#dracule mihawk x oc

[latanyalove]

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

┗━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┛

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. . . .

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

"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. . . .

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

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. . . .

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

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. . . .

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

"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. . . .

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

Part 2?

#dracule mihawk #hawkeye mihawk #one piece mihawk #mihawk x reader #opla mihawk #mihawk x you #mihawk x y/n #dracule mihawk x oc #dracule mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk x y/n #dracule mihawk imagine #dracule mihawk fanfiction #mihawk #roronoa zoro #ronoroa zoro #zoro #one piece zoro #perona #ghost princess perona #perona op #perona one piece #goth fam #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece fanart #one piece fanfic #one piece headcanons #one piece x black!reader #one piece live action #one piece fluff

[acelvrr]

Mihawk : i want to take you

y/n: (hella clueless) ooo where ??

Mihawk (aka mr romantic): places you've never been before😩💦

#one piece #one piece men #one piece x reader #dracule mihawk #monkey d. luffy #dracule mihawk x reader #one piece luffy #dracule mihawk x oc #dracule mihawk fanfiction #dracule mihawk imagine #dracule mihawk smut #shanks #red haired shanks #mihawk #red hair shanks #ace one piece #ace brainrot

[thewillofdeez]

Twenty Questions - A Goth Fam One-shot with just a smidge of OC romance

Summary: A few weeks after arriving on Kuraigana, Perona is desperate to get to know her mysterious host. After much pestering, she gets him to agree to twenty questions.

Lightweight one-shot goth fam fun. Notes can be found on my AO3 account under the same username.

Word count: 7k

The woman was like a fly. Or a mosquito. Something that was annoyingly persistent and had absolutely no survival sense to back off lest it be squashed. Her ability to fly only served to further the analogy. Mihawk had certainly considered squashing her before. He wondered if there was a place where he could buy a giant fly swatter, if for no other reason than to send a message.

It wouldn’t be so bad if her focus wasn’t on him all the damn time. Perona barraged him with questions about himself, his life, his past, constantly every damn day. But Mihawk liked to keep things close to his chest. He didn’t like giving out information about himself unless it was necessary, both for his own safety and because, frankly, it was no one else’s business. He would give opinions, insights, sure, but anything that was about him specifically, about his past, about what made him tick…that was for him and a very few, select set of people. Perona was not one of them. Neither was Zoro.

In the few weeks since Mihawk had returned from Marineford, Perona’s prying into his personal life had ramped up from the occasional probe to see how he’d respond, to becoming more and more insistent. He was beginning to regret letting her stay, but he also didn’t feel he could kick her out either. The man wasn’t a total monster - she and Zoro had filled him in on what happened at Thriller Bark. He knew she had nowhere to go, no one to turn to. That damned compassion that he tried constantly to suppress, he supposed, got the better of him. But she sure was pushing her luck.

Perona, for her part, didn’t get why Mihawk was so reluctant to talk about himself. She knew he wasn’t thrilled about his new houseguests, and he made that clear pretty much every day. But she felt like he was making it harder on himself by making no effort to get to know her and Zoro. She’d tried to tell him about herself, hoping that might get him to open up, but he’d frequently silence her with a raised hand and a firm “I don’t care.” She wanted to believe that he was just afraid of getting attached to them. Yeah, that was it. Totally.

And yet she also couldn’t help but feel a bit hurt. Why didn’t he like her? She was very likable! She was cute and funny and charming, goddammit! The cold shoulder was decidedly un-cute, and she was determined to put an end to it.

On a rainy evening at Kuraigana, Mihawk sat in his chair before the roaring fireplace, a book in his lap and the castle quiet except for the patter of rain against glass. It was too quiet, perhaps. Mihawk looked around the room. Zoro was on the couch flipping through a book of his own and munching on a rice ball. He didn’t seem to be reading it, just perusing. Typical, Mihawk thought.

Perona was nowhere to be found, and that meant trouble. He briefly wondered if he should go looking for her to make sure she wasn’t getting into anything she wasn’t supposed to, or if he should just enjoy the peace while it lasted. He chose the latter, positive it would end sooner or later.

“Mihawk,” Perona said, her face suddenly dangling upside down in front of him in a wave of pink hair. And there it is, he thought, huffing out a sigh.

“Mihawk, I have a proposition for you.” Perona flipped right side up and crossed her legs as though she was sitting on the floor, while floating in front of him at eye level.

“Hmmpf. Not interested,” Mihawk replied, lazily turning the page of his book and ignoring her.

Perona ignored him. “Twenty questions.” Mihawk looked up from his book with a raised eyebrow. “Twenty questions?”

Perona nodded. “I get to ask you twenty questions of my choice, and you answer them. If you can do that - just give me twenty - I’ll never bother you for more information about yourself ever again. Promise. Pirate’s honor.”

Mihawk scoffed. “First of all, the promise of ‘pirate’s honor’ is shaky, at best, as many pirates have no sense of honor, or at least a questionable one, and I don’t know if you’re one of them.”

Perona puffed her cheeks in anger. “Well you might know if you took the time to get to know me and–”

“And second of all,” Mihawk said, cutting her off, “I don’t believe you anyway. I don’t believe for a second that, if I did answer your twenty questions, you’d be satisfied. You’d keep nagging me for more information. I won’t give you an inch so you can take a mile.”

“Actually, I think you should do it,” Zoro cut in, his voice slightly muffled as he chewed on the rice ball. “She did the same thing to me when we got here. I gave her some answers and she backed off. And the things I didn’t want to answer she didn’t push me on. Throw her a bone and she’ll be satisfied.” Zoro didn’t mention that he also, somewhat selfishly, wanted to know more about their mysterious host, and fully supported the pink-haired pirate’s quest for information, even if he wasn’t interested in being involved in it himself.

“Thank you, Zoro,” she said. “See? I have self-control. I just also would like to know more about the person I’m spending an indefinite amount of time with. Come on, Mihawk…please?”

Mihawk looked at Perona, her eyes wide and lips in a pout in what he imagined was supposed to be a sad puppy dog face. He glanced at Zoro, who only shrugged. Mihawk sighed. “Fine. But here are my terms. Yes or no questions only. How much or how little I elaborate is up to me.”

“Fine,” Perona replied, thrilled at her own progress. “But then I get to ask follow up questions about ten of them that don’t count towards the twenty.”

“Absolutely not,” Mihawk replied. “I’ll allow you to ask for more information on three questions only.”

“Eight,” Perona replied.

“Two”.

“Six.”

“One.”

Perona narrowed her eyes. “This isn’t how negotiating works, ya know! You’re supposed to be trying to meet me in the middle!”

“Take it or leave it,” Mihawk said, not backing down.

“Fine!” Perona said, frustrated. “I’ll take the three, geeze.” Perona floated away for a moment and came back with a small notebook in hand, settling down on the couch next to Zoro. “Ready?” she asked.

“I suppose,” Mihawk replied. “But one more thing. Everything I tell you about myself, no matter how insignificant a detail is, does not leave this castle. Ever. I keep things to myself for a reason, and I’m only giving you what you want so I can live in my own house in peace. That goes for you too, Roronoa. None of this makes its way to your crewmates or anyone else. Are we clear?”

Perona nodded enthusiastically. “You got it! Promise!”

Zoro nodded as well. “Whatever secrets you have are safe with me.”

It seems Perona’s frustration had dissipated and now she was just happy to get what she wanted. Perona opened the notebook. “I wasn’t expecting the yes or no stipulation, so I’ll have to re-word some of these. Let’s get started!”

Mihawk sighed and sipped his wine. “Let’s get this over with, then.”

“Question #1,” she began, “Did you become the World’s Greatest Swordsman when you were…” she thought for a minute, rewording the question in her head, “Let’s say younger than Zoro?”

Mihawk turned to Zoro. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen,” he said, “Almost twenty.”

“Then yes,” Mihawk responded, “I was younger than Zoro is now.”

Perona jotted something down in her notebook. “Great. Question #2. Do you have a best friend?”

“Yes. Two, actually.” Perona and Zoro both raised their eyebrows in what Mihawk thought might have been surprise at the fact that two people liked him enough to be his best friend.

“Question #3” she continued, “Do you have any talents or hobbies, aside from what we know about?”

Mihawk thought for a moment. “I do, yes.”

Silence overtook the three. They stared at each other.

“If you want more information, you’ll have to ask for it. I’m not going to just give it to you.”

Perona sighed dramatically. “Fine! Request for more information.”

Mihawk smirked. “One down, two left. Well, you know I enjoy farming and cooking. I can play a few different instruments, some quite well and others not so much. I enjoy learning other languages and am fluent in several.”

“What instruments do you play best?” Zoro asked.

“Guitar and violin, probably,” he responded. “I’m fond of strings.”

“Do you collect anything?” Perona asked.

“Hmmm. Nothing I would formally consider a collection, no, at least not in the sense of collecting coins or old magazines or anything like that. But I do have quite a lot of knives of different styles and makes from all over the world. I enjoy buying and trading art. And I enjoy filling out the wine cellar, though I can’t really claim that collection as ‘mine’ since so much of it was here when I moved in.”

“Is there anything you’re really bad at,” asked Zoro, “Or that you really don’t like to do?”

“I’ve never been great at the visual arts,” Mihawk admitted, “Though not for lack of trying. I don’t particularly care for organized athletics, though I do admire the people who play them. And I hate golf. More than most things, I hate golf.”

“Have you ever played mini golf, though?” Zoro asked excitedly. “I agree about regular golf, but mini golf is fun.”

“Do I look like I’m twelve to you? No, I’ve never played mini golf, and have no intention to.”

Zoro shrugged. “Your loss.”

Perona giggled. “The image of you trying to putt a ball through a windmill is kind of hilarious.”

“I’m glad you find it amusing,” Mihawk deadpanned, cringing internally at how much he had just given away, even if the information was harmless. “Is that all?”

Zoro and Perona nodded at each other, then Perona spoke. “Yup. We can continue. Question #4. That cross you wear around your neck…”

“The stabby cross,” Zoro cut in, remembering the time he felt its point in his flesh.

“Yeah, the stabby cross. Do you wear it because you're religious?”

“Ha!” Mihawk laughed. “No, not at all. I’m not arrogant enough to say there is definitively no higher power that exists, but I do lean that way. Agnostic, perhaps, might be the right word. It doesn’t matter to me one way or another if there is a God.”

“Then why do you wear it?” Zoro cut in.

“Zoro! You used up one of my questions!” Perona huffed, fists on her hips. She then flipped through her notebook and made a number of angry scribbles.

“Sorry! I’m just curious.”

Mihawk lifted the cross that hung on his chest, turning it in his hands and examining it. “It was a gift, a long time ago. It also suits my personal style. And I do quite enjoy the look on peoples’ faces when they realize it’s actually a knife. That never gets old.” He looked pointedly at Zoro, smiling slyly. Zoro frowned angrily.

“Question number….six, I guess, thanks, Zoro” began Perona, ignoring the exchanged looks. “Is there anything you’re afraid of, like a phobia or something?”

“Hmmm,” Mihawk pondered, mulling over how to answer that one. “I’d say no, not in the sense that I believe you’re asking anyway. But there are certainly things that make me uncomfortable.”

“Are you gonna tell us what?” she pressed.

“Is that a request for more information?” Mihawk responded, eyebrow raised.

“Hmmph. No, I guess it’s not worth using another request for info this early in the game unless it’s really good. Anyway. Question #7. Have you ever been dangerously close to death? Like, actively dying close?”

“Yes, actually,” he said. “I was a rather frail child, and got sick quite frequently up until I was around 9 or 10 years old. I’ve been on the verge of death from things as boring as pneumonia several times. Since then, however, no, I haven’t knocked on death’s door to quite the same extent.”

More scribbles. Mihawk was desperately starting to wonder why she felt the need to take notes. He’d have to burn that notebook when he got the chance.

“Question #8,” Perona started, looking back up at him. “You don’t have a crew of your own right now, but have you ever worked on another pirate’s crew?”

Mihawk looked up in thought. “That’s a bit complicated. When I was much younger I did sail on someone else’s crew, yes. But I’ve purposely never aligned myself with anyone else from the moment where I had a choice. Does that make sense?”

Zoro nodded. “I get it. It was a situation you were in, not necessarily something done out of loyalty to a particular captain. Right?”

Mihawk nodded. “That’s a good way to put it, yes.”

“Question #9, then," Perona continued. "Related. Have you ever had your own crew, or do you want to?”

“Hmm,” Mihawk replied, “That sounds like questions nine and ten to me.”

“What?!” she huffed. “No, there’s two clauses, separated by a comma and followed by a single question mark. It’s one question with two parts. So nyeh.” Perona crossed her arms over her chest, proud of her retort.

Mihawk chuckled. “Fair point, I suppose I can’t argue with your grammar. No and no. I could very easily amass a crew of my own if I wanted, but I don’t care for the responsibility of being a captain, and have nothing to gain from doing so.”

Onto Question #10 then,” said Perona. “Do you have any living relatives?”

“I do, yes,” Mihawk replied.

Zoro and Perona looked at each other. “Think we should use another request for more information?” Zoro asked.

Perona thought for a second. “I think so. Okay, tell us about your family.”

Mihawk sipped his wine. “The only living family I have are my parents. You’ve met them, Zoro. In Sabaody.”

Zoro’s brow furrowed in thought for just a second, before the realization dawned on him. “You don’t mean…”

Mihawk only nodded. Zoro laughed. “No way!”

“What?” Perona inquired, looking between the two men. “What’s so funny? Tell me, come on!”

Still chuckling, Zoro answered. “Mihawk’s dad is Silvers Rayleigh.”

Perona’s jaw dropped. “THE Silvers Rayleigh? Dark King Rayleigh? Is your dad??”

Mihawk nodded. “Indeed.” He decided he didn’t need to provide any information about his mother’s past unless asked.

Perona was shocked. This was more dirt than she could have ever dreamed of.

“So that must mean you grew up on Gold Roger’s ship?” Zoro asked, doing the math in his head.

“I did,” Mihawk responded. “From the time I was born until I was thirteen and went off on my own, much to the distress of my mother.”

“Do you see them often?” Perona asked.

“Maybe once a year or so. My mother and I will call each other occasionally, but they have their own lives and I have mine. I don’t always get along very well with my father, so when I visit it’s generally for my mother’s sake. But we’re usually cordial to one another regardless.”

