#reader fic

[indiewritesxoxo]

LOOK AT WHAT HE'S GIVING UP!

you say you're done, be done with it!

content: not every marriage meant a happily ever after. especially when you're stuck in an arranged one with a man who'd rather be with someone else. lucky for you, your husband's friend is here to make sure you're not lonely!

pairing: husband's best friend x depressed!reader

wc: 5.1k

content: angst, fluff, and smut, plot!, reverse cheating, husband is an asshole, so much pining, jealousy, reader is extremely lonely, a man who yearns and earns, gifts, mixed feelings and moving on, heartbreak, drinking, dancing, reader's husband fucks around and finds out lol, reader suffering but getting the good dick she deserves, kissing, making out, fingering unprotected piv sex

PREVIEW BELOW!

What were you supposed to do when you finally got the man of your dreams only to realize you weren’t the woman of his? 

You fiddled with the ring on your finger, wondering if he was fucking her while you sat at home waiting for him to come to a bed he rarely warmed. 

It would be easier if he was a stranger, you decided. 

A man you had never met before. 

That you could live with. Being stuck in a loveless marriage with someone you didn’t know would be preferable to having your heart held hostage by the person you knew best. 

Who was completely clueless that you’d been secretly harboring a cursed crush on him from childhood. 

Since the first time you met him and your family informed him that he’d be your husband one day. 

Arranged marriages were meant to be formal. Stiff. Glorified alliances. 

You weren’t expecting him to love you.

But he had become your friend from the moment he waltzed into your life. Brought you flowers and your favorite sweets and made the effort to get to know you with every supervised meeting. Was it so surprising you fell for him? 

Maybe, if it hadn’t been for her, he would’ve fallen for you too. 

She’d been there first though. Been his best friend far before you entered into the picture. The apple of his eye. The holder of his heart. 

You were just his wife. 

They both worked together too – went out and made friends and lived lives that you were simply left out of. 

That was how it was. 

You stayed home. Tended to your garden. Tried to keep yourself occupied with other things. Picked up hobbies and threw them away when you realized you were never good enough to take pride in it. Both your parents expected you to have kids, pestered you on how long it was taking to get pregnant since you weren’t doing anything. 

All you were to them was a housewife who was supposed to be a stay at home mom. 

Maybe you could’ve been if your husband ever bothered to return to your bed. 

Your marriage hadn’t even been consummated. 

He had just apologetically smiled back then, softly stroking your hair and swearing that he’d never take advantage of you as if you hadn’t waited for that night half your fucking life. 

Your husband had to be fucking her. 

You just didn’t have the proof yet. 

It was hard to find evidence when he was never back before midnight. 

But did you really want to know? To shatter that sliver of a hope you still held out for him? 

Staring at your phone like a loser waiting for a text that wouldn’t come, fingers clutching it too tight as you read and reread the last message he sent you. Counting the Xs and Os and wondering if he’d ever offer a kiss that would feel real. 

A dinner he wouldn’t eat spread out on the table as you picked at the food on your plate, watching the minutes pass as you anxiously smoothed invisible wrinkles out of your skirt. 

He was just wrapping up his latest project. Another late night where he worked long hours for a future you felt more like an afterthought in.

Although lately, you started to wonder whether or not all his hours were devoted to his work – or if he was out eating something (or someone) else.  

His free time always seemed to be saved for her after all. 

To your surprise, you heard the faint sound of a key clicking in the lock, the front door swinging open with a creak as hope you weren’t used to inflated your heart. 

Had he actually-

“This is just depressing.” 

Pop! 

Your heart shriveled up the second your head snapped up and saw one of your husband’s friends instead of him. Standing there in a crisp button-up, suit jacket thrown over his shoulder as he stared at you like you were the one being weird in your own home. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked, lips pressed together in a thin line. 

“I left a jacket here last month,” he shrugged. “He said I could come grab it.” 

“Get it and go then,” you muttered, unable to force yourself to feign anything remotely close to contentment after he caught you eating alone. Saw you through the facade you were still uselessly keeping up. 

What was the point?

He saw your husband more than you. He probably already knew what the current state of your marriage was regardless of the appearances you clung to. 

“I’m kinda hungry though,” he said, lingering in the open doorframe in front of the dining table. 

You blinked. 

What did he want you to do? 

Offer him a fucking snack? 

To make him a serving too? 

“Are you always so sad?” He bluntly asked when you took too long to reply, walking over as you recoiled back into your chair. 

“Excuse me?” You huffed, jaw locking as he stopped just shy of your seat. He bent down to look at you better, eyes narrowing in amusement at your annoyance. 

“You’re always pouting,” he pointed out, poking your nose before walking out of your reach, sauntering over to your husband’s chair and sliding in. You were about as well-acquainted with him as you were with her. He had some high-paying position at a similar company, and had run in all the same social circles as both of you long before you ever got married. So he’d been on the sidelines long enough to see your dreams for a happily ever after deteriorate. 

Got a front row fucking seat to the show. 

“I am not,” you argued, having half a mind to tell him to get the fuck out of it while being painfully aware that it wasn’t like your husband would be occupying it anyway. 

“Yes, you are,” he retorted, and you just clamped your lips shut. 

There was no point in bickering. Exchanging petty back-and-forths with someone who probably already had their mind made up about you. 

Stabbing at your food with your fork and popping it in your mouth as you watched him do the same. 

You thought he was just mocking you. Making fun of your miserable situation. 

Until his lips curled up in a smile at the taste, his shoulders relaxing back as he leaned forward on the table. 

“You made this?” 

“Uh-huh,” you dryly replied, a strange pang of hurt throbbing inside your chest at the sight of the wrong person eating what you prepared. 

“Does he ever eat it?” He pressed, taking another greedy bite like he couldn’t get enough. 

“I pack the leftovers in the fridge,” you shrugged. “It’s usually gone in the morning.” 

You didn’t have the heart to check the trash can. Not until after you closed your eyes and tossed other stuff on top. 

“It’s delicious,” he freely complimented. 

“Oh, um, thanks,” you flinched, almost choking on the food going down your throat before awkwardly clearing it. 

“Mind making some more for me sometime?”

You were sure that was a joke. 

Just weren’t sure if you were the punchline when he was back at your door two days later talking about how starving he was. Striding inside to sit at your table as if he was always meant to sit at the head of it.

He was your husband’s second closest friend. 

Someone he trusted enough to give a spare key to.

You supposed that was why you never stopped him when he made a habit of hanging around. Nodded along to the excuses he came up with at first about needing random books and documents, or that your husband had sworn he’d be there soon. 

Just put a plate down in front of him and let him sit next to you.

He wasn’t polite or perfect. Didn’t smile all soft and sweet at you when he spoke. But you grew to like his laugh. Appreciated how loud he was when you were so exhausted of the silence. 

Being around him was better than being lonely. 

It wasn’t like your husband was home enough to have a problem with it. 

Still, you weren’t sure when the meals you made stopped being tailored to the man who wasn’t there and started being for the man that was. 

FULL FIC ON PATREON HERE (also features a wide assortment of other oneshots/series!)

div by @/tsumiinum

[persistent-whimsy]

Darkest Part Of The Night

Chapter Nine: Secret

Dividers by @saradika-graphics & @somebitchprobably-graphicdump <3

Images from Pinterest :)

Behind the door of his cell, sleep eluded Isaac. An irrational outcome, given the devastating toll exhaustion exacted on his faculties. His restlessness in the face of such overwhelming fatigue was owed largely to your pleas, still echoing through your shared prison. Regret weighed heavy on his conscience in the wake of his impulsive, panicked decision to stop you from leaving. The memory of seeing you stooped at the door to his little sister's cell crackled across frazzled nerve endings like the recollection of electrocution. The thoughts that raced through his mind at the sight of you echoed over and over again, terrible lyrics set to the beat of your off-kilter wailing.

Is that her? I told her to stay away! She's going to ruin everything! I can't let her, not when I'm so close!

Doubt was not a malady he suffered from often, but it plagued him as your cries tapered down into quiet sobs. He considered trying to stifle the miserable chorus with his pitiful excuse for bedding, but he knew from experience that the fabric wouldn't be enough to bring him peace. The desolation of his fellow prisoners never failed to reach him through the time-worn cloth. He clenched his eyes shut and measured his breaths into even stanzas, but the interruption of your slowly burning breakdown kept his head aching and his mind spinning.

I need her to stop. God, won't she ever stop?

Isaac considered making his demands aloud, but he doubted admonition would quell the tide of your despair. Instead, he suffered aggravation like a penance while the drizzling background murmur of your desolation pattered on softly.

He felt Icharus' presence in the cell, but didn't spare him the courtesy of a glance. The ghost waited with the patience of an entity assured of its own inevitability. His miasmic smugness grated on Isaac's already tested nerves. He was too tired to snap, even when curiosity won out over his spiteful desire to ignore the otherworldly spirit.

"I know what you did," Isaac eventually mumbled into the ether. His own low words proved a welcome distraction from your quiet, incessant weeping. "You lead her down here. You must have known I couldn't let her interfere. Not when I'm so close to my sister's cure. What I don't understand is why. Why would you do that?"

"When a harbinger of calamity comes to sniff at your door," Icharus murmured in response, "... sometimes the best solution is to stick the bitch in a cage before she can do any real harm."

Isaac's hopeful vision slipped past his eyes like oil over water. In the darkness ensconcing him, it seemed to grow dimmer. On the desolate precipice between interrogation and unconsciousness, he wondered futilely if he'd made a mistake.

"You reek of uncertainty," Icharus sneered. "You need to focus."

Isaac's determination to succeed was hard at war with base gut instinct. Logically, what he felt was the only sound decision at the time was still the most rational option. Untrustworthy as Stonehearst was, he was right about one thing. Isaac needed the resources he could provide. He needed live test subjects. He needed utter secrecy in which to conduct his experiments. For all the torment in which he was paid over the course of his association with Stonehearst, Isaac knew better than to believe he could finish his machine on his own.

