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draculesmihawk · 4 months

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EYES LIKE SINKING SHIPS ON WATERS (I ALMOST JUMP IN)

Pairing: Dracule Mihawk x OFC

Summary: He’s a stranger. She’s an unusual assignment. He may be everything she’s looking for, but she’s a presence that grows more intriguing – and infuriating – by the moment.

CHAPTER SIX: and it's my whole heart (deemed and delivered a crime)

[AO3]

It happened in an instant.

She wasn’t within reach. Too far ahead of him, too angry at him, too far up the incline of the forest terrain when her steps seemed to stagger and her legs gave out from under her. She had hit the dirt roughly before his eyes, the side of her body crashing and taking the brunt of the damage against the hard woodland ground. Her body was unresponsive as she slumped down the dirt slope a few feet off from him.

Mihawk himself wasn’t sure what he had called out to her at that moment. It could have been her name. It could have been a command to stop. The words could have caught in his throat, leaving only a strangled noise passing his lips. Whatever sound he made, it didn’t matter. Not when he was rushing over to where Aurelia had stopped. Knees driving into the dirt beside her, Mihawk reached out to inspect her. She was breathing. That much he was relieved to know. What had caused her to stumble? He had no clue. He slowly turned her onto her back, taking note of the scrapes along her left side that she sustained from her fall. Hauling her up carefully, he kept one arm around her as he drew her onto his lap. Her body curled into his and her head came to rest on his shoulder as he sat with her on the forest floor. Mihawk brought his free hand to her cheek, brushing the dirt from her face. He took in the slow breathing, the furrowed brows, the way her eyes were moving behind closed lids.

His lips moved to brush along the crown of her head, dipping to her ear as he murmured whatever reassuring words he could think of to her. His hand moved to brush along her arm. Wrist to elbow, elbow to shoulder, then back down. A soft attempt at rousing her. He shifted in his position, pulling back to look at her face. A pinched, pain expression lingered, her mouth a set line as she tried to lift her head from his shoulder.

“Open your eyes for me, little dove.”

Need was apparent in his voice. There was no other way to describe it. Mihawk simply needed the sight of her eyes upon his own. Those incredible warm eyes, the narrowed gaze, looks that were lit with amusement usually at his expense… Whatever she could give him, he would accept at that moment. His hand moved to trace the swell of her cheek, the line of her jaw. It wasn’t until he reached to brush her brow that Aurelia’s hand reached up, fingers curling over his. The soft hum in response from her had Mihawk’s breath catching in his throat. His hand turned, fingers taking hold of her own. He pressed a kiss to her hand, thumb brushing over her knuckle as he did.

“Mihawk.”

Her voice came out in a shaky sigh.

“I’m here. I've got you.”

Mihawk shifted, legs parting as she tried to sit up. It took longer than usual, a hiss of pain on her lips as she ended up sitting between his legs. He kept a knee propped behind her, and remained at her back for stability. His hand remained in hers, his eyes still searching for her own. She brought her free hand up to her face, fingers tenderly pressing against her temple. It wasn’t until the discomfort subsided that her eyes fluttered open. She winced at the light, blinking repeatedly as she tried to get her bearings.

"There we are," Mihawk said, as Aurelia's eyes set up on his, "You took quite the tumble, darling."

Darling.

That was a new one.

It sat with Aurelia when Mihawk assisted her back to camp. At his insistence, of course. His very frustrating, very handsome insistence. They moved in silence after the ordeal. The fall, what they spoke of before the accident, what they were doing before all of that… Awkward silence seemed like the best option to go with at the moment. One hand gripping the bag of fruits, he led them down the sloped forest grounds. His other hand was kept at her hip, her hand resting atop his as he guided them through the thicket and onto the sandy beach. She assumed she looked positively dreadful, as the smile Shanks had on his face disappeared at the sight of her. It had been enough to alarm the others, then there was no stopping the swarm of worried faces.

“Sweetheart, what happened?” Shanks asked immediately.

“This better not be your doing,” Benn spoke over her head to Mihawk.

“I’m gonna fix you up a drink,” Roux offered.

“You tried to brawl the Warlord in the woods, didn’t you?” Yasopp whispered to her.

They all seemed to speak at once. At her, at each other, to themselves. A mix of voices messily moving through the air around them. It wasn’t Mihawk’s hand on her hip anymore, but rather Shanks’s hand. Aurelia didn’t even notice the change of hands until Shanks began to lead her further towards camp, orders being sent out to the other men to give Aurelia some room to breathe. Shanks led her to a makeshift seat, sitting her down before he moved to crouch down in front of her. Her head swiveled slightly, unable to find the familiar glint of yellow eyes in the small group.

He was just there a moment ago.

“Are you okay?”

Surely he wouldn’t leave now.

“Aurelia…”

Would he?

“Sweetheart.”

Darling .

Aurelia’s attention snapped to Shanks when she felt his hand touch her shoulder, rousing her from her thoughts. Curious eyes watched her as her mind seemed to catch up to the situation. She looked down at herself, taking in the new tear along the right side of her dress with a sigh. This skirt seemed doomed to be torn up. Her right forearm seemed to have gotten scratched up as well, minor scrapes and cuts on her arm and her leg where the dress was torn. Seeing her discomfort at the sight before her, Shanks unhooked the clasp of his black cape. He draped it over Aurelia’s lap, covering the skirt of her dress.

“This is all very unnecessary,” she said, even as Roux pushed a cup into her hand.

“This is nothing,” Roux replied back with a grin, “Just something to warm up the stiff bones.”

“And we take care of our own,” Shanks assured her.

Despite her words, Aurelia flashed the two men a thankful smile. It was that. Right there. That desire to aid those considered part of the team, the crew … It felt like a family being with Shanks and the other men. Aurelia had a family in blood. With all the requirements that seemed to follow that kind of bond. This felt like the type of family that took care of their own not out of obligation, but because they chose to. Because they wanted to. Because it felt right to do so.

“Thank you,” Aurelia said, before taking a sip from her drink.

Shanks slowly smiled as he watched Aurelia keep the sip in her mouth, refusing to swallow it. She flashed Roux a thankful smile, which screwed into a look of distaste once the other man turned to leave. Shanks laughed as Aurelia’s face twisted at the taste. Some sort of spiced alcohol. Very strong, very hard to drink down. Because it was Roux that gave it to her, she wouldn't spit out the drink, taking her time instead swallowing down the liquid. Shanks took pity once she did, taking the cup from her hand and drinking down the contents of the cup.

"Were you feeling unwell again?" Shanks inquired, as Benn came around with a rag and a bowl of water.

"No," she said, though her voice was distant as she spoke, "My foot must've lost its balance. I slipped and fell."

Shanks eyed her carefully as he dipped the rag into the water. She wasn't being truthful with him. Not completely.

"It's unlike you to be so uneasy on your feet," Shanks told her, as he ran the damp rag over her arm, cleaning off whatever dirt and grime had stayed with her following her spill.

"I must have become less graceful at sea," Aurelia replied, trying to keep the tone light.

"Well, graceful or not, we'll get you cleaned up," Shanks said, "We’ll figure out a replacement for your dress. At least until we can get you a proper one in the next town.”

Ever the gentleman, Shanks lifted the cape draped on Aurelia’s lap just high enough to gain access to her scraped leg. He kept his eyes at a respectable level and worked quickly. Under a lesser man’s care, Aurelia would be concerned for her honor. Shanks was not a lesser man, nor did he seem the type to forget himself when it came to a woman.

“You won’t scar,” Shanks offered, “Just a few scratches. They’ll be uncomfortable, but nothing life-ending. Though I’d suggest a rest.”

"I'm not the least bit sleepy," she challenged.

“Your eyes would say otherwise, sweetheart.”

Shanks dropped the rag into the bowl, motioning to her face before wiping damp fingers against the pant of his leg. When Aurelia tried to look away, Shanks lightly tapped her chin. It was tired eyes that met him when she looked back. Though she wouldn’t say it, Shanks knew whatever happened with her had stolen away some of that liveliness he had gotten used to seeing when it came to the woman who sat before him.

"It's just an accident,” Aurelia told him, “I don’t need to be ushered to bed at the first inkling of danger. I’m not made of glass. Just flesh and bone. Both of which are tougher than you think. It’s not in my nature to shatter under pressure, Shanks."

Aurelia watched as Shanks’s expression seemed to soften. He looked at her differently, eyes viewing her in a different light. The hand that had touched her chin slowly moved to comb the hair in her face back, tucking it neatly behind her ear. The expression he wore had Aurelia looking back at him curiously. There was a devotion in his eyes. A different form of adoration. She hadn’t seen such a look before when it came to this pirate. Not in the usual way he would meet her gaze.

“What?” she prodded with a laugh, lighty swatting his hand away as she spoke.

Her voice seemed to pull Shanks from his thoughts. He rose from where he squatted in front of her, held out his hand to help her up from her seat. She accepted his hand, even hooked her arm with his as he led her further into the campgrounds.

“Nothing," Shanks insisted, a shake of his head as they walked, “You just reminded me of someone.”

“Someone special to you,” Aurelia guessed.

She assumed it was correct from the coy smile that was drawn out of the man beside her.

“Someone quite dear, yes,” Shanks nodded, voice full of fondness.

Though he was set on leaving it at that, the impatient squeeze of Aurelia’s hand on his arm was enough to draw out a laugh from the pirate.

“I see flashes of her in you, you see,” Shanks continued, “In certain lights and specific angles. The small divot in your cheek when you smile. It’s your spirit though. The unwillingness to back down, even in times when you probably should … That more than anything gives me those happy, most welcomed glimpses.”

A smile came to Aurelia’s lips as she looked up at Shanks. He seemed to take a beat to close his eyes. He was visualizing the woman in that second. She was sure of it. From the looks of him, Aurelia knew Shanks savored the image of this mysterious lady in his mind. When he opened his eyes, Shanks sighed. Pleased. Content. The breath of a man who was touched by peace, if only for a moment.

“You loved her.”

A statement. No question lingering there.

“I did.” The words flowed from him. The easiest confirmation in the world. “I still do.”

“Well, where is she then?” Aurelia asked, as they slowed to a stop outside of her tent, “If I’ve a fraction of her spirit, I’d expect her whipping you all into shape by now.”

“Oh, she absolutely could’ve,” Shanks grinned, “And it would’ve been a sight to behold, sweetheart.”

Aurelia watched as Shanks’s joyful expression gave way to a faint sadness. His mind seemed to go back in time, replaying the flashes in his mind.

“Our paths crossed a time or ten. Perhaps, for a moment, our destinies even ran parallel to one another. However, I have only ever known the sea… and that was the one place she could not make her home.”

“I’m sorry.”

Shanks felt Aurelia’s hand lightly touch his. Her fingers wrapped around his, squeezed them in a way he could only describe as comforting. A touch. A reminder that he was in good company. Not alone. It was then that Shanks placed a smile on his lips. Still faint, but there in appreciation.

“As am I,” he confessed, giving her hand a soft squeeze as he spoke, “But I consider myself quite lucky. To possess someone’s heart completely and to be able to grant them entire access to one’s heart in return. To love someone that freely and to feel the weight of that love returned to you tenfold. It doesn’t matter what length of time you’re in possession of it. It’s more terrifying than any sea monster imaginable, more captivating than any treasure.”

A breath caught in Shanks’s throat at the thought. He ducked his head slightly so that he could meet Aurelia’s gaze directly. There was a fierceness there. A fire that burned brilliantly in Shanks’s eyes. Aurelia knew he meant the words he spoke. Shanks meant it with every fiber of his being.

“To know the risks and choose to love still… It’s the bravest thing a person could do in this world.”

He watched as Aurelia turned his words over and over in her mind, letting the sentiment sit with her. Then, as he had hoped, her eyes shifted from his. Her face turned. Looking around. Searching. For another’s face. For the face of the man who entered her mind and seemingly found a home there.

“He needed a moment,” Shanks softly told her, a knowing smile on his lips, “I’ll let him know you’re resting once he returns.”

Shanks watched as Aurelia’s eyes moved back to his.

“I told you I wasn’t tired,” she replied, calculated in the way she didn’t acknowledge half of his words to her.

Shanks released her hand, bringing it up to cup her cheek in fondness. The pad of his thumb brushed faintly against the divot in her cheek as she smiled at him. His eyes locked with hers, held her gaze steadily. There was a kindness in those eyes, but also a power there she couldn’t quite place. It drew her in, kept her captivated.

“Rest,” he commanded, voice no higher than a whisper.

Aurelia felt a heaviness touch her eyelids at the word. The side of her head pressed against Shanks’s palm, head growing heavy with exhaustion. Fatigue crept in slowly. It lingered around her. Maybe Shanks was right… His hand dropped from her face, reached around to rub at her back in comfort before he moved to open the front of her tent. She stepped in without another word, settled in slowly atop the makeshift bedding they had provided her.

It was Shanks’s soft smile and warm eyes that she saw before her own eyes closed.

It was not Shanks at all she saw when she dreamed.

She dreamt of yellow orbs. Of lips that were soft, though they rarely turned upward. She dreamt of a feathered hat and the dark curls that escaped from beneath it. The scent of leather touched her senses. The feel of it along her fingertips, against her body. She dreamed of him . Different than any other thought of him that crossed her mind. Her body eased, rested completely.

It was Mihawk that she found in her dreams.

It was Mihawk that she found when she woke up.

He laid beside her atop the bedding, an arm tucked behind his head and his hat tipped over his eyes. Though he wore his coat and cross still, he had placed his massive sword at his other side, fingers of his free hand at the ready to grab hold of the hilt if needed. Head raising slightly, Aurelia looked at the man that laid beside her. It was as if she manifested him from her dreams. Not entirely convinced this was reality, she raised a hand, dragged her fingertips slowly along his bearded jaw. She smiled when he huffed in his sleep. Her fingers pulled back from his face as he reached up to absentmindedly brush at his cheek. Biting back a laugh, Aurelia was careful as she raised her hand to repeat the motion again. That threat of a laugh gave way to a gasp when Mihawk’s once sluggish hand shot out to take hold of her wrist.

“You’re risking a very small, very pretty hand waking me from a nap,” he murmured out his warning, “Most forfeit their existence when they do such a thing, little dove.”

He released her hand, pushing back the brim of his hat as tired eyes opened and blinked into focus. It was then that Aurelia spotted them. Those peculiar yellow eyes. Aurelia felt the tug of a smile at the corner of her lips at the sight.

“I’m lucky then,” she replied, lightheartedly, “That you’re willing to consider taking only my hand.”

“I’ll have that hand in time,” he said, voice touched with lingering slumber, “You’ll continue to vex me until I’ve no choice but to take it.”

There was humor in his voice, as if the words carried a different meaning on his tongue.

“But tonight we’ll call a truce,” he concluded, “I prefer to battle against opponents when they’re at their best.”

Aurelia watched as Mihawk slowly sat up and shifted, a feat she imagined was quite difficult to do within the confines of the tent for a man of his stature. She followed suit, sitting across from him and watching as he reached for something just off from where they sat. He placed a bowl by her knee, something she was sure Roux cooked up and shoved into his hand before Mihawk came to visit her. She must have needed it greatly, as she didn’t seem to waste time picking it up and enjoying the meal. Aurelia watched as Mihawk’s eyes seemed to run over her, taking stock of her wellness. She ate her meal in silence, allowing him to reach out and lightly push away the hair from the side of her face, inspecting the small scrapes that were present there. They had a truce. That was the reason she let the back of his fingers graze her cheek the way it did before dropping from her face.