Perona decided not to push the topic, figuring that Mihawk had given her more than enough and probably wouldn’t appreciate her digging into his daddy issues. “Okay then! And we’re halfway done. Question #11. Do you like being a Warlord?”

Mihawk huffed. “‘Like’ is certainly not the word I would use, no. I appreciate the freedom the position grants me, but I also have no love or loyalty for the World Government. The other Warlords feel much the same way, it’s about the only thing we can all agree on. It’s a trade-off.”

“Question #12. Do you support the Revolutionary Army?”

“Hmmm, an interesting question,” Mihawk said. “In theory, in belief, yes, I do believe in what they’re doing. But…if you’re asking me whether or not I’m personally a member of the Revolutionary Army….do you really think I would tell you if I was?”

“So much for your theory, Zoro,” Perona grumbled, making notes. Yes, that notebook would definitely have to burn.

Zoro only shrugged. “It woulda made sense.” Mihawk hid his grin in his wine glass.

“Question #13. When Zoro is eventually ready to challenge you for your title, will you actually kill him?”

“I feel like I should be insulted,” Zoro said before Mihawk could speak. “Why are you assuming that I’m the one who’ll be dying?”

“No offense, Zoro,” Perona said, “But I mean…come on. Look at the guy. I’ve seen you out there training….you’re great, but you’re not him. Not yet, anyway.” Zoro huffed and crossed his arms in response.

Mihawk didn’t even try to hide his amused smirk. “Yes, I will kill Zoro eventually. Or perhaps he’ll kill me, but I doubt it. We’ll see how he’s doing when the time comes. But whether it’s two years from now or twenty, one of us will die, there’s no doubt about that.”

“And you’re both just…okay with that?” Perona replied.

Mihawk and Zoro nodded, at each other then her. “Of course,” Mihawk said, “It’s the nature of passing on the title of World’s Greatest Swordsman. I killed the man who held the title before me, and he did the same before him, going back hundreds of years. One day someone will do the same to me and claim the title. Whether it’s Zoro or someone else, I do not know. But it will, in all likelihood, happen one day.”

Perona looked back and forth between the two men. “How…how can you just sit here, together, knowing one of you will kill the other like it’s nothing? How are you both so….okay with this?!”

“It’s part of being a swordsman, Perona,” Zoro said. “Not all swordsmen want Mihawk’s title, but for those of us who do, we know how it goes. We know that it’s kill or be killed, and to fall to the World’s Greatest Swordsman…I mean it sucks, yeah, I never want to lose….but it’s a risk I have to take, and there are worse ways to go. I’d much rather die in an honorable battle by Mihawk’s sword than by anyone else’s.”

Perona turned to Mihawk. “And you’re just…fine with this too? You agreed to train Zoro, knowing what he wants to do? Like it’s no big deal?”

Mihawk nodded. “I did. And it is a big deal, to be sure. I would not have agreed to train him if I didn’t believe he had potential to be the next in line. I won’t deny this…arrangement is certainly unorthodox. But I also believe there’s a reason he’s here. And, I suppose, you as well.”

“Hmmm…okay, but what about this: Hypothetically, what if you and Zoro fight, and he just….defeats you without killing you? If you know you’re beaten, why not just surrender and save your own life?”

“An admirable desire,” Mihawk said gently, “But that just isn’t the way it works.”

But it could be, right?” she pressed. “I mean, there’s no rule saying it can’t. It’s only a bunch of dead guys telling you otherwise.”

“Perona,” added Zoro, trying to explain. “For people like me and Mihawk, defeat is a fate worse than death. It’s better to go out knowing you fought honorably than to live knowing you were defeated. Mihawk’s already beaten me once. I took him on before I was ready and I made a vow that day that no one, either him or anyone else, would ever defeat me again. I’d rather die than live with breaking that vow. He feels the same.”

Mihawk nodded in agreement. “It’s about honor, Perona. Honor and pride. These concepts are inextricably linked with swordsmanship, they’re things we value above all else. Do you understand now why, when the time comes, there can be no peaceful resolution?”

Perona huffed out a sigh and sunk into the sofa, her arms crossed. “Yeah…I get it. I still want to tell you that it’s stupid, and that your lives are more important than your pride, but…I get it. And I respect it, I guess. Whatever.” Mihawk and Zoro both chuckled. “I just hate knowing that I’m gonna end up going to one of your funerals one day and it’ll be the other person’s fault. And I love funerals! But I like you both, and this one is gonna suck.”

“Don’t dwell on it for now, ghost girl,” Mihawk said with an unusually soft smile. “It will be a very, very, very long time before Zoro is truly ready to face me in battle.”

“Ya got enough ‘verys’ in there, Mihawk?” Zoro said with a sour look. Mihawk only grinned smugly.

“Ugh dammit,” Perona whined, slapping her fists on the sofa. “And I guess I just used up a request for more information too.”

“No,” Mihawk said, “I think that was an important discussion to have. You still have one left. Now, onto the next question.”

“Perona, can I ask one?” Zoro said.

Perona checked her notebook. “Hmmm, yeah I think I can spare a question, but it better be good. What is it?” Zoro leaned over and whispered in her ear. Mihawk looked on curiously. “Ohhhhh! Yes, go ahead.”

Zoro grinned. “Great! Question #14. You told me once that you and Shanks used to be rivals. Even with one arm, knowing how strong of a pirate he is, do you think you could beat him in a fight today?”

Mihawk chuckled. “That is a good question, Zoro. But it’s the wrong question.”

Zoro’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Well, the question isn’t could I defeat him or could he defeat me, it’s why would I bother fighting him in the first place?”

“I don’t understand,” said Perona.

“Well, look at it from my perspective,” Mihawk said. “Say Shanks and I do fight, which we wouldn’t because I don’t fight opponents who aren’t at their full strength. But…hypothetically. It’s a losing situation for me either way. If I win, well, I defeated a swordsman with one arm, big deal. But if I lose…if I lost to a one-armed swordsman…that would be devastating. Sure, I would go out honorably, knowing I lost to a superior opponent, but personally, given my history with the man….” Mihawk shuddered at the thought. “It’s simply not worth the risk.”

“Okay, I get that,” Zoro said. “But all that aside. Do you think you could defeat him, yes or no?”

Mihawk pondered this. “I genuinely don’t know, as much as I hate to admit it. I don’t fear Shanks, he’s one of my closest friends, but if it came down to it, he’s also the most powerful Haki user in the world. I see no shame in admitting that as strong as mine is, his is miles stronger, even if I am the better swordsman. We’ve always been so evenly matched, and that’s part of what I enjoyed about battling him. When we were younger, our fights would rage on for days until we had no choice but to call a draw. Dozens of times we’ve fought with no victor. If he wanted my title, it's certainly possible that he could take it from me, or at least put up a good fight in the process.” Mihawk shrugged. “But I also know he’d never do that, so I don’t really think about it.”

“Question #15, then!” Perona said. “Have you ever considered eating a Devil Fruit?”

“Absolutely not,” Mihawk scoffed. “I don’t need some kind of magical power to become stronger or achieve my goals. My strength as a swordsman speaks for itself. I also have very little respect for Devil Fruit users as a whole. It feels like cheating in a way, like having power you haven’t done anything to earn.”

“What? Hey!” Perona cried. “That’s not fair! I could be strong even without my Devil Fruit power!” In her anger, Perona sent a flurry of hollows through Mihawk’s chest. Over the past few weeks, Mihawk had been building up an immunity to her ghosts. It still wasn’t pleasant, but he could handle them without letting her know he was affected. As the ghosts passed through him, his expression remained stoic, but inside he was dying a little. Mihawk shook it off as quickly as he could, and a thought occurred to him.

“How old were you when you ate the Hollow-Hollow Fruit, Perona?” he asked.

Perona’s jaw dropped a little. Did he…just ask her a question? About herself? Perona resisted the urge to get all starry eyed over her progress. “I was about nine,” she replied, as calmly as she could.

“Hmmf,” Mihawk replied. “I meant no offense, Perona. I do have more sympathy for people in your situation, and I don’t carry the same lack of respect. It’s surprisingly common for children to eat Devil Fruits without knowing what they are or at least fully grasping the consequences. I know Luffy is one of them,” Mihawk nodded to Zoro. “Buggy was too. But many more people make the active choice to curse themselves in the pursuit of power or wealth or whatever else. Those are the people I tend to look down upon. Though, I will admit, there are a few exceptions for whom I carry quite a lot of respect.”

Perona looked down, hiding her smile. She felt like she had finally cracked his tough exterior, just the tiniest bit, and she felt proud. “I can understand that. Let’s move on. Question #16. Do you have a girlfriend?” Mihawk was about to answer when Perona cut him off “OR…a boyfriend?” With so few questions remaining, she had to fit in as much as she could.

Mihawk narrowed his golden eyes. “No.”

“Hmmmm,” Perona pondered, looking at her notebook. He saw her scribble a few things, but he couldn’t tell what. Zoro looked over her shoulder with interest. “Question #17. Do you have anyone you’re romantically interested in, maybe someone you’d like to have as your girlfriend-slash-boyfriend?”

Mihawk huffed and looked towards the fire. “...Yes. There is someone.”

“Request for more info!!!” Perona cried excitedly. “Tell us more!”

“What would you like to know?” Mihawk asked begrudgingly, regretting giving her that freebie earlier.

Well, how did you meet? How long have you known each other?”

“We met about twelve years ago or so,” Mihawk began. “I had been caught by Marines. An Admiral. This was before I was a Warlord, so I was still considered fair game at the time. He was a powerful opponent, but given our earlier discussion on pride and defeat, I’m sure you can imagine how…humiliated I felt. I was in a cell in shackles waiting to be transported to Enies Lobby. And she was the other person in my cell. We knew we’d be on a ship to be judged for our crimes in the morning, and so the whole night we just…talked. About everything and nothing. She was clever and wise, and made me think of things I’d never once considered. And she was so easy to talk to….”

Mihawk looked down at the glass of wine in his hand. “Anyway, morning came, and I made some joke about how it had been fun, and maybe I’d see her in prison. And she looked straight at me and said ‘No, you won’t. We’re getting out of here.’ Turns out she had a Devil Fruit power, one the Marines didn’t know about at the time so they didn’t put her in sea prism stone cuffs. She slipped out of the cuffs, out of the cell, and set me free. I was….flabbergasted. Then I was angry. I asked her why the hell she had let me sit there for hours thinking we were caught when she could have always gotten us out and she said, ‘I’m sorry, I was just really enjoying talking to you.’ And…no one had ever said that to me before. So we escaped, and have been friends ever since. I consider her among my best friends, actually, and she considers me hers.”

“Ahhh, so she’s one of those exceptions to the no-respect-for-Devil Fruit-users rule you mentioned before?” Zoro asked.

Mihawk nodded. “She is.”

“And you want to be more than friends with her?” Perona pressed.

“Ideally, yes,” he replied.

“Does she feel the same?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you planning on telling her?”

“Absolutely not.”

“But why???” Perona whined. “If you have feelings for her, you should let her know!”

Mihawk sighed. “It’s not that simple. I’m…not good with people, if you haven’t been able to tell. Never have been. But she and I, we clicked. I value our friendship for what it is, not what it could be. If it ever didn’t work out between us, or if I told her how I felt and she didn’t feel the same….I won’t gamble what we do have in hopes of having something else. It’s not worth the risk to me. I have her in my life, maybe not in the capacity that I want, but I do have her. And that has to be enough for me.”

Perona was stunned. “Wow. Okay, but what if she told you she felt the same? Would that be different?”

Mihawk shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t say I wouldn’t be happy, but the fear of messing it up would always be there. I have a good thing…I don’t want to ruin it.”

“You don’t think you’re capable of being a good partner,” Zoro said. It wasn’t a question.

“No,” Mihawk replied, slightly taken aback by the younger swordsman’s rather perceptive statement. “I don’t. I’m far too selfish for that. She deserves a much better man than I.”

“What if she fell in love with someone else?" Perona asked. "Would you be more inclined to tell her then?”

“Perona,” Mihawk said, exasperated, “This isn’t a romance novel, it’s real life. I’m not going to…to break into her wedding and confess my love to her and beg her to choose me. She’s had a number of relationships over the years, as have I. Some more casual than others…or entirely casual for me, I suppose. I’m no stranger to seeing her have affections for someone else. And yes, it hurts…like hell sometimes, honestly. Sometimes…I wish she would notice the way I look at her. I wish she’d realize how much faster my heart beats when she’s around. I wish she’d realize how perfect we’d be together...” Mihawk trailed off, before snapping himself out of his thoughts. He’d said far, far too much, but he didn’t often get the opportunity to talk about this and it was all just coming out. Only Shanks knew the true extent of his feelings….and Zoro and Perona did now too, he supposed. “But I have no claim over her. I never will.”

“What do you like about her?” Zoro asked, trying to bring the topic back from the brink. “Like, what is it about her that draws you to her, over anyone else?”

Mihawk smiled. “Well, she’s certainly beautiful. But I’ve met a lot of beautiful women, that’s nothing. She’s smart, wickedly so. She loves philosophy, and can talk about it for hours. She and I have talked about the most minute details of what it means to be human, what it means to exist in this world…I can talk to her for hours on end. And she’s kind, that’s another thing I love about her. She’s so talented in so many different things, and she encourages me to try things I never would have done before. She….I feel like she brings out the best in me.”

“Do you get to see her often?” Perona asked, smiling softly, so happy to have brought this out of her host.

“It depends,” he replied. “We try to make time to see each other, but she’s a pirate as well. She has her own crew, her own obligations and goals. We do call each other somewhat regularly though.”

“Hmmm. You should call her. Invite her to come visit.”

“Ha!” Mihawk laughed. “What, so you can play matchmaker? Please. How stupid do you think I am?”

Perona huffed. “Well fine then! It was just an idea! But….I still think you should tell her.”

Mihawk remained silent for a few moments. “Perhaps one day. Perhaps you’re right. I suppose I’m not doing myself any favors…” Mihawk shook his head, removing the idea from his mind. “Now, have you done enough digging into my love life? Can we move on?”

“I guess,” Perona said. “Let’s move on. Question #18. Do you believe in fate? Or destiny, or anything like that?”

“I do, to an extent,” he replied thoughtfully. “I believe that there are certain key points in the world that are destined to happen, but how exactly we go about getting to them is not written in stone. Luffy, for example, may very well be destined to become King of the Pirates. I’m not ready to put all my money on him just yet, but I do believe it’s possible if not likely - as annoying as I, personally, find that to be. But on his way there, he’s going to break every rule and subvert every expectation along the way.” Zoro smiled, proud that his mentor saw such promise in his captain and his crew.