All that notwithstanding, an easy way out had been lured to his lightless purgatory in the form of a woman. A glimpse of freedom taunted Isaac, sowed resentment in the inhospitable soil of his cold metal heart. His vision of liberation haunted him when he closed his eyes, so he opened them again only to be greeted by the smug countenance of his spirit guide. He blinked up at Icharus grudgingly.

"My goals haven't changed," Isaac re-avowed, as much to convince himself as the apparition. "But it isn't calamity we stuck in that cage. It's hope."

Bright, fleeting, doomed. Even so, he'd enjoyed a brief, irresistible glimmer of cheer when you were still an unquantified factor. Not knowing who you were or the exact trajectory of your goals had been a gift Isaac was all too anxious to savor while it lasted. Now it was over and with the certitude of your revealed identity came the added guarantee that you had no mysterious means by which he would be magically freed from the complexities of his conundrum.

"Neither hope, my young unwilling protege," Icharus purred, unaffected by Isaac's depressed musings. "But potential incarnate."

Isaac's dour bewilderment was apparent, but Icharus was unfazed. He crouched by the bedside, leaned close as though there were anyone else who could overhear what he had to say to his descendant.

"Listen closely now, accidental little dove," he chuckled. "And I will tell you a secret about ravens."

Isaac's eyes narrowed even as his curiosity rose to the challenge.

Rest never touched your tormented mind. Hours rolled past invisibly but inevitably. When sleep came to visit, it was a crushing thing that smothered you beneath the weight of its fatalistic portents. There, in the murky haze of the ethereal, you met Isaac Night once more. You knew he was as oppressed by unconsciousness as you were. Neither of you would feel rejuvenated when you returned to the waking world. The dreams you shared were awful and fragmented. Through the cracked, spasming lens of Isaac's unhoned third eye, you caught glimpses of the past and inklings of the unknown. Even with your own ability so far out of reach, the mysterious connection between you and Isaac guided your fitfully slumbering consciousness into the beckoning pit of his disturbed dreams.

You travel slowly up the longest flight of metal stairs you've never seen in your life, greeted by machinery that Isaac knows well. You see it through his eyes and its beauty is second to none.

"Francoise's cure," Isaac sighs, easy as a verse, a mantra he's recited all his life. If he lost his own name, he would still remember the label for his most important work.

"What you're doing up here is unnatural, Night."

A flash of stranger's face accompanies the voice, a deathly pale girl with strong features, dark hair, darker clothes and an amulet around her neck that strikes you as familiar. Or is it familiar to Isaac? In this confused, undone state, your minds are half-merged, the line blurred between his memories and yours. The vision shifts dramatically, displaces you abruptly and there is your Father's face. Your heart leaps and Isaac's sinks.

"Dad! You're here to get me out of this place!" you cry with relief. Could your nightmare possibly be over so quickly, so easily?

Isaac's panic bleeds through the incorporeal psychic fabric binding your wandering minds.

Don't take her! Not yet! She might still save me! She might still-

"They can keep you," your Father scoffs and you gape up at him with dread while he looms over you, impossibly tall in the shadowy dreamscape. "You're no good to me without your powers anyway."

Your protests threaten to choke you, but the scene dissolves and re-forms while you're still reeling from the devastating impact of his edict. Stonehearst towers over you in place of your Father with a key held in one hand and the other hidden behind his back.

"You made that blasted contraption work once, you can make it work again!" he insists. A tired line, one you've heard over and over.

Wait, no you haven't.

The moment's hesitation is enough to let you take one step beyond the perspective of the boy huddling on the floor at Stonehearst's feet. Of course it's Isaac, immobile in a straitjacket and seething up at his captor. This isn't the Isaac Night who is ricocheting by your side unwillingly through unpleasant imaginings and half-formed memories. Here is a young man glaring up at a fool who thinks he can steal everything he wants and disguise his thefts as innovation.

"You can't keep me here forever," that young man reasons, full of of vitriol and more than half-mad with the certainty that someone is coming to save him. "I didn't do anything wrong and Fran will prove it! She'll get me out of here!"

Stonehearst laughs down at him while darkness creeps in to consume the finer details of the cell until the scene is reduced to two figures flickering dimly in a well of black, the inevitable oblivion of finite memory. Even as they fade completely from view, Isaac's emotions remain. They permeate the vision until rage and grief paint the dimming spectacle with violent, helpless crimson. Stonehearst's voice is loud as thunder, inescapable even as he disappears from view.

"Not so, m'boy. No one's going to let her waste their time searching for a dead outcast."

You're losing Isaac to the potency of the pain evoked by the memory. The seance threatens to devolve into a true nightmare, something undirected by psychic talent. The dream becomes a snare and the trap of the boy he once was mires your hapless conduit in a cruel reenactment of his past. He shivers and shakes at your feet, constrained and confused, too dazed to remember that he's only sleeping.

You could wake yourself if you wanted to. You're free enough from the gravitational pull of his untrained ability that you could wrest yourself from his bad dreams. Of course, that would mean leaving him here, moaning and muttering in the dark, in the skin of a younger, more helpless man.

"Dead? Dead? They think I'm dead? He told them I'm dead?" he mumbles, now fully unaware he's still sleeping. "I could be dead... I should be dead already. Am I dead yet?"

Pity for Isaac's desolation consumes you, irrational as it is inescapable. You don't leave him. Experienced enough to navigate the realm where dreams exert as much force as reality, you steer your hand through the confusion until it lands on his shoulder. His agony is a dull blade sinking through your palm and it makes you wish you would have left when you had the chance.

"We're not dead yet," you tell him, because you don't know what else to say.

He won't meet your gaze, just rocks in place in his straitjacket and fumes while his hair lightens in streaks and the lines of his features deepen with the passage of a decade.

"I know a secret about ravens," he mumbles to himself, as if he’s completely oblivious to your presence. "Icharus told me."

Your curiosity rises, but the invocation of Icharus brings him into the fold. As if in direct retaliation to his appearance, Azalia materializes over your shoulder.

"He will twist your sympathy into a weapon and use it to destroy you," she warns you.

"Get up," Icharus commands Isaac. "No child of my blood should be so pathetic. Can you not tell a simple vision from plain wakefulness? Get ahold of yourself!"

"Pathetic," Azalia sneers.

Their voices overlap, bickering and insults traded while you huff your consternation.

"Dead people are such assholes," you comment, unimpressed and irreverent.

The blithe phrase shatters the mood of the moment. The spell of dream-bound delusion gripping Isaac breaks along with the somberness. He meets your eyes at last and the straitjacket melts away like mist in a cool breeze, like your coarseness is the magic he’s been waiting for all this time.

"Good thing we're not dead yet," he replies while the ghosts go silent around you.

"Not yet," you concur.

Isaac almost smiles, but there isn't enough time for the expression to fully form before he's gone. You're a little sad to think that he's woken before you, a little lonely in the relentless embrace of somnolence now that he's been whisked away by consciousness. The darkest part of the night holds you prisoner as much as it ever did, only now, without the benefit of your own psychic abilities, it offers no recompensive insight to salve the icy sting of its grip.

The rest of your sleep was a shapeless, interminable void until you were woken rudely by a metallic clatter. Every muscle in your body tensed, then protested the needless, automatic reaction. You groaned your discomfort, sat up on your incommodious cot and cast your gaze to the door of your cell. A tray waited in unceremonious offering, the sliding aperture already closed behind it. You got to your feet shakily, voices from outside commanding the bulk of your attention as you sifted through the sparse nourishment dejectedly. Nothing qualifying as edible, though your expectations had hardly been high to begin with.

You focused most of your attention on the voices as you nibbled what might have been a vegetable before it was steamed into mushy oblivion. Isaac's steady cadence was easy to pick out, low, familiar and hurried. Stonehearst's anxious tenor made your flesh crawl. A third voice introduced itself.

"If it's really so close, I could try again," a woman piped up.

You craned your neck, but couldn't see far enough to put a face to the voice.

"Out of the question!" Stonehearst rebutted at once. "We barely pulled you out in time during the last test you volunteered for."

"But I wasn't hurt!" the woman argued. "I can do it again! I just know this time it'll be successful!"

"Judi, I know you're eager to assist," Isaac broke in. "But your input is as invaluable to our research as is your Father's. Gus is right. There's no point in taking needless risks at this stage."

"But if it works-"

"If it works on an inconsequential test subject, we'll have all the time in the world to grant you a set of powers all your own," Stonehearst insisted. "Now... I have a batch of samples awaiting analysis. You know you're the only one I can trust with this task."

"Yes, Father," the girl sighed grudgingly.

"Hop to it, then."

You got a look at the woman as she passed your cell. Dark-haired and glowering, younger than you and Isaac by a few years, perhaps as many as ten. She didn't spare your cell a glance as she sulked away. Isaac and Stonehearst trailed behind her, still distant but now within your line of sight. You fixed your attention to them as Judi ascended the stairs and disappeared.

"She's getting impatient," Stonehearst sighed. "Her dedication to the work is in danger of being overshadowed by her desire to assimilate an outcast's abilities."

"Judi only wants to make you proud," Isaac observed. "She'll do whatever you ask her to, as long as she feels like she still has your approval."

Standing side by side with the normie Doctor, Isaac would have seemed Stonehearst's peer but for the chain still secured at his ankle. The only reminder that he and Stonehearst were not equal partners in their atrocities.

"My approval was good enough for her when she was a girl," Stonehearst sighed. "The older she gets, the farther her interest wanders."