She held out the empty bowl to him, which he took and replaced with another item without a word. Looking down at her hand, Aurelia felt the soft fabric that was placed there. This blouse was stark white, much cleaner than anything Shanks and his men wore. It was made of finer fabric, incredibly soft to the touch. Where had they been hiding this one? Her brow furrowed slightly in confusion. She felt Mihawk’s hand touch her face once more, his thumb smoothing the crease in her brow until she eased.

“Whose shirt is this?” she asked.

“ Mine. ”

Mihawk watched as she turned her gaze upward, cautiously meeting his eyes. He wondered if her mind traveled to the night before. To the last conversation they had when it came to donning a man’s clothes. She must have. He was certain of it. He watched as those cautious eyes seemed to melt away, replaced with a glimmer of amusement and a hum of acknowledgement.

“I doubt you found the time to sail to the nearest town and back in such a short time,” she said, tone light as she set the blouse on her lap.

Mihawk watched as her fingers softly touched the fabric, wondering if he’d ever be so lucky.

“I’ve a few items stored on my boat,” he informed her, nodding towards her torn dress, “You’ll find much better use out of it than myself for now.”

“Afraid Shanks will offer me another article of clothing?”

Ah, yes. Teasing. Mihawk was certain she was feeling much better now.

“If not him, it would be Beckman,” Mihawk said, “If not Beckman, it would be another man.”

Aurelia watched as Mihawk leaned in, spoke to her in a hushed tone meant for just her.

“I’ve not the time nor the patience to deal with such an annoyance,” he added, “Not when I know it’s my shirt you’ll be most comfortable wrapped in.”

Aurelia felt her heart quicken at the words. She was unable to contain the pleased expression that spread across her face. It simply couldn’t be prevented. Not with those words. Not with this man. Her hands continued to hold the blouse even as she leaned forward and brought her lips to Mihawk’s. A soft graze. A brush between two lips. He made no move forward, though his heavy sigh indicated how much he wished to. Aurelia smiled against his lips before placing a proper kiss there, satisfying in its simplicity. It was then that she felt Mihawk move, felt his hand rest along the side of her neck before deepening the kiss. He was convinced he could do this forever, though she pulled back before he could put such a thought to the test.

“Thank you,” she said, head tilting slightly as she smiled at him.

“Do you make it a habit of kissing those who bring you aid?”

Her eyes danced with warmth as she looked at him. The amusement in her eyes gave way to mischief.

“Not typically,” she confessed, as though she put much thought into her next words, “But I can try to do so with Shanks and the others going forward.”

“Don’t you dare.”

His words came quickly, as if the speed of them would put a stop to such nonsense.

“Why not?”

A half-hearted challenge meant to peeve him more than anything else.

“You know damn well why not, little dove.”

Mihawk’s hand slipped from the side of her neck, taking the hair at the base of her neck with a light grip. Her laugh was breathy as he pulled her forward, crashed his lips into hers. He felt her sigh into his mouth, felt her lips part with ease as his free hand snaked around her hip. His tongue dipped in and out of her mouth, a simulation of what he could only hope was future activities. He sat back slightly as Aurelia crowded his space. Her hands gripped at the skirt of her dress, hiking it up until she was able to straddle his hips with ease. It was then that her arms came to rest along his shoulders, hand reaching up to tug the feathered hat from Mihawk’s head. She wanted to feel the softness of his hair, and wanted to tangle the wild curls around her fingers.

Aurelia had felt so certain when she had told Mihawk things could not happen again.

Now all she wanted was the feeling of his hands upon her.

She felt those same hands run along her body, reach between them to take hold of the front of her dress. He was tolerant at first, skillful fingers attacking the buttons with ease. Impatience seemed to overcome him slowly. It was the buttons. Too many damn buttons. She felt his sharp breath as he dropped his head to her shoulder, nuzzling into the spot between her neck and shoulder in begrudging defeat. He had fought off eagerness valiantly, but hastiness inevitably won out in the end. She felt the quiet hiss of a curse against her neck before Mihawk’s hands gripped the front of her dress, tearing open the fabric the remainder of the way.

He had given her his shirt. She had no further need for the dress. It was the only thought that kept him from apologizing for such a barbarous act. An act that seemed to elicit quite the positive reaction from the woman before him. Aurelia shivered beneath his hands, her head dropping down to his shoulder as she bit back a rather enticing sound. Hm… Mihawk couldn’t help but store that particular move in the back of his mind. For future reference, of course. He was a man of skill. Attentive in all manners of learning. Honing such skills would take practice. Continual practice. Perhaps practice twice a day, if she was up for it. Aurelia swore she could feel Mihawk smirk against her neck.

His lips moved to place kisses against her neck, along her shoulder, across any inch of accessible skin not covered in fabric. It wasn’t until he felt her hands frame his face that he allowed her to drag his mouth back to hers. She wanted the feel of his tongue against her own, wanted the slow churning that grew low in her belly that came with it. Her hips moved against his, felt the growing firmness beneath her as she did. His hands slipped beneath her dress as he felt the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of her chemise. He felt her sigh against him as his thumb moved along the curve of her breast. That sigh sounded like a choir of angels to Mihawk’s ears as his hands dropped down, fingers gripping greedily at the swell of her hips.

It was then that he heard it.

The sharp intake of breath.

Not in pleasure, but pain.

She was still hurt from that afternoon. He cursed himself for forgetting so. Cursed himself for taking liberties with her wellbeing. She would let him continue. He knew that much. Could he do so? Could he allow himself to sink into the moment, into her, knowing her complete and utter satisfaction would be marred by discomfort? He knew the answer in his mind, even as his body screamed for him to ignore it all.

Mihawk kept a secure arm around her as he moved their bodies. Careful as he coaxed Aurelia onto her back, taking care not to put too much weight upon her. God, she was beautiful . The faint flutter of lashes as she blinked up at him, clearing the haze of lust from her eyes. She smiled gingerly up at him, settling comfortably beneath his body. The front of her dress lay open, forgotten as she reached up to comb fingers through his hair. It positively wrecked him. Mihawk had no clue such a small, delicate action could cause such devastation within him. He wanted her body. Desperately. He desired only to hear his name on her lips. He needed the feeling of her body as it gave in to his, surrendering to the ebb and flow before being overcome by the waves.

It was Aurelia’s voice that broke the silence, whispering softly to him.

“You prefer opponents when they’re at their best,” she repeated his words from earlier.

She watched him swallow down his disappointment, let her hand drop to rub at his arms as he did.

“That’ll teach me,” her lips curved in amusement, “Getting myself injured right before such an important battle.”

Aurelia bit down on her bottom lip, clearly attempting to keep her laughter from bubbling to the surface. She seemed more at ease in that moment than any other they had shared before. He couldn’t quite believe the sight. Bracing a forearm above her head, Mihawk used his other hand to caress her cheek. She hummed at the sensation, eyes closing peacefully as she did.

“You’re different than earlier,” he couldn’t stop himself from quietly wondering aloud.

Her eyes opened and met his. She tilted her head into his hand, nodding at his words. She was a far, far cry from the words she spoke to him earlier that afternoon. There had been a shift. A significant one. Aurelia turned her head to the side, pressing a soft kiss to his inner wrist.

“It’ll be more than my hand at risk now,” she whispered to him, “I’m choosing to trust you, Warlord.”

Mihawk lightly touched her chin, turned her face as he moved to lower his kiss to her lips. The tenderness there would linger long after the kiss ended and haunt them in the waking hours. A secret reminder between the two of them.

Of what they shared just then.

Of what they’ll share more in the future.

“Get back to sleep, little dove,” he murmured against her lips.

“Back to bossing me around again,” she grinned, despite the loss of his weight atop her as Mihawk carefully untangled himself from her arms, “It seems our truce has reached its conclusion.”

“That means you’ll go back to being impossibly troublesome. What horror have I unleashed upon me now?”

Aurelia heard the humor in his voice and -- for the briefest moment -- she was certain she saw a ghost of a smile on his lips as he collected his sword and hat before he left the tent. She shifted onto her side, her hand lightly touching her lips as she hid her smile behind the length of her fingers. Eyes closing, lips widened into a silly grin. Reaching out, Aurelia took hold of the shirt Mihawk had gifted to her, dragging softness to her face as a breath of a laugh escaped her lips. She would fall asleep like that, face pressed to the fabric and a content smile on her face.

As Mihawk adjusted the large brimmed hat on his head, he surveyed the area as he left the tent. The others at the camp were scattered, sleeping beneath the stars under trees and hammocks. He had hoped everyone would have slipped into slumber, especially considering their preference towards ending their evenings downing cup after cup of whatever liquor they were able to obtain in their travels. It was the faint glow of the campfire that drew his attention. That and the lone man who sat by the fire.

Shanks.

The other man sat by the flames, back propped against a log and a nearly empty bottle leaning against his bent leg. Shanks’s thumb ran along the neck of the bottle as his eyes looked over the flames. A lopsided smile touched the pirate captain’s lips as they met Mihawk’s eyes. He beckoned the Warlord over, though he made no move to sit up from his comfortable position as Mihawk neared.

“You look positively aglow, friend,” Shanks said, all smiles and good nature as Mihawk took a seat beside him, “I take it things went then?”

Mihawk was silent, instead choosing to pick up the bottle from beside Shanks. He remained quiet as he took a slow swig from the bottle. It was a far cry from his nightly glass of wine. That’s for sure. Still, it was something and Mihawk was certain he’d need it if this conversation with Shanks were to continue.

“It’s unbecoming to speak on such matters,” Mihawk finally replied, earning a bored groan from his friend.

“You’re no fun,” Shanks sighed, “It’s no matter. I’ll extract the truth from Aurelia in the morning. She’s much better company anyway.”

Mihawk watched as Shanks yawned, stretched out lazily without a care in the world. He envied the man in that regard. Yes, Mihawk lived quite the lavish lifestyle himself. That much was true. He could sail wherever he wanted and did whatever he wanted without the curse of ties to the world. He terrorized every and any pirate crew that dared to cross his shadow. His name held sheer power. His exploits crossed countless seas. He achieved the only thing he had desired in life. By all regards, Dracule Mihawk was a great man. Yet he couldn’t do what Shanks does. To simply exist in the world, surrounded by those around him, and think of nothing but whatever joy happened to come upon him in that moment. That type of peacefulness escaped him completely.

The woman he left in her tent trusted him now. With her body. Perhaps even with her heart. The affection she bestowed upon him twisted at his insides. Made him happy, made him concerned. Shanks was not wrong. Between the two men, it was Mihawk who was tasked with the assignment from the Vice Admiral. It was Mihawk who had sent her running. It was Mihawk expected to bring her in. Would he be able to do it? To take her from where she stood and delivered her at the feet of whoever demanded her? He was unbending before he knew her. He was wavering even before his lips touched hers. He was certain he couldn’t go through with it after tonight. Furthermore, he felt the desire to tear into the flesh of anyone who dared try and take her from him. No. He could not do what he was tasked. That did not mean he was truly free of concern though.

The hand not holding the bottle found its way to the front of his coat, fingers lightly brushing over the spot he kept Aurelia’s book. The weight of it -- of the contents inside -- felt heavier with each passing moment.

That he could not ignore.

“Hawk-Eye,” Shanks’s voice tore through his thoughts.

Mihawk blinked, turned his head towards the man with the red hair.

“What’s plaguing your mind, you remarkably somber son of a gun?”

Shanks didn’t just look at him. He seemed to be looking inside of him, studying the Warlord by the light of the campfire beside them. There would be no hiding from Shanks. The man was far too perceptive for a drunk.

“There’s something we must discuss.”

#dracule mihawk #dracule mihawk fanfic #dracule mihawk fanfiction #dracule mihawk x oc #dracule mihawk x ofc #fic: eyes like sinking ships #fic: dracule mihawk #fic: mine

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stillinracooncity · 8 months

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that feminine urge to read something that makes you cry, get angry, scream, laugh like a hormonal teenager, turn up the heat, feel like the most unique and beautiful human being on earth. *sighs*

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nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos · 7 months

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First Kiss

Mostly fluffy stuff with the best boys. Probably PG-13 at worst.

LA Shanks X FemReader, LA Sanji X FemReader, LA Zoro X FemReader, LA Mihawk X FemReader.

First time doing the whole headcannon bullet format thing. I'm super open to suggestions for more!

Shanks

• He and his crew came into your tavern a few hours ago. They're a pretty rowdy bunch but they're respectful and they tip well, so you don't mind.

• He's a huge flirt the whole time. Crooked little grins, his hand brushing yours whenever you bring him abother drink.

• Calling you "princess" or "sweetheart" and asking when your shift ends.

• Leaning his chair back on two legs so he can get a good look at your ass while you're making your rounds.

• Sweet-talking you into joining him for a few drinks when your shift is over.

• Getting bolder when you decide to flirt back, light touches at your waist and hips, leaning in closer to speak in a more intimate tone.

• Pulls you down by the arm to sit on his lap when you get off work and come back to his table.

• His fingers in your hair and his palm cupping your cheek to pull your face down to his so your foreheads touch.

• Another one of his crooked little grins. "Glad I could talk you into it, princess."

• No hesitation, just rubs the tips of your noses together before his lips brush yours playfully.

• Brief, playful kisses, with soft bites and tugging at your bottom lip, his tongue flicking at your top lip and coxing you to open your mouth.

• Soft little purr or murmur when the kiss gets deeper, his tongue swirling around yours.

• Breaking away very briefly to praise you in a low, playful voice, tucking your hair behind your ear. "Mmm, good girl..."

• Lets you set the pace, but keeps control over everything else.

• No concern at all that you're in public, his hand exploring your body, slipping under your skirt to squeeze your ass and pull you closer, so your legs are straddling his.

• Pushing his hips up against yours, parting his lips from yours with a devilish grin. "We're gonna have a lot of fun tonight, sweetheart."

Sanji

• You asked him for cooking lessons as an excuse to get closer to him and he positively jumped at the opportunity.

• "I promise you're in good hands, my dear."

• Stands behind you to demonstrate cutting techniques, his voice low and intimate in your ear as he leans over you.

• Brushes your hair behind your ear, his knuckles grazing your neck.

• Pulls your hand up to brush his lips to it before helping you grip the knife properly.

• You didn't object to him kissing your hand, so now his lips brush your neck just below your ear.

• "You didn’t just want cooking lessons, did you?"

• Low and playful voice in your ear, pulling the knife away from your hand and lacing his fingers through yours.

• Touching your waist and pulling you gently back against him to close the distance between your bodies.

• Lifting his hand to curl it under your chin, his thumb brushing slow cirles at your cheek as he turns your head to gaze into your eyes.

• Flashes his most charming smile, his forehead touching yours.

• "All you had to do was ask, darling."

• Presses his lips gently to yours, taking the lead.

• Slow and romantic, like he's savoring every second of tasting you.

• Rubbing his hands up and down your waist slowly, breathing deeply and steadily and tugging you closer.

• Hands exploring your body, his touches and caresses gentle and loving, one hand cupping your breast through your shirt and squeezing it lightly.

• Moaning quietly against your lips in response to your moan.

• Parting his lips away with a charming smile.