“Question #19,” Perona continued. “Have you ever done anything really, really stupid while drunk?”

Mihawk laughed. “Oh, yes, especially when I was younger and spent a lot of time with Shanks. I have so many stories I could tell you.”

“Request for more information!!” Perona cried.

“Nope,” said Mihawk with a grin.

“No?”

“You’ve used up your three,” he said, smirking. “That’s all you get for this question.”

Perona’s face turned red. Zoro held back a laugh. “But…I…. UGH!!! FINE! Last one then, I guess. Question #20. Do you….I mean, are you…UGH! Sorry, I’m having trouble figuring out how to word this as a yes or no.”

“Eh,” Mihawk said. “We’re almost done, and you’ve already taken a pickaxe to some of the most closely guarded details of my life. I’ll give you this last one, no yes or no required.” He didn’t say that he had actually been quite enjoying himself.

“Really? Thanks, Mihawk! Okay, what would you say is your biggest motivator in being a pirate?”

“Freedom,” he answered. “I don’t much care for money or power except as far as it serves my ability to live freely. Everything I do is more or less towards that purpose. Frankly, I don’t trust any pirate who believes otherwise.”

Mihawk watched as Perona scribbled something. “Okay then,” she said with a smile. “We’re done. See that wasn’t so bad, was it?” She batted her eyelashes at him.

“Hmph,” Mihawk replied. “I suppose not. What have you been writing in there, by the way? Remember, everything I’ve told you is confidential. That cannot fall into the wrong hands.”

“Don’t worry, Mihawk. I didn’t write down anything sensitive. I just like knowing about people, and writing it down helps me figure them out.”

“You promised that twenty questions was all you’d get and you wouldn’t ask me anything else about myself for as long as you’re here,” he responded. “Do you feel like you’ve gotten enough information to figure me out, then?”

Perona thought for a moment. “I think I’m on my way. But I intend to keep my promise. Any other pieces of the Mihawk puzzle I get will either be picked up through observation or openly volunteered by you. Promise.”

That was satisfactory enough of a response, Mihawk supposed, especially for as late as the evening had gotten. “Good enough. Goodnight then, Perona. Zoro. See you in the morning.”

“Night, Mihawk,” they responded.

“And Mihawk?” Perona called after him. Mihawk turned wordlessly. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.” He then nodded and exited the living room.

Mihawk opened the massive door to his bedroom and made his way towards the sitting area where a number of transponder snails sat sleepily on a table. He kicked off his boots and picked up a particular snail. Then, settling down in a comfortable armchair, he lifted up the receiver. The familiar badabadabada repeated several times, then cuh-lick.

“Well hello there, Mihawk” a feminine voice said, her sly smile apparent on the snail.

“Hello there,” he said, unable to suppress his own grin at hearing her voice. “How are you?”

“Oh you know, same old same old," she replied. "The crew and I just left Alabasta, we’ve been there for a few weeks aiding the rebuilding efforts.”

“You know, most pirates aren’t so overt with their good deeds. No wonder the World Government doesn’t know what the hell to do with you.”

She giggled. “I am nothing if not an enigma. So how’re things with the kids?”

Mihawk rolled his eyes. “Ugh, please don’t call them that.” The woman laughed even harder. “It’s fine, but it’s frustrating. They’re the most obnoxious people I’ve ever met, especially that ghost girl. She’s been trying to get me to tell her about myself ever since she got here, and she finally needled me enough that I gave in.”

“You know,” she said, “I seem to recall a time when I was the most obnoxious person you’d ever met, also for being particularly insistent about asking you questions about yourself.”

“That’s different,” Mihawk replied.

“How?”

“Well, because I like you.”

“You didn’t when we first met. But nothing like a few hours in a jail cell together to endear two people to each other, right?” she said with a grin.

Mihawk huffed out a laugh. “That’s certainly true. I suppose I am a few weeks into a two year sentence for a crime I didn’t commit.”

“Give it time, Mihawk,” she said gently. “I admire you for doing as much as you are given how bizarre the situation is. It’ll get easier, just…show them the side of you that you show me.”

Mihawk blushed a little. He hoped the transponder snail didn’t pick it up. “Thank you. I’ll…try.” Mihawk stopped and took a deep breath. “Listen…since you’re in Paradise, I was wondering if you’d perhaps…like to meet up sometime soon? If you don’t have anywhere in particular to be, I mean.”

The snail smiled. “I’d love that. It’s certainly been too long, hasn’t it?”

“It has,” he agreed. “And…if you’re willing – and if you’re not, that’s totally expected and I won’t take any offense, I just, I really enjoy the time we get together and I–”

“Mihawk!” she cut him off. She’d known him for long enough to know that when the otherwise unflappable Dracule Mihawk started rambling, he had something on his mind.

Mihawk sighed. “Would you like to go out with me?” he said. “On a date?” He held his breath.

The snail beamed. “I’d love to. Took you long enough to ask.”

Mihawk smiled widely. Only she could bring that out of him. “I’ll set out tomorrow. Perhaps we could meet somewhere in between where we both are now? Water 7, maybe?”

“We do always have fun in Water 7,” she said, smiling fondly at the memories. “That would be perfect. I…I’m really, really looking forward to seeing you, Mihawk.”

Still smiling, Mihawk replied. “I’m looking forward to seeing you as well. Goodnight. I’ll see you soon.”

“Goodnight, Mihawk. Sleep well.” That night, he absolutely did.

The next morning, Zoro and Perona were surprised when Mihawk marched into the kitchen proudly, wearing the open black coat and red shirt he usually wore at sea, his feathered hat already on his head and a travel bag over his shoulder, which he dropped as he approached the two younger residents.

“Heading out?” Zoro asked, handing the older swordsman a full mug of coffee.

“Warlord meeting?” added Perona.

“No,” replied Mihawk, “No Warlord meeting. I called her last night. I asked her out.” Mihawk took a sip of his coffee to hide his grin, and for dramatic effect. “She said yes.”

Perona squealed and did loops in the air before embracing Mihawk in a bone-crushing hug, pinning his arms to his sides and knocking the wind out of him. For a ghost, she was surprisingly strong. “I’M SO HAPPY FOR YOU!”

“Ghost girl,” he said lowly. “Off.”

Perona backed away, hands in the air. “Sorry!”

Zoro chuckled, his arms crossed over his chest. “I’m happy for you, Mihawk. I hope it works out. How long will you be gone?”

Mihawk downed the last of his coffee and placed the mug in the sink.

“I suppose that depends on how it goes. Probably around two weeks with travel time. Zoro, I’m sorry to put our training on hold, but –”

Zoro laughed and patted the older man affectionately on the back, much to Mihawk’s surprise. “No need to apologize! The Humandrills should be all healed up, I’ll fight them while you're gone to keep my skills sharp.”

Mihawk nodded in approval. “Both of you, behave while I’m gone. Try not to burn the place down, will you?” With that, he grabbed his travel bag and began walking out of the room. Then, he stopped, turning only partly to face the two younger residents of the castle. “And by the way….thank you. Both of you. For encouraging me to talk to her.” Without waiting for a response, he exited the kitchen, then the castle, leaving Zoro and Perona with broad smiles behind him.

#dracule mihawk #perona #roronoa zoro #goth family #one piece goth fam #one piece fanfiction #dracule mihawk x oc #dracule mihawk x reader #very slight romance #mostly getting to know you headcanons

[nerium-lil]

Neko Noir, Fate of the All Blue Sea pt. 2 (pt.1)

Mihawk x neko reader/OC x Buggy

Warnings: Violence, bloodshed

Thank you everyone for such kind words towards this story! You have no idea how much it means to me.

The first rays of dawn gently caressed the walls of Kuraigana Castle, casting a warm glow over the silent chambers. Dracule Mihawk, lay in peaceful slumber, his imposing figure softened by the quietude of the morning. Unbeknownst to him, a small, black form stirred nearby. 

His morning now started with the soft pitter patter of feline paws as the cat gracefully entered his quarters as he lay in peaceful slumber. Its sleek, ebony fur blended seamlessly with the shadows.

The cat, the silent companion that had made itself at home within the castle, approached Mihawk's sleeping form with delicate steps. Its bright yellow eyes observed the swordsman, noting the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed in the tranquility of his dreams. 

The feline, usually agile and sleek like its larger predecessors, took on a tender demeanor in the morning light. It padded its way to the edge of Mihawk's bed, its fur catching the soft golden hues of sunrise. With utmost care, she delicately hopped onto the bed, landing with a whisper-soft touch.

Mihawk, still immersed in the realms of dreams, remained undisturbed. The cat, understanding the delicate nature of these early hours, approached Mihawk's slumbering form with gentle grace. It settled itself beside him, a comforting presence in the quietude of the room. 

As the first light of morning danced through the castle windows, the cat leaned in, nuzzling against Mihawk's cheek. The swordsman, now hovering on the cusp of wakefulness, stirred at the gentle touch. His eyes, accustomed to sharp focus and calculated precision, blinked open to the softness of dawn.

The cat, sensing Mihawk's awakening, let out a quiet purr – a melodic hum that resonated with warmth. Mihawk, though known for his stern demeanor, couldn't help but crack a subtle smile. The morning routine, a silent agreement between man and feline, unfolded with a sense of quiet understanding. 

With unhurried movements, Mihawk reached out, his fingers gliding over the cat's sleek fur. The feline, in turn, pressed closer, relishing the tactile connection. The castle, usually echoing with the sounds of training and swordplay, embraced these morning moments of serenity.

The routine continued as Mihawk rose from his slumber, the cat a constant companion in the slow transition from dreams to wakefulness. The swordsman, a figure of formidable skill and strength, allowed the morning to unfold in a symphony of softness, a harmony woven between man and feline.

As the morning light continued to weave its gentle spell, Mihawk rose from his bed with the quiet grace only befitting that of a master swordsman. The cat, now fully attuned to the rhythms of their shared mornings, followed suit. It padded alongside him as he moved through the chambers, a silent companion in the prelude to the day.

The castle, once a haven of shadows and echoes, seemed to awaken with a newfound sense of tranquility. The cat occasionally brushed against Mihawk's legs, a silent request for attention that the swordsman graciously fulfilled. The rhythmic purring provided a soothing backdrop, a melody of contentment in the stillness.

As Mihawk approached the large, open windows of the castle, he gazed out at the horizon. The sun, now fully emerged, bathed the landscape in a golden embrace. The cat, perching itself on the windowsill, observed the world outside with a curious gleam in its eyes.

In these moments, Mihawk's stoic demeanor softened. The solitude that usually surrounded him yielded to the quiet companionship of the feline presence. He reached out, running his fingers through the cat's fur, appreciating the warmth and simplicity of the connection.

The castle's corridors echoed with the soft padding of their steps as Mihawk, accompanied by his feline friend, made his way to the courtyard. The training grounds, usually a realm of fierce clashes and resonant steel, now echoed with a different cadence – the rhythmic purring and gentle footsteps. The cat, finding a cozy spot in the courtyard, settled down to watch Mihawk's morning training routine. As the swordsman practiced his moves with unparalleled precision, the cat's eyes followed every motion, as if entranced by the dance of blades.

As Mihawk honed his legendary sword skills in the crisp morning air, the black cat would gracefully navigate the training ground. It observed each precise movement, its eyes reflecting a keen interest in the dance of the blade. Mihawk couldn't help but appreciate the silent companionship, and he'd occasionally pause to share a morsel of his breakfast, realizing that the cat had become a part of his daily routine in almost no time at all.

In the evenings, after a day of rigorous training, Mihawk would retreat to the quiet sanctuary of his chambers. The black cat would follow, gracefully leaping onto the windowsill to join him. As Mihawk reclined in his chair, the cat would curl up beside him, content with the soothing rhythm of his hand stroking its fur.

**

Within the feline form, the shifter experienced a duality of emotions that mirrored the intricate dance between shadows and light. Happiness, a warm glow that whispered in the quiet moments of shared routine, coexisted with an undercurrent of desperation—a yearning for the return to her human self.

The castle, once a cold and solitary expanse, had transformed into a haven of unexpected joy. Yet, as the cat purred contentedly in Mihawk's company, there lingered an ache for the touch of fingers instead of gentle strokes, for words spoken in the human tongue instead of the silent communion they now shared.

The rhythmic pattern of their daily routine, the sunrise strolls and quiet evenings by the fireplace, brought comfort and solace. However, within the small feline heart, there beat the constant reminder of the shifting, intangible barrier that kept her from expressing her thoughts, her fears, and her gratitude. 

She often found herself gazing longingly at the reflection in the castle windows, a creature of fur and whiskers staring back. Those piercing yellow eyes, both feline and human in essence, held within them the complexity of a soul yearning for the return to what once was.

When Mihawk practiced his legendary swordplay, a part of her longed to join, not as a graceful feline spectator, but as the woman she had been. The clash of steel, the crisp sound of footsteps on the training ground—they were echoes of a life she had temporarily set aside. To feel her muscles ache from the challenge of dueling and exerting muscles that she missed in her human form. To feel the weight of a blade again in her hands as she slashed the air. 

The library, a sanctuary of wisdom, now seemed to hold volumes of secrets just out of reach. She yearned to turn the pages, to absorb the knowledge as her human self once had, to engage in the silent conversations that transcended species. To read at leisure again, and to learn from the pages of books that she was interested in not ones that happened to be open at the time. 

As the night settled, and the castle slept in quiet repose, the female shifter would gaze at the moonlit sky with a silent plea. Each beam of moonlight seemed to carry the promise of a transformation yet unrealized. A wish lingered in her heart—a wish to once again feel the cool breeze on human skin, to touch and be touched in return. In those moments of quiet reflection, the shifter's eyes would glint with determination.

She cherished the happiness found in the simple joys of feline existence, yet a silent plea echoed within her being—a plea for the return to the realm of humanity, where words, emotions, and connections held a depth that transcended the language of whiskers and purrs. 

**

In the quiet halls of Kuraigana Castle, the atmosphere hung heavy with anticipation. The solitary swordsman had received an order early in the afternoon to eliminate a group of pirates that had disrupted the seas nearby. As he prepared to depart, the black cat, a constant companion, sensed a change in the air. She noticed Mihawk beginning to pack similarly to when they would leave for supplies, yet she sensed this wasn't like those times.