He glared pointedly at Isaac over the top of his glasses. Isaac crossed his arms stoically, though the unhappy draw of a frown tugged at lips he couldn't quite keep in line with force of will alone. Whatever Stonehearst was implying, Isaac seemed eager to brush it off unaddressed. Intrigue fired through you. Even in this dark, dull place, there was drama afoot.

"In any case, everything's ready for the test tonight," Isaac went on. "I presume you're as ready as I am to get underway?"

"Of course. Despite Judi's eagerness to throw herself on the pyre of progress, I have a patient who will serve our needs just as well," Stoneheart assured him.

"Perfect, perfect. Now as for the werewolf, the tranquilizer-"

"I don't want you to use the werewolf," Stonehearst interrupted. "We need to rid ourselves of this detective as soon as possible. Put her in the machine instead."

Your heart hammered off-kilter. You had to slap a hand over your mouth to keep from crying out in shock and dismay.

My vision. My death. This is it, you thought starkly.

Your motion drew Isaac's gaze, unfocused by his own surprise at Stonehearst's suggestion. He locked eyes with you, took in your horror with something strange twisting his expression in subtle ways. The agitated twitch of an eyebrow, the quirk of a stillborn scowl, an undeniable frustration that swam behind irises you could barely make out in the dim basement light.

"That's a bad idea," Isaac protested. "Anyway, you're assuming failure on my part. Are you so certain my machine won't work this time?"

"You've had six months to make it work. So far all it's given us is a pile of charred bodies to be disposed of," Stonehearst pointed out. "It's only a matter of time before people come looking for her. I want her done away with before that happens."

"If you're so eager to kill her, there's nothing stopping you from doing it yourself," Isaac sneered goadingly. "Or are you afraid of getting your own hands dirty after all, Gus?"

"I'm only being practical. I'm surprised at you, Isaac," Stoneheart observed. "I would have thought having another test subject fall into your lap would have delighted you. I assumed that was why you let her live to begin with."

Isaac met your gaze one more time. Fear almost kept you from holding his eyes, but terror couldn't hold a candle to your desperation. You wanted to articulate a plea for your life, but you couldn't catch your breath fast enough. All you could do was stare at him entreatingly, silent and fervent. Isaac pursed his lips and furrowed his brow, then redirected his attention to Stonehearst.

"Of course I had a reason for letting her live," Isaac confessed, though he used his next breath to lie. "But that wasn't it. She has more value to the work than as fodder for a trial run."

"How could she possibly-"

"I'm refining a hypothesis. When the times comes, I plan to use her to test its validity," Isaac asserted.

"What hypothesis?" Stonehearst scoffed.

"It's more of a hunch at this point."

"I won't have you risk our entire operation on a hunch! If you-"

"More than a hunch, then!" Isaac countered, unable to disguise his aggravation as he argued with his patron and jailor. "Look, my experiments were only successful once. Surely you haven't forgotten?"

Stoneheart hesitated.

"How could I?" he wondered. "It was a monumentous achievement, if an accidental one."

Isaac's grimace sharpened. Clearly, the occasion wasn't one he enjoyed recalling.

"I may have only been actively fabricating this machine since you brought my sister here," Isaac went on, "... but I spent years wondering what it was that made my machine work that first time, back up in old Iago tower. When I... when I lost my inborn abilities."

Stonehearst opened his mouth, but quickly closed it again. He stroked his chin thoughtfully and bit his tongue, holding back whatever he wanted to say in favor of letting Isaac continue.

"Frump was the only factor I can't account for in that incident," Isaac scowled. "Her and her ability, that is."

Frump. You knew that name and it evoked a face from Donovan Galpin's collection of files. A psychic outcast, it was she who brought the charges of attempted murder that allowed Stonehearst to incarcerate Isaac to begin with. The face of the girl at the top of the iron stairs, the one from Isaac's bad dreams, flitted through your imagination and you realized the two were one and the same. So that portion, at least, of Isaac's unconscious amblings, had been rooted in actual memory. Did that mean you could take all of it at face value? Unlikely, but tantalizing.

I know a secret about ravens. Icharus told me.

A chill tingled its way up your aching vertebrae. What did Isaac think he knew? And why was he trying to keep you alive now? What share of the motivations he was feeding Stonehearst were true and how much of it was deception? Most importantly, were you in more or less danger if he really was lying about needing you for these experiments of his?

While your mind raced fruitlessly, Stonehearst's pondering deepened.

"You think psychic talent, specifically, played some role in the success of the experiment?" Stonehearst wondered aloud. His eyes took on a faraway glaze as he considered the merit of Isaac's proposal.

"It's the only thing that makes sense," Isaac pressed. "The detective could be a great stroke of luck, if that really is the case. But she won't be of any use to us if she fries to a crisp before I can test my theory."

"How would you test such a theory without putting her through the machine?" Stonehearst ruminated.

"There are tests I can run that shouldn't kill her," Isaac explained. "Of course, I won't need her at all if the next test is successful. Which brings us back to the sedative I'll need for the werewolf..."

You didn't realize you were holding your breath until bright spots started to prick across your field of vision. Stonehearst hummed and contemplated for what could have been a hundred years while you shook in your cell and waited for him to decide your fate.

"Very well then," he finally announced. "It's your work, after all, m'boy. If there's any such thing as an expert on outcast ability transference, you would be the closest fit for the bill. Use the detective if you think it will advance our designs. But know that if anyone comes looking for her, I won't hesitate to dispose of her, no matter how useful you think she might be."

"Jumpiness doesn't suit you, Gus," Isaac tsked. "Relax. We're closer to success than we've ever been. After twelve years, would you really risk abandoning the fight on the cusp of victory?"

"You've talked me into enough dubious, ill-advised schemes for one day," Stonehearst scoffed dismissively. "I won't budge on this condition, so whatever it is you mean to do with her, do it quickly. Don't assume time is on your side."

"Fine, but I'll need materials."

"Don't you always?"

"I'm a scientist, not a wizard," Isaac scowled. "Can you get me what I need, or not?"

"I'll do what I can, of course. Judi will be back later with the sedative for tonight's test," Stonehearst sighed. "Have the list ready for her."

Relief couldn't touch you as Stonehearst departed. Not past the din of your screaming uncertainties, not with the fine edge of mortal peril hovering eagerly over your pulse. Isaac must have seen the questions plaguing your expression. He seemed drained by the effort of convincing his captor to spare you a while longer. When he approached your cell, it was to lean wearily against your door. You shuffled closer still, gripping the bars while you waited anxiously for him to speak.

"Don't worry," he murmured, so low that your jagged breathing almost drowned out his soft words. "I don't really need you for anything. Well... not to make my machine work, anyway."

"First you doom me," you lamented. "Then you try to save me. Care to shed some light on what you're up to? Or can I just chalk it up to insanity?"

"In the bowels of a mental asylum? I'd think insanity would be a safe bet," Isaac quipped. "You put me in an impossible position. I couldn't let you bring the sky down on Stonehearst, not before I finish my machine and cure my sister. But don't assume I want you dead, either."

"That's not an explanation," you complained caustically. "It would be no trouble for you to roll over and do what Stonehearst wants. So why not let him kill me?"

You watched Isaac's expression drop with melancholy, contort with desperation that you longed sorely to understand.

"What kind of an idiot would I have to be to let him kill hope itself?" Isaac mumbled, vague and evasive.

He started to turn away, but you weren't satisfied yet. Discontent to let him leave in such a noncomittal state, your hand darted out through the bars and caught his shoulder. Your grip closed around a handful of fabric, stole a fistful of his shirt that kept him from walking away.

"How can you possibly have any hope pinned on me while I'm locked up like this?!" you demanded, seething at the irrationality.

Isaac's hand flew to yours to pry your fingers loose. The instant his skin touched yours, a flare of light blinded you to the corporeal world.

The light is Isaac's entire perspective, spilling in mercilessly from an opened door. Your silhouette is the only reprieve from a pain he welcomes, even as he brings up a hand on reflex to shield his eyes from the barrage.

It's over, he thinks to himself. She really saved me after all... she set me free, just like I knew she would.

The vision fled as quickly as it appeared, probably because Isaac had managed to wrench free of your grasp. His hand left yours, but the pungent after burn of his emotions remained with you, seared through your veins like a fleeting high that dissipated all too quickly. Suddenly, you understood.

"Oh," you sighed. "I see. So you had a vision about me too, then."

Isaac straightened his shirt while you withdrew your arm from between the bars, retreated with a defeated sigh.

"You're impossible," you accused him. "And a complete lunatic, too."

"No, please, flattery will get you nowhere with me," Isaac snarked.

"When did you have that vision?"

"Not long after the first time you reached out to me."

You scoffed unhappily and slunk away into the recesses of your cell. Despite himself, Isaac surged forward in pursuit. It was his turn to grip the bars, to peer between them with his breath catching in his throat as he reconsidered his questions. You crossed your arms and sank down into a corner, shivering with the realization that Isaac's determination to keep you alive was based on something so flimsy as a single bright flash of a future that might not even come to pass. His ignorance of the fundamental laws of psychic ability was the only thing standing between you and and your execution at Stonehearst's hands.

"You were so uncertain the last time we talked about the future," Isaac finally managed. His voice was thin with fear. You closed your eyes, frustration welling behind their lids as you realized Isaac wasn't quite as oblivious as you'd hoped he might be. "You kept going back and forth between talking about it like it was inevitable, and insisting that it wasn't. So which is it?"

"That's not what you really want to ask me," you scoffed unhappily. "Go on. Ask the question you actually want me to answer."

Isaac's quick, ragged inhalations marked the passage of a set of seconds that felt closer to an aeon. His fingers tightened around your bars until the skin over his knuckles threatened to break from the strain.

"Do you think my vision can still come true?" he all but whispered. "Do you think there's any way you can still help me? After I save Francoise. After... after all is said and done."