• "You, my love, have just made me the happiest man in the entirety of the East Blue."

• Spins you around by your hips, lifts you up and places you on the counter beside his cutting board, your thighs spread around him as his lips meet yours again in a deeper, more passionate kiss.

Zoro

• For a few weeks you've noticed him looking your way when he thinks you're not paying attention, but he hasn't said much of anything.

• You get tasked with waking him up from his nap at dinner time, which you don't really like doing because he can get pretty grumpy about it.

• When you reach the hammock, he cracks one eye open. You tell him that dinner is ready.

• Rubbing at his eyes. "Uh-huh...."

• Tucks a hand behind his neck, his eyes scanning over you for a moment.

• Suddenly wraps a hand around your wrist and pulls you up into the hammock with him, on top of him, startling you immensely.

• Keeps a hand tucked behind his neck, his other moving to cup your chin and pull your head down.

• Smirking a little. "I think I'll just skip to dessert."

• Tilts his head a little to capture your lips.

• Leads you into a slow, lazy kiss, his hand trailing down your back...and then back up, pushing under your shirt to graze across your bare skin.

• His rough calloused fingers and palms break you out almost immediately into goosebumps.

• Not shy about cutting straight to the chase, tugging your shirt off and tossing it aside.

• Leaves your lips to trail kisses down the column of your throat, hands moving up your waist, his fingers curling around the cups of your bra.

• A knock the door breaks your lips apart—Luffy shouting at the other side that dinner's on.

• Rolls his eyes and shouts back, "I'll eat later!"

• Looks up at you, his expression lightening into an amused grin.

• "What about you, (y/n)? You gonna go now?"

• When you shake your head no, he chuckles, his grin growing broader.

• "Yeah, I didn't think so. Now..."

• Suddenly, and with ease, he grips your hip and your waist and flips you onto your back in the hammock, reversing your positions.

• Lays one of his hands flat over your stomach, the other trailing his fingers down the side of your neck, pulling your bra strap down your shoulder.

• "Where were we?"

• And his lips crush against yours in a fierce, possessive kiss.

Mihawk

• It's been over a month since he took you under his wing, and the sexual tension between you is so thick you could cut it with a knife.

• But he won't make a damned move, just keeps teasing at it with subtle soft touches, low and intimate words, shared gazes of desire.

• Just today when you and him made port a few hours ago, he stopped you on the docks before you went your separate ways to resupply.

• Moved in close, his yellow eyes boring into yours with their usual intensity, lowered his head until his forehead touched yours.

• Curled a hand in your hair and murmured with his lips barely an inch away from yours:

• "Be careful, my little bird."

• Dropped his gaze briefly to your lips.

• Brushed his thumb gently over your bottom lip...and then parted from you, disappearing down the crowded street.

• He is driving you absolutely insane and you aren't going to be able to hold out much longer before you just throw yourself at him.

• After resupplying you make your way toward the tavern where you agreed to meet...but you're caught from behind by your arms, a pair of strong hands wrapped around them and pulling you down a dark, empty alley.

• You're shoved against a stone wall and turned around...to face Mihawk, his hands still wrapped around your arms.

• He bores his gaze into yours again.

• Doesn't loosen his grip on your arms.

• "You aren't being vigilant. Anyone could have grabbed you."

• Takes a step closer, your bodies nearly touching.

• Lowers his head, his lips so close they brush across yours as he speaks in a low, intimate tone.

• "I'd rather not lose you, little one."

• Holds your gaze with his own for what feels like hours.

• Trails his fingers down your arms slowly, sending a shiver through your whole body.

• Lets his hands linger at your hips.

• Tightens his grip suddenly, taking a swift step forward so your body is pinned between his and the wall completely.

• In the same motion, tilts his head and crushes his lips against yours in a bruising, passionate kiss.

• Finally.

• His kiss is firm and unyeilding, slow and intense, and he has you trembling against the wall in an instant.

• Parts your lips with his tongue, sighing slowly as you meet it with your own.

• Grabs your hands and pins them over your head in a show of pure dominance—your pleasure is completely at his whim.

• Drifts his lips across your cheek and your neck, his breath hot against your ear.

• "We will stay in town tonight. I want you in bed with me before sundown."

• Chuckles lightly when you can do nothing but nod fervently.

• "Such a good little bird."

• Kisses your neck, sucking at the tender skin and leaving behind a small bruise.

• He brushes his lips to the mark once more.

• "In case it wasn’t already clear that you belong to me."

#opla #dracule mihawk #shanks #roronoa zoro #sanji #sanji one piece #zoro one piece #mihawk one piece #shanks one piece #shanks x reader #sanji x reader #zoro x reader #mihawk x reader #headcannons #fluff #fanfic #one piece fanfiction #one piece headcanons

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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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luffysscraps · 6 months

Text

Dracule Mihawk absolutely NEEDS a chubby girlfriend.

Drabble; 🔞

It’s not a want, or need it’s a MUST.

Just thinking about him calmly sitting down on his throne. Wine in one hand, a book in his other. And you his chubby goth girlfriend in his lap. And he’s so serious all the time. He’s like “Y/N it’s 4 pm. It’s time for your daily belly rub.” And he’ll sit there rubbing your stomach like this ‘😐🍷’.

Despite his face he’s absolutely elated, he’s past cloud nine he’s reached heaven.

And of course he takes you everywhere with him. So when he sails across the sea in that tiny ass boat he just has you in his lap, petting you up like you’re a little rabbit while slashing down any sea kings or pirates that dare cross his path.

If you’re insecure about your weight or refuse to sit on his lap he’ll shut that down in seconds, he’ll literally stare at you blankly like. “My sword weighs more then you. You can’t hurt me.” He leaves no room for argument and just pulls you into his lap.

He loves feeding you and watching you eat. It’s just about the only thing that’ll make him smile. He doesn’t really know why but watching you eat is one of his favorite activities. He’s just silently looking over the table at you with a small smile on his face. “Do you want any more?” :)

He doesn’t look like it but he secretly likes it when you dress up for him. Whenever you and Perona come back from a shopping spree and you show him the outfits and lingerie it’s probably the only time his face turns red but he’s still stoic in the face. All he says is:

“Excellent.”

“Lovely.”

“Marvelous.”

When the other warlords tease him about his chubby chasing habits he simply rolls his eyes. “I’m simply a man, unlike you boys. You simpletons only like plump breasts or plump butts. Who’s afraid of extra soft plushness everywhere?” He says blankly while flipping through the newspaper without a care in the world.

He will Unironically wear a T-Shirt that says ‘plus size is my size.’ Or ‘the bigger the better.’

He really. REALLY. Wants you to sit on his face and will easily admit it. Suffocate him between your thighs and pussy please and thank you. “Y/N, may you please sit on my face?” He wants to drink your wetness until the ends of time.

In the past skinny girls had never made him cum. But your plump pussy, oh he can empty his load into you five times in one session. It’s so soft, so warm, that cute muffin top, your stretch marks. Good god this man is so in love with you.

He loves when you ride him. He’s holding onto the plush of your ass and pumping himself deep inside of you, burying himself in your cunt. “Good heavens.” He moans out as you pick up the pace and he just cums right then and there.

Aftercare is often him laying you down on top of him and him silently petting your hair. He doesn’t say it often but moments like these you know he loves you exponentially.

“Chubby women are truly superior.”

#luffys.scraps #one piece #one piece fanfic #headcanon #drabble #smut #x reader #mihawk smut #hawkeye mihawk #dracule mihawk #mihawk x you #mihawk x reader #op mihawk #one piece mihawk #one piece smut #scraps.Mihawk #chubby reader #chubby

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short-honey-badger · 3 months

Note

Just wondering how you think the Dilfs of one piece (Mihawk, Shanks, Buggy, Crocodile, etc) would react to thier s/o being extremely dense? Like in a "I love you but your an idiot" kinda way.

This was fun, so I really hope I did your ask justice! ❤️❤️

Pairings! Draculex reader Shanks x reader Buggy x reader Crocodile x reader Doflamingo x Reader Marco x reader and Smoker x reader

MIHAWK is a little annoyed at first when he finds that you've completely reorganized his bookshelf by how much you like the covers. He sighs in exasperation, but you look so happy with how the bookshelf now looks that he can't find it in himself to be too upset.

“Oh, to understand the inner workings of your mind, my Darling.”

SHANKS is always excited to wake up and see what you're going to surprise him with next. You enjoy the simple things in life, so it always overjoys him when you appear by his side with a megawatt smile and a pretty shell or sand dollar.

“Whatcha got there, baby? Gonna add it to the others you're got?”

You're a clumsy fuck and BUGGY sometimes wonders why he puts up with you. Especially when you come stumbling into the tent on Big Top, trip over the only rope in the floor, catch yourself on his pants and then down you go. Buggy curses loudly when his crew catches sight of his heart print boxers.

“You better be glad that I fucking love you, little clown.”

It's more than once that the devil fruit user has to pull you away from the banana gators in the feeding area under the casino. It pisses him off that you keep putting yourself in danger, but you always grin and hold tight to CROCODILE, telling him that you always know that he'll save you every time.

“I'm no hero, sweetheart. Quiet trying my patience.”

DOFLAMINGO loves that you are ignorant of who he really is. He is your white knight. The prince comes to save the princess locked away in her lonely tower. You hold him close after a long day, his head pressed to your chest.

“Mhmm. Such a sweet doll. And all mine, too.”

You sit in MARCO'S office, a cute frown on your face as you watch your lover unravel some gauze and then carefully wrap it around the cleaned cut on your leg. The wound is recent, from defending the Moby Dick from rival pirates, an unnecessary risk. He sighs once he is finished and kisses right above the wrap.

“I wish you'd be more careful, my love.”

SMOKER definitely disagrees with your decision to become a pirate. He thought it a dumb ass decision, but he loved you and had vowed to support you in every way he could. However, he has to draw the line when you show up on his ship and demand that he make your bounty higher.

“What? No, I don't need someone I can't fight off coming for you!”

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yuki2sksksk · 6 months

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Been reading some of @missmungoe fanfics in AO3 with Shanks and Makino. I absolutely love that the few I've read, if there's Mihawk involvement, he automatically just gets along quick with Makino.

(I also adore Buggy's interaction with Makino in that spin off AU with Sabo getting to Makino first before Rayleigh)

#one piece #one piece shanks #shanks #one piece mihawk #dracule mihawk #shanks x makino #one piece makino #one piece benn #benn beckman #buggy #drawing #digital art #ao3 fanfic

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vikvkaws · 6 months

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i haven't made nothing for halloween!!!! THAT CANNOT BE

well, i know it's kinda late, but actually i don't care

here is a funny headcanon. Mihawk dreesed up Perona and Zoro and took halloween photos in halloween's eve, you know, for keep memories. how i love my gothic siblings

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undiscovered-horizon · 6 months

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[It’s considered good etiquette to ask a man about his wife’s wellbeing. Except if the man in question is Dracule Mihawk.]

Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi | Have a request?

Garp hates having to call Mihawk, mainly because of the warlord's attitude. Used to the usual "yes, sir!" of the Marines, a man with his own will and agenda is not something he entirely knows how to navigate. Especially since both of them know that the World Government needs the warlords more than they need the bureaucracy. And that doesn't exactly help in exercising power.

His attempts at diplomacy have burst into flames each time and today isn't going to be much different:

"How’s the missus?" Garp asks in the nicest tone he can force although he's aware that Mihawk knows how much the vice admiral hates asking for Dracule's assistance.

Mihawk only scoffs. "Are you calling just to spoil my mood or is there another reason for your impertinence?"

"I was just trying to-"

"Don't," he cuts him off in a stern voice. "If you have business with me, speak fast. If you're interested in my wife, I know where you live, Garp. I'd suggest losing your unwelcome nosiness before you lose something else."

Little did Garp know at the time but his little question was possibly the worst strategy he could think of. Dracule Mihawk is not like most men and the mere mention of his wife by acquaintances only enrages him. Work and private life do not ever mix. And he'll be damned if someone tries to breach that, even in the form of a courtesy. Therefore, the rest of the call was filled with openly insulting answers that were bold even for Mihawk. A veiled threat or two also found their way into their rather tense conversation.

You know he's done with Garp when he lets out a frustrated grunt. Sometimes you wonder if this grumpy, forever dissatisfied version of him is the only side of Mihawk his acquaintances know. Maybe he really is two men in the form of one.

He's sitting at his desk, thinking about something and not bothering to get up for now. Considering the fact that his hat is lying on the table and not on his head, Mihawk is probably not planning on going out anytime soon. Then again, judging by his spoiled mood, his homestay is a blessing for the first poor sods that would cross his path.

In slow steps, you stroll to his side, letting your hand brush through his hair. He doesn't say anything, only leans his head further towards you. The thing about Mihawk is that he loved to reject and decline but he never does so to you. No, in your case it's the opposite - he revels in allowing you whatever you want.

So intimidating and combative, yet soft and looking for intimacy. Truly, two men with the face of one.

"My mother used to say that each grey hair is one thing we worry about," you say quietly. "At this rate, love, your whole head will be white by noon."

"Your mother also says that milk goes sour because gnomes piss in it," he retorts. Yes, your mother and her strange folk beliefs... She's probably the only person Mihawk can force himself to be nice to despite his dislike.

His response earns a hearty laugh from you. Clear as day, you can see his posture relax as he listens to the music of your happiness. If he even thinks about the possibility of Garp or any other of his acquaintances hearing it, he might just get furious again.

"Well, nobody's perfect," you say between chuckles.

Then, Mihawk gently grabs your hand and lowers it to his face. With softness and passion that hardly befits a man of his infamy, he kisses the inside of your hand. "You seem to be doing so effortlessly."

#mihawk one piece #mihawk #one piece mihawk #mihawk fanfiction #dracule mihawk #mihawk x reader #one piece #opla #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece fanfiction #one piece fanfic #one piece imagine #dracule mihawk fanfic #dracule mihawk x you #dracule mihawk fanfiction #dracule mihawk x reader

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jintaka-hane · 2 months

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Laundry in Kuraigana (alternative ending I)

Masterlist

Notes: alternative ending for this Thanks to @feral-artistry who gave me the idea!

. . . If this man isn't willing to pay attention to you, he will realize what he could have had and didn't. The opportunity he missed.

Throughout the week, you watch as your clothes appear hanging in the sun in the garden, alongside those of Mihawk, Zoro, and Perona. Thus, next to a pair of training pants, a simple white shirt and some socks, there is a sultry red lace bodysuit with transparencies.

When you think your clothes might be dry, you approach the laundry room to collect them. As you get closer to your pile, with a mix of hope and dread, you sort through it, only to find just two things: a semi-transparent black thong and a note. With a sense of unease, you unfold the note, revealing elegant gothic handwriting, each letter meticulously drawn likely written with ink from an antique fountain pen.

Dear Y/N,

Unfortunately, there's been a mishap with the rest of your laundry, and as of now, I've only managed to salvage this. Please join me in my quarters tonight so we can explore options for the rest.

Sincerely,

Dracule Mihawk

Alternative ending II

#dracule mihawk #mihawk #hawkeye mihawk #mihawk x reader #x reader #dracule mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk fanfic #one peice #jintaka stuff

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draculesmihawk · 4 months

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eyes like sinking ships on waters (i almost jump in)

Pairing: Dracule Mihawk x OFC

Summary: He's a stranger. She's an unusual assignment. He may be everything she's looking for, but she's a presence that grows more intriguing -- and infuriating -- by the moment.