The enigmatic feline approached Mihawk, weaving between his legs with an almost pleading nudge. Mihawk, recognizing the unspoken request, sternly said, "Not this time. It's too dangerous." He gently nudged the cat away, making it clear that it would stay behind.

The cat's vibrant green eyes reflected a mixture of emotions – confusion, frustration, and a tinge of sadness. As Mihawk left the castle, the shifter pressed its sleek form against the cold stone walls, a silent observer to the man's departure. 

Left alone within the vastness of the fortress, the cat shifted between a myriad of emotions. Anger sparked in its eyes, a fiery intensity at being left behind. Slowly followed by the solitude that crept in, turning the vibrant feline into a shadow of its usual self. The castle echoed with the silence of its absent companion.

Yet, as the hours stretched into days, the initial anger transformed into a quiet worry. The cat, with its senses attuned to the sea, felt the ebb and flow of Mihawk's presence. It sat by the window, gazing out at the horizon, a silhouette against the backdrop of fading daylight. The shifter barely ate, its appetite waning with each passing moment of solitude.

Its heart raced with concern for the man it had come to care for, the man who had become the center of its world. The fortress, once resonant with the echoes of Mihawk's presence, now harbored a somber hollowness.

Days turned into nights, and the shifter's vigil persisted. The cat's ears perked at every distant sound, hoping to catch the familiar footsteps of Mihawk's return. The castle, a stoic witness to the passage of time, held within its walls a creature yearning for the return of its companion.

In the heart of the castle, the shifter in her feline form was curled up by the fireplace, basking in the warmth and rhythmic crackling of the flames. Her yellow eyes glinted in the dim light, unaware of the impending storm that would soon shatter the peace she had found in Mihawk's company. 

On a moonlit night, the castle doors creaked open. She hadn't seen Mihawks unique ship dock. but maybe there was something she was not aware of, yet her excitement led her to run through the halls to meet the swordsman. The sight that met her though made every hair stand on end. That was not Mihawk. 

The intruders approached with stealth, their intentions veiled in the shadows that clung to their figures. As the castle's grand doors creaked open, the shifter sprang to her feet, fur bristling with a sudden surge of adrenaline. Unfamiliar scents wafted through the air, a blend of salt, sweat, and the unmistakable stench of malice. A low growl emanated from her throat, a primal warning echoing in the chamber. The clash of steel against steel erupted as the pirates advanced, their nefarious motives masked by the cover of darkness.

The shifters eyes, gleaming in the dark made contact with one of the intruders. A particularly menacing figure, scarred and weathered pirate captain, stepped forward with a twisted grin. "Well, well, what do we have here?" the captain sneered menacingly, eyeing the shifter. "A little pet? I'm sure Mihawk won't mind if we borrow her for a while." The shifter's yellow eyes blazed with defiance at the man's words. 

The shifter's instincts kicked into high gear, propelling her agile form through the labyrinthine halls of the castle. A desperate race unfolded, the cat evading the relentless pursuit of the invaders. The pirates, driven by a thirst for revenge, closed in on the feline, their determined steps echoing like a relentless drumbeat. In a moment of desperate defiance, the shifter lunged and swiped at her pursuers, claws unsheathed in a flurry of feral resistance. Yet, outnumbered and surrounded, her valiant efforts proved futile.

With calculated precision, the pirates closed in, capturing the cat in a net of cruel intentions. The shifter writhed and fought, her once sleek fur now matted with the remnants of a futile struggle. Captured, she still attempted to continue to resist with a tenacity born of desperation.

The pirates, shrouded in the darkness, taunted and laughed, their cruel remarks echoing off the cold stone walls. The shifter's yellow eyes still continued to blaze with defiance, her feline form attempting one last futile struggle against the entangling net. The pirates, reveling in their apparent victory, hoisted the net with the struggling shifter onto their shoulders. As the net tightened around her, panic flickered in her yellow eyes, a plea for mercy unspoken but palpable.

The invaders, victorious in their pursuit, chuckled sinisterly, reveling in the capture of their prey. The shifter, now a captive in their ruthless hands, emitted a mournful yowl, the echoes of her distress reverberating through the stone walls of the castle. The pirates, having achieved their twisted objective, retreated into the shadows, leaving behind an air thick with trepidation and the lingering scent of betrayal.

**

Mihawk, unaware that he had been given faulty information on the pirate's numbers and the betrayal that had happened. His mind on the feline waiting for him back at his castle, and all he wanted was to finish his job quickly and return. As he docked back at his island and made his way up to his imposing castle the odd sensation of unease began to settle upon him. His once graceful steps began to be more forceful as he lengthened his stride. His eyes picked up the remnants of boot marks in the dirt path that were not his, and dread squeezed at his heart. 

As he approached the grand entrance, his keen eyes noticed the first signs of the intrusion—a shattered door, its imposing wooden frame now fractured and vulnerable. Fear, an emotion rarely allowed to claw at the edges of Mihawk's stoic demeanor, surged within him. Without a moment's hesitation, he rushed through the hallowed halls, a premonition weighing heavy on his heart. His mind, uncharacteristically frantic, raced through the possibilities, but one thought loomed larger than the rest—the feline.

Turning a corner, Mihawk's breath caught in his throat. The aftermath of the skirmish lay before him, a tableau of violence that sent shivers down his spine. The air was tainted with the metallic scent of fresh blood, and black fur clung to the ground, a stark contrast against the cold stone floor.

Mihawk's eyes narrowed with a mix of anger and concern. His castle, a sanctuary he deemed impervious, had been violated, and the evidence lay strewn across the corridor. His hand tightened around the hilt of his sword, a silent promise of retribution. With measured steps, he followed the trail of discord, each drop of spilled blood intensifying the knot in his stomach. The normally pristine castle had become a battlefield, the clash between his uninvited guests and the resilient feline leaving scars on the very foundation he had built.

As Mihawk delved deeper into the chaos, he steeled himself for what he might find. The feline, his silent companion who had nestled her way into the recesses of his heart, faced an unknown fate. The realization, bitter and unwelcome, fueled the urgency in his steps. The gravity of the situation hung heavy in the air as Mihawk pressed on. 

Guilt, an emotion foreign to the austere heart of Mihawk, now clawed at the edges of his consciousness. Every step he took through the ravaged halls echoed with the resounding weight of his regret. The shattered door, the blood-stained fur—he could see the consequences of his decision in the disarray that surrounded him.

In the silence of his thoughts, Mihawk berated himself for the choice he made. If only he had allowed the feline companion, the creature that had become an unexpected presence in his life, to accompany him. Perhaps, in her agile and vigilant form, she could have been safe with him. But he, in his uncharacteristic concern for her safety, chose to keep her within the confines of the castle. 

Now, as he traversed the aftermath of the intrusion, he couldn't escape the haunting realization that his decision had played a pivotal role in the chaos that unfolded. The feline, with her keen instincts and untamed spirit, had attempted to fend off the attackers, but had been unsuccessful. 

His footsteps, usually measured and confident, now carried the weight of self-blame. Each echo through the damaged halls was a reminder of the responsibility he bore for the upheaval in his once serene abode. Mihawk's mind, typically a fortress of unwavering resolve, became a battleground of self-reproach.

The journey to find her felt like a penance, a quest to rectify a mistake that had ramifications far beyond the external damage to his castle. The solitude he had sought, the sanctuary he had carefully curated, now stood breached, and he was forced to confront the vulnerability he had kept at bay for so long. 

As he pressed on, driven by a mix of determination and remorse, Mihawk couldn't shake the nagging thought that, perhaps, the silent companion who had found her way into his life was paying the price for his attempt to shield her from harm. And in the echoes of his own footsteps, he carried the burden of a decision that had unforeseen consequences.

A strip of cloth nearby caught his attention. Mihawk's eyes narrowed as he picked up a torn strip of fabric, its vibrant colors and distinctive pattern unmistakable. It was a fragment of a Jolly Roger, the insignia of the pirates he believed he had recently thwarted. But, upon closer inspection, realization dawned on him like a storm on the horizon. A surge of clarity swept through Mihawk's stoic demeanor, replacing the initial confusion with a cold understanding. The torn fabric, fluttering ominously in his hand, told a story of deception. He had been played, manipulated into leaving his stronghold unguarded.

His mind raced, piecing together the fragments of the puzzle. The attack on his castle wasn't a mere act of revenge; it was a strategic maneuver, a deliberate diversion to draw him away. An unsettling mix of anger and frustration welled up within Mihawk. The precision of the plan spoke volumes about the cunning of his adversaries. In his pursuit of a momentary lapse in judgment, they had seized the opportunity to infiltrate his home, endangering not only the sanctity of his fortress but also the safety of the enigmatic feline.

The torn fabric served as a grim reminder that the battle, for him, extended beyond the physical realm. It was a clash of wits, a contest of strategies where each move had consequences. Mihawk's usually unyielding gaze now bore the weight of a man who had been outsmarted.

Clutching the remnant of the pirate flag, Mihawk steeled himself for the task ahead. His castle may have been breached, but the adversary had yet to reckon with the full extent of his capabilities. The pursuit of justice and the safety of his feline companion became intertwined, propelling him forward with a newfound determination to reclaim what was rightfully his.

**

Trapped within the confinements of a small cage, the shifter found herself surrounded by the ominous shadows of the pirate captain's quarters. The air was thick with tension as the man, a malevolent glint in his eyes. His gaze, unwavering and unsettling, bore into her like a predatory beast eyeing its prey. Her yellow eyes met the captains in defiance, a feral hiss escaping her lips whenever he drew near.

The cage offered little protection, but it was a feeble barrier against the palpable threat that loomed in the room. The shifter's instincts urged her to lash out, to claw at the man who held her captive, but the confines of the cage limited her movements.

The pirate captain, a cruel smirk playing on his lips, seemed to revel in the feline's distress. His eyes lingered on her with an unsettling intensity, a hunger for power and control burning within. It was a confrontation of wills, a silent battle fought through wary stares and defiant snarls. The pirate captain circled the cage, his eyes gleaming with a predatory satisfaction. "You're a feisty one, aren't you? I've captured many creatures in my time, but none quite as spirited as you."

The shifter's ears flattened against her head, a low growl resonating in her throat. Her sharp gaze followed the captain's every move, an unspoken challenge burning within her eyes. He chuckled, the sound a menacing melody that echoed through the dimly lit quarters. "You may resist now, my dear feline friend, but soon you'll learn the futility of defiance. I've dealt with stubborn creatures like you before."

The shifter's amber eyes narrowed, a silent vow etched in her feral glare. The cage, though confining, did little to imprison the indomitable spirit that raged within her. As the captain drew closer, she hissed, baring her teeth in a primal display of aggression.

The clang of metal against metal reverberated through the room as she lashed out with lethal claws, a desperate attempt to defend herself against the looming threat. "You'll make a fine addition to my collection," the captain sneered, his voice laced with triumph. "A creature as rare as you will fetch a high price in the black market. Perhaps I'll keep you as a personal pet."

The shifter's eyes burned with defiance, her feline instincts screaming at her to resist and escape. Yet, as the captain gloated, a spark of determination ignited within her. This was not the end; it was a fleeting moment of captivity in a life defined by resilience. And deep within the feline's heart, a silent promise echoed – she would endure, she would resist, and she would reclaim her freedom. 

The pirate captain, a cruel smirk playing on his lips, seemed to revel in the feline's distress. His eyes lingered on her with an unsettling intensity, a hunger for power and control burning within. It was a confrontation of wills, a silent battle fought through wary stares and defiant snarls. 

Yet, with each passing moment, the captain's malevolence only seemed to intensify. His dark laughter reverberated through the room, a chilling symphony that mingled with the shifter's guttural growls. The cage, a symbol of confinement and vulnerability, became a stage for the ominous dance between captor and captive.

The shifter glanced at her back leg as one of her wounds from washing ashore Mihawks beach had opened back up during her attempt in escaping the pirates and her other wounds ached from being so roughly handled. She was at least thankful that her blood had coagulated and was no longer bleeding freely, but she still felt weak from the blood loss. 

The feline's world swayed as she succumbed to the relentless drain of blood loss. Weakened and battered, she collapsed in her gilded cage, her breaths shallow and labored. The pirate captain, with a twisted grin, reached towards the cage, eager to secure his prize. However, the room was abruptly jarred by the thunderous roars of cannons, shaking the very foundation of the ship.

The pirate cursed and hastily abandoned his captive, leaving the feline alone in the dimly lit quarters. The cacophony of battle echoed through the ship, adding an ominous backdrop to the desperate situation.

Lying on the cold metal floor of her cage, the shifter fought against the encroaching darkness, her senses heightened by the imminent danger. She strained to hear the sounds of the skirmish outside, the clash of swords, the shouts of men, and the eerie creaking of the ship under siege. 

As the minutes stretched into an agonizing eternity, the feline's ears pricked at the approaching footsteps outside the door. The air hung heavy with suspense as the door creaked open, revealing a shadowy figure backlit by the chaos unfolding beyond.

The silhouette stepped into the room, revealing a pirate with blue hair and a distinctive red nose. She vaguely remembered his face from a bounty she had seen a while ago in passing. Buggy the Clown, his red nose contrasting starkly against his blue hair, entered the dimly lit room. The flickering lanterns cast an eerie glow on the opulent surroundings.

Buggy surveyed the pirate captain's quarters, his eyes darting around the opulent room adorned with stolen treasures and plundered goods. The air was heavy with the scent of greed and arrogance, a fitting ambiance for a pirate captain reveling in his ill-gotten gains. However, amidst the displays of wealth and decadence, Buggy's sharp eyes caught a glimpse of something incongruous—a gilded cage, an ostentatious prison in the midst of the pirate's lair. His curiosity piqued, he approached, his mismatched eyes narrowing as he took in the scene.

There, in the ornate cage, lay an injured black cat. The feline's fur, usually sleek and shining, was now matted with blood, telling a tale of struggle and suffering. Despite the evident pain, the cat's eyes held a defiant gleam, a silent challenge to the oppressor who had dared to confine it. 

The metallic tang of blood hung thick in the air, and Buggy's eyes sharpened with a mix of concern and intrigue. He couldn't ignore the desperation in those piercing yellow eyes, nor the injustice of the situation. For a moment, the boisterous and flamboyant pirate captain was rendered silent, his gaze fixed on the captive feline.

