dahl14

[dahl14]

One piece literally restored my will to live

[dahl14]

I just reached episode 1000 of One Piece and I'm crying so hard....One Piece saved my life when I was going through some stuff and it continues to motivate me, it brings me so much joy! I got emotional and I just needed to say it, sorry!

[dahl14]

Ok so one of my hobbies is making playlists of music that I imagine certain characters would listen or music that reminds me of them, and I did some for one piece characters (with some friends too) the past year and idk I wanted to share since I listen to them quite regularly :))) (rn I'm listening to the Nami one)

In case you wanna check them out ↓↓↓

Nami

Zoro (perfect for workouts and car rides)

Sanji my beloved (he is my one piece bias ok?)

Robin

Franky

Law

I wanna do more characters! So if you have suggestions of characters or songs please let me know!!!

[dahl14]

Mihawk×human (fem) Yoru

Prologue (?)

In response to my previous post. I don't have a title for this, I just tried to write it, English is not my first language so excuse any mistakes hehe.

Anyway, I tried, so...Enjoy!

Next part!

Masterlist

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Yoru came from a small, peaceful island—a happy place. She was a bright child, curious and sharp, always eager to learn about her world and the one beyond the sea. She asked endless questions to the grown-ups, exploring every corner of the island with laughter in her voice and the love of her parents surrounding her.

But when she was very young, everything changed.

Her island was raided. She remembered the smoke. The screaming. The feeling of a rough hand closing over her mouth as the sky burned red. She was kidnapped and sold by traffickers to the World Government.

They forced her to eat a Devil Fruit and forced her into a secret program that weaponized Devil Fruit users. The fruit granted her the ability to transform into a rare, powerful sword: a massive black-bladed kriegsmesser with a golden handle, capable of amplifying Haki.

They stripped her of her freedom. Forced her to remain in sword form for long periods of time. Abused and threatened her. Kept her in seastone restraints and starved her to keep her weak, to make sure she couldn't fight back or escape. They treated her as an object—a weapon for the Marines to wield and test at will, not a human.

Rumors began to spread.

Whispers about a cursed sword under Marine control—one with a spirit inside, a blade that responded to its wielder’s will and elevated their strength beyond measure.

The tale reached the ears of a young Mihawk, already known as the Marine hunter, a very talented swordsman. Intrigued by the legend, he set out to steal the sword for himself.

He infiltrated the fortress where it was held, cutting down those who stood in his way—silent, precise, and merciless. He moved like a shadow through the corridors. When a trembling Marine crossed his path, Mihawk raised his blade to the man's throat.

“Where is the cursed sword?” he asked, calm and cold.The Marine whimpered, drenched in sweat. Mihawk pressed the blade harder.

“Take me to it—or die.”

The Marine obeyed, fear guiding his steps. Mihawk expected vaults, high security, layers of protection. Instead, he was led to a poorly guarded chamber—panicked soldiers scrambled like mice. It didn’t make sense.

He cut them all down without hesitation.

Beyond a reinforced door, he found a small, cold room. No sword. No weapon.

Just a girl—no, a young woman.

Chained. Filthy. Bruised. Her long black hair hung in tangled waves down her back. She was dressed in simple black pants that reached her calves, and a loose, dirty gray button-up. Her wrists and ankles were bound in cuffs—sea stone, he noticed.

Something clicked.

“You’re the sword,” he said. “A Devil Fruit user.”

She slowly turned her gaze from the window to him. Her voice was hoarse, but steady.

“They said that in this form I wouldn’t be found. Guess you’re smarter than them.”

She looked fragile, but there was fire behind her obsidian eyes. A fierce determination to survive.

Mihawk said nothing. He stepped forward and cut through her restraints. The chains clattered to the floor.

She flinched—but he didn’t command her, didn’t drag her away.Instead, to her surprise, he simply offered his hand.Rough. Callused. Steady.

“Who are you?” she asked the man standing before her.

“Mihawk,” he replied simply.

She studied him quickly—dark hair, piercing golden eyes like a hawk’s. They were sharp, unreadable, almost unnatural. He stood tall with a calm, composed air. His frame was lean but powerful. A swordsman’s body.

She took his hand.

He helped her to her feet—bare and unsteady. She stood straight, her spine stiff with the last shreds of dignity, even aware of her bruises, her tangled hair, her ragged clothes.

For the first time in years, she was free.

“And your name?” he asked, his tone even.

“Yoru,” she said.

She could hear distant voices—Marines barking orders, boots pounding stone. Her breath caught, panic rising.

Without thinking, she gripped his hand tighter—and shifted.

In an instant, her body shimmered, and turned into gleaming black steel. A long kriegsmesser with a golden handle.

Her energy pulsed in his hand. He felt her breath. Her heartbeat. He could hear her voice in his mind.

“You may use me. Get us out of here.”

Mihawk didn’t hesitate.

He moved like death itself.

He carved a path of destruction