CHAPTER ONE: i tried to pick my battles 'til the battle picked me

[AO3]

author's note: sooo... i accidentally deleted my tumblr and lost all of my posts. starting new, which means i'm uploading all of my previous chapters slowly. new updates coming soon once i fix this mess.

Marine Hunter. Warlord of the Sea. The Strongest Swordsman in the World.

Dracule Mihawk was a man of few words, more than few titles to his name, and reputation that preceded him. He had created the legend that pirates and Marines alike cowered from. Sword by sword, body by body. He had reached the pinnacle, stood atop it, and saw very little below that matched him in skill. The fact that very few could give him the challenge he wanted was a disappointment of the highest order. More often than not, he found himself watching days go by, lounging with a glass of wine. On particularly thrilling days, he’d pass the time putting the fear of god into anyone who crosses him. From pirates who inconvenience him to incompetent Marines. He would cross the seas and come to towns without a care in the world.

However, there was an instance where he’s supposed to care.

“I have a rather unusual request, Mihawk.”

For Mihawk, who occasionally had a flair for the dramatic with his destruction, that meant words like discreet and alive. Two things he rarely dealt in. It was rare, but the occasional call from the Marines would come in. Half the time, it was a mission that required the minimum of effort. The other half of requests were simply ignored. It wasn’t like the Marines could do anything in retaliation anyway. They knew it was much, much safer to give way to his will and remain on his good side. The alternative was on the wrong side of Yoru.

“And the quarry?”

He finds her on one of the smaller islands, a far cry from any major town. The midday market was bustling with people as the town center was lined with stalls for shopping. At the sight of her, Mihawk could understand why the Vice Admiral considered this unusual. There didn’t seem to be anything particularly special at first sight and certainly nothing outwardly threatening. If he hadn’t been aimed in her direction, she could have easily blended in with the rush of people in town. The dress she wore wasn’t particularly brilliant in color. He assumed that was by design. Another way of keeping her muted and unknown. Hidden. The woman was easily a foot shorter than him, dipping in and out of his view as she moved around those in the market.

Mihawk’s eyes locked in and followed her. He kept a stall’s space between them, steps moving in sync with hers as she shifted over to the next stand. He watched her as she picked and paid for various fruits, storing them in the cloth satchel she wore across her body. It wasn’t her shopping that kept his gaze, but rather what happened when she stopped buying for herself. He surveyed her as she noticed the man beside her count his Berry, the realization that he did not have enough to purchase the small bundle of vegetables dawning on him. She moved seamlessly, dropping Berry for the vendor before grabbing the abandoned vegetables as the man began to walk away. Mihawk watched as she carefully slid the goods into the basket the man wore at his back. Even more, she made a show of stopping the fellow. Mihawk listened over the sound of the market, caught her convincing the gentleman that she must have picked up the coins he dropped a stall or two behind. She took the man’s palm with a smile, placed the small stack of Berry into it before closing his hand over it.

He’d continue to watch her interact with others. From bored children to busy mothers, she would find some way to aid them in the moment. She stopped beside a pair who were observing a stall for sweets at the end of the row, reaching into her satchel before purchasing a bag of treats for herself. Mihawk watched as she took the hand of the man at the stall as she passed, placing it around the waist of the woman who stood beside him without a word. She popped a sweet into her mouth, a pleased smile on her lips as she looked over her shoulder just in time to watch the woman cuddle into the man’s side.

Mihawk stepped out from behind the stall as she turned in the other direction, mindful to keep a few paces behind as he moved after her. He expected her to move onto the next row of market stalls. What he didn’t expect was the falter in her step, followed by her quick turn to run in the other direction. His direction. Hands raised -- his and hers -- to prevent from colliding completely into his chest at her attempt to flee. Her hand reached and took hold of his as she took a half step back to steady herself. He expected confusion for a moment. However, he did not expect the way she looked at him. Apologetically at first, then the double-take. The flash of curiosity. She stared into his golden eyes for a beat, then another before she released his hand.

“Apologies, sir,” a light voice said, as she moved to step around him.

“Do you make it a habit of crashing into people?” he found himself asking, following her as she began to walk in the other direction.

“Not if I can help it.”

She stepped backwards as she took care to keep herself hidden by his large frame. Though she would occasionally cast a glance around him to check that the coast was clear, her eyes found their way up -- and up and up -- to meet his gaze.

“However,” she added, a smile on her face as she realized he was moving in step, shielding her. “I appreciate the moments when I do. It often leads to interesting conversations and lifelong connections.”

“Lifelong, ‘ey?”

“Or at least a lovely impression,” she amended, stepping to the side as the man before her took a longer stride, “I consider my day a success under those circumstances.”

“A unique achievement measurement.”

His steps were cut short by the even shorter woman as she abruptly stopped. Hands planting on the curve of her hips, she fixed him with a suspicious -- albeit, still relatively friendly -- glare. All previous concerns regarding her need to be concealed paused for the moment.

“Are you mocking me?” she asked, though she kept her addressing of him respectful.

“Not at all.”

The man that stood before her had a rather muted expression. His voice carried the same tone. Bored, direct, perhaps a little exasperated. His words were delivered with the ease and comfort of a man who had no troubles getting his point across, but they lacked excitement. She took the beat, allowing her eyes to give him a careful once-over. He watched as she seemed to weigh, measure, and found him… Well, Mihawk wasn’t entirely sure whether she found him wanting or otherwise. The eyes that had taken him in changed as quickly as they came, found replaced with the warm eyes he had come to recognize in her.

“I choose to believe you,” she confessed with a content nod.

“That easily?”

“I see no reason not to.”

That would be her mistake.

Mihawk took another large step forward. She mirrored him, taking a step back, and instantly felt her back meet a wall. She looked over her shoulder for a brief moment, confusion flashing in her eyes when she looked back towards him. Had he purposefully maneuvered her there? In broad daylight no less. He watched as her eyes darted from his left to his right. He recognized the look. The quick thought. Would she be able to give him the slip? It was about as likely as a little dove trying to outmaneuver a hawk in the air.

“I would advise against it, Aurelia of Ore Island,” he told her, reading the moment, “Such feeble attempts would only prolong the inevitable.”

“Which is?”

“You coming with me.”

Yellow eyes fixed upon her. Locked in. The weight of his full attention was positively devastating.

“I don’t see that happening. I just got here.”

“And you linger longer than you should,” Mihawk told her, “Terrible practice for someone not looking to be found.”

Mihawk watched as the once welcoming demeanor chilled slightly. Back straightening, hands clasping at her front, eyes studying him once more.

“Well, introductions seem silly now.”

She took in the large frame, the even larger sword. This man was no regular hunter.

“Surely we could reach some sort of deal,” she offered, “I have Berry.”

“I’ve no use for Berry.”

“Whatever reason you were set on my path, I can assure you that you’d have no use for me either.”

She watched the faint tilt of his head, the way his eyes seemed to slowly drink her in. There was a look she couldn’t quite definite in the man's eye. As if whatever thought that came across his mind was nearly enough to tempt him. If this was a man who had no interest in payment for her capture, it meant that he was hunting for sport. The chase was the challenge. It was what drove him. That made him the most dangerous of men.

"Sixty seconds."

She had the pleasure of watching his mind turn over the two words.

"If finding me was so easy for you," she continued, "Then catching me should be a breeze."

"I already have you."

"Under false pretenses," she scoffed, "A mistake I will be sure to remedy in the future."

He caught the laugh in her voice. There it was. That touch of warmth again. The ease of interaction. Not just in her voice, but her whole being seemed to relish in it. He wasn't sure if this was her natural state or a veil of protection. A disarming smile aimed to lower his defenses. His brow lifted faintly at her words.

"Rather confident, aren’t you?"

"I've no choice but to be," she shrugged. She made a show of raising her chin, letting her eyes sweep over him. "I may be smaller, but with that massive sword you're hauling around I'm willing to bet I could outpace you just long enough. I make it to the shipyard, I get to walk away."

“And when I catch you--”

“You won’t.”

Bravery seemed to radiate from her at that moment. A certainty that Mihawk had not seen before. It amused him. Clearly she has no idea who she was standing boot to boot with. She stared up at him, deep eyes waiting for him to speak. Those same eyes widened once he did.

"Thirty… twenty-nine… twenty-eight…"

The bastard has been counting down since the challenge had been issued. Mihawk stood where he was, watched as she quickly followed the length of the wall he had backed her into. She turned the corner of the building, dashing from his sight. Mihawk set his hands against his hips, content with the countdown. She may think herself quick and arm herself with a spirited attitude, but Mihawk had the mind of a hunter and knew enough to scout out the area beforehand. He knew the pathways to this town long before he came looking for her.

And while she may have gotten a head start, Aurelia had turned in the wrong direction.

That was confirmed to him moments later when he saw a flash of her running past him, rushing in the other direction. If she heard him reach fifteen, she didn’t show it. Instead, she skirted around those in front of her, cutting through the long row of stalls she strolled along earlier. He kept eyes on her all the while. He had to admit she was small and wily. However, tenacity could only go so far. Sooner or later skill would prevail.

Ten.

Mihawk straightened the cuff of his coat.

Five.

She darted left into an alley and out of sight.

One.

Aurelia could not lose a moment. She couldn’t slow and she most certainly could not stop. She may not have caught that man’s name, but she knew sheer power when she set eyes upon it. She had given people the slip before and had her near misses hiding. This would be the first time she actually had thrown out the challenge. Quite literally running for her life. What was she thinking? Simple answer was that she wasn’t thinking at all. In that moment, face-to-face with that man, she had resorted to bargaining for her freedom and he was confident enough to accept it. She had to remind herself that she would not have done so if she did not think herself quick enough to beat him.

Her satchel slammed against her side with every step of her feet, swinging as she turned the corner of the building. There was some sort of commotion in the distance behind her, a chorus of voices murmuring their displeasure. Feet pounded the pavement as she pushed herself forward, trying to phase out the sound of her breathing from her ears. She needed to keep an ear out for any indication that he was closing in. She ducked beneath a railing, dropped down a level lower with a huff. The steeper her path got, the higher the walls of buildings rose as well. She listened as she moved, hoping to hear the waves crashing in the distance. Any indication of shoreline and sea meant victory.

What she did not want to hear was the sound of boots dropping down not far behind her. Aurelia turned her head just in time to see her attempted captor straighten his stance. He turned his head in her direction, feet moving from a slow stroll to a steady jog. He didn’t even look the least bit winded. Fuck. It was the only thought that came to her mind as she turned her attention forward once more. She spotted the large, gated pathway ahead, heart pounding against her chest as she forced her legs to keep moving. She took the opportunity to knock bin after bin behind her. Though she was certain it would do little to faze the man, the act sent a quick thrill through her. Even if it paused him for the smallest of moments, it was a moment more she had given herself.

Aurelia had thought she cleared the gate, but the distinct sound of fabric ripping and catching halted all movement. Panic filled her eyes as she turned back and found the end of her dress hooked along the side of the gate. She had tried to throw the gate shut when she moved past it, not factoring in the length of her attire as she did. She looked up. The man had cleared half of the walkway in the few moments since she last saw him. Hands moving quickly, she tugged at the skirt of her dress. Tear be damned. She was not going to be felled by a silly piece of fabric. She tore the skirt free, a yelp of alarm rising from her throat as she reached for the gate and threw it closed. She flipped the lock with one step to spare, jumping back when his arm reached through the gap in the bars.

Fingertips missed her neck by mere millimeters.

The realization flashed in her eyes as she looked from his hand to his face. He had aimed for her throat. He had withdrawn his hand with great care, his eyes never leaving hers as she began to step backwards, turning before continuing to run. Even if she were to escape, there was no mistaking the fact that the sight of those golden eyes -- pupils dilated, full of determination -- would be seared into her memory. She would ignore the sound of steel, the screech of metal caving to metal. Whatever horrors the man was leaving in his wake would simply be a mystery to her. To look back again would surely mean defeat.

Aurelia turned the corner. To her horror, she saw a wall come into view. This wall was not made of brick, but rather wood. She heard waves just beyond the wall. The beautiful sound of water, the faint orders being called out to those readying ships. It sounded like angels singing from above. There was no better song that could come to her mind at the moment. Only one last barrier that stood between her and freedom.

She ran for the wall, caught sight of the cargo boxes that were stacked along its side. She collected her skirt as she climbed onto the first crate. Her boot met the top of the second before she threw caution to the wind and leapt for the top of the wall, fingers reaching for salvation.

They grasped at air instead.

It was a strong arm that caught her before she could grasp the wall, hauled her away until her back came crashing into his chest. The arm remained around her, wrapped low across her stomach. He held her firmly against him as he leaned forward and planted his other hand against the wall. She leaned back. Both parties unknowingly moved to use the other’s body to keep balance. Aurelia’s hands fell in defeat, and came to rest along the arm at her waist. She was too tired to register the feeling of his fingertips brushing over hers.

“I almost made it,” she breathed out, voice deflated slightly as she spoke.

“Almost doesn't count.”

Though she knew he couldn’t see her, Aurelia rolled her eyes. He didn’t even sound winded. Meanwhile, she felt like her lungs were on fire. He seemed to notice her struggle to regain composure, loosening his grip just enough to turn her around to face him. His palm remained low on her stomach, a soft pin in place. Her cheeks were flushed, once-styled hair had come loose. Despite her less than poised look, Aurelia took a deep breath, eyes falling closed as she leaned back against the wall. Her body relaxed under his hand.

“Believe it or not,” she confessed, “I still believe I’ll be walking out of here on my own.”

“Unlikely,” she heard him say, “You’re brave, but you also need to be smarter. Playing chase will not ensure your survival.”

She didn’t need to open her eyes to know this man’s expression was as stony and serious as ever. She heard his free hand lift from the wall, felt it lightly feather against her cheek. Aurelia’s eyes snapped open at the sensation that shot through her. It was a flash of heat that sizzled at the physical contact. She stood still as he hooked a long finger around the loose strands of hair that had fallen along the side of her face, neatly tucking them behind her ear.

“I survived this long,” she hummed out, a smile touching her lips once more, “I think I’m just smart enough to survive a little bit longer.”

“How so, little dove?”

The tip of her tongue darted out, wetting her lips as she stared up at him. There was a glimmer of intrigue that touched Mihawk’s eyes. Those damn eyes again. Staring at her. Gazing. This was a man who gazed. She was damn sure of it. Well, he can gaze all he wants. Get his fill of her. She wouldn’t be there much longer.

“Well, for starters,” she slowly replied, “We weren’t exactly discreet back there. I’m willing to bet you destroyed some major property in your pursuit. Now… pair that with the fact that you were not the only one looking for me.”

It was then that Mihawk heard it.

The sound of footsteps coming up behind them, entering from the end of the alleyway. Four pairs of boots at least, followed by the sound of swords unsheathing. Aurelia’s smile widened. He could see the confidence rise in her once more. Neither needed to look behind Mihawk to know what was forming behind them. She watched as Mihawk took a deep breath, muted expression edging faintly towards annoyance. Quite pleased with herself, Aurelia allowed her hands to brush up the front of his coat. The soft pat of encouragement she tapped to his chest was strictly for her own amusement.