The feline, battered and bruised, observed Buggy cautiously as he approached the gilded cage. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood, a testament to the struggles she had endured. Her piercing yellow eyes, still sharp despite the ordeal, followed Buggy's every movement.

Buggy's thoughts raced as he assessed the scene before him. The chaos outside the room intensified, but within those walls, a different kind of battle played out—one where a lone cat faced the cruelty of captivity. The infamous pirate, known for his theatrical flair and cunning, felt an unexpected twinge of empathy. Buggy, with practiced precision, produced a set of keys and deftly unlocked the ornate cage. The door swung open, and the feline, weakened and battered, hesitated for a moment before cautiously stepping out.

"Ah, there we go!" Buggy exclaimed, grinning beneath his brightly colored hat. "Now, let's make a grand exit, shall we?" As Buggy extended his hand towards her, the feline hesitated. Instinct and survival had taught her caution with pirates, especially in the face of those similar to the ones that had confined her. 

However, as Buggy spoke in a tone that held an unexpected gentleness, the feline sensed a shift in the atmosphere. The eccentric pirate captain wasn't like the others who had sought to exploit her. There was a theatricality to him, a flamboyance that veiled a genuine intention—a willingness to break her free from the confines of the gilded cage.

When Buggy offered his hand again, the shifter stared at it for a moment, assessing the sincerity in his eyes. The vibrant, mismatched colors of his clown-like appearance seemed to soften, revealing a genuine concern. In that moment, the feline's instincts whispered a silent encouragement, urging her to take the leap of trust. With a cautious movement, she allowed Buggy to scoop her up, his touch surprisingly gentle against her battered fur.

The transition from the cold, restrictive cage to the warmth of Buggy's embrace brought a mixture of emotions. Vulnerability mingled with a spark of hope, and the feline couldn't help but feel a fleeting sense of relief.

In that moment, as Buggy carried her away from the cage, the feline's heart beat with a rhythm that echoed a newfound trust. It was a tentative connection, fragile yet profound, forged in the peculiar dance of survival on the unpredictable seas.

As the pirate captain and the feline navigated the chaos erupting outside, the sounds of cannons, clashes, and shouts filled the air. The shifter, though still weakened, moved with a newfound determination alongside her unexpected rescuer. Together, they faced the impending skirmish, forging an unlikely alliance amid the tumultuous sea of pirates and their clashes.

Buggy cradled the injured feline in his arms, surprised by the docility with which she allowed him to handle her. It was as if she sensed a momentary ally in the eccentric pirate captain. He gingerly stroked the cat's fur, feeling the warmth and fragility beneath his fingertips. With the injured feline securely in his grasp, Buggy ascended to the upper deck of the pirate ship.

The chaotic scene that unfolded before him revealed a satisfying twist of fate—the pirates who had dared to confine the cat were now bound and subdued. The crew members, witnessing the unexpected appearance of their captain with a cat in tow, stared in bewilderment. Buggy, reveling in the absurdity of the moment, smirked as he made his grand entrance. "Behold!" he announced theatrically, the cat still cradled safely in his arms, "Captain Buggy returns, and he brings with him a most esteemed guest—a feline of distinguished taste, no doubt!"

The crew exchanged perplexed glances, unsure whether to take their captain seriously or dismiss it as another one of his eccentricities. However, as Buggy approached the tied-up pirates, their expressions shifted from confusion to understanding. 

The injured cat, with her yellow eyes surveying the scene, emitted a low growl once she spotted the pirate captain that had locked her in the cage, a primal warning to those who had wronged her. Buggy, catching onto the feline's protective instincts, couldn't help but appreciate the unexpected ferociousness of the feline in his grasp.

"Well, well," Buggy mused, his voice adopting a more menacing tone, "seems like someone's got a bone to pick with our dear captain here." With a theatrical flourish, he extended a hand that held a dagger and with a swift movement slashed the other pirate captain's throat without an ounce of hesitation.

"Now, my dear crew," Buggy declared, "this cat here has suffered at the hands of these scoundrels. Let it be known that anyone who dares harm a hair on her precious head shall face the wrath of Captain Buggy and his ferocious feline companion!" The cat, though weakened, held her head high, echoing the sentiment with an unyielding gaze. The crew, realizing the peculiar alliance forged in the face of adversity, erupted into a mixture of laughter and applause. Buggy, basking in the newfound camaraderie, paraded around the ship.

The feline, her eyes never leaving Buggy's face, weighed her options. Instinct battled with reason, and in that precarious moment, a decision was made. Trust, a fragile thread that connected disparate souls, sparked within her.

It was a trust rooted in survival, an unspoken understanding that in the unpredictable world of the seas, alliances could arise from the most unlikely of encounters. As Buggy declared his intentions to protect her, the feline responded with a soft purr—a sound that resonated not only with gratitude but also with a newfound connection. The gentle vibrations of the purr reverberated through Buggy's arms, a silent acknowledgment of the trust placed in him. 

**

Mihawk sailed through the debris-laden waters, a storm of conflicting emotions brewing within him. The once-proud pirate ship he had been pursuing lay shattered and broken, a cruel testament to the violent encounter that had taken place. As he approached the remnants, a sinking feeling gripped his chest, and his sharp eyes scanned the wreckage for any sign of what he feared most. 

The sea whispered tales of tragedy, the salty air carrying a weight of sorrow. His heart raced as he imagined the scene that had unfolded—his cat, the feline companion he had unknowingly grown attached to, caught in the crossfire of a vengeful clash.

The reality hit him like a tidal wave, and Mihawk's knees threatened to give way beneath the weight of despair. The little feline who had shared and offered moments of warmth and companionship, was now lost amidst the splintered remains of the ship.

The realization that she might never purr against his touch or curl up by the fireplace sent a shiver through him. He surveyed the wreckage with a sinking feeling, unable to shake the haunting images that played in his mind. The fragments of a life he hadn't fully understood—the nuances of the bond they had shared—lay scattered, shattered like the ship itself.

A bitter ache settled in Mihawk's chest as he stared at the sea, grappling with the cruel truth that she might be gone. The waves whispered a somber lullaby, and the once-mighty pirate hunter found himself humbled by the fragility of life.

In the silence that followed, Mihawk could almost hear the echo of her presence—a phantom memory of a feline companion who had unwittingly become a cherished part of his austere existence. The weight of loss bore down on him, and a heavy sigh escaped his lips, carrying the regret of a man who had failed to protect the one he didn't know he held dear.

@onepieceohohoh @under-kitty @a-goblin-named-cherry @vividgette

#one piece #dracule mihawk #op mihawk #buggy x oc #dracule mihawk x oc #original character

[shiningqueen]

unraveled / sequel fic / sfw mihawk x afab!oc

I return with a sequel to this fic Rating: SFW / e for everyone. Notes: established friendship, fluff/comfort, pining if you squint, a lot of relevant backstory to my oc Fay. No specific gender pronouns used however. Can you tell Im really obsessed with this character? lol

The ocean is a blanket of silver black underneath the moonlight, eddies and currents glittering like diamonds cast over dark velvet and trapped in perpetual motion. The steady rocking of your boat and the rush of wind billowing into its sail soothes the aching storm still lingering in your chest. You have sailed the treacherous seas for most of your life and the waters have always brought you calm, even when everything felt unraveled and broken.

As Water 7 vanishes behind you, there is only the ghostly flames of Hitsugibune's candles to guide you onwards. They shiver and dance like will-o-wisps in the night, reminding you of tales of errant spirits lost to the wider world when there is nobody to guide them. You are also reminded suddenly that Mihawk had not specified your next destination, only that there was somewhere else you had to be.

A turn of the wheel and a shift of the sail hastens your small vessel through the waves, until it glides silently parallel to the swordsman's wider raft.

"What is our heading?" You raise your voice just enough to carry over the gap and it not be snatched by the midnight wind. The sea has done its work in soothing your nerves for the time being, so your voice does not tremble.

"Sabaody," he drones in reply, "I have business there and I recall you mentioning preferring the typewriter ink sold at the markets." For all the usual indifference of his tone, the fact he specifically sought you out to take you along for something you needed, was touching.

For just a few moments you cling to the endearing warmth brought by Mihawk's words, but the sting of bitterness from what had transpired on Water 7 creeps up like bile in your throat. You reach down and grasp a length of rope, draping it over your lap as you speak up again.

"Mind if I join you?"

Mihawk tilts his head slightly to keep you in his peripheral and extends a hand out, "Toss the line over." He makes short work of tethering your vessel to his and watches as you fix the sail so it did not cause too much drag whilst being guided by Hitsugibune. The two ships draw close enough for you to leap nimbly from one to the other, landing with a cat-like nimbleness on the deck of his raft.

He can tell you are still tense and melancholy from what had transpired on Water 7, despite how sailing usually lulled you into a sense of serenity. That the encounter had shaken you so much again draws forth the notion how little Mihawk knew about you. Well, how little he knew about the specifics of your past. It had crossed his mind occasionally but he was a practical sort. One's past may shape a person but who you were in the present and who you strived to become were far more important. Your dreams and ambitions were what he had invested himself in.

Mihawk tips himself slightly sideways to rest an elbow on the arm of his chair, cheek pressed into palm as he watches you settle down on the deck. He would not pry into your business and was content to wait for you to speak first. In the stretch of quiet, he merely admires the play of moonlight and ghostly candles flickering against the little sequins on your sleeves that made it look like you were covered in mermaid scales. The gold shine of cross shaped earrings dangling from your lobes were a subtle complement to his own iconography that he appreciated. It was entertaining how lately you had begun wearing patterns or jewelry reminiscent of his style.

You half turned towards him, eyes like quicksilver in the dark when they met his. There's something searching in your expression that he cannot quite pinpoint before it vanishes entirely.

A few heartbeats and you decide to fully face him while seated just a few feet from his legs, your own legs crossed and hands rolling the smooth sphere of your Log Pose between them. "Back in the bar, that was my best friend and for a short time, my girlfriend." Both terms come off bitterly, "We grew up together but it took awhile for us to really get close. It's a really long story," you sigh and stare despondently at the Pose in your hands. You couldnt hold Mihawk's stare and tell him this story, the ache in your chest was still too raw. This was not something you ever intended on him knowing but here you are.

"Anyway," a vague gesture made, "best friends, we supported each other through tough times. Shared a lot of good times. She was my writing partner too for a while, we had this whole series planned out." Your voice catches as the memories swim in and out of focus, "She was so creative and insightful and smart, she inspired me to do better as a person and as a writer." The words trail off as you fend off the swelling of emotion that threatens to drown you. Maybe it would have been better to have said nothing at all. It was perhaps too late for such a regret though.

As much as you tried to keep your voice even, how it wavered and the tension bleeding back into your shoulders told Mihawk plenty. How terrible of a betrayal could this person have caused to weigh you down so much? It made him wonder if what transpired was the sole reason for the melancholy that sometimes made you seem so withdrawn. He briefly pulls his gaze from you to watch the seas, nudging Hitsugibune mentally to correct her course.

You steel yourself to summarize everything, "At some point, we got around to admitting we had feelings for each other. But I'll be honest, I was in love with her for a long time before that already. I got really jealous when she was dating some other guy for a brief time." The memory makes you scoff a bit, for how foolish you had been back then. "We dated for four years, she was going through school and I was working just to support myself. Everything was great at first, we made it work when she left home  to study in West Blue."

Here is where the difficult part comes up and you swallow around the lump in your throat, "Near the end, things just started to unravel. For me and for her. I dont know exactly when or why it happened but she stopped telling me important things. I got frustrated with how I always had to bend to what she wanted to do, and it felt like she only placated my interests to keep me in line. I was depressed too, from work and not seeing my family. I felt like I was drifting from her, from everyone." You tip backwards now and sprawl out on the raft's floor, staring up at the star strewn sky and breathing deeply to combat the flush of emotion. Mihawk had been silent, attentive, you could daresay even a little concerned from how he shifted in his seat.

"I messed it up," the admission is soft and heavy with pain, "when she came to visit last, I asked her if we could take a break. I told her I felt like I wasn't good enough for her right then. We argued a bit, but I was so tired and I just wanted some space. Now I know that was wrong of me, I should have figured out how to explain my feelings better but I was not thinking rationally. So I fucked it up."

Guilt gnawing at your insides like the gnashing teeth of bloodthirsty fish, the sound of the ocean rushing in your ears or was that blood pounding in your skull from the turmoil within you? You lift your hands and press the heel of your palms against your eyes with a groan, “I fucked it up and she pretty much buster called the rest of our friendship. Turned all our friends against me, seeded rumors in the community, it felt like I was being outcasted for making a mistake. I ended up leaving entirely after a few months.”

That seemed to be the end of the tale. Mihawk considered everything you had told him and although he struggled empathizing, there is one thing that stands out to him. 

“They did not deserve you,” he said simply, “none of them did. How easily they were swayed by lies, than think critically of your behavior and ask questions, is a slight upon their own character. Not yours.”

When you scoff a little in retort, he’s annoyed at your dismissiveness to his assessment, “You are wise enough to recognize your mistakes in the past, it seemed to me your once love lacks the same self reflection.”

You’re still lying on the floor of Hitsugibune and still irritated with your wallowing, he reaches to grasp your arm and pulls you easily up into sitting. He’s met with wide glassy eyes and an expression he can only describe as vulnerable, which is a first for him to see. Mihawk has borne witness to many facets of your mercurial demeanor but he’d never seen you look so fragile. It softens the ire in him with almost laughable swiftness.

“I’ve never been good enough, not for her, not for anyone. That’s how it felt, as soon as I stumbled, I was worthless.” The way you unravel with fear and insecurity has him scowling, but not in any way that is disdainful of you. No, anger buzzes beneath his iron-wrought self control for the people who failed to see the truth of you. A clever, intelligent, utterly tenacious person with so much potential that was still blossoming.

Mihawk tsks and takes both your hands in his; delicate palms and fingers dwarfed by his larger ones, “You are allowed to stumble, to make mistakes, it does not make you worthless to fail. Not when you pick yourself up after and learn to do better.” His tone is calm and certain, steadying against the tremor he can see in your shoulders.

The affirmations sink into the hurting parts of you, and you struggle between digesting the conviction in his tone and the malignant insecurity poisoning you. Yet you knew Mihawk never wasted breath on meaningless words. He hated small talk and empty flattery. The warmth of his hands encompassing yours crawls up your arms and eases the chill touch of anguish.