You knew better than to trust foresight. Far from immutable, glimpses of the future were fluid and prone to disintegration. Still, Isaac's desperation was catching. You glanced back through the dark to meet his wide, shining eyes. He looked at you like you were the light at the end of the tunnel.

He must have known deep down that Stonehearst would only keep him alive until he perfected his machine. He must have known that while he was under the Doctor's thumb, Francoise's cure was as impossible as the fragile hope of freedom.

And you? What could you say to preserve the tenuous thread by which your life hung in the balance?

"Maybe," you finally told him. "But at this point? Only if you help me first."

<== Previous Chapter

Next Chapter ==>

[halfmylife]

I really want to start writing fics again

I think part of the reason I stepped away from this blog 2 years ago is that despite my love for TLK, I wanted to write for so many different fandoms and I felt like I couldn’t. I also got overwhelmed with life which probably didn’t help.

I also got so fixated on people pleasing and fighting to get through requests that it meant I wasn’t writing what I wanted/ enjoyed.

It might be time for me to start coming back slowly with the expectation that I write for different fandoms and don’t take requests for a little while.

I appreciate everyone who has continued to message and enjoy my works, trust me I have been checking in every now and then and it’s so lovely.

I just want to enjoy writing the way I used to on here

[anamelessfool]

There! There, Wolf! [E, 18+]

Sequel to Devil's Deed

Magician Perpetua x Werewolf F! Reader

Sister, can’t you see his mark upon your skin? Open up your heart, and let the devil in...

Perpetua's demonic patron has yet another demand for him. Investigate some backwater town and find the beast that lurks. Endure any pain to free a soul. Embrace the wild.

Tags: reader fic, monsterfuckery, transmasc Perpetua, demonic magic, werewolf sex, knotting, werewolf transformation, prophetic dreams, Copia and Haze are in there for five seconds

Inspired by @lycanthra thank you!

Read on AO3!

[yeza-recs]

Self Insert

a story where the author writes themselves into the fictional world as a character, often the protagonist.

Direct SI: The character is explicitly stated to be the author. OC-Insert: An Original Character acts as an author surrogate. Y/N (Your Name): A format designed for the reader to insert themselves.

I am not paranoid! by pemmil

"So, I don't know if it sounds a little far-fetched or not, but in my opinion other founders knew that Salazar Slytherin created a chamber of secrets under the school and was breeding dangerous monsters there. Most likely Hogwarts founders wanted to use these monsters as shock troops in the war against muggles and needed plausible deniability to... why are you looking at me like that?" - Michael Brown, normal Hogwarts student. FANDOM: Harry Potter PAIRING: unknown SITE: SpaceBattles STATUS:

[indiewritesxoxo]

C U NEVER!

...more like forever!

synopsis: trouble seems to follow wherever you go. car accidents, criminals, caught off guard and tossed in cells ever since you hooked up with the city's favorite superhero, who also can't seem to leave you alone either. moving away sounds simple - until you realize there's a man willing to do anything to make you stay.

pairing: yandere!superhero x f!reader

wc: 4.4k

content: mdni. smut. porn with plot. YANDERE CONTENT, stalking (that reader is clueless about), hookups, man doing devious evil deeds just for the excuse to save reader, reader being done with him, trickery/secret identity, mentions of drinking, kissing/biting, oral sex (m!receiving), unprotected piv sex, cowgirl position, riding a man and making him whimper, pulling out at the last minute, teasing, open ending

PREVIEW BELOW

“We’ve gotta stop meeting like this.” 

Like you wanted to spend your lunch break tied up on the floor of a bank because some idiots decided to rob it right when you walked in. 

You wanted to scowl at the hero working to release your restraints, but the gag in your mouth made it hard for you to do more than squint at him. His suit today was all shiny and spotless, bright eyes glinting behind his mask as he cheekily smiled at you, waiting for you to toss some quip back and banter with him. 

Maybe you would have been more willing if it wasn’t the fourth time this week he ‘saved’ you from some life-threatening scenario. 

Monday had been a bus crash. Tuesday your office building somehow caught on fire  and you were trapped in the breakroom with the blaze. Wednesday was the worst – a jackass who considered himself a villain sneaking into your bedroom before you’d even woke up so you could be used as bait, capturing you and spouting the absurd claim he’d seen you getting rescued by everyone’s favorite hero so many times you had to mean something to him. 

You tried to say you didn’t. 

That you were honestly sick of seeing his stupid mask. Tired of those irritatingly strong arms wrapped around you as he paraded you around yet another scene he played the star of. 

He rescued you from that too, but only after you had to sit through an annoyingly long dialogue of them bickering about justice and blah blah blah before he knocked out the bad guy and unlocked the makeshift cell you ended up locked in, reciting off a cheesy line about the villain getting to spend the rest of his life in one. 

You just yawned and asked him if he could get you a taxi back home. 

Silently praying it would be the last time you had to deal with him – and well aware it probably wouldn’t be. 

Only to end up right back in front of him two days later. 

“If you missed me so much, you could’ve just called,” he continued to tease, either oblivious or purposely ignoring your glare as the officers started to release the rest of the hostages, the robbers already arrested and hauled off after your hero made a big show in stopping them. 

God, you didn’t know how you used to think he was so hot. 

Attractive in an annoying way, maybe. All those defined muscles only outlined and emphasized by the material of his suit, his warm laughter disarmingly charming and okay, yeah, his eyes were pretty piercing when they locked onto yours. 

But ever since he stepped a single foot into your life, everything had been so screwed. 

Sleeping with a superhero was a mistake. 

One you made after a little too tipsy a few months ago, stumbling out onto a dark street just to nearly get mugged by a moron in a ski mask. 

But a different masked stranger swooped in at the last second, tying him up for the cops to take care of before offering to take you home. Flirting with you casually, his eyes dragging over your body as he asked why a girl as gorgeous as you was going home on her own in such a dangerous city.

And maybe it was because he was basically a celebrity, or just the way it had felt to be saved, you had asked him to take you home himself. 

Who wouldn’t want to spend the night with a man the entire city was obsessed with? Sure, uh, he did insist that the mask had to stay on during sex, but his dick was big enough you didn’t really care.

FULL FIC ON PATREON HERE (also features a wide assortment of other oneshots/series!)

div by @/tsumiinum

[lumiolivier]

Damaged Goods Ch. 7

Series: One Piece

Chapter: The Tragic Tale of the Dark Prince

Word Count: 8238

You didn’t think you’d ever feel the sun in a place like Kuraigana Island.  You never thought you’d feel the warmth of light on your cheeks the way you did in Kamabakka Kingdom.  And yet, you woke up with a warmth on your cheeks that made you feel like you took club drugs.  However, when you opened your eyes, you realized quickly.  That wasn’t sunlight.  That was a flickering handle in Mihawk’s hand.

“Wake up, Y/N,” he demanded, “I told you seven o’clock.  You’re going to be awake at seven o’clock.”

“Mihawk…” you groaned, rolling over, “I’m exhausted.  Let me sleep.”

“I don’t remember where I gave you the option,” Mihawk stood his ground, “Wake up, Y/N.  There’s going to be breakfast waiting for you on the dining table.  You are to show up in the next hour, awake, clean, and dressed properly.  Do you understand?”

“Whatever,” you didn’t know what any of those words meant, but whatever it took to get Mihawk off your back.

“I’m sorry,” Mihawk grabbed you by your face, “I don’t remember where I said in that to provide feedback with the most insolent of tones.  Now, you’re going to try that again with, ‘yes, Mihawk’ and we’ll move on with our day.  Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

All of a sudden, you started to remember why you hated being with Akainu.  Other than the obvious reasons.  But you hated the schedule he kept you on.  The rigid structure with no room for any flexibility.  It drove you insane.  And all of a sudden, you felt the strong urge to punch Mihawk’s face.  Your fist acted on its own, but your wrist ended up caught and pinned down to the mattress, “Ow…Let go of me!”

“I understand you’ve been through some things no other person ever should have,” Mihawk got in your ear, “So, I will grant you some grace.  However, if you ever get that far out of line with me again, we’re going to have a problem.  Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Mihawk,” you went into full survival mode.  It was better to do whatever he asked for than to be slaughtered in your current bed. 

“Very good,” Mihawk praised, letting your face go.  But then, in a strange twist of events, he sat at your bedside.  He gently petted your bedhead down.  If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was trying to apologize, “I’m sorry if I frightened you, darling.  That came out a little stronger than I anticipated it would.  I didn’t bring upon a panic attack for you or anything of the like, did I?”

“No…” You were lying.  Of course, you were lying.  You didn’t want to put Mihawk out or make him feel guilty for anything.  That was one of those things you knew came from your time with Akainu.  It wasn’t your favorite thing, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there, “If I can be honest…”

“Please,” Mihawk insisted, “Go ahead.”

“It mostly just pissed me off a little,” you did your best to sit up in bed, but for whatever reason, everything was sore, “But for the most part, we’re good.  I’m over it now.  But I need to still be human for a second, Mihawk.  Can I at least have that?  I remember being woken up by the horns in the morning that would wake up the cadets.  And it’s been nice not having to wake up to that since I’ve been away from the base.  Just…I need a minute.”

Mihawk didn’t like deviations from his schedule.  But he also knew he had two others to roust out of bed, “Here’s what I’ll do.  I’m going to go wake Zoro and Perona.  You go ahead and get a few extra minutes.  And while you’re here, I’ll make sure to wake you last.  Alright?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Mihawk got up from the edge of the bed and left you alone.  But not without stopping in the doorway, “But when I come back, you will be more compliant to the house rules.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mihawk.” You may have been maliciously compliant, but compliance was compliance in Mihawk’s eyes.