“Smart enough for you?”

#dracule mihawk #dracule mihawk fanfic #dracule mihawk fanfiction #dracule mihawk x oc #dracule mihawk x ofc #fic: eyes like sinking ships #fic: dracule mihawk #fic: mine

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latanyalove · 7 days

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I don't know if you do requests, but could I ask for a Mihawk x Rescued! Former slave! reader. Lets say she was saved when he tried to destroy Don krieg's battle ship, and she is brought to the mansion and make friends with Perona. But she tries to leave when she realizes she has feelings for him and she feels like dead weight. But he catches her trying to sneak out because he's Mihawk, duh.

Okay, but jokes aside, she gets corner by the baboons and Mihawk shows up and they skedaddle. And then flufffff

Thank you for bearing with me for this chonky request.

Stay

┏━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┓

Pairing: Dracule Mihawk x Y/N

Content: Trauma

A/n: This will probably be a series since I want to add pieces that will make it a better story. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing this! WC: <3

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In a tumultuous sea battle between the infamous swordsman, Dracule Mihawk, and the notorious pirate Don Krieg, a mysterious figure caught Mihawk's attention amidst the chaos. As Mihawk's blade clashed with Krieg's forces, he noticed a young woman, a former slave.

Her appearance was a stark contrast to the opulent attire and extravagant weapons of the pirates. Yet, despite her disheveled appearance, there was an air of resilience about her. Mihawk couldn't help but be intrigued by this woman, wondering what hardships she had endured and what secrets she held within her.

Unexpectedly, her eyes met his from that far distance, and Mihawk felt himself freeze for a second, captivated by the intensity and determination he saw within her gaze.

He couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this young woman than met the eye, and he vowed to uncover the secrets she held, even if it meant venturing into uncharted territories.

"Hey! Focus on me!" Don Krieg yelled, releasing at least a hundred missiles at Mihawk.

With a swift movement, Mihawk deflected the bombs with his sword, effortlessly dodging the explosions. He knew he had to concentrate on the battle at hand, but the image of the mysterious woman lingered in the back of his mind, fueling his curiosity.

As Mihawk engaged in a fierce duel with Don Krieg, his sword danced through the chaos, effortlessly parrying each strike with calculated precision. The clash of steel reverberated through the air, echoing the intensity of their struggle.

Mihawk's focus remained unwavering, yet his thoughts kept drifting back to the enigmatic woman, her presence adding an element of intrigue to the already tumultuous battle.

After swiftly dispatching Don Krieg and his forces, Mihawk turned his gaze towards where the young woman had stood, only to find an empty space devoid of any trace of her.

"Where did you go?" He muttered to himself, placing his sword into his scabbard. . . .

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿════✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

Why is Dracule Mihawk here?! You thought finding cover behind a tree to catch your breath would provide a momentary respite from the chaos. You leaned against the trunk to feel the pointy edges against your back, confirming that this wasn't a dream.

The only time that the ship stopped on land was because of the best swordsman in the world. What luck did you have?

"It's okay," you reassured yourself, "All you have to do is wait it out and run somewhere, anywhere, as long as it's away from here."

"Where are you supposed to run to when it is an isolated island?"

You jumped at the voice behind you and quickly turned around to see Dracule Mihawk sizing you up. His piercing gaze bore into your soul, as if trying to unravel the mysteries hidden within. The thought of running away vanished as you realized that escape was futile in the presence of the world's greatest swordsman.

As he continued to study you, you couldn't help but wonder if there was more to his interest in you than mere curiosity.

"What do you want from me?" you muttered, fear gripping your voice.

The intensity of Mihawk's gaze only deepened as he leaned closer, his words cutting through the tension-filled air, "You're different. There's something about you that intrigues me."

"Are- Are you going to kill me?"

"Why would I? You do not pose a threat towards me," Mihawk answered, taking a small cautious step towards you. "Do you?"

"No!" you blurted out, your voice trembling with fear and confusion. Mihawk's gaze softened slightly as he observed your reaction, a hint of curiosity still lingering in his eyes.

"Good," he said before turning around and walking away, leaving you standing there, still shaken from the encounter. His departure only deepened the mystery surrounding his interest in you, leaving you to ponder the true intentions of the world's greatest swordsman.

As you tried to make sense of Dracule Mihawk's presence on the isolated island, a realization struck you - he must have arrived by some means other than the sinking ship. Perhaps he possessed his own means of transportation.

"Wait!" you yelled, trying to stand up, but your legs felt weak and shaky. Mihawk glanced back briefly, his gaze filled with a mixture of amusement and intrigue.

"Is there a way off this island? Can you help me escape?" you asked, desperation evident in your voice.

Mihawk fully turned around and said, "I have my boat, but it won't be easy. The waters surrounding this island are treacherous, and only a skilled navigator like myself can navigate them safely. If you're willing to take the risk, I can help you escape."

With a glimmer of hope in your eyes, you gather all your courage and reply, "I'm willing to do whatever it takes to get off this island. Please, I'll do anything."

Mihawk replied, his voice tinged with a hint of satisfaction, "Very well. In that case, prepare yourself. Our journey off this island begins now."

Without wasting a moment, you quickly stood up and followed Mihawk, determined to seize this opportunity for freedom.

The anticipation of what lay ahead filled your heart with a mix of excitement and trepidation, as you embarked on a perilous journey alongside the enigmatic swordsman. . . .

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"This is your ship?" you asked, shocked to see the small ship that Mihawk owned. It was nothing like you had imagined, but you didn't have time to dwell on it as Mihawk gestured for you to come aboard.

"This ship may be small, but it's fast and maneuverable," Mihawk explained. "It was originally designed for one person, but I'll made an exception for you. We'll need to make some adjustments to accommodate both of us, but it should suffice for our journey off this island."

You couldn't help but feel a twinge of doubt as you continued to stare at the small ship. It seemed inconceivable that such a modest vessel could withstand the treacherous waters surrounding the island.

Nevertheless, you pushed aside your reservations and reminded yourself that Mihawk was regarded as the world's greatest swordsman for a reason.

You stepped onto the ship and made your way to the back, settling into a small space that had been cleared for you. Mihawk, on the other hand, took his place on the main seat at the front, his eyes fixed on the horizon.

As the ship began to move, you couldn't help but feel a combination of nervousness and anticipation, wondering what awaited you beyond the treacherous waters.

You decided to make yourself as small as possible, curling up in a corner to not take up any space. The gentle rocking of the ship and the soothing sound of the water soon had a calming effect on you, lulling you into a deep sleep.

It was the first time that you had slept for so long without any interruptions.

Either it was because you had to change shifts with another slave or a guard thought that you were too comfortable and decided to give you a massage which left you many bruises on your back.

Though you woke up to the sound of the ground crunching beneath you, you realized with a start that you were no longer on the ship.

You opened your eyes to see that you were being carried by someone. Panic surged through you as you frantically looked around, trying to make sense of your surroundings. It was then that you noticed the familiar face of Mihawk, his expression unreadable as he effortlessly held you in his arms.

"Calm down," Mihawk muttered, his voice soothing and reassuring. "We've reached our destination. You fell asleep on the ship, so I carried you off. We're safe now."

You looked at where they were heading and saw a huge dark castle in the distance, its towering spires piercing the night sky. The sight sent shivers down your spine, as you couldn't help but wonder what mysteries and dangers awaited you within those ominous walls.

"What is that?"

"That's my house," Mihawk said casually, as if mentioning that he owned a small cottage by the seaside.

You couldn't believe your ears as you stared at the imposing castle, realizing that you had just stepped into the lair of the world's greatest swordsman.

"Why are we at your house?"

"Because you need to get bandaged up and I need to rest," Mihawk replied, his eyes scanning the castle's surroundings for potential threats.

"My house is equipped with everything we need to tend to our wounds and recover. Plus, it's the safest place for us right now."

You kept quiet as you saw the castle get bigger and closer, the sense of foreboding intensifying with each step. The eerie silence that enveloped the surroundings only added to your unease, making you question the true nature of Mihawk's "house" and what secrets it held within its walls.

"We're here," he said in a very nonchalantly tone.

As you looked around, you noticed the thick iron door of the castle slowly creaking open, revealing a grand entrance that seemed to lead into the heart of darkness.

Your heart raced with a mixture of fear and curiosity, wondering what awaited you on the other side.

As you entered the castle, the lights switched on by themselves, illuminating the grandeur of the place. The flickering candlelight danced off the intricate tapestries and ancient suits of armor, creating an eerie yet mesmerizing atmosphere. It was clear that this was no ordinary home, but a place steeped in history and power.

"Mihawk! Why are you back so early!" a voice came from inside the castle, echoing through the grand halls. You followed Mihawk's gaze and saw a figure emerging from the shadows, their eyes filled with a mix of surprise and curiosity.

The figure that emerged from the shadows was a woman. With her signature pink hair and a frilly black dress, she exuded an air of both elegance and mischief.

Her wide eyes sparkled with curiosity as she took in the sight of you in Mihawk's arms, clearly intrigued by your presence in their mysterious castle.

"Perona, this is our guest for now, treat her with respect," Mihawk stated firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Perona's eyes widened even further as she assessed you, her curiosity turning into a mischievous smile.

"Oh, how delightful! A new playmate," she exclaimed, her voice dripping with excitement and a touch of malice.

As you tried to process Perona's words, you felt a chilling breeze on your back. Startled, you turned around and to your astonishment, you found yourself being held by a translucent, ghost-like figure instead of Mihawk.

The figure's eyes glowed with an ethereal light as it floated effortlessly, its presence sending a shiver down your spine.

"Come along!" Perona said excitedly, also floating and headed upstairs, her frilly black dress billowing around her.

Reluctantly, you followed Perona, your eyes fixed on the ghostly figure that carried you. Its ethereal presence seemed to be bound to Perona, as if it were her loyal companion in this eerie castle.

As you ascended the stairs, you stole a quick glance down to the first floor, where you had caught a glimpse of Mihawk before. However, to your surprise, Mihawk was nowhere to be seen.

It was as if he had vanished into thin air, leaving you alone with Perona and the mysterious ghostly figure. The air grew colder, and a sense of unease settled over you as you continued to follow Perona deeper into the heart of the castle.

"What's your name?" Perona asked, floating closer to you with a mischievous grin. Her pink hair seemed to glow in the dim light of the castle as she eagerly awaited your response.

"My name is Y/N," you replied, feeling a mixture of apprehension.

"Y/N? That's such a good name," Perona complimented as she continued to float, leading you deeper into the castle. The ghostly figure holding you seemed to emit an eerie glow, its presence becoming increasingly unsettling as you ventured further into the unknown.

Perona finally stopped in front of a door and quickly opened it, getting inside. The ghostly figure followed suit, its ethereal form gliding into the room.

As you stepped into the room, you were immediately captivated by its opulence. The walls were adorned with intricate tapestries, and the furniture was ornately carved with delicate details.

The room was filled with plush cushions, silk curtains, and a grand canopy bed fit for a princess. The soft glow of candlelight illuminated the space, casting a warm and inviting ambiance. It was as if you had stepped into a fairytale, and for a moment, you forgot the eerie presence that had brought you here.

"This is my bedroom," Perona said as the ghost placed you on the edge of her bed.

"It's really nice," you said, speechless of the sight of the room.

Perona chuckled, her mischievous grin widening. "Now let's get you a bath and some new clothes, the ragged look does not fit you," she joked, gesturing towards a luxurious en-suite bathroom.

The thought of a warm bath and fresh attire was tempting, but you couldn't shake off the unsettling feeling that lingered in the air.

As you tried to stand up, your legs did not cooperate with you and started to make you fall. Panic surged through you as you grasped for something to hold onto, but all you could grasp was thin air.

Luckily, Perona was beside you and was able to catch you in time, preventing you from falling to the ground. She held onto you, her ethereal grip providing a surprisingly strong support, and helped you regain your balance.

"Are you okay?" Perona panicked, concern evident in her voice as she held onto you tightly.

"Yeah, I'm alright," you muttered, trying to downplay your momentary loss of balance. But deep down, you couldn't shake off the feeling that something was seriously wrong with your body.

"Let's get you a bath now, maybe that will make you feel better," Perona suggested, guiding you to the bathroom.

The bathroom was an extension of the opulence that permeated the rest of the room. Marble countertops, gilded fixtures, and a large clawfoot bathtub took center stage, surrounded by intricate tilework and a crystal chandelier that sparkled overhead.

Perona guided you into the bath with utmost care, ensuring that you were comfortable every step of the way. She adjusted the water temperature to your liking and gently helped you settle into the luxurious clawfoot bathtub, making sure you were fully supported.

As the warm water enveloped your body, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief and gratitude for Perona's kind and attentive nature.

Unable to take the silence anymore, you decided to make a joke.

"Is this how you treat all your guests?" you joked, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you hugged your knees close to you.

"Actually, you're our first guest," Perona said, kneeling beside the bathtub. "But I must say, you're making quite the impression already. We've been waiting for someone like you for a long time."

"What do you mean?" you asked curiously, facing Perona.

"You see, that old man Mihawk has been so lonely for all his life, it was time that he had some love in his life," Perona explained, her voice filled with a mix of sympathy and affection.

"What do you mean?" you said, feeling your face heat up at her words, unsure if you had heard her correctly. Perona's eyes softened as she looked at you, her voice filled with sincerity.

"Mihawk has been searching for a companion, someone to share his life with. And it seems like fate has brought you to us."

"That can't be," you protested, your voice trembling with uncertainty. "He only brought me here because he pitied me since I was the survivor of the fight that he was in. I can't be the companion he's looking for."

Perona's expression remained gentle as she reached out to touch your hand. "Believe me, it's more than just pity," she reassured you. "Mihawk sees something special in you, something that goes beyond mere circumstance."

You kept quiet, thinking deeply about what she said. Did the greatest swordsman in the world really think that about you? Fall in love with a small peasant? No way.

"Let's get you clean first," Perona said, getting the shampoo and rubbing your hair, getting the dirt out.

As she continued to wash your hair, she whispered, "You may doubt it now, but Mihawk's feelings for you are genuine. He sees in you a strength and resilience that he admires, and that's why he brought you here."

As Perona continued to massage your hair, her gentle touch and the soothing sound of the water made you feel incredibly relaxed. Despite your doubts, the weight of the day started to lift off your shoulders, and you couldn't help but feel yourself drifting off to sleep in her caring hands.

"Y/N, Y/N?"

You quickly straightened your back and looked at Perona, trying to shake off the drowsiness. "Yes Perona," you said softly.

"I'm done washing your hair, is my massaging that good?" Perona teased, standing up to stretch her legs and arms.

You blushed and smiled at Perona's playful comment. "Yes, Perona, your massaging is amazing. I've never felt so relaxed before," you admitted, feeling grateful for her presence and the unexpected turn your life had taken.

"My treatment isn't over yet, you need new clothes," Perona said excitedly, running out of the bathroom to find some clothes that would fit you properly.

As you watched her leave, a mixture of curiosity and anticipation filled your heart, wondering what other surprises this new chapter of your life would bring.

Slowly, you got out of the bath and walked over to where the towels were hung from. As you dried yourself, something caught your eye in the mirror; it was your back.

It was a painful reminder of the abuse you had endured throughout your life. The scars crisscrossed your back, telling stories of pain and suffering. As you stared at your reflection, you felt disgust and guilt fill your heart.