When you find the breath to speak, you also muster the courage to meet the warlord's piercing stare. The intensity of his eyes never fails to spark electricity along the length of your spine, "I know you're right, but seeing her again so unexpectedly, just made all the hurt come back. I was so angry at how callously she treated me, and angry at myself too, for how foolish I had been at the time."

Mihawk hums and tugs you to stand, gliding a few fingers under the sleeves of your shirt to stroke the inside of your wrists. It makes your breath catch a little. Such casual touches were rare between you two, let alone ones that lasted as long as this. He was not a tactile person and there was always a sort of aloofness in his friendship with you, a distance carefully maintained so that the wider world wouldnt read too much into your association.

Yet here out on the open ocean without the risk of prying eyes and the softness you displayed for him, Mihawk thought it worth overstepping the unspoken boundary. He could tell you needed some manner of tangible comfort and he was fond of you enough to want to provide it.

"As I said, she and whoever else, did not deserve you. That is even more true now, for how you have blossomed in your ambitions without her." He reiterates, intent on how you slowly relax as the invisible weight dissipates bit by bit. The way your pulse quickens imperceptibly beneath his light touches is tucked away in some corner of his mind for later.

You breathe out slowly and reluctantly tug your hands free from his grasp, but not with the intent to draw away. If Mihawk took liberty to touch you so tenderly, you felt it was worth stepping closer between his legs and leaning forward to embrace him. Arms around his shoulders and burying your face against the high collar of his brocade coat. There is just a few seconds that he tenses up from your closeness but then you feel one of his own limbs carefully curl around you, allowing you to rest more fully into him. You inhale the salt, cologne and steel of him with relish.

"Thank you," a little muffled but Mihawk hears you, he just chooses not to respond in lieu of basking in the moment. The warmth of you against his chest, the citrus-sweet scent that clings to you, the contrarian thrill and peace he felt from the embrace.

Fatigue creeps its way into your bones after so long though and you intend on pulling away, going back to your ship and dozing against the wheel until dawn. Sensing the onset of your dropping energy levels, Mihawk surprises you as he scoops you handily up into his lap entirely. You squirm with a mixture of surprise and bashfulness, face heating up from the flurry of sensation that comes from being held against him so intimately.

"Hey-"

"You're tired," he interrupts coolly, "stay and rest for a bit." The curl of his arm around you is firm, and he tilts his head to peer at your flustered face. "Don't get used to it," he adds dryly, squeezing you in subtle emphasis to what he was allowing.

You cant muster any sort of response over the pounding of your heart, and decide to just stay silent. As your pulse settles, you rest your head on his shoulder and try not to read too much into Mihawk letting you doze in his lap.

Sleep is not far behind as you relax in the sense of safety and comfort found with him.

#|mine| #|lumi's tidbits| #one piece fanfiction #mihawk x reader #mihawk x oc #dracule mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk x oc #fluff and comfort

[missrandomdreamer]

This adorable and absolute perfection commission was done by the lovely Lornimate who is donating all proceeds of their commissions to help the ocean! <3 Here is their kofi where you can find their info! They are absolutely a gem! https://ko-fi.com/lornimate

I love this commission so so much and had to write a little snippet for it ;3 thank you so much to Lornimate for this absolute perfection of a commission!

----

"Miruna, may I please shoo away this rat with wings?" "Mihawk! How can you say that about little Stefano? He is sweet, look he loves you." "My dear, I am pretty sure he thinks my hat is a female seagull, he steals my food and drinks my wine- "But he loves you dear, just like I do. Right Stefano?" The seagull squawks and ear piercing cry causing Mihawk to flinch a d sigh. Miruna just laughs softly and kisses Mihawk on his cheek while the swordsman just blushes. If it made the little sea maiden happy he would put up with the feathery nuisance. "...Miruna if that seagull just relieved itself on me-" Miruna looked like she was suppressing laugh again kissing him on the lips this time. When she spoke, the laugh escapes her lips. "Come on, Mihawk, I'll clean you up-go on Stefano leave him be." Mihawk sighed blushing harder as Miruna led him back to the castle while Stefano just followed above squawking along.

#I love this so damn much #Mihawks face is everything #Cutie patooties #Stefano the seagull #Miruna (OC) op #Dracule Mihawk x oc #Dracule Mihawk #One piece #One piece oc #Writing #From the sea

[draculesmihawk]

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

[tipsypenguin31]

Chapter one heavy edited

So yeah, like the title says I took chapter one and spent the entire weekend editing chapter one. I feel like it's a million times better than the crap I originally posted and hopefully much better formatting.

As always, let me know if you like the updated version or if you prefer the original! <3

Next, I will be working on chapter 2. Hopefully will have it finished by Tuesday.<3

#fanfic #dracule mihawk #opla #one piece mihawk #fanfiction #one piece #one piece anime #dracule mihawk x oc

[alexa-fika]

Hello Alexa! Hope your doing well as always seems like your not lacking requests so put the other requests before my own ♡

An idea came to me last night when I failed a test for the third time- and need to redo it, when I'm sad or something bad happens I go hide in my closet with blankets and pillows, like a child- so how would the whitebeard pirates or mihawk react to child dokusha hiding when their sad? Like their because they got in trouble or isn't allowed to go with the crew on an island and instead has to stay on the ship?

As someone who had gone through a lot in their early childhood I find these stories so comforting and sweet. I often find myself only opening Tumblr to see if you've posted. Remember to take care of yourself, because someone really cares about you♡

Solace and Comfort (Whitebeard pirates, Mihawk x gn!child!reader)

A/N Hey hey Holo! I absolutely love when you request and as a a ghank you for being such a sweetheart I went ahead and did both :) I also do the same thing, when im upset I like to find a closed or cozy space and just huddle up and hug my plushies. Your words really mean a lot, I appreciate them and it makes me so giddy.

Reader is replaced by Dokucha as a placeholder which stands for Reader in japanese

Dividers by @/saradika

Thatch found himself in his kitchen, preparing the next meal for his Captain. He made sure to take into account his current condition and choose the right ingredients to alleviate it.

"Hm, should I use kale or broccoli for this one?" he inquired to Izou, who had joined him earlier to escape the rowdiness of the crew as he completed maintenance in his pistols.

"I'm hardly the person you should ask Thatch."

"Kale it is," he exclaimed, beginning to chop down said vegetable, the tapping of the knife hitting the cupboard echoing around the otherwise quiet room

"Regardless, it is about time we addressed it, isn't it?" Izou spoke, pushing the lock back in his flintlock, a snap resounding across the kitchen

The chef stops chopping the kale at the comment, glancing up at his brother and letting out a sigh, putting the knife down

“I suppose so.”

“How about it, Dokucha? Want to come out and talk about it?” The sniper called out, walking around the counter to stand next to Thatch

A few beats of silence filled the room after that statement until the sound of ruffling came from one of the cabinets in the kitchen as Dokucha slowly crawled out of it, a stuffed bird held tightly in their arms

“How did you know I was here?” They mumbled, drying their teary eyes

“You usually hide here when something happens,” Thatch answered, kneeling down

"You should consider branching out," added Izou with a smile

"Would you like a hug?" Thatch offered

They nod, running into his arms, cries escaping them as he crashes into him

Thatch hummed, wrapping his arms around them and picking them up, swinging them from side to side for a few minutes until their cries lessened

"What's going on?" Izou questioned, glancing at the child, who by this point had positioned their head on Thatch's shoulder and looking back at Izou

"I wanted to go with Ace," they sniffled

"I know you do, but he had a risky mission he had to go on," Izou replies gently

"Why?" they cried

“They had something of ours, so Ace had to get it back.”

“I wanted to go with Big Brother too!” They cried, beginning to struggle against Thatch’s embrace

“Let me go!” They scream, beginning to throw punches his way

“Hey, Hey, it’s okay,” the man reassured them, tightening their hold, ignoring the shrill screams that now escaped them

“Hey, Hey, Dokucha, he always comes back, just like he came back from his previous mission and the one before. Just like I come back, just like Izou, and everyone will come back. But we need to calm down so we can welcome them back.”

“We would love to take you with us, Dokucha, but we want to keep you safe even more; we couldn’t bear something happening to you,” Izou continues, rubbing the child’s head

They sniffle, relaxing in their hold

“Hey, how about we go see Pops?” Thatch suggests

“Papaw?”

“Yeah, I’m almost finished with his meal; how about you come with us to deliver it?”

“Okay”

“Pops, food is ready; we had special help today.” thatch announced approaching the man

Whitebeard glances down at the two commanders, about to ask what they mean, until he spots the ‘special help’ running towards him

“Papaw!”

He grins, lifting the child up

“Gurararara, what brings you here, Dokucha?” he questions, glancing down at his sixteenth commander as he spoke

“We were having a hard time earlier wanted to go with Ace.”

“Gurarara, why would you be upset about such a thing brat?”

They shrug

“Has the boy ever broken his promise to come back?”

“No…”

“Has he ever lied to you?”

“No…”

“Then why were you throwing a fit?”

“I didn’t throw a fit!”

“Sounds like you did”

“You’re mean, Papaw!”

“It’s called tough love.”

“It’s being mean!”

“If that’s the case, are you not coming to the celebration when he does return?”

“I want to!”

“Are we done with the fits?”

“Yeah!”

“Did someone say celebration? I could use some grub,” a voice joins in

Dokucha beams, jumping off Whitebeard's hand and crashing into Ace

“Ace! You’re back!”

“Just like I promised.”

“Where are they?”

The human drills look at each other nervously and turn back to the swordsman, letting out a string of hoots and sneers.

Mihawk narrows his eyes at this

“Is that the answer you wish to go with?” He said, pulling out Yoru from his back and pointing it against the apes

“I will allow you to try again; where are they? I am well aware this is where they run to when they grow upset.”

In response, the human drills sounds escalate as they pull out their own weapons, only to stop as a small voice joins in

“It’s okay, Ezra, Enrique.” A small child wrapped in a blanket spoke, patting the apes, effectively calming them Down as they slowly lowered their weapons

“Don’t hurt them, Papa,” they mumble, hugging their blanket closer to them

He sighs, sheathing Yoru once again and extending his hand toward the child

The child wobbles their way to their father, taking hold of their hand and looking back at the human drills, sending a wave their way

As they walked on, the only sound that could be heard was the sounds of the forest around them as insects and birds chirped together, the sound of the human drills still reaching their ears, and the sound of Dokucha’s blanket being dragged as they walked next to the warlord.

“Are you going to tell me why you ran off?” he spoke, breaking the silence between them

He sighs at the silence that followed, pausing to pick up the child and place them on his hip, in turn the child leans their head against his shoulder

“Is this about the sword practice you were doing before?” He inquired, letting out a hum as the child nodded their head against his shoulder

“Can you tell me about it?”

“I can’t do it,” he mumbles

“Do what?”

“I can’t make the sword cut like Papa’s.”

“Is that what this is about?”

“Yeah”

“That kind of precision takes practice, it takes time,” he explains

“But I want to be strong like you!” They cried, leaning back and glancing up at him

His eyes soften at this, halting his walking as he puts all his attention on the child

“I know you do,” he said, wiping the tears that began falling from their eyes

“But one cannot simply master the sword overnight.”

“Not even Papa?.”

“No, I am not an exception to the statement. I had to train for years to be able to reach my current state, and I don’t doubt you will one day surpass me; that day is just not today.”

They frown at that, lying their head on their shoulder again

“How about we begin with the move you were attempting before?”

“Papa will teach me?” They exclaimed, shooting up

He chuckles

“You should have asked; I am never below teaching you the way of the sword.”

They grin, hugging his neck tightly

“I love you, Papa.”

“I love you too, dearest.”

Here we go! Two for two!! These are really cozy ones, loved how the Mihawk one turned out

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #one piece fluff #one piece x child!reader #alexaanswers #dracule mihawk #dracule mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk x child!reader #mihawk x child!reader #oc x whitebeard pirates #whitebeard x gn!reader #whitebeard pirates x child!reader #whitebeard pirates x reader #whitebeard x reader #op whitebeard #whitebeard crew #whitebeard one piece #whitebeard pirates #thatch x child!reader #oc x thatch #thatch x reader #thatch #thach op #izou x reader #izou one piece

[skytk11]

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

๋࣭⭑Big Three Music Headcanons! ๋࣭⭑

☠︎ Crocodile ☠︎

Classical pop music. This man would love classical music like Frank Sinatra, Etta James, and Billie Holiday. I can see him now just working while listening to classical music and in his office smoking a scar bobbing his head a little bit while the music plays on a record player.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

At last (Etta James)

Kiss of Fire (Hugh Laurie)

Born under a bad sign (Albert King)

The girl from Lpanema (Frank Sinatra)

Old Devil Moon (Frank Sinatra)

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

⚔ Mihawk ⚔

I see Mihawk listening to classical music, but more Gothic if he was listening to classical music it would be Something with the piano in it but when we're talking about Gothic I see him Listening to something with romantic goth in it like Tearful Moon, HIM, and mazzy star.

☽༺♰༻☾

I love you more than death (tearful moon)

Kiss kiss kill kill (Horrorpops)

Vampier romance (blutengel)

Slow, love, slow (nightwish)

I love you (HIM)

☽༺♰༻☾

⚝ Buggy ⚝

To be honest, I don't know what music he would like like the genre of music. I don't know. I have a feeling he listens to a lot of different types of genres because he's just a silly little guy like you'd probably listen to Edgy, Silly, And some weird ass music but we love him for that.

⛧☾༺✮༻☽ ⛧ Kiss me you animal (Burn the ballroom)

Boogie woogie Wu (ICP)

No One lives forever (oingo boingo)

HERE COMES THE HURRICANE LEGENDARY

KATRINA (Kevin Jz Prodigy)

Look who's inside again. (Bo Burnham)

⛧☾༺✮༻☽ ⛧

#one piece #dracule mihawk #sir crocodile #one piece headcanons #headcanon #music #buggy d clown #sir crocodile x oc #mihawk x y/n #mihawk x you #mihawk x reader #mihawk fanfiction #one piece mihawk #hawkeye mihawk #op mihawk #sir crocodile one piece #sir crocodile x reader #sir crocodile x y/n #op buggy #captain buggy #buggy pirates #buggy the clown #buggy one piece #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy x oc

[naraeragon]

Sleepwear. Cuddling. Nuzzling.