“Cheeky…” Mihawk may have tried to force it back, but you saw it.  You saw that little smile on his face.  And it warmed you inside.  But you also had another thought.  Did Mihawk adhere the same strict schedule to Crocodile, too?  At least while he was staying here?  There were some blanks you needed filled in.  Including one Mihawk promised you the night before.  You shared your story.  It was time he shared his. 

By the time Mihawk came back around for you, you were already dressed in whatever you could find.  In this case, it looked like a ball gown, only a bit shorter.  Instead of it hitting the floor, it hit you at your knees.  And you weren’t mad about it.  It was very lolita style.  Something you could only assume came from Perona.  You got a good look at yourself in the mirror and appreciated the soft purple against the harsh black lace.  After a quick spin you were downstairs and helped yourself to a cup of coffee. 

“Morning,” a very tired, very grumbly voice joined you.  One you had heard last night, but you weren’t expecting to already hear this morning.  Especially as friendly as it sounded. 

“Good morning,” you immediately straightened up, though.  A man’s voice had that unfortunate effect on you, “Are you alright, Zoro?”

“Long night,” Zoro admitted, sitting down at the table.  Even though there was no breakfast made.  He frowned, “Where’s breakfast?”

“I don’t think there is any yet.”

“What the hell, Mihawk?” Zoro got up and started to scrounge for something to eat.  Instead, he found a bottle of cooking wine and it was enough for him to smile, “There we go.  Even if he just cooks with it, there’s no way in hell Mihawk’s not using the good shit.”

“Zoro, drop it,” Mihawk stopped him with Perona in tow, “That’s not for you.  That’s for cooking only and you know better.”

“You sound like the damn cook…” Zoro mumbled to himself.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“Very good,” Mihawk let it go.  Despite the fact that he heard everything.  He knew what Zoro said.  And you were starting to get the vibe that Zoro was a little bit of an alcoholic.  Which would also explain his morning vibe.  That smelled like a hangover.

“What’s for breakfast, Mihawk?” Perona wasn’t exactly bright eyed and bushy tailed either.  But you didn’t think hers was a hangover.  That was just general tiredness. 

“I haven’t decided yet,” Mihawk leaned over the counter, “I was thinking we’d leave that to the guest.”

“Pick something good, Y/N,” Perona laid her head on her arm, “I’m not starting my morning off with a shitty breakfast.  I deserve better than that.”

“Oh…” you were nervous about the sudden attention and pressure on your shoulders.  Sure, it was just breakfast.  It was just a decision.  And yet, your entire body tensed up, “Um…”

“Any time now,” Perona rolled her eyes, “Some of us are hungry.”

“Perona,” Mihawk snapped at her.  He had a little better understanding of why you were the way you were.  More so than Perona did.  And yet you did your best to hold yourself together.  To figure out something you might want for breakfast.  But then again, you had three other people to think about.  Four, if Crocodile would grace you with his presence.

That’s when it just came out of your mouth, “I want the special toast and the cappuccino Sanji made for me in Kamabakka Kingdom!”

And the room went quiet.  Your hands went over your mouth.  And you wanted nothing more than to slide under the table and not come out for a while.  Maybe not ever.  Maybe in a few years when Akainu has forgotten all about you.  When Mihawk, Zoro, and Perona have forgotten all about you.  You just wanted some quiet and some time alone.  Somewhere you could pretend like nothing happened.

“Y/N,” Zoro nudged you with the toe of his shoe, “You good?”

You shook your head.

“So,” Zoro asked, doing his best to divert the attention, “What did curly brows do to this toast that made it so special?”

“I’m not sure,” you admitted, “Maybe because he made it at 2AM and I was starving.”

“Show me how he did it, Y/N,” Mihawk insisted, letting you take over the kitchen.  Because of course, no one knew what you were talking about. 

You remembered watching Sanji make your toast for you.  The butter in the pan.  The thickness of the bread he cut.  You let the butter melt in the pan.  You let your bread toast up.  The outside nice and golden, but the inside still soft.  And the butter soaked into the bread.  You checked Mihawk’s pantry for some semblance of jam and unfortunately, you couldn’t find any blackberry.  You would’ve thought in a place like Kuraigana Island, blackberry would be the staple.  But instead, you found raspberry.  You could do raspberry.  And cream cheese.  You needed cream cheese, too.  And that’s when you brought it all together.  Sure, it lacked Sanji’s flare and finesse, but you weren’t mad about it.  You got your breakfast.  You didn’t have to put anyone out for it.  This was fine.  This was ok.

“That’s it?” Perona looked at the toast on your plate, a little underwhelmed. 

“That’s it,” you nodded, “I mean, I can make more if that’s not enough.”

“Y/N, sit down,” Mihawk demanded, “Relax.”

“No,” you insisted, scrambling to the loaf of bread and the serrated knife again, “It’s alright.  I can make more.  It’s bad enough I’m here.  The least I can do is-"

“Y/N, enough,” Mihawk’s voice was commanding.  Almost angry.  And its timbre shook you to your core.  You immediately stiffened up with the knife in your hand.  And very slowly, he pried it from your fingers, “I said to sit down and relax for a bit.  It’s alright.  I understand what you’re trying to do.  And I understand how the overly horny cook that Zoro makes googly eyes at when he thinks no one’s looking made breakfast for you.  You told me what you had gone through last night and I seem to remember Akainu.”

“Yuck…” Crocodile’s tired feet came shuffling into the kitchen.  And you really weren’t expecting to see Crocodile already this morning either, “Why are we talking about that piece of shit?”

“You know Akainu?” Zoro asked.

“I was a Warlord for years,” Crocodile sat down at the table, stealing the newspaper, “Yes.  I had the unfortunate honor of knowing Akainu.  He’s a poor excuse for a human being.  Hell of a guy to scam playing cards when he’s drunk, though.  I don’t think you know this, Y/N, but at one point, I almost had you for a night.”

“He fucking bet me in a card game?!” you snapped out of your catatonic haze Mihawk put you in and went into full rage instead.

“In hindsight, yeah,” Crocodile lit up his cigar, “I had his pockets damn near empty at a New Year’s party.  He said that he could offer me the best fuck I’d ever have in my life from a pretty girl.  And I ended up folding.  Not that women aren’t great, but they’re not really my thing.”

“You’re not into cheap sluts like me,” you teased him, “If you were at that party, you were more interested in a certain Marine than anyone else.”

“I sure was,” Crocodile cracked a little smile, “Damn, that was a good ride…That doesn’t mean you have the right to bring that shit up, Y/N.  That was dirty.”

“Nor are you a cheap slut,” Mihawk added, shooting a glare your direction, “You were trafficked.  That doesn’t make you a cheap slut.”

“Any idea who was heading up that trade?” Crocodile wondered, shaking out the newspaper.

“Doflamingo,” you told him.

“Another Warlord?” Crocodile chuckled under his breath, noticing a familiar face on one of the new wanted posters, “Aren’t you well connected?”

“I wouldn’t call it being well connected,” you gagged, taking your toast back to the table, “I’d call my parents greedy and Doflamingo a vile monster.”

“You’re not wrong,” Mihawk agreed, “Doflamingo is a well documented sadist.”

“Where’s he live?” Zoro chimed in, “I bet I could cut him down.”

“Settle down, junior,” Mihawk hushed him, “You’re lucky if you can take on a dozen gorillas in the forest.  With the people Doflamingo surrounds himself with?  You wouldn’t even be able to get a look at his shoes, let alone cut him down.”

“I probably could,” Zoro pouted a bit, “If he were a real man, he’d face me himself and not just send out his flunkies to take me out.  But I guess I’d need a warm up.”

“Oh, Zoro…” Mihawk clutched his chest, “So innocent.  So naïve.  You remind me of myself at that age.  So precious.”

“Fuck off…”

“Just out of curiosity,” Crocodile kept looking at that wanted poster behind the newspaper, “How much did you end up going for?”

“Who the fuck asks that?!” Mihawk snapped at him.

“What is wrong with you?” Perona wasn’t too far behind.  Granted, you hadn’t gotten to know Perona much, but you appreciated the solidarity. 

“They traded me away for devil fruits,” you settled that curiosity.  At the end of the day, it was your story to tell.  And no one was going to tell you if you could or couldn’t tell it.  If you kept it to yourself, that just meant giving it power over you.  And you weren’t going to do that.  Not anymore, “And I’m not sure how much money Doflamingo got for me after the auction, but I hope my parents have met the wrath of Mother Ocean and are now at the bottom.  They deserve it for what they did.  And what it ended up putting me through.”

“Well…” Crocodile showed off that new, pretty wanted poster.  And the number on the bottom, “Says here you’re worth at least two hundred million berries.  So…I’m thinking that was your starting bid.”

“Gross…” Perona moved closer to you, “I’m so sorry, Y/N.  But at least you’re here with us now.  And that disgusting pig Akainu can’t get to you here.  Even if he were to knock on Mihawk’s doorstep, he’s still protected.  Aren’t you, Mihawk?”

“Yes,” Mihawk nodded, “Even if they have probable cause to search my castle, they still can’t.  Even if they have a warrant, they still can’t.  If it’s life and death, then yes, they’ll be able to.  But if it’s just for, say, a person, regardless of how dangerous they are, they can’t search my castle.  So, please, Y/N, I encourage you to walk freely.”

“Thank you…” That was comforting.  You could rest a lot easier knowing you were, oddly enough, protected by the World Government.  No.  You knew better.  The World Government wasn’t the one protecting you.  Mihawk was. 

“It’s not just you,” Mihawk pointed out, “I also have an escaped convict of Impel Down in my castle, along with a member of the Strawhat Pirates.  I’d hate for the Navy to come and take either of them away, too.”

“What about me?” Perona squeaked, “I was part of a pirate crew, too!  Moria made sure I was taken care of!”

“Moria isn’t here, is he?” Mihawk scoffed, his eyes rolling a bit. 