How was Perona not disgusted by you? How could you show that to her? She must have pitied me as well.

"Hey Y/N, are you okay?" Perona asked, her reflection showing in the mirror as well, standing at the doorway. She looked at you with genuine concern in her eyes, her expression filled with empathy and understanding.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you said, quickly covering your back with the towel. You didn't want Perona to see the scars and be burdened with your past.

"I've got your outfits ready," Perona informed, her voice filled with excitement. "I picked out some clothes that I think you'll love."

You nodded, walking out of the bathroom and seeing the different outfits on the racks. Perona's taste in fashion was impeccable, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement as you imagined yourself wearing the carefully selected clothes.

Though all of the outfits were dresses, you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. As someone who has always been in pants and shirts, you wondered if Perona truly understood your personal style.

Nevertheless, you decided to give the dresses a chance and hoped that they would make you feel as confident and beautiful as Perona saw you.

"Sorry, all I have are dresses."

"It's okay," you assured, taking the first dress and going back to the bathroom.

When you properly looked at the dress, you realized that this was a bad idea. It was a style that you would never choose for yourself. Maybe it was because you are only able to wear one set of clothes - too frilly, too feminine, and completely foreign to you.

But Perona had put so much thought and effort into selecting these outfits for you that you decided to suck it up and wear the dress. You wanted to show her that you appreciated her gesture and were willing to step outside of your comfort zone for her.

Plus, who knows, maybe trying something new could be a positive change for you.

As you looked into the mirror, you couldn't help but feel a sense of shock at the person staring back at you. The dress completely transformed your appearance, making you almost unrecognizable to yourself.

Despite your initial hesitation, you took a deep breath and reminded yourself that sometimes stepping outside of your comfort zone can lead to unexpected growth and self-discovery.

You walked out of the bathroom and immediately looked at Perona for her reaction. Her eyes widened as she took in your appearance, and a wide smile spread across her face. "You look absolutely stunning!" she exclaimed, her excitement evident in her voice.

"Thank you," you replied shyly, grateful for Perona's kind words and validation.

"This is why we need to show you off to Mihawk," Perona stated happily, her eyes gleaming with excitement. You couldn't help but blush at her words, feeling a mix of nervousness and anticipation building up inside you.

Lost in your own thoughts and the rush of confidence from trying something new, you were so absorbed in your own bubble of happiness that you didn't even hear Perona's statement about showing you off to Mihawk.

Then you felt as if you had been picked up again by someone.

Startled, you turned your head to the side and made eye contact with the ghost, who had picked you up once again.

"Let's go," Perona smiled, floating again and led the way. You clung onto the ghost, feeling a mix of excitement and curiosity as you followed her through the halls, eager to see where this unexpected journey would take you.

As you followed Perona through the halls, you couldn't help but admire the grandeur of Mihawk's mansion. The elegant decor and intricate artwork displayed in every corner showcased his impeccable taste.

It didn't take long for Perona to lead you to Mihawk's study room, and as you entered, you were immediately struck by the air of wisdom and power that seemed to emanate from the room.

Mihawk seemed oblivious to your presence, deeply engrossed in the book he was reading. His intense focus and the way he furrowed his brows as he turned the pages only added to his mysterious aura.

"Mihawk, I brought Y/N here," Perona said with a hint of pride in her voice, gesturing towards you. "Doesn't she look stunning?" she exclaimed, treating you as if you were a prized possession on display.

When Mihawk looked up from his book, the both of you had immediate eye contact, and his eyes widened in astonishment at the sight of you.

It was as if time stood still for a moment, and you could feel the intensity of his gaze as he took in your transformed appearance.

Did he not like your dress? Did he not like you getting too close to Perona?

"Perona, can you leave the two of us alone?" Mihawk ordered, his gaze never leaving yours.

Perona then whispered, "Good luck, even though you might not need it. Mihawk has never shown such interest in anyone before. You must have made quite an impression."

Perona nodded and floated out of the room, leaving you alone with the enigmatic swordsman.

The intensity of his gaze made your heart race, and you couldn't help but wonder what thoughts were running through his mind.

"Come sit here," he said, gesturing to the chair beside him.

As the ghost moved, it gently dropped you onto the chair beside Mihawk. You sat in the seat, trying to steady your nerves as you waited for him to speak. The silence in the room was palpable, and you couldn't help but feel a mix of anticipation and uncertainty about what was to come.

Even as you tried to settle into the chair, Mihawk's piercing gaze never wavered.

"Is there something wrong with your legs?"

You turned to him in surprise, your eyes widening at the unexpected question. "No, nothing's wrong with my legs," you replied, slightly puzzled. "Why do you ask?"

"Perona's ghost carried you all the way here,"

"I tripped once and Perona was overreacting by making me get carried," you explained, hoping to alleviate any concerns he might have had.

Mihawk's expression softened ever so slightly as he nodded. "I see," he responded, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity.

The awkward silence hung in the air, amplifying the tension between you and Mihawk. You wondered if there was something more he wanted to say, or if he was simply contemplating the situation. Either way, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of anxiety and anticipation as you waited for him to break the silence.

"You look beautiful by the way," Mihawk said, finally breaking the silence. His compliment caught you off guard, and a blush crept onto your cheeks.

"Thank you," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. The sincerity in Mihawk's words sent a wave of warmth through your body, calming your nerves slightly.

"Do you want to stay here?" Mihawk asked, his piercing gaze still fixed on you.

The question caught you off guard once again, and you found yourself searching for the right words to respond, unsure of what staying in this enigmatic swordsman's presence would entail.

"I like it here, but I don't want to intrude," you said, hesitatingly. The words escaped your lips as you tried to convey your mixed feelings of both comfort and reservation in Mihawk's presence.

"You are not intruding at all," Mihawk started, his voice calm and reassuring. "Perona seems to like you, so you can stay as long as you like." The weight of his words lifted some of the uncertainty from your shoulders, allowing you to relax a little more in his presence.

"I- I can stay?" you said, looking at him with surprise, the words escaping your lips before you could fully process them.

Mihawk was surprised by the sudden eye contact but quickly regained his composure and looked back at his book, nodding. It seemed like he was trying to regain his composure and maintain his usual stoic demeanor.

"Thank you," you said, your voice filled with gratitude and a hint of relief. The permission to stay in Mihawk's presence felt like a weight lifted off your shoulders, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth and acceptance in his words.

"Do you like dresses?" he asked, not lifting his eyes off his book. His question caught you off guard again, and you hesitated for a moment before responding, "Well this is my first time wearing something other than ripped clothes. Why do you ask?"

"We can go shopping after you recover, if you'd like," Mihawk suggested, his eyes finally meeting yours.

"I appreciate the offer, but I feel like I would be using you if I accepted. I don't want to burden you or take advantage of your kindness," you said, your voice filled with sincerity and concern.

"You're not burdening me at all," Mihawk reassured, his gaze unwavering. "Helping you is my choice."

"You're very generous," you said, overwhelmed by Mihawk's kindness. The offer to go shopping after your recovery was unexpected, and you couldn't help but feel touched by his willingness to help.

"I understand that nothing can repair all you have gone through," Mihawk replied, his voice filled with empathy.

"You have no idea how much this means to me," you replied, tears welling up in your eyes. "To have someone like you, someone who understands, by my side... I can't thank you enough."

As Mihawk was about to reply, the door opened dramatically and revealed Perona, who had a mischievous smile on her face. "Oh, sorry for interrupting your conversation!" she exclaimed, causing both of you to turn towards her in surprise.

Startled by the sudden movement, you jumped in your seat, your heart racing.

"What do you want?" Mihawk muttered, a sign of anger showing in his tone. His interruption was abrupt, and his gaze shifted from Perona to you, as if silently asking if you were okay.

Perona's mischievous smile grew wider as she said, "I just wanted to let you two know that dinner is ready."

Mihawk sighed and glanced at you apologetically before turning his attention back to Perona. "Thank you for letting us know, Perona. We'll be there shortly," he responded, his voice calm but still carrying a hint of frustration.

Perona nodded, chuckling mischievously before floating away, leaving you and Mihawk alone once again. You took a deep breath, grateful for the brief interruption that allowed your racing heart to calm down.

"Can you walk?" Mihawk asked, placing his book on his desk.

"Yes, I can walk," you replied, relieved that your momentary panic hadn't caused any physical limitations. Mihawk nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Good," he said, standing up from his chair. "Shall we head to dinner then?"

"Yes," you said, standing up as well, and you followed Mihawk out of the room, feeling a sense of comfort knowing that he was there to support you.

As you continued to follow him from behind, it reminded you of your life just a few hours ago.

When walking was not a choice at times but a command enforced by cruel guards who would yell, "Walk faster!" while pulling the chains that were wrapped around the necks and arms of the slaves.

You were only able to answer with a 'Yes Master' or a 'Yes sir'. Other than those two, you would be severely punished depending on who heard your wrong answer.

Unfortunately you were a slave that was passed across many ships for all of their lives and you weren't familiar with that rule yet. Your last ship made you do everything in silence, even cry in silence that you even thought you had lost your voice.

The punishment you had to endure in Don Krieg's ship was indescribable. From physical beatings to starvation and isolation, every day was filled with unimaginable pain and suffering.

It was a constant battle for survival, and the fear of making a single mistake haunted your every move.

"Are you coming?" a voice said, making you jump.

Without thinking, you answered with "yes master," your conditioned response from years of slavery.

But as the words left your mouth, you quickly realized where you were and who you were with. The weight of your past life lingered in that moment, reminding you of the scars that still remained, even if they weren't visible.

You quickly corrected yourself, realizing that you were no longer in that dark place. The presence of Mihawk and the safety of his house provided a stark contrast to the horrors you had endured.

His eyes filled with concern as he noticed your sudden startle. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," he apologized, extending a hand towards you.

"No, I'm sorry, I should have paid more attention," you said, shaking your head.

The memories of your past sometimes still caught you off guard, but being in Mihawk's presence helped ease the lingering pain.

Feeling a sense of comfort, you slowly wrapped your hand around his arm, finding solace in his presence. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes of the trust that was slowly growing between the two of you, helping to heal the wounds of your past.

As you continued to walk in silence, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the freedom you now had. Each step forward was a reminder of how far you had come from the days of bondage and suffering.

Finally, after walking in silence for a few more minutes, you and Mihawk reached the dining room. The sight of the beautifully set table and the aroma of the delicious meal filled the air, instantly making your stomach grumble with anticipation.

As you approached the dining room, Mihawk graciously pulled out the chair on his right side for you. Gratefully, you settled into your seat, ready to indulge in the nourishing meal before you.

Perona then floated in from the kitchen and sat in front of you, her mischievous smile lighting up the room. "I hope you're hungry," she said playfully, her ghostly form exuding an air of excitement.

It was clear that she had put her heart into preparing this meal, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth and belonging in this newfound family.

"Let's dig in, Itadakimasu!" Perona said, sitting down. The words marked the beginning of a joyful feast, as you and Mihawk joined her at the table, savoring the delicious food.

You couldn't help but feel a tinge of embarrassment as you stared at the unfamiliar cutlery in front of you. Forks and knives were foreign objects to you, as you had never used them before.

"What's your dominant hand?"

"Huh," you said, looking at Mihawk. "I'm actually ambidextrous, so I can use either hand."

Mihawk chuckled softly, reaching across the table to hand you a fork. "Well, I guess it's time to learn something new," he said.

You took the fork and stared at it, feeling a mixture of curiosity and nervousness. As you held it in your hand, Mihawk leaned in and gently guided you through the proper way to hold and use it, patiently teaching you the art of dining with cutlery.

As you held the fork for the first time, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unfamiliarity and anticipation. The smooth metal against your fingertips felt foreign yet strangely empowering.

With your heart pounding, you cautiously brought the fork to your lips, trying to mimic Mihawk's guidance.

You fumbled with the fork a few times, dropping food and feeling your face flush with embarrassment. Mihawk and Perona, however, remained patient and encouraging, assuring you that it was completely normal to struggle at first. With each failed attempt, he offered gentle guidance and reassurance, reminding you that learning something new takes time and practice.

With a cautious grip, you tentatively speared a piece of food and raised it to your lips. As the flavors mingled on your tongue, you couldn't help but smile at the small triumph of mastering this new skill, savoring not only the taste of the meal but also the sense of accomplishment that came with it.

You looked at Mihawk in shock, and you could see the slightest smile playing at the corners of his lips. It was as if he had anticipated your reaction and took joy in witnessing your triumph over the unfamiliarity of using cutlery.

"You're a quick learner," Mihawk said with a proud glint in his eyes, rewarding your efforts with a nod of approval.

"Thank you," you replied, feeling a sense of gratitude for Mihawk's patient guidance.

You started to eat, savoring each bite and enjoying the newfound skill of using cutlery. As you looked up, you noticed Perona's gaze fixed on the two of you, her eyes shining with happiness.

"What is it?" Mihawk asked, also noticing Peroma's staring.

"It's- It's nothing!" Perona replied, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. She quickly averted her gaze, pretending to be engrossed in her meal once again.

You found Perona's reaction endearing, her blush adding to the charm of the moment. However, Mihawk scoffed, dismissing her behavior as nothing more than a triviality, before taking a sip of his wine and returning his attention to his meal.

You couldn't help but wonder what was going through his mind, but you decided to focus on enjoying the rest of the meal and savoring the newfound skill of using cutlery.

What would she think if she saw me now? In a fancy dress, at a fancy castle and with fancy people.

You smiled sadly at the thought, knowing that she would never have the opportunity to witness this moment. Her absence was a constant ache in your heart, but you took solace in the fact that you were carrying a piece of her with you, her spirit guiding you through each small triumph and reminding you to cherish every moment.

Mihawk had noticed the sadness behind your smile, but his silence on the matter only deepened the mystery of his thoughts.

The fancy castle exuded an air of grandeur and opulence, with its towering walls adorned with intricate tapestries and sparkling chandeliers illuminating the exquisite dining hall.

The dining hall was a breathtaking sight, with its grand chandeliers casting a dazzling array of light that danced off the polished silverware and fine china.

The walls, adorned with intricate tapestries depicting scenes of ancient battles and noble conquests, added an air of regality to the already opulent space. As you took in the surroundings, you couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and privilege to be in such a luxurious setting.

"So what are we doing tomorrow?" Perona asked curiously, breaking the silence that had settled over the table.

Her question brought you back to the present moment, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement as you thought about the adventures that awaited the next day.

"I will be going out to meet up with someone," Mihawk stated, taking another sip of his wine. His cryptic response piqued your curiosity, leaving you wondering who he was meeting and what plans he had in store.

"Who?" Perona asked, her eyes filled with curiosity as she awaited Mihawk's answer.

"That is none of your business," Mihawk answered, his tone curt and final.

The air around the table grew tense as Perona's curiosity clashed with Mihawk's guarded demeanor, leaving you caught in the middle, torn between wanting to know the answer and respecting Mihawk's privacy.

"Oh well, that means the house is all to us," Perona cheered to you, her excitement palpable.

You couldn't help but smile, grateful for her lightheartedness in the midst of the tension. It was a reminder that even in moments of uncertainty, there was still joy to be found.

As the evening wore on, you and Perona continued to share stories from your past, exchanging tales of adventure and hardship. Mihawk remained a silent but attentive presence, his gaze fixed on you both as he listened intently to every word.