#his hair is hard to draw af #my art #one piece #one piece x reader #dracule mihawk #child mihawk #mihawk x reader #my ocs #witch #let's meet at the witch's gathering #魔女集会で会いましょう #i wish i was in his place

[i-am-vita]

Mihawk Bodice Ripper pt. 2 Sketching

<Previous, Next >

OMG!!! So overwhelmed by all the amazing options for Sapsorrow's Star Dress!!! @fanaticsnail help!!!

I've decided to just warm up and practice some dress shapes. The real deal is going to be the color.

The background sketching is coming out easier.

#Mihawk looks like a Fabio #The One Piece Bodice Ripper Club #bodice ripper #rip the bodice #rip the buttons #one piece #one piece live action #x reader #one piece original character #one piece oc #dracule mihawk #one piece mihawk #mihawk x reader #hawkeye mihawk #sapsorrow au #sapsorrow fan art

[redpool]

I really want to read a One Piece fic where the OC is like a mother/older sister figure to all of the young pirates and she just pops in randomly whenever they really need help (Ace), I don't care if she has the a love interest or not, tho if I had to pick it'd be Mihawk or maybe even Crocodile.

#one piece #one piece au #one piece fanfiction #one piece fics #one piece x oc #one piece x reader #one piece x original character #opla #opla x reader #opla x oc #dracule mihawk #dracule mihawk x reader #sir crocodile #sir crocodile x reader

[thewillofdeez]

The Warlord and the Revolutionary: A Dracule Mihawk/OC Romance - Chapter 7: Bonding

Summary: Mihawk has never been big on surprises, but when Zoro and Perona showed up on Kuraigana, Mihawk took it in stride. He learned how to adjust and even slowly began to enjoy their company. Just under a year later, another surprise showed up on his island - his ex-girlfriend, on the verge of death. The one he hasn't seen in fifteen years. And he might still love her.

Slice of life goth family cuteness headcanons mixed with OC romance.

Chapter 7 word count: 2976

Note: Here's a link to the song I had in mind when I wrote the last part. However, feel free to replace it with whatever makes you happy! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hS-LQTcu2mw

Before Mihawk knew it, two weeks had gone by since Olivia’s arrival on Kuraigana. He couldn’t deny how much he enjoyed having her around, and not just because of his growing feelings for her. Olivia seemed to fit in at the castle and his life there seamlessly.

Olivia and Perona got along exceptionally well, and he got the feeling that Perona enjoyed having another woman in the place - it hadn’t occurred to him before that it must be tough having only him and Zoro for company. The two of them often spent the mornings making breakfast, then chatting amiably as they watched Mihawk and Zoro train. In the afternoons, Mihawk could often find them in the library as they read and discussed with glee their smutty romance novels, or in the kitchen baking a variety of breads and sweets. While he wasn’t much of a baker himself, he knew Perona enjoyed it and in the past year had gotten in the habit of stocking the pantries with bags of flour, a variety of sugars, and other things to fuel her hobby. The way he saw it, it kept her out of trouble, and he got to enjoy whatever she created. It was a win-win situation.

One day, Mihawk and Zoro had been walking together through the halls of the castle.

“All I’m saying,” Zoro had said, “Is what if there is no One Piece? What if it’s not some grand treasure and it’s just the friends we made along the way?”

Mihawk rolled his eyes, “That is the most inane theory I’ve ever heard,” he’d said. “I don’t know what the One Piece is either but I’m quite sure —” Mihawk paused and stopped talking as a familiar smell reached him from the kitchen.

“What?” Zoro had asked. Wordlessly, Mihawk began walking towards the kitchen to find the source of the smell, and Zoro followed. At the counter, Olivia was rolling out dough while Perona pulled a tray of crisp, brown cookies from the oven.

Mihawk had approached her to examine the tray’s contents. “Liv, did you…did you make me ginger cookies?” His heart pounded at the thoughtful gesture…she remembered they were his favorites.

Olivia beamed. “I thought you’d like. Don’t take one yet, though, they’re still hot,” she added with a knowing grin as she saw him reaching for one. “I know it’s been a long time but I think you can wait a few more minutes.” Begrudgingly, Mihawk had waited until the cookies cooled, but when he finally took a bite, memories of years before came flooding back to him. They were just as good as he remembered. 

Olivia also had formed a somewhat simpler, but still close bond with Zoro. Zoro liked to ply Olivia for tales of her early days of sailing with Mihawk, Shanks, and Buggy, as well as her time as a Revolutionary, which Olivia was always happy to talk to him about. Zoro in turn regaled his housemates with tales of his adventures with the Straw Hats. Olivia had always been the better storyteller than Mihawk, and he enjoyed watching her recall their early days together with a smile. It almost made Mihawk a little jealous - part of him wished Zoro would ask him these questions about his life and his past, but he also knew that he had never presented himself as a particularly approachable or nostalgic person, nor had he ever asked Zoro much about his own past, so he couldn’t blame his protege for asking Olivia instead.

Aside from storytelling, Zoro and Olivia enjoyed challenging each other to everything they could think of, from seeing for how long they could juggle three balls back and forth across the living room without dropping them (their record was fifty two minutes), to playing croquet with the dusty old set they’d found in the garden shed. Zoro and Olivia were both naturally competitive people, and Olivia enjoyed bonding with him over their challenges.

“Hey Olivia,” Zoro had said one day, approaching her as the group of four lounged in the living room. “Wanna play chess?”

“Don’t do it,” Perona had said, without looking up from the magazine she was flipping through.

“He’s going to try to hustle you,” added Mihawk. “I still owe him money.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault that you accepted the terms of my bet and that you miscalculated my abilities,” Zoro had argued. “I’m not trying to hustle her, I just want a friendly game since you two won’t play with me any more.” He turned to Olivia. “You in?”

"I’m in,” she’d replied, “But I won’t go easy on you. You might be good, but I’m better, and I guarantee I'll kick your ass.”

Zoro did love a challenge. He set up the board and allowed her to take white so she could go first. In the opening moves, Zoro carried a knowing grin on his face. However, when Olivia took both of his Knights in a series of moves he felt he should have seen coming, Zoro began to get a little nervous. At this point, Mihawk and Perona were looking over the game with interest - neither of them were bad at chess, but they weren’t on Zoro’s level, and they certainly had never seen him get nervous in the game before.

“How did you get to be so good at chess, Zoro?” Olivia had asked as she moved a Rook across the board to claim another Pawn.

“My sensei in the dojo where I grew up was big on us kids learning how to do it. Said it was a good way to learn how to strategize in battle. Not sure how effective it’s been for that, but I sure do enjoy wiping the floor with people who underestimate me.” He glanced pointedly at Mihawk and Perona.

Olivia giggled as Zoro swiped a Pawn of her own off the board.

Down to the final moves, it was anyone’s game, until…

“Checkmate.”

Zoro had smiled proudly, his Queen and remaining Bishop cornering Olivia’s King. “I gotta say, you sure gave me a run for my money, even if you still lost. What’s your secret?”

Olivia grinned knowingly. “I’m not going to tell you, it’ll make it less fun to play next time.”

“Fair enough,” Zoro said. “Good game.” They shook hands, and Zoro cleaned up the set and moved to the other side of the room to put it away, as Olivia plopped down on the couch next to Mihawk.

“So,” Mihawk began quietly as Perona floated over to join them. “What is your secret?”

With a conspiratorial grin, Olivia wiggled a finger gesturing them in closer.

“My secret…” she had said, quietly, making sure Zoro was still occupied. “Is that I’m terrible at chess. Never won a game in my life. I had no strategy and just sort of moved at random and tried to take his pieces, so it made it harder for him to strategize against me. I just figured if I made Zoro believe just enough that I was actually really good at it I could shake his confidence and get him to falter. It almost worked too,” she finished with a shrug, pulling the wine glass from Mihawk’s hand and taking a sip.

Perona let out a cackle, catching Zoro’s attention. Returning to where the three sat, Zoro observed Perona and Olivia giggling and saw Mihawk hide a knowing grin by taking a sip of wine. “What’d I miss?”

More than anything, though, Mihawk was thrilled with the time he got to spend with Olivia. When they were together, the conversation flowed so naturally it was like no time had passed at all. He tried to get some time alone with her every day, something he was sure Zoro and Perona were aware of even without him saying anything; whereas before Olivia’s arrival, the three used to pass much of the time together, even if they were doing their own things in silence, now Zoro and Perona would often excuse themselves when they sensed the time was right to leave the two elder pirates to their own devices. However, in the large empty castle the budding romance was often a form of entertainment for Zoro and Perona, and sometimes they couldn’t help but enjoy the show.

Late one afternoon, Mihawk and Olivia sat in the living room, chatting as snow fell gently outside the windows. The warmth from the fire kept the chill out of the stone walls of the room. Mihawk sat against one side of the sofa, while Olivia laid outstretched, her woolen-socked feet on Mihawk’s lap. It was these little moments of intimacy that Mihawk missed so much - no words were needed, nothing sexual was happening; he just enjoyed that she was comfortable enough with him to do something like that, even after so much time. As he had said before to Shanks, he may not be able to have her back romantically, but he was beyond thrilled to have her as a friend. A friend who he could be affectionate with and laugh with, and with whom he could be his most authentic self. One for whom he could occasionally brush a strand of hair out of her face as she kneaded dough in the kitchen, or whose eyes he felt on him constantly as he trained with Zoro, or who’s blush he liked to see as the conversation occasionally danced around another aspect of their relationship, but was never directly addressed.

“Liv, do you remember that one time in San Faldo?” Mihawk had asked perfectly innocently one day. He was referring to when the four of them were chased through the carnival town by Marines after raiding one of their ships for a particularly rare and valuable treasure, donning masks and trying to blend in with the city of revelers as they wound through the streets, trying to avoid getting caught.

“How could I forget?” she had replied. She had been thinking of later that night, when they lost the Marines tailing them and, filled with adrenaline, had found a secluded area to be alone together, his hips pressing hers into a wall, the party carrying on around them. The glint in her eyes told Mihawk exactly what part of that night she was thinking of. Their eyes had met briefly, and they shared a knowing grin. Mihawk blushed and forgot why exactly he had brought the subject up in the first place.

Okay, maybe Mihawk wanted a little more than the pure friendship he had with someone like Shanks. The friendship part was great between them, that was established. The romantic part was still to be seen - Olivia’s time on the island was about half way over, and he still didn’t know what to do. While he was almost positive that his feelings would be reciprocated, it was the logistics of the relationship that was a problem. He couldn’t bring himself to broach the subject with Olivia, not wanting to disrupt the dynamic they had established. While Mihawk was never one to be afraid of taking risks, this one was almost too much for him. He had just gotten her back in his life, after all.

But what if there was something in between? What if he could have certain parts of the romantic relationship, while avoiding the messy aspects of being a Warlord in love with a Revolutionary? Could they maintain a physical relationship and a friendship, meeting up when their schedules allowed then parting like it was nothing? Would he be happy with that, being able to have her in the most intimate way but knowing it wouldn’t be anything more? Mihawk wasn’t sure. He wondered if it was just his less-intelligent head doing the thinking for him. With his commitment to train Zoro, he hadn’t gotten out much lately…it had been a while.

“Mihawk?” Olivia’s voice cut through his thoughts.

Mihawk’s eyes shot up to meet hers, a slight blush forming on his face in reaction to the thoughts that had just been coursing through his brain. “Sorry, just thinking. What were you saying?”

Olivia smiled. “While you were completely zoned out, I asked if you would help me tune the piano. You in?”

“Of course.”

The two made their way to the dusty piano in the corner. Mihawk lifted the lid and sneezed as dust rose from the unused strings. Olivia giggled and retrieved a feather duster, clearing the years of disuse from the instrument. When it was adequately cleaned, Mihawk took a seat at the bench. The piano had never been his instrument of choice, but he knew his way around it well enough to know which keys created which sounds, even if he wasn’t very good at making them sound good together.

“Start with middle C,” Olivia instructed. Mihawk obeyed, and together the two of them moved up and down the keys, him playing when told to, and her using a key to tighten the strings which had loosened over time. While it wasn’t a perfect job and was done by the ear of a non-professional, she felt confident that they had improved the instrument’s sound together.

Wiping her dusty hands on her skirt, Olivia joined Mihawk at the bench. “You ready to see how it sounds?”

“Ready if you are,” he said, scooting over to allow her more space. Olivia began playing scales in each key, moving up the keyboard and listening intently to be sure that she was pleased with the sound.

“Not bad,” she said, turning to him. “Thank you for your help. Will you play something with me?”

Mihawk was about to agree when Perona and Zoro entered, bickering as usual over something inconsequential. Suddenly, he thought better of it. “You go ahead, I’ll pass.”

Olivia wasn’t going to allow him to get off that easily. “Hey, guys! Wanna hear Mihawk play violin?”

“OLIVIA!” She only looked at him with wide eyes and batted her eyelashes innocently, something she knew he struggled to say no to. Mihawk rolled his eyes in response.

“Mihawk plays violin?” Zoro asked. “Cool.”

“We’ve been here nine months and I’ve never heard you play,” Perona added.

“That’s because I don’t like to play for an audience.”

“We’re not an audience,” Zoro said, “We’re your children.”

Mihawk raised an eyebrow.

“Roommates. We’re your roommates. I didn’t say that.” Zoro looked away, the tips of his ears reddening.

“Come on Mihawk, we never have any music around here. You won’t even let me listen to the snail radio when you’re around,” Perona whined.

“That’s because most of what you listen to is trash.”

Perona huffed. “A matter of opinion!” 

By now Olivia had opened the dusty violin case and was holding the instrument and bow out to him expectantly. “Please, Mihawk? For me?”

“Ugh, fine,” he succumbed. “One song.”

Olivia beamed and returned to the bench. Mihawk placed the body of the instrument against his neck and took a few minutes to run the bow over the strings, turning the knobs slightly as he went. When Mihawk was satisfied with the sound, he turned to Olivia.

“What are we playing?”

“You know what,” she replied. Mihawk knew exactly what. He faced her where she sat at the piano and tried to block out the two watching him. ‘The things I do for her, I swear,’ he thought. Olivia smiled at him and began the melodic tune. In a few bars, Mihawk joined in. The song they played was one the two knew well, so much so that they didn’t even need sheet music – it was practically muscle memory. While it had been many years since he’d played this particular tune, his fingers moved across the strings with hardly a thought, him taking the lead as Olivia played a fluttering melody alongside him.