You thought back a bit.  Moria.  The name sounded familiar.  You knew it had to be Gecko Moria.  You weren’t exactly his biggest fan.  He made your skin crawl every time he’d be around with Akainu.  His vibe was off.  It had always been off to you.  Because he’d look at you.  He’d look at you in a way that always just…didn’t feel right.  Like he was quietly taking your measurements without having to use a tape.  And he could tell you.  You had no doubt that Moria knew your measurements.  And to hear Perona talk about him fondly made your stomach turn.  You didn’t understand how anyone could. 

“Now that you’ve had breakfast, dear,” Mihawk moved on, “I highly suggest you spend a little quality time in the study today.”

“The study?” you didn’t even know where the study was.  Unless it was the library you and Mihawk shared a drink the night before, “Why?”

“Because,” Mihawk suggested, “If you’re going to be living here, I need you to at least be educated.  It’s bad enough I’ve had to teach Zoro to read.”

“I knew how to read when I got here!” Zoro squeaked.

“I watched you write your own name with a backwards Z,” Mihawk blinked at him, “You cannot tell me that when you landed here, you knew how to read.”

“I hit my head when that bear paw guy sent me here,” Zoro argued, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Unless you plan on drawing blood,” Mihawk warned him, “I suggest taking your hand off that hilt.  You didn’t need to know how to read.  You were a swordsman.  You were a bounty hunter.  You just needed to know who you were bringing in.”

“I didn’t care about names,” Zoro brushed him off, “I had a face and a number.  That’s all that mattered.”

“Because you didn’t know how to read what their names were,” Mihawk retaliated, “Imagine how many more pirates you would’ve brought in while you were bounty hunting if you could hear conversations and know what names to listen for.”

“How?” Crocodile held his face in his hands, “How in the hell did Luffy get mixed up with you?”

“Cut me down from a cross in a marine base’s yard,” Zoro remembered it fondly, “What can I say?  The little shit was crazy and he had me curious.  I wanted to see what would happen if he actually became king of the pirates.  So, I’m doing everything in my power to make sure he lives to see that goal through.”

“Admirable,” Crocodile wasn’t going to push much further.  And you appreciated that about him.

“Luffy?” you perked up at his name, “You know Luffy, too?”

“There isn’t anyone in this room that hasn’t crossed paths with Luffy at least once,” Crocodile folded the paper back up.

“Present company included,” Mihawk shot you a little wink.

“That’s right,” you confirmed, “I’ve met Luffy, too.”

“And?” Crocodile blew out a cloud of smoke, “Thoughts?”

“He’s a lot,” you admitted, “But he’s got a good heart.  And I can understand why you’d follow him to the ends of the earth, Zoro.  I hope he does become king of the pirates one day.  If he did, I’d be happy to follow him, too.”

“So,” Perona wondered, “Are you a pirate, Y/N?”

“No,” you shook your head, “More of just an escapee from the Navy for now.  We’ll see about piracy later.”

“You escaped the Navy?” Perona wasn’t sure what to think of you.  It’s not like you two were best friends yet.  You didn’t even know if you were going to end up being friends with Perona.  But for the sake of keeping the peace, you hoped you would.

“I escaped an Admiral,” you clarified, “I escaped Akainu and being his sex slave.  He’s disgusting and I wish him nothing but bad things in life.”

“Oh, yuck,” Perona cringed, taking your hand, “Come with me.  We’re going to make that all better.”

“Does it involve a can of lighter fluid and a match?”

“Not going to work, sweetheart,” Crocodile chimed in, “Akainu’s a logia type.”

“Then, I mix the lighter fluid with sea water and hope for the best,” you decided, “There.  Solved it.  Everyone goes home feeling a little better.  Especially me.”

“Still probably not going to work.”

“Well, shit.”

“No,” Perona kept her hold on you, “Better.  Mihawk, can I play with our new toy for the day?”

“If you feel you must,” Mihawk allowed, “And it keeps you out of my hair for the day.  Besides, I’ll be busy all day anyway, Y/N.  Is that alright?  Would you like to go run off with Perona?”

“I guess so,” you didn’t really see anything else for you to do.  Although, you wouldn’t have minded a day in the study either.

“This is going to be so much better than being stuck in some boring, stuffy library anyway,” Perona squeaked, “Come on!”

You quickly learned that Perona was a very excitable creature.  You weren’t mad about it, though.  You didn’t know what Perona had planned, but you knew one thing for certain.  A good, hot bath would hit the spot.  A good, hot bath on Amazon Lily would’ve been the ideal, but unfortunately, you couldn’t leave Kuraigana Island.  You probably could, but it’s not like you had a way to do so.  You weren’t stealing any boats from Mihawk.  There was only one at the dock when Rayleigh brought you in.

However, that wasn’t going to stop Perona.  There were two now.  Two ships sat docked off the shore.  And you could only assume one of them was Mihawk’s.  The other had to be Crocodile’s.  Unless it was Zoro’s, but you knew better.  Luffy said that they had a ship.  And you didn’t see Zoro as…Well…Directionally competent.  Still, you were curious as to what Perona was doing by bringing you down to the docks.

“Come on,” Perona hopped on Mihawk’s boat, “Before he realizes we’re gone.”

“Perona, where are we going?” you started to sweat.  You didn’t know if she could entirely be trusted.  You didn’t know if it was safe for you to leave. 

“There’s an island about ten clicks away,” Perona explained, “Shopping is excellent.  The food is fantastic.  The vibes are immaculate.  Let’s go have some fun.”

But then…Your fun was promptly brought to an end while a giant ship started to pull up to the island.  And without another thought, you went into hiding.  You weren’t going to deal with whoever was on that ship.  You didn’t know who was on that ship.  You knew you just didn’t want to go back to where you were.  You had come too far. 

“You’re Mihawk’s little ghost princess, right?” a familiar voice made its way to your ears.  And from your hiding spot in the tree, you tried to see if the voice and the face matched in your head, “Hold on…You were working under Moria at one time, too, weren’t you?”

“Until Kuma pimp slapped me into the most depressing castle I’ve ever been to,” Perona groaned, “Lucky me, right?  But yeah.  That’s me.  Does he know you’re coming?”

“He should.  You seem nervous.  Is there something I should know?”

“Nope,” Perona kept you a secret.  Not that you needed to be kept hidden from her.

You were quick to jump down from the tree and jump into her arms.  But you were instantly shoved to the ground, “Who do you think you are, touching me?!”

“Hancock…” your voice broke.  And you did your best to not start crying. 

“Y/N…” she let out a soft gasp, finally realizing who you were.  And she scooped you up in her arms and hugged you so tight, you thought your eyes were going to pop out of your head, “Oh, Y/N, darling, I’m so sorry!  I didn’t realize that was you!  Please forgive me!”

“Of course,” you buried your face in her shoulder.

“Uh…” Perona looked on in confusion, “Should I leave?  Should I let you two have a moment alone?”

“It’s alright, Perona,” you assured her, “Everything’s fine.  It’s just…I haven’t seen my sister in so long.  It’s nice to have her back.”

“Your sister?” Perona let out a little gasp, “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Hancock cradled you against her chest, “As much as I’m here to see Mihawk, you and I certainly need to catch up, too.  Come on.  Let’s go up to the castle.”

“Ok,” you weren’t going to tell her no.  But you were curious, “Hancock?”

“Yes, Y/N,” Hancock asked, “What is it, sweetheart?”

“Did you bring Marigold and Sandersonia, too?” you wondered.

“No,” Hancock shook her head, “It’s just me.  I’m here to pick up Mihawk for our meeting.  If you’d like, Y/N, we can take you along with us.”

“Are you nuts?” you shot that down before it could materialize into anything, “You really want me to go to a meeting with you and Mihawk with the World Government?  When there are probably going to be members of the Navy there?  Who would probably recognize me?  And would probably think, gee, you know what I should do?  Let’s send her back to Akainu.  I’m sure that’ll make everything better.  No, thank you.”

“A simple no would’ve sufficed,” Hancock scoffed, “Perona, dear, you’re still with us, aren’t you?”

“I’m still here,” Perona chimed in, “Unless you want me to take your bags for you, too.”

“Actually, that’d be wonderful,” Hancock insisted, “Thank you.  That’s very kind of you.”

“I was joking!” Perona snapped, “I’m not a fucking bellhop!”

“So, Y/N,” Hancock kept an arm around you, “How have you been?  My brother’s been keeping you comfortable, hasn’t he?”

“Mmhm,” you nodded, “Things with Mihawk and me are fine.  I haven’t really gotten to know Zoro yet and I think things with Crocodile and me are ok.”

“Crocodile?” Hancock perked up, “Since when has he been here?”

“By the sounds of things,” you explained, “He lives here, too.  But I don’t think it’s all the time.  Why?”

“Crocodile is a very special interest on Amazon Lily,” Hancock’s face fell, “That’s something you’d have to talk to Granny Nyon about.  She knows more about it than I do.  Unless you wanted to talk to Crocodile about it directly, but I wouldn’t exactly advise something like that.  I mean, we weren’t going to stop him, but when I saw him pop up at my first Warlord meeting, I knew that face looked too familiar.  It doesn’t matter how much work he had done.  I would know that face.”

“Crocodile?” You hardly knew the man, but it did get you curious.  You wanted to sit down and talk with him anyway.  You had a strange vibe from him the second you two met.  There was something different about him.  Different than any of the other Warlords you’ve met. 

“Crocodile,” Hancock nodded, pushing the castle door open, “That’s a conversation for you two to have alone, though.  I don’t think many are privy to that knowledge.  And you may need to tiptoe.”

“Ok.”

Hancock took in a deep breath, hoping her projection would reach, “MIHAWK!”

“Love of God, woman…” Mihawk cringed, making his way down the stairs, “It’s not like I was far.”