It was a rare moment of vulnerability and connection, as you realized that despite his guarded demeanor, Mihawk was genuinely interested in getting to know you on a deeper level.

It would not be too difficult for you to get used to this, you thought to yourself. . . .

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You woke up trapped on a slave ship, embarking on a harrowing journey of torture and suffering. As you lay restlessly in your sleep, you found yourself waking up in a familiar place.

It was a dark and damp room, with shackles tightly binding your ankles and wrists. Panic consumed you as you realized you were a prisoner on a slave ship.

As you slowly regained consciousness, you noticed a group of guards surrounding you. They were cruel and merciless, their faces etched with twisted desires. Each guard carried a whip, which they eagerly used to inflict unimaginable pain upon your flesh.

So it was a dream, you thought sadly, remembering the feeling of being in a majestic dress in a castle with Mihawk and Perona.

As you got up to the yelling of the guards, you realized that the dream was just a temporary escape from the harsh reality of your situation. The pain in your limbs and the stench of the ship's hold reminded you that you were still a captive, desperate for freedom.

The guards showed no mercy as they tormented you. They would strike you with whips, leaving welts upon your body. The whips were adorned with sharp metal spikes, causing excruciating pain with every lash. The guards laughed and taunted you, reveling in your suffering.

It became clear that the guards' sadistic pleasure was their primary objective. They enjoyed inflicting pain purely for their own amusement. Their laughter echoed through the ship, reminding you of your helplessness.

As the days turned into weeks, the slave ship continued on its journey. The stench of sweat and fear filled the air. The guards kept us confined in cramped, unsanitary conditions. We were subjected to constant hunger and thirst, our bodies ravaged by disease and malnutrition.

Your suffering was unrelenting and, as we sailed further, our despair only grew stronger. . . .

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You woke up sweating profusely from the nightmare, your heart pounding in your chest. The vividness of the dream left you shaken, unable to shake off the feeling of despair and hopelessness that had consumed you from your nightmare.

You looked around and saw you were in a fancy yet empty room. The grandeur of the furnishings contrasted sharply with the emptiness of the space, leaving you with a sense of eerie solitude.

The silence was deafening, and you couldn't help but question whether this was another illusion, or if there was a glimmer of hope for escape after all.

You remembered how Perona showed you to this guest room last night, assuring you it would be a safe place to rest and you could decorate it later.

You then slowly got up from your bed and made your way to the door as you walked slowly. As you turned the handle, a rush of anticipation filled your veins. The creaking of the door echoed through the empty hallway, and you cautiously stepped outside, your heart pounding with a mix of fear and determination.

The moon hung high in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the deserted grounds. The stillness of the night was unsettling, as if the whole world was holding its breath in anticipation. The moon cast an ethereal glow on the desolate landscape, illuminating the path ahead.

The late hour meant that Perona was likely to be asleep but you were unsure of Mihawk. You weren't able to identify any sleepiness from him during dinner unlike Perona, who was complaining about how she needed her beauty sleep for one hour until you volunteered to wash the dishes for her.

As you tiptoed down the corridor, every step was carefully calculated to avoid making any noise. The silence enveloped you, amplifying the sound of your own breathing.

You knew that any sudden noise could alert Mihawk to your presence, and the consequences of being caught were too dire to contemplate.

Your heart skipped a beat as you heard the faint sound of footsteps echoing from downstairs.

Your mind raced with possibilities, wondering who could be roaming the house at this hour. Could it be Perona, unable to sleep and wandering aimlessly? Or perhaps it was Mihawk, patrolling the premises to ensure the safety of his guests.

The unknown nature of the situation only heightened your anxiety, and you knew that you had to proceed with extreme caution.

Despite knowing that it was wrong, your curiosity got the better of you, and you couldn't resist the urge to explore the castle further. The allure of the unknown beckoned you, and you silently made your way towards the source of the footsteps, determined to uncover the secrets that lay hidden within the walls.

You made it to the grand staircase without any disturbance, its grandeur and elegance captivating you as you ascended each step. The soft moonlight streaming through the stained glass windows added an ethereal touch to the scene, casting colorful patterns on the marble floor below.

As you walked down the stairs, the footsteps grew louder, echoing through the empty hallways. The sound resonated with an eerie intensity, sending shivers down your spine and intensifying your sense of unease.

When you reached the end of the stairs, a figure emerged from the shadows, completely unaware of your presence. Their footsteps faltered for a moment as they glanced around, their eyes scanning the surroundings with a mixture of caution and curiosity.

The figure standing before you was none other than the legendary swordsman, Dracule Mihawk. Clad in his signature black attire, Mihawk exuded an aura of mystery and power. His long, flowing black hair framed his chiseled face, accentuating his piercing, hawk-like eyes that seemed to hold a depth of knowledge and experience beyond measure.

The sharp angles of his jawline and the confident set of his shoulders portrayed a man who was both formidable and unyielding. As he moved with grace and precision, his black cape billowed behind him, adding an air of elegance and drama to his every step.

It was clear that this was a man who commanded respect and demanded attention wherever he went.

You had always heard stories of Mihawk's fearsome reputation and his unmatched swordsmanship, but now, as you looked at him up close, you couldn't help but notice his striking features.

His sharp eyes softened as they met yours, revealing a glimmer of curiosity.

The harsh lines of his face seemed to soften, revealing a hidden attractiveness that you had never noticed before. Despite the air of mystery and power that surrounded him, you couldn't help but find yourself drawn to his handsome and enigmatic presence.

"Y/N, what are you doing awake so late?" Mihawk asked as he fully faced you, his voice carrying a mix of surprise and concern. His piercing gaze remained fixed on you, as if trying to unravel the mystery behind your presence in his grand mansion.

You stumbled for words, caught off guard by his sudden attention, unsure whether to reveal the truth or come up with a plausible excuse.

Finally, you mustered the courage to respond, "I couldn't sleep, and I couldn't resist the allure of exploring this magnificent place."

Mihawk's gaze lingered on you for a moment, his expression unreadable. "Curiosity can be a dangerous thing," he murmured, his voice low and filled with a hint of warning.

"I understand the risks," you replied, meeting Mihawk's gaze with determination.

Mihawk nodded before gesturing you to come over, "Y/N, come here," he said, his voice holding a touch of intrigue. As you stepped closer to him, you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement mixed with apprehension. What could he possibly want with you?

As you got close enough, Mihawk slowly reached for your hand, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. His grip was firm yet gentle, as if he held something precious.

"I'll be back before tomorrow evening, but if you have any problems, just call me on this," he whispered, his voice tinged with a hint of reassurance.

As he released your hand, a mix of anticipation and uncertainty filled the air. With the Transponder Snail now in your possession, you couldn't help but wonder what awaited you in the coming hours.

You watched as Mihawk opened the door, said goodbye before walking into the forest. The sound of his footsteps faded into the distance, leaving you standing there, holding the Transponder Snail in your hand, filled with a mix of excitement and trepidation about the adventures that lay ahead.

Feeling tired, you closed the door and headed back to bed, placing the Transponder Snail on the desk close by.

The events of the evening replayed in your mind, and as sleep finally claimed you, you couldn't help but wonder where Mihawk was going, and how you would be involved. . . .

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"Good afternoon Hawkeyes Mihawk, what honour do I have for you to be here today?"

"I have something that might interest you, Garp."

"And what might that be?"

"Have you ever heard of a devil fruit that allows the user to control its own aura and even the aura from other living beings?"

"No, I haven't. Tell me more," Garp replied, his curiosity piqued. . . .

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Part 2?

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nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos · 7 months

Text

Zoro is fuckboy material.

Sanji is boyfriend material.

Shanks is husband material.

Mihawk is BDSM Dom Daddy™ material.

Earlier I refused to elaborate.

Now, I will elaborate no further than the sources below the dotted line.

dottedlinethedottedlinethedottedlineth

Zoro

He'll pull you into a broom closet without any warning at all, turn you around, pull your panties down under your skirt, and have you right there when the mood strikes.

Then he'll catch your eye across the deck half an hour later and give you a little smirk that makes your cheeks flare bright red. You're not sure if you want to either kick him in the shin or go for another round right that moment, if not both.

He's not looking for anything serious because he's just not that good at getting close with anyone or being emotionally available in general.

There's a lot of time between port towns, and you're a good match for each other's physical needs and desires, but not much beyond that.

Sanji

Even if he is a relentless flirt, he's just such a complete sweetheart. It's difficult not to swoon at those subtle little touches at your waist and hips, at his seductive murmur in your ear.

He respects every last one of your boundaries; if you tell him something he's doing bothers you, he's going to back off from it. No protest, no questions asked. He's still going to make it clear that he thinks you're incredible, but he wants you to be comfortable and happy above all else.

He's still as sweet as candy even once he does win you over. Playful and flirty and constantly planning the most romantic dates. Picnics on the beach, preparing candlelit diners just for the two of you, laying out a pallet of blankets and pillows with a bottle of wine under the stars—doing everything possible to make you feel special.

It's difficult to tell where it will go, but he's sweet and doting and fun, and he puts every ounce of effort into treating you like literal royalty.

Shanks

You're his lover just as much as you are his best friend. He doesn't hold anything back from you, good or bad, trivial or important. He wouldn't ever consider keeping a secret from you because the thought simply wouldn't even cross his mind—whatever he knows, you know. If anyone else tells him something in confidence, they tell him knowing that he's going to tell you the second he sees you.

His gestures of romance are more subtle and revolved around camaraderie than worship. If you're cooking or cleaning, he wants to be there, both to help lessen the load and to just be there with you. If he sees you washing dishes, he's right there next to you with a towel to dry them and put them away. If you're cooking, he's helping clean up after you. If you're sweeping the floors, he's apt to just take the broom from you, kiss you on the cheek, and tell you to go take a load off and relax.

Absolutely nothing could ever stop him from being with you. There could be an entire armada of Marine warships between you and him, and he would still find his way to you.

Every hope or dream you have ever had in your life is also his now. Literally all of them. It doesn't matter how long ago it was or how unobtainable it seems—if you still want it, he wants to make sure you achieve it. Does't matter what it is. He's never going to tell you it's silly or impossible or unachievable—he's going to exhaust every effort to find a way to make sure you can achieve it.

Mihawk

Hopefully you didn’t have too many plans of your own, because if you've managed to catch his interest, he's going to make sure that you're his, and probably within the next twenty-four hours or less.

He isn’t completely unreasonable. You will have the option to refuse. But he isn’t going to beat around the bush, either. He's going to pull you against him by your hips, comb his fingers through your hair and grasp it to pull you in and ask you outright if you want to belong to him.

He won't pressure you if you say no. That's your choice. He'll just leave you with a deep, passionate kiss that makes your knees weak, a light brush of his thumb across your lips, and he'll let you go.

But if you say yes...then good luck. You're his now, and he's never letting you go.

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turtletaubwrites · 19 days

Text

Numbers Game ~ Part 10

Pairings: Cross Guild x Fem!Reader

Numbers Game Masterlist

Word Count: 3944

Ao3 Link

Summary: You find out if your frightening lovers will grant your request. But first, you've got some work to do.

Author's Note: It's good to be back 🐊🤡🗡

RECAP: You gave in to your wicked cravings, and had a mind-blowing night with the villains that own you. They even let your former lover join. Since you were so good for them, they offered to give you whatever you wanted, so you asked for them to be nicer to your sweet, hopeless clown.

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Swearing, Smut, Established Relationship, Manipulation, Humiliation, Pet Names, Power Imbalance, Cross Guild boys are VILLAINS, Possessive Behavior, Teasing, Threats, Size Difference, Daddy Kink, Overstimulation, Hair-Pulling, Degradation, Cunnilingus, Bondage, Dom Crocodile (One Piece), Spanking, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

“What’s this,” Mihawk growled against your ear, his soothing hand starting to tease nails into your skin. “Our little rabbit is going against the one thing we’ve asked of her? Don’t lower yourself for that—“

“Don’t hurt her.”

That bitter snarl was emphasized by what sounded like a chair clattering to the floor along with it.

Mihawk’s fingers found your cheeks, digging in while he kept you from looking toward that voice by the door.

“Both of you need to calm down,” Crocodile scolded, his deep voice echoing through your bones. He brushed Mihawk’s hand away, tracing his own large fingers down the side of your face.

“Our girl is just too sweet. Isn’t that right, babydoll? You wanna please everyone, don’t you?”

A small whine left your throat, your body too spent for anything more.

“I suppose you’re right,” Mihawk relented, returning to his soft touches that made you sigh, but staying propped up on an elbow to toss a threat across the room. “You, clown. Don’t get bold just because we let you wet that pathetic dick of yours. We’re not as sweet as our little darling here.”

“Enough,” your scarred lover rasped, the comforting press of his lips to your temple sending your body into deep, delicious sleep.

Hushed voices pulled you from dreams, until you stretched across the giant bed. A large hand rubbed down your blanket covered back while the voices grew louder.

“How long until our order arrives? My eyes can’t take much more of this,” Mihawk drawled, and you opened your eyes to find him frowning at a gaudy top before tossing it onto a pile of other unworthy garments.

“Less than a week,” came Crocodile’s heavy voice. That frightening face gave you a smirk when you met his eyes, lifting your palm to his lips. “Mm, how’s my girl?”

This has to be a dream.

Melting under his attention, a soft gasp left you when Mihawk’s weight settled on your other side. Long, dangerous fingers caressed your face, before he breathed against your ear.

“Get ready for work, darling. We need more berry to buy you pretty things,” he teased, humming at your soft whines while you reached for him. “Such a greedy little rabbit…”

Crocodile huffed until Mihawk lifted you, carrying you to the large bathroom. He set you down on the plush rug in front of the mirror. Your ragged reflection would have kept all of your attention while the swordsman started the water for you, but instead, you stared at a stretch of that long counter between the sinks. All of your toiletries were lined up there, even the products you hadn’t been able to grab from Buggy’s suite.

“Your shower will get cold,” Mihawk remarked, interrupting your open-mounted confusion to leave a kiss on your shoulder as he left. “Your barely acceptable dress is on the back of the door. Don’t be too long, rabbit. Unless you need some help in there?”

You shook your head at his offer, still trying to jolt yourself awake. Showering in a daze, you marveled at all your little marks and aches, finally waking to the fact that last night had really happened. You had gotten your filthiest wish.

And now, you belonged to them.

A strange sense of satisfied acceptance washed over you as you took care of yourself for the bad men you could still hear speaking quietly in the next room. Mihawk had told you not to take too long, but you didn’t want to rush. You wanted to look your best for them.

And what a feeling it was.

The urge to squirm, to hide from their gaze almost overwhelmed you, but you curled your toes into the carpet, chewing on your lip. Mihawk’s golden eyes pierced you again, a hawk watching its prey before tearing it to shreds, while Crocodile’s pale gaze and subtle smirk raked over your skin with the pleasure of a man who’d just purchased a one of a kind, his prized possession.

Where’s Buggy?

That question bubbled through your mind, but you weren’t ready to ask it yet. At least not until you’d seen if he was in the lounge.

At least not until you’d basked in the feeling of being wanted by these dangerous men.

I really am crazy.

“Come here, pretty girl,” Crocodile ordered, standing up from the edge of the bed. You moved toward his deep voice without a thought, heart pounding in your ears while you craned your neck to look up at him. He hunched low for you to climb into his arms again.