This was a song they had learned how to play together many years ago through some old sheet music books they’d found in a treasure haul. Playing music, even before they were a couple, was a way for them to bond. Together, they honed their skills, gave each other feedback, and ensured their ship always had music. Even Shanks and Buggy had been adequate musicians (Shanks was before he lost his arm, anyway), but while they preferred to play pirate jigs and sea shanties between rounds of drinks, something Mihawk would indulge occasionally, only Olivia really shared his interest in music as an art form. They’d played many pieces together, but they always came back to this one.

Mihawk couldn’t take his eyes off of her as she played. The way her eyes watched her fingers as they danced over the keys, Mihawk couldn’t help but smile. She looked so beautiful when she was lost in the music. It occurred to him that he couldn’t not make his move, whatever that move was going to be, and he had to do it soon. He wasn’t going to let her slip away from him again, not when they worked so well together in every respect.

Her eyes rose to meet his with a gentle smile as they finished out the last notes together. Still looking at each other as the sound echoed through the room and faded away, they didn’t even notice the way Zoro and Perona were grinning broadly at each other.

Zoro broke the silence with a loud whistle as he and Perona clapped. Mihawk and Olivia broke their gaze with a blush, looking away.

“Mihawk, I had no idea!” Perona gushed. “You have to play more often.”

“Perhaps,” Mihawk replied, looking slyly at Olivia. “As long as I have my accompaniment.”

“Hey, if you think he’s good at the violin,” Olivia added cheekily to Perona, “You should hear him sing.”

“OLIVIA!”

Previous - Chapter 6: Over the Transponder Snail

Next - Coming soon..ish?

#dracule mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk x oc #dracule mihawk #hawkeye mihawk #one piece goth fam #takanome mihawk

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Well I guess the oneshot did the trick, because I finished a chapter.

Still not exactly doing great, but this helps a little.

And this overdramatic SOB just makes me swoon a completely normal amount.

don't stare at the nipple don't stare at the nipple don't stare at the oh dear gods honestly how dare he

Hearing Problems

LA!Mihawk x OC

Previous Chapter Link

Next Chapter Link

Chapter 3: Solidarity

Trigger Warnings: Mild Suicidal Ideation

Wordcount: 2.4k

Tags: Slow-burn, Enemies to Lovers, eventually NSFW, uh, if I think of more I'll add them or something

People Tags: @mihawksdemoness also thank you for asking to be tagged like I am in awe thank you so much???

After having her sloop sunk by the Buggy Pirates and losing most of her worldly possessions in the process, the normally solitary mercenary Karimi Lionne finds herself teaming up with the rag-tag little crew that is the Strawhat Pirates to defeat them. She bonds with them far more quickly than she bargained for, and that quickly turns into a problem for the Kiku Kiku no Mi devil fruit user when she learns of Nami's plans to leave them high and dry, and Zoro issues a challenge at Baratie that he very likely won't live long enough to regret.

The stars were beautiful tonight, if nothing else.

Karimi did her best to focus her mind in on that, despite how they seemed to swim and swirl a bit in her vision, how her thoughts swam and swirled in her head.

How the image of his eyes seemed to have burned straight into her eyelids, to the point that she didn't want to do so much as blink.

How his words had burned into her ears, and she could still hear the threat behind them echoing around in her skull, hear his voice as clearly as if she were listening in on his thoughts at that very moment. Tomorrow, tomorrow morning, after the duel.

A heartbeat or a bloodied corpse.

Her own heartbeat raced into an absolute frenzy.

Part of her screamed loudly, so loudly that she could just slip herself right over the edge of the dock, to just slip into the chill of the ocean and sink down and never come up again.

She pulled her feet out of the water immediately, sitting straight up and wrapping her arms around her bended knees, shuddering the slightest bit.

His words. Not only his words, but his anger rang clear as day through her while she stared out at the night sky, out toward the horizon, wishing she could very far closer to it than to where she was right now.

There was every chance that she had just lessened Zoro's chances of survival rather than improve them.

She lowered her forehead to her knees. As the saltwater dripped away and her skin dried, the chatter of every person within a fifty food radius slowly began to raise in volume in her head. Closing her eyes a bit tighter, pulling her legs in closer to her chest, she bit her lip and focused.

Focused every ounce of her energy to making it stop.

Her own thoughts were too much right now, much less everyone else's.

And slowly—so slowly, but oh, so welcome, the silence came again. An audible sigh trembled its way through her lips.

Busoshoku haki. It wasn't fool-proof, but it worked when she needed it to. For the ten years she had spent with her grandmother, the older woman had employed it constantly to suppress Karimi's devil fruit abilities, but Karimi herself wasn't as proficient. She had less than two years of training in the art, from her time traveling with the Red Hair Pirates six years ago, and she couldn't do much with it except dampen her own abilities.

If she focused it in just behind her ears, focused it down to a pair of small points of energy and connected them together through her skull, then she had the sweet, sweet silence she so craved, that she could manage on her own on a day to day basis.

"So what did he have to say?"

The sound of Nami's voice, nearly monotone but with an edge of accusation to it, startled Karimi so badly that she nearly did slip off the dock.

"God dammit—"

Dear gods why couldn't everyone just leave her alone?

"Hey—!" Karimi grew instantly tense when she felt Nami's hand on her shoulder, steadying her before she could topple over. "Shit. Was it that bad?"

The accusatory note in her voice dropped away almost in an instant, and Karimi could only scoff, shaking her head. Her eyes briefly cut toward Nami when the younger girl took a seat beside her on the docks, looking at her in a mix of alarm and caution. "It wasn't great, no," she said shortly. Karimi shook her head, staring down at the gentle waves that rocked against the floating dock. She sighed, pressing her palm into one of her eyes against the sharp pain of a headache forming behind them. "You ever just want to...say the hell with it all and toss yourself in the ocean and be done?"

"Ah...yeah...." She noticed Nami reach around her and subtly pull the wine bottle away from her side. "Maybe we should just get back to Merry and—"

"I know what you're planning."

Nami froze in an instant at that, her eyes glued to Karimi's for a moment when she turned her head and looked over.

"I don't know what you're—"

"Don't bother," said Karimi, waving a dismissive hand, her voice still slurred. "You're leaving. And I get it. I would too in your shoes. If I could...." She swallowed. Exhaled a slow sigh that puffed out her cheeks slightly, looking at Nami, at how her brows furrowed. "I lost...everything ten years ago. My village. My friends. My...family." She shook her head. "I'd trade anything to have that back. So I get it. You'd trade everything too. But, look."

Nami froze when Karimi turned, reached out and put her hands on her shoulders, leveling her gaze with with hers.

"That—scrawny little shit back there in his silly little hat," she went on, nodding back toward the Merry, "I guarantee, if you go, he's going to chase you down, and he's going to do everything in his power to help whether you want him to or not, because that's what he does. So you need to think carefully about how you're going to proceed with this."

Nami stared at her for several long seconds, her eyes wide as saucers, her mouth hanging slightly open in shock.

And then she shoved Karimi's hands off of her shoulders, shifting away several inches. "How—how the hell do you—no." She shook her head, reaching down to her bag at her side. "No, why—" Karimi's eyes shifted down as Nami pulled an old, yellowed wanted poster out of her bag. "Why are you lying to everyone? Two billion berries?"

Karimi's gaze became glued to the wanted poster, and when she reached out to grab it, Nami pulled it back, holding it over her head.

"You think you can just, what, dye your hair a little darker, and no one's going to notice?" she said, raising her eyebrows. "Maybe the guys won't, but I'm not an idiot."

Karimi barely even heard her, her eyes glued to the paper flapping in the light breeze over their heads. She had kept that poster for the better part of eight years, kept it tucked away with her belongings, tucked under her pillow wherever she slept. She lowered her gaze, leveling her eyes with Nami's as she spoke through her teeth.

"Give. It. Back."

Nami's resolve faltered a little for a moment—but just long enough of a moment. Karimi was able to lash out her hand and grab the poster, pulling it to her chest and sighing slowly, her eyes slipping shut.

"Th...that's...not you?" she said slowly, and Karimi shook her head.

"It's my grandmother." She carefully folded the poster without looking at it again, slipping it into her pocket. "And it's the only picture I have of her." She glanced at Nami, trying hard, incredibly hard not to be mad at the girl as her gaze softened. "She was murdered right in front of me ten years ago."

"I..." She swallowed. "I'm...so sorry, I..." She shook her head. "You look...you could be her *twin*, I thought—" Once more, Nami shook her head, looking Karimi up and down quickly. "How do you know about my village?" she asked finally.

"I know a little about a lot of things." Karimi set to tugging her socks back on. "I...have a devil fruit ability. I can hear thoughts. I keep it suppressed the majority of the time because it would frankly drive me insane if I didn't, but..." She glanced at Nami, frowning apologetically. "When we fought with Kuro, I had to release it. I can't control what I hear. And your thoughts were a lot louder than anyone else's."

Nami swallowed, blinking several times. "You...can hear thoughts," she repeated quietly. Karimi shrugged a shoulder and gave a quick nod, pulling one if her boots back on now. "Th...that's..."

"Something that would have made you all a lot less likely to have me along had you known it off the rip," Karimi finished for her, sighing. Maybe not Luffy—it was incredibly likely he would have been in awe. "And for the record, I'm not using it right now. Shanks was able to help me learn to control it to some extent."

Nami nodded, standing with Karimi as she finished tugging her other boot on. "You...said your village was destroyed." She cut her eyes at Nami, taking her bottle of wine back when the orange-haired girl offered it to her. "Was it pirates?"

"Marines." She took a swig from the bottle, slinging an arm around Nami's shoulders. "There's good eggs and bad eggs in every batch. I don't like Marines on the whole, but there are a few exceptions. You don't like pirates," she went on as they crossed dock, "but I think you've seen enough to know that there are a few exceptions."

Karimi offered her the bottle of wine with a wry smile, and Nami took it, taking a drink from it. "Yeah," she agreed, staring up at the Merry as they stopped in front of it. "I guess there are."

Nami had to help her back onto the ship—she had definitely gone way too heavy on the drink tonight, something she rarely did and was sure she would be embarrassed about in the morning, but right now she didn't care. Right now, falling back into an empty hammock and tucking her hands behind her neck, all Karimi cared to give her time and attention to was the sweet release of sleep.

Hopefully a dreamless sleep, devoid of the annoyances and terrors of the waking world.

Hopefully devoid of her harebrained promise to serve a surly pirate warlord if he would leave an acquaintance she had met literal days ago alive.

Devoid of the heartbroken look on Luffy's face when he realized Nami was leaving—when he realized she was leaving.

Empty, dreamless, not a single thought of the face on the wanted poster she carried with her everywhere, the face she had watched break into desperate tears ten years ago, beg to let her granddaughter live, just let her live, she would give anything, she didn't care if they killed her—

Karimi's eyes snapped open.

And then they shut in an instant against the persistent and painful rays of the morning sun pouring throughtthe rounded window across from her.

As she did every morning, she started to focus, to employ her haki and drown out the mindless chatter in her head...and then she stopped.

She stooped as she heard the desperation, the horror outside the ship.

And she scrambled to her feet, stumbling out of the cabin to lean against the railing around the deck if the ship.

Just in time to watch Mihawk draw his sword from his back.

To watch him pull it down in a clean slash.

Watch Zoro fall to his knees and onto his back.

She sank down onto her own knees, exhaling a slow sigh, eyes wide and hands gripping at the railing around the deck. There, then, was her answer. There, in the form of one if her newest friends bleeding out in front of Baratie, clinging to the edge of life, certain to slip away at any moment.

"I hope you've already packed your things."

And she froze.

Karimi lifted her head slowly, meeting his yellow eyes as he stood over her, his arms crossed. Her brow furrowed as she glanced out toward the deck of Baratie, watching as the others surrounded Zoro, trying to keep him awake. She looked back at Mihawk, gritting her teeth.

"He's almost dead, you—"

"Almost, yes." He leaned his elbow against the railing if the ship. "And if he can't survive that, then he wasn't worth my time to begin with."

Oh.

Oh, the complete bastard.

He had left Zoro clinging to the edge of life, and he still expected her to keep up her end of the deal.

And yet...she had set the terms herself.

"F...fine," she said, pulling herself to her feet. She cast a glance down toward the docks, her heart clenching in her chest at the sight of Luffy kneeling over his first mate. "Just...let me say goodbye."

"Are you that close with them?" he asked, and the amusement in his tone was enough to boil her blood. She cast a glare over her shoulder in his direction, and he simply shrugged a shoulder. "Fine. You have an hour." He took a step closer, seizing her by her chin, his eyes searching hers for any sign of defiance. "Gather your belongings..." He leaned in closer, his forehead barely touching hers, the wide brim of his hat shadowing both of their faces. "...and your wits, and we'll be off."

His amusement was clear to her in more than just his gaze or his tone—Karimi could hear it in his head, hear just how pleased he was with himself as he left the ship.

And she didn't want to hear it for another second.

Karimi quickly employed her haki, shoved her walls up as high they could go, and watched him head down the docks, lowering herself back down to her knees to watch him through the railing. Her heart pounding, her bottom lip trembling, she knew she had no choice.

She had made her her bed amd now she had no choice to lie in it.

She had told him she would be his...and now she was.

Next Chapter Link again for your convenience

#dracule mihawk #opla #mihawk one piece #one piece fanfiction #mihawk opla #fanfic #one piece #mihawk x oc #opla mihawk #opla fanfiction

[shiningqueen]

it's unexpected when one day, that there is something left out on the counter. a set of fountain pens with colored ink wells, finely made with accents of gold in black bases. who else could have gotten them if not mihawk? the idea that he'd been thinking of her, long enough to consider a gift of pens was suitable for a writer, makes the heart flutter a bit.

it's not frequent though. maybe once every other month whenever the warlord leaves to hassle rookies or complete some errant assignment from the government he deigned interesting enough to look into. he comes back to kuraigana with something for her. a book. a fresh journal. a hair clip in the shape of an exotic blossom made from tiny jewels.

fay is always gracious for the gifts, not overly so, but she will express her thanks with a word or sign language, sometimes even returning the gesture in her own way. embroidering a fine silk handkerchief for him. pulling strings to get vintage wines from her home island sent over. books as well, since it was a shared interest for them.

she tries not to read too much into the gifts. he never personally hands her them, just leaves them in common areas that she'd happen across them. but the small collection of things is near and dear to her.

#|queen's musings| #|out of magic| #|fay facts| #just some fluff #mihawk x oc #dracule mihawk x oc #one piece scenario #fay is all about returning gestures