“Hello, Mihawk,” Hancock stole a quick kiss on his cheek, “Always a pleasure to see you.”

“I wish I could say the same,” Mihawk admitted, earning him a heavy handed swat from his sister, “Ow…That was a joke, you bitch.”

“Love you, too,” Hancock rolled her eyes, “You’re just jealous that Mommy and Daddy love me more than you.  They chose me.”

“They kept you from being sex trafficked,” Mihawk brushed her off, “They didn’t choose you.  They chose their conscience.”

“I wish they would’ve gotten to me a little earlier,” you chimed in, “Then, I wouldn’t have been sex trafficked to an Admiral and I could still have a relatively normal life.”

Things went quiet after that.  You weren’t expecting it to make it awkward and uncomfortable, but it certainly was awkward and uncomfortable.  You meant that to come off as a dark joke, but it was a little too dark for the crowd you had in front of you.  Even Perona came up to you, taking your hand in hers.

“Y/N,” she winced, “Are you ok?  Do you need us to call someone for you?”

“Who would you call, Perona?” you shrugged, “Couldn’t call the Navy.  One of their higher ups is involved.  Who are they going to believe, their Admiral or his whore?  Smart money’s on their Admiral.”

Hancock didn’t think twice about pulling you back into her arms, “I wish Rayleigh and Shakky got to you first, too, Y/N.  Not everyone gets lucky enough to be in my situation.  I never thought I’d see the day where I’d call myself lucky being in my situation.  But they did get to you eventually.”

“Even if they brought you here,” Mihawk pointed out, “Well…One of them brought you here.”

“You don’t understand, Mihawk,” Hancock took Rayleigh and Shakky’s side, “You don’t understand why they did what they did.  And you’re too deeply wrapped in mommy and daddy issues that you refuse to let any of them go.  And you don’t realize what happened after they gave you up.”

“By all means, Hancock,” Mihawk insisted, his voice dripping in sarcasm, “Would you like to air out all of the family’s dirty laundry?  Please.  Be my guest.”

“Maybe we should take this somewhere else,” you suggested, “Mihawk, you did say you would tell me the story in the morning…”

“I did,” Mihawk confirmed, “And I’m nothing if not a man of my word.  I just didn’t expect to tell the story with my sister here.”

“I’ve never even heard the full story,” Hancock let out a heavy sigh, “But I suppose it’s time I do, isn’t it?”

“Fine,” Mihawk agreed, albeit reluctant, “Zoro!”

“Hmm?” Zoro woke up from his half nap on the stairs, “What?”

“You’re going out to fight more gorillas,” Mihawk ordered, “Don’t come back inside until there’s a hundred of them down.  Perona, go oversee his training for the day.”

“Aww…” Perona whined, “I wanted to hear all about the sad tragedy that is your life, too.”

“Too bad,” Mihawk shooed them both off, “Come with me.”

Because Mihawk wasn’t going to tell the sad, tragic tale of his life without a little liquid assistance.  He brought Hancock and you up the stairs and into the drawing room and got himself a bottle of wine.  It was a nice vintage, too.  You were a little jealous.  A part of you wanted to ask him for a glass, but you weren’t going to do that.  You had a feeling this was going to be a hard pill to swallow.  For all involved.

“So,” Hancock sat down, “Hitting the bottle early?”

“I didn’t ask for your judgment, dear sister,” Mihawk hushed her, pouring his wine, “Y/N, are you sure you want to hear this?  Because there’s a chance it may skew your thoughts on your saviors a bit.”

“I’m sure,” you assured him, “But can I ask you a favor?”

“Because explaining my childhood isn’t enough for you?”

“It’s not that at all,” you clarified, “It’s that if it gets to be too difficult for you to tell, stop telling it.  I understand what it’s like to have that tragedy hanging over your head and I know you wouldn’t force me to overexert myself.  I won’t force you either.”

“Really?” Mihawk looked at you strangely.  You weren’t sure if it was a look of contempt or one of heartache, but you held your ground, hoping things wouldn’t get messy, “That’s…Actually very kind of you, Y/N.  Thank you.  But as tragic of a tale as it is, it doesn’t do me any good to keep it to myself.  Keeping that inside is like a slow acting poison.  Not that I don’t have immunity to a few of those, but I stand by what I said.”

“Then, instead of rambling,” Hancock insisted, “Why don’t you get to the point?”

“Fine,” Mihawk glared her down.  But then, he turned his attention back to you.  And his expression softened, “It started when Shakky got pregnant.  She wasn’t supposed to get pregnant.  Certainly not by some man and certainly not by some pirate.  However, her heart got the better of her.  Love sickness fell over her.  And she ended up getting pregnant anyway.  It wasn’t something worth exile in the eyes of Amazon Lily, but she couldn’t give birth there.  She could live out her pregnancy there, but she could not give birth on Amazon Lily.  If the child was a girl, then she could return.  But alas, I’m quite positive I’m not a girl.”

“Not in the slightest,” Hancock confirmed.

“When did you see me naked?” Mihawk let out a little gasp.

“Oh, please,” Hancock scoffed, “Like I never saw you at Warlord parties with your pet pirate on his leash.  You think I didn’t see that?  You think I didn’t go looking for you and happen to walk in on you two in the throes of passion?  Mihawk, be honest with yourself.  Of course, I’ve seen you naked.”

“Hold on, hold on,” you slowed things down, “What was that?”

“Not important.”

“Y/N,” Hancock smirked, “Are you familiar with the name Red Haired Shanks…?”

“The name sounds familiar,” you thought back to the wanted posters hanging up at G2.  You were pretty sure you saw one there that said Red Haired Shanks on it.  And if you were remembering correctly, he wasn’t too hard on the eyes.  More importantly, you remembered Mihawk mentioning him the night before.  Something about a lost love from the West Blue, “Why?”

“No reason,” Hancock shot a smirk Mihawk’s way, “Unless someone wants to explain.”

“Not particularly,” Mihawk pouted a bit, “That was dirty, Hancock, and you know it.”

“I’m going to take a wild guess here,” you thought, “Did you and Shanks have something going on, Hancock?”

“What?” Hancock laughed hysterically, “No.  No, no, no.  Of course not.  Besides, I know for a fact that he’s not interested in me.  And I couldn’t do that to my own brother.  That’d just be cruel.”

“Oh,” you didn’t know which way Mihawk swung, but you had to admire his taste. 

“He’s fun for a night or two,” Mihawk confessed, “But after that…It’s like when you were a child and thought having ice cream for every meal would’ve been the dream.  Until your insides are crying for real food and you don’t understand why your stomach is constantly in pain.  Once in a while, though…When the nights are cold, he definitely does well in a pinch.”

“In a pinch,” Hancock mocked him, “Sure.  That’s what it is.”

“Anyway,” you brought the story back to where it was supposed to be, “So, Shakky can’t give birth on Amazon Lily.”

“That’s right,” Mihawk went on, “And after she did give birth, she had a son.  And it was either stay with her son or return to Amazon Lily.  Oddly enough, she didn’t do either one.”

“But there’s a part of the story you don’t know, Mihawk,” Hancock stepped in, “A part that Shakky’s told me personally.”

“Oh?” Mihawk looked at his sister strangely, “And what, pray tell, is that?”

“You were everything to her,” Hancock stared down at the table, “She didn’t want to give you up.  But she knew that with Roger’s notoriety and Rayleigh’s notoriety and her own on top of that…”

“It would’ve put a target on your back,” Crocodile walked in, “Sorry.  I was eavesdropping in the hallway.  Curiosity got the better of me.”

“And,” Mihawk cocked his head, “How would you know that’s what she was going to say, Crocodile?”

“How else?” Crocodile pulled up a seat, “I know how hard it is to look into your baby’s eyes…To see that little smile that just lights the world up…To look down and see the sun…Only for you to have to give him up because of who you are.  Because of what you are.  It’s not a decision that anyone wants to make.  It’s not one that anyone who does have to go through the hell of making it makes lightly.  You can only hope that wherever you leave the baby takes the best care of him.  And that he grows up healthy, strong…Not an ass like his father.”

“You have a kid, Crocodile?” Hancock scratched her head, just as lost as everyone else in the room.  His words were absolutely right.  They couldn’t have been pulled out of Hancock’s mouth better.  They were practically the ones Shakky herself had used. 

“One,” Crocodile admitted, “Yeah.  And I hope like hell every day he didn’t turn out to be an ass like his father.  Well…He didn’t.  I can say that from firsthand experience.  He definitely didn’t turn out to be an ass like his father…But he does have that man’s spirit.  Goddamn…It’s almost annoying.  But as much as it sucked, it was good to see him again.  Maybe under better circumstances, we can explain everything, but today is not that day.  I don’t know what’s gone down between you and Shakky and Rayleigh, Mihawk, but please…All I ask is that you don’t resent her for giving you up.”

“And…” Mihawk thought long and hard for a moment or two, “You’ve seen this child recently?”

“Yes,” Crocodile nodded, “Does the kid know who I am in relation to him?  No.  He has no idea.  But right now, it’s for the best that he doesn’t know who I am.  He’s going through enough these days.  He doesn’t need that bombshell, too.”

“Huh…” Mihawk smirked a bit, “I think I might have an inkling as to who our mystery baby is.”

“We were talking about you, not me,” Crocodile shot that down immediately.  You weren’t going to ask.  You figured it was sensitive.  And not all things were meant to come to light, “All I ask is that you don’t hold too much against Shakky.  I’m sure she had her reasons.  And that notoriety is definitely a good one.”

“I’ll think about that next time I see her,” Mihawk decided, “But I won’t say anything to the little one, though.”

“Thank you.”

“Now,” Mihawk let out a little sigh, “Where were we?”

“Amazon Lily,” you brought it back, “Just after Shakky gave birth to you.”