“Oh,” you hesitated, taking a half step back, “I thought since... I know there should be at least one pair of acceptable–”

“I’m offering to carry my sweet girl,” his dark voice rumbled. You could see Mihawk in the corner of your eye, settling back down on the couch to watch the exchange. “Are you complaining about–”

“N-no, sir,” you interrupted him, voice high as you tried to think. “I just think if we look through all the shoes, you won’t have to carry me any–”

Crocodile's speed tore a surprised yelp from you. He didn’t hurt you, but from one moment to the next, he went from towering over you, to sitting back on the bed with you standing between his thighs, his hook around your neck.

“Didn’t you promise to be a sweet girl for Daddy?”

“I…” you breathed, unable to string a coherent thought together while he stroked your hair, that cool metal around your neck making you shiver. Mihawk's quiet laughter floating through the air didn’t help.

“I’ve been letting your feelings for the clown slide, sweetheart. But now you’re interrupting me? Now you’re complaining about me taking care of my girl? Now you won’t even answer a simple question,” he accused, pressing thick fingers into your jaw. “You promised me you’d be a sweet girl, and I don’t like liars.”

“B-but, sir–”

“Still talking back,” he tutted, bringing his forehead down to yours. “And not even calling me by my proper name. Such a brat.”

The fear in your stomach twisted into something else, a breathy moan leaving your lips when he forced you over his knee. Your legs were between his as you were bent over one of his large thighs. His hook hung loose around your throat while your head and arms dangled freely toward the floor on the other side. That deadly metal wasn’t hurting you, or holding your body into any position, but he let it sit against your skin. A constant reminder that you would always be vulnerable, always be in danger, no matter how many pretty words and gifts they showered you with.

The reminder of that danger had heat pooling in your core, your hips lifting up to meet his view. You couldn’t help but writhe, pressing your thighs together.

“Hm, so you’ve been acting up because you’re feeling greedy,” he growled, his warm hand smoothing the dress up your thighs until it collected around your waist, revealing your soaked panties. “Didn’t I already tell you I’d give you everything you want?”

You let out a whine as those thick fingers teased along that flimsy, wet fabric. He ghosted over your clit, trailing slick around your thighs while you ached for more.

“Answer me, brat,” Crocodile fumed, a breathy scream leaving your throat as he twisted those fingers around the middle of your drenched panties to yank them up toward his growling face, creating delicious, almost painful pressure against your clit, the rough pull stretching through your sensitive flesh.

“Y-yes, you did! You promised everything,” you cried out, back arching at the tug of fabric against your hips, sure that it was about to tear.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, d-daddy.”

“That’s a start,” he huffed, dragging your panties halfway down your thighs, while Mihawk continued to chuckle across the room.

“You got something to say,” Crocodile threatened the swordsman, his hand smoothing territorially over your exposed skin.

“Not at all,” your golden eyed lover teased, meeting your fluttering gaze when you twisted your neck to find him. “I’m just admiring your technique. I have a feeling our little rabbit might need to take a few more punishments. I think she might even enjoy it, isn’t that right, slut?”

The sigh his filthy words sent through you loosened your body again, earning a low hum from the man that had you at his mercy.

“If you want us to hurt you, all you gotta do is ask,” Crocodile’s deep voice scolded. His palm smoothed over your ass, your thighs, your dripping cunt, smearing your slick across your skin. “You don’t need to act like an ungrateful little brat.”

His hand lifted, and you’d had a feeling it was coming, but there was no way you could have prepared for the sharp sting of his massive hand. It covered so much of your skin it made you dizzy, yet even through the pain, your core pulsed with heat, toes curling as you arched your back.

“Not even fucking sorry, are you?”

You couldn’t answer through your vulgar moan, or Mihawk’s taunting laughs as he pulled up a chair closer to the show.

“Even after all that attention last night, you still had to act up,” Crocodile asked, dragging a finger through your wet folds. Your sensitive flesh twitched as he teased around your clit, then threatened around the rim of your asshole. “I didn’t think this lovely body could take much today, but if my girl is so fucking desperate for abuse that she’ll act like a spoiled little cunt, then maybe we should stuff you ‘til you can’t complain anymore. Is that what you’re asking for, brat?”

Tears streamed from your eyes that had rolled white from another sharp spank, and from Mihawk’s rough fingers fisting into your hair.

There was no way you could speak. No way you could say yes, or no to anything while your skin tingled with intoxicating pain. You were overcome with sensation, with need, with the freedom of giving up all control.

“Mm, I think our girl is drunk,” Mihawk mused, leaning down to watch your tongue lolling out of your mouth. “I don’t think she’s ready for this sort of fun yet. We need a word, don’t we, little rabbit? Do you need to stop?”

A warbled moan left your throat while he paused.

“Are you ready to have all your pretty holes fucked open again, or do you still need some time to rest?”

This slurred moan came with a pathetic wiggle, bringing soft laughs from both of these bad men.

“Alright, sweetheart. I’ll forgive you today,” Crocodile hummed, Mihawk helping him pull you into his arms. “Let’s get you cleaned up, and get some breakfast. Then you can tell me all about how sorry you–”

Whining against the heat of his chest, you pulled at his scarf, struggling to get close enough to feel his lips on yours.

“Try not to break her,” Mihawk laughed while you clawed at that silky vest. “I’ve got morning plans anyway. I’ll make sure breakfast is set up after an appropriate amount of time. We still need our little rabbit to do some work today.”

“I’ll be gentle,” your scarred lover threatened, tossing you onto the bed when the door closed. He pulled off his scarf and vest, but left the rest on as he crawled between your legs.

He pulled those ruined panties off of your writhing body, admiring the mess he’d made of you.

“Please…”

“Hm, is that the first thing you should be saying to me right now?”

He breathed against your inner thighs, his fingers playing in the slick around your entrance. You almost got lost again, but pulled yourself into the moment. Those menacing eyes burned into yours while you swore yourself to him.

“I’m sorry, daddy. I promise I’ll be a good girl.”

“There ya go,” he praised, pressing a sensuous kiss to your clit. “All I wanna do is take care of you, sweetheart. Gonna listen to your daddy from now on?”

“Yes, I promise,” you moaned, his tongue already so close to destroying you again

“That’s my girl.”

It was usually Mihawk’s evil voice and wicked words that could make you come in an instant, but Crocodile’s deep rumble of praise and ownership as he lapped up your need sent you screaming his name, mussing up that slick backed hair while you pulled him toward you, coming hard all over that menacing face.

You could barely move while he crawled up your body, letting you lick your mess off of his skin before he kissed you for what felt like hours. He was so much bigger than you, but he never crushed you. Under his touch, you felt precious, like something to be protected, enjoyed, treasured.

It was a whole other high than the one you had felt when he'd bent you bent over his knee.

“Come on, sweet girl. Let’s get some food.”

Crocodile had helped you get presentable again, and you hadn’t argued when he knelt down to carry you. His strong, comforting arms held you through the halls, and you realized that you might actually miss them carrying you everywhere.

What a difference a few days can make.

“Your food got cold,” Mihawk drawled over his espresso. “They’re bringing something else.”

Crocodile lit a cigar after he set you down, that little table on the balcony making you feel suddenly exposed. All the pirates and workers down below could look up and see the ex warlords having breakfast with their pet. Mihawk’s almost bored voice broke you out of those thoughts.

“Your work yesterday was well done. The fact that you were able to secure funding from a new backer so soon is impressive. Do you have other contacts that would be willing to part with a few berry for us?”

“I’m not sure,” you confessed quietly, trying to get back into business mode. “I had quite a few wealthy clients that were loyal to me, and they always have friends in their little rich people circles. I don’t know how many would want to be associated with…”

Your wide eyes flicked between them until Mihawk gave a tiny smirk, Crocodile’s laugh relaxing your nerves.

“I’ve had plenty of dealings with rich idiots,” Crocodile grunted, putting out his cigar as the breakfast plates were taken away. “In my experience, the best way to get them to loosen their purse strings is to make them feel special.”

“Go on,” Mihawk waved his hand, but Crocodile only had eyes for you.

“What do you think would get more of these wealthy fools to throw their berry away, sweetheart?”

Your first thought seemed too simple, and you didn’t want to disappoint the men before you. But your mind went blank, and you didn’t want to take too long.

“A party.”

Mihawk carried you to the lounge, giving a satisfied hum when you let your head fall, resting against the crook of his neck.

“Why do you smell like that,” you wondered aloud, wanting to crawl out of your skin for asking something so rude.

He sat you in your chair, and you thought you were going to get away with it until he perched on your desk, pulling your chin up so he could study you.

“Smell like what, little rabbit?”

“I… I don’t know,” you almost paused, the slightest tilt of his head making you pull panicked words from your lips. “Normally you smell so good, but— y-you still smell good, I just…”

Mihawk gave a real laugh, releasing your chin as he threw his head back. You caught eyes with Crocodile across the room while you waited to see if this deep laughter would be good or bad for you.

“Don’t be so scared, pet,” he soothed, the barest hint of color gracing his cheeks as his breathing returned to normal. “I’m impressed. You’ve shown yourself to be quite perceptive. That can be very useful.”

Dracule fucking Mihawk tapped the tip of your nose.

“Go ahead, rabbit. See what you can smell.”

Dangerous fingers moved in front of your face, and after another moment of fear, you grabbed his arm. Closing your eyes, you tried to be subtle as you sniffed his skin, his sleeve, the heat of his palm warming your cheek while you smelled his wrist.

“It smells… dusty, like you were out on the sand but…” He stayed silent, and you opened your eyes to find him observing you, still waiting. “It’s like dirt, but a little bit sour.”

He kissed your cheek before handing you a notebook and pen.

“Crocodile, our little darling is a bloodhound. Maybe she can be our poison sniffer,” he chuckled to himself, leaving you with an open mouth and zero explanations.

“I think we can find better uses for her.”

“What–”

“You’ve wasted enough time today, rabbit,” Mihawk scolded, cracking a book as he lounged at his own desk.

“Write a list of all of your contacts,” Crocodile cut in, your head snapping toward his desk on the other side of the large room. “Make sure to include personal details, business associations, any leverage that could be used against them, your opinion on how best to gain their support, etc. We’re gonna need a good guest list for that party.”

“But–”

“But what, sweetheart,” Crocodile tested, earning a squeaked, “nothing,” from you before you went to work.

When you dove into this new life, you had done the proper things first. You had resigned from your position, contacted all of your clients to thank them for the opportunity to work with them, and you had turned in all of their private files.

Sure, your personal life was left in shambles, but you hadn’t burned any professional bridges. If you ever needed to leave Buggy, you would have been able to find another job easily.

Although, now you were wishing you’d hung onto those private files. At least you’d kept all of your client’s contact information, if not their financial secrets.

But you did have a really good memory.

Even through lunch and dinner, your mind was caught, pulling up more and more from your memories that could be helpful.

Writing lines of information that could be used to hurt people.

I’m a villain now.

You shook that thought away as you wrote down the details of a mistress and lovechild whose trust fund you’d helped set up discreetly, for a rather impressive fee.

Maybe I wasn’t that good before anyway.

The excuses you’d built up in your mind back then fizzled out when Crocodile took your notebook, carrying you to the couch where Mihawk waited with a glass of wine.

“Can I keep the notebook,” you pleaded, playing with the pen he’d left in your fingers.

“Work’s over. Don’t want my sweet girl overdoing it.”

He tossed the pen aside, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as you settled between them. Mihawk brought your fingers to his lips, chuckling softly while you melted into that sinful, green couch.

“Would you like to know what that nose of yours smelled earlier, darling,” the swordsman teased, pressing dangerous lips to your wrist.

Relaxation and curiosity moving through you, but before you could reply, something in his words stopped you. Your tired brain struggled to puzzle it out, struggled to remember what you were missing.

“Where’s Buggy?”

Guilt ripped through you. You’d thought of him once today, and had chosen not to ask about him so that you could keep enjoying yourself.

I haven’t even thought about him all day. I’m such a selfish–

“Why do you care,” Crocodile asked. His voice was even, but with a tension rumbling through it, just enough for your breath to catch. He set his large hand on the back of your neck as he tilted toward you, Mihawk mirroring the turn while he massaged his fingers, almost too hard, into the meat of your palm. Your lips parted, but nothing came out.

“You haven’t asked about him all day,” Mihawk noted, that venomous tease coating his words. “Was our little treasure just following orders? Or could it be that you forgot all about that worthless clown?”

A muffled noise behind you made you gasp, the tension on the couch cutting you off from the rest of the world.

“Go on, she finally asked,” Crocodile jerked his head over his shoulder. Mihawk nodded, kissing your knuckles before moving behind the couch.

The swordsman dragged something heavy, giving a small grunt as he lifted Buggy, tossing him onto the coffee table before you.

Buggy’s name fell silently from your lips as his tired eyes took you in.

His hands were bound in large cuffs. Sea prism stone, like the pair his new recruits had been able to steal for him during their escape from Impel Down. It was probably his own pair, trapping his body in one piece while he listened to you enjoying your time with his torturers.

You thought you’d let this guilt go, but it was all piling on again as you watched Mihawk pull the gag from Buggy’s mouth, wiping long fingers on the clown’s deflated, red suit before sitting beside you again.

“My sweet girl was so good for us last night,” Crocodile breathed against your temple, his grip around your neck pressing a little tighter. “You asked us to be a little nicer to the clown, so we were.”

“I…”

“That’s right,” Mihawk purred, rubbing your hand again while he pressed a large key into your palm. “Instead of beating him for his insolence last night, we put his fate in our little rabbit’s hands. How were we to know that you’d forget all about your former lover? We would have given you his key this morning if you’d cared enough about this trash to wonder where he was.”

“Don’t cry, sweetheart,” Crocodile soothed, kissing the slow tears that were beginning to stain your cheeks. “We’re not gonna kill him, okay? And we’ll try not to hurt him. We need this dumbass to be the face of Cross Guild, remember? You'll even get spend some time with him, make sure he doesn’t fuck up our little party.”

“I’m okay,” Buggy choked, a failed smile on his lips as he glanced down at the key in your palm. “Mind giving me a hand?”

“Oh,” you spluttered, shaky fingers freeing him from the icy stone.

“Thanks, doll,” he winked, before he was half running, half floating toward the back of the room. Toward the bathroom.

“Idiot,” Crocodile grumbled.

A giggle escaped your lips, and you felt the pressure of sharp eyes. But you giggled again. Your silly clown racing straight to the bathroom after being chained up all day made your cheeks hurt while you tried to fight more laughter.

Especially when he came floating back in, his feet running behind while he propped himself on an elbow on the coffee table.

Possessive fingers dug into your skin, your body relaxing against the touch of the deadly men on the couch beside you.

But even with the weight of their power, their dominance over you, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the ridiculous man on the table. The man who should be angry, or scared, or trying to run away. Who should be scheming, and leaving your traitorous heart behind.

The man who laid there with a wild grin on his face, wiggling his fingers while he gave you another wink with those crystal blue eyes.

“So, I hear my pretty star is throwing a party.”

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you!!

a/n: I missed my Buggy boy so much 🤡🥰 Also, I'm dying to know how you felt about our Daddy Crocodile. I don't think his devil fruit powers would be able to drain all the moisture from me (😅 sorry)

Part 11

Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.

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