtle asked, "Don't act stupid, this came from your car!" her mother shouted.

Myrtle shook her head, "no, it didn't - I don't even eat those things." she said, her voice coming out in a whine as she backed away.

Her father watched the two with disinterest on his face.

"Yeah, well, you just bought yourself another four days." Her mother mused with a snarling smile, tossing the wrapper onto the floor.

"I...I have dinner with Mr. Ford." Myrtle said, glancing back at her father for help. "Oh...well, you'll have to kindly explain you've got a terrible stomach bug." Her mother sang. "Until you learn how to respect your mother, you will learn how to live like a child without one. Starved." She hissed.

Myrtle slipped her dress back into the bag. "Yes Ma'am" she said, retreating into herself.

"Good, pick up the wrapper and to bed with you." her mother said. Myrtle did as she was told quickly.

Watching her daughter head up the stairs, Ms. McKinney turned a sharp eye to her husband. "You see the things you push me to do?" she barked.

"Dear, it's not my fault you're a jealous old shrew, if you wanted a dress of your own you simply could ask." He muttered, collecting his things.

"It's not about the dress, Gregory!" She snapped, watching him walk off into the kitchen.

|𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭↱

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