“I ended up being left on the doorstep of a nunnery,” Mihawk remembered, “Never was one much for religion myself.  I suppose we all come from somewhere, but I feel as if that’s just one of life’s greatest mysteries meant to remain mysterious.”

“But that doesn’t stop you from using the imagery,” you pointed out, “I mean…Not for nothing, Mihawk, but when I first came here, that’s all I could think of.  This castle feels like it was an old church at some point.”

“It probably was,” Mihawk agreed, “I wouldn’t know.  I’ve only had this place for the last few years.  I didn’t want to live like a nomad anymore and I wanted somewhere a little more permanent to hoard my treasure that the World Government doesn’t know about.  I’m sure you understand.”

“The World Government has already taken all of my treasure,” you reminded him, “What more can they take from me?  Sure, I’d love somewhere I could call home on a more permanent basis, but the Navy has ran me out of every place I’ve considered since I’ve left.”

“I would love to take you back with me to Amazon Lily with me, Y/N,” Hancock clutched her chest, “Truly, I would.  I’d be happy to make you an honorary princess of Amazon Lily.  If you’d have us.”

“I’d love to,” you admitted, “But I don’t think I’m meant for permanence.”

“I think I know somewhere you could go,” Crocodile chimed in, “I know it’s not ideal, but there’s a family in Alabasta.  The daughter’s a sucker for a sob story.  She’d probably take you in with no questions asked in a heartbeat.”

“This wouldn’t be the royal family,” Mihawk assumed, “Would it?”

“The very same,” Crocodile nodded, “Princess Vivi has a warm heart.  Too warm for her own good, but she’d definitely take you in, too, Y/N.  In case you needed another place to run.  I could take you there if you’re interested.”

Of course, the thought of going to Alabasta sounded nice.  Going to live with the royal family of Alabasta seemed excessive, but then again, you had stayed with a dark king, a former queen, a current queen, and two warlords.  What’s the royal family of Alabasta?  I’m sure that would’ve been more than ok. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you smiled.  However, your mind thought better, “But how do I know you’re not going to send me to the Navy?”

“Do you really think I’d do something like that?” Crocodile gasped, “Y/N, I’m hurt.”

“And my paranoia’s going to end up saving my life one day,” you stood your ground, “These days, there’s no such thing as me being too careful.  The only reason I trusted everyone else up to this point is because of Rayleigh.  I knew I could trust Rayleigh from the day I met him.  Shakky, too.  When Shakky took me behind the bar to keep the Marines from finding me, I knew I could trust her.  When I met you, Hancock, it wasn’t as immediate.”

“Really?” Hancock awed, “Why not?  I’m sure you trust me now.”

“Of course, I do,” you agreed, “Because you’ve kept me safe from the Navy, too.  You sent Granny Nyon to make sure I didn’t go out the front door when I had to leave.  And you had already called Rayleigh and Shakky to get me, right?”

“That, I did,” Hancock confirmed, “That was…not a fun day.”

“No, it wasn’t,” you shuddered.  The first place you had been able to call home in so long and you had to be ripped away from it, “But then, I had to go to Iva.”

“Iva?” Crocodile perked up, “You mean, you were staying with Ivankov?”

“Before I came here, yeah.” You missed Momoiro Island.  You missed the Kamabakka Kingdom.  You missed Iva and the girls and Sanji, too.  You missed feeling at home.  But alas, there you were.  Kuraigana Island, “I stayed with Iva for a while.  But the Revolutionaries had to mobilize to Punk Hazard, so I ended up coming here.  Iva wanted to make sure someone was still here to keep an eye on me.”

“Which led to me getting another mouth to feed,” Mihawk mustered up a little bit of a smile, “Not that you haven’t been lovely company from time to time, Y/N.”

“Thank you,” you didn’t mind spending a little time with Mihawk.  He was a decent human being.  He wasn’t selling you out to the World Government.  You felt relatively safe there.  But Crocodile…Something about him seemed shifty.  Like he wasn’t one to be trusted.  But at the same time, you also knew he had broken out from Impel Down.  You knew he wasn’t exactly a fan of the World Government either.  Or the Navy.  If worst came to worst, you knew you’d probably be ok running away to Alabasta with him, “Crocodile…”

“Yes?” Crocodile asked, “You call?”

“Do you have a ship?” you asked, “If we had to jam out of here right now, could we do that?”

“I do,” Crocodile nodded, “Why?  Are you already trying to leave?”

“Not right now,” you shook your head, “I just got here.  And Mihawk hasn’t finished his story.”

“Oh, it’s finished,” Mihawk assured you, “The only part left is the nuns who raised me telling me my true parentage.  I didn’t meet them in person until I was…Oh, it was just after the fifteenth anniversary of the Great Pirate Age.  I had gone to the Baratie for a drink after leaving Loguetown.  Things were emotionally charged leaving Loguetown.  I needed a little time away.  So, the Baratie.  I sat down at the bar.  I got my wine.  A man sat down next to me.  I had only recognized him from his wanted posters, but I had seen him in Loguetown, too.  He ordered rum.  Not surprising, honestly.  I’ve yet to meet a pirate who doesn’t have a taste for rum.  He raised his glass to me without realizing who I was.  To a great man, he said.  I didn’t realize he was talking about Roger at the time, but in hindsight, I’m sure that’s exactly who he meant.”

“Unless he was talking about you,” you pointed out, “Maybe he did know who you were.  And that’s why he raised his glass to you.”

“I doubt it,” Mihawk topped his glass off, “But we sat at that bar.  We shared a drink.  He bought me another one, which was kind of nice.  Then, he asked me my name.  I told him.  I told him my name was Dracule Mihawk.  And he laughed.  I still remember that laugh.  But the Baratie died down.  Things got quiet.  He and I sat there for last call.  I had assumed the lady he was with had gone back to their ship.  Maybe even went to bed.  Wouldn’t surprise me, but here nor there.  So, we had our last drinks.  And he turned to me and said that my name shouldn’t have been Dracule Mihawk.  He said I looked like my mother…And I thought to myself, how would he know who my mother was?  How would he know I looked like her?  I didn’t even know which of my parents I looked like.  Until he told me my name should’ve been Silvers Mihawk instead.  And he introduced himself as my father.  Not too many people knew Rayleigh had kids.  He knew.  Shakky knew.  That was probably it.  Unless he told Roger, too.  I wouldn’t be surprised.  That was his best friend.”

“But at least he told you who he was,” you pointed out, “At least he didn’t keep it a secret.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Mihawk nodded, “But I did everything in my power to not punch him right then and there.  Or run him through.  I did have Yoru on me.  But we finished our drinks.  He went back to his ship.  I went back to mine.  The only difference is I took off.  I wasn’t going to stick around to see her, too.  They abandoned me.  They had no right to me.  So, I left.  Just like they did.  And that’s when I started living more nomadically.  With the occasional trip back to the Baratie.  I had only decided to start seeing things from a different perspective recently.  Just within the last few years.  I started to see things take a turn.  And I wanted somewhere to settle down.  Somewhere I could spend my golden years.  Although, there was a better chance of me still sailing until the day I die.  I don’t mind this, though.  Kuraigana Castle.  It’s been good to me since I moved in.  The place was abandoned when I got here, so I decided to claim it as my own.  And now, you know about me, Y/N.  Now, if it’s all the same to you, I think you should spend the rest of your day with Crocodile.”

“Crocodile?” you looked at him strangely, “But I have so many questions.  Why do you still hold the grudge against Rayleigh and Shakky?  After you’ve heard the stories of what I’ve told you, of what I’m sure Hancock’s told you, how do you still hold onto that grudge?  Why not just move on?”

“Why do you still want Akainu dead?” Mihawk retaliated, his tone a little snippy, “Same reason.  Akainu’s a Marine.  And an admiral at that.  And yet, we’re not all sucking his dick.  That’s just for you.  Aren’t you lucky?  And yet, you still want him dead.  Why would you want that?  He’s such a good man after all.”

“Because he hurt me in ways I could never begin to explain,” you admitted, “But I don’t think I can put Rayleigh and Shakky giving you up for the sake of keeping you safe and what Akainu did to me in the same category.”

“Go find Crocodile, Y/N,” Mihawk ordered, “That wasn’t a suggestion.  He’ll serve as your tutor and I need to go find and fight Roronoa.  After we’re done, Hancock, I will leave with you.”

“Wait,” you stopped him, “What about me?”

“What about you?” Mihawk scoffed, “You’re a big girl, Y/N.  I’m sure you can handle yourself.”

“But,” you went on, “The whole reason why I left the Kamabakka Kingdom was because Iva had to leave.  And he didn’t want to leave me by myself.”

“That’s the difference between Ivankov and myself,” Mihawk continued toward the door, “He cares more than I do.  I expect you to handle yourself.  Besides, you do have another warlord and one of the greatest swordsmen in the world on this island.  Perona manages the door.  If anything were to happen like, oh, say, the Navy trying to be menacing at my castle while I was away for a World Government meeting, then they’d be met with security.  You, on the other hand, will be fine.  Now, go, Y/N.  Go find Crocodile.  Or honestly, anyone else’s hair to tangle yourself in.  Just not mine.”

You hated leaving Mihawk on bad terms.  But you could feel it.  That was more than just a man hurt.  That was a man with deep seeded issues.  And you had to let that go.  It wasn’t you.  It wasn’t your fault.  You could empathize, but you weren’t going to be the one to fix him.  You weren’t going to be the one to patch up his relationship with Rayleigh.  You just had to be the innocent bystander.  No matter how much it hurt.

[yeza-recs]

Self Insert

a story where the author writes themselves into the fictional world as a character, often the protagonist.

Direct SI: The character is explicitly stated to be the author. OC-Insert: An Original Character acts as an author surrogate. Y/N (Your Name): A format designed for the reader to insert themselves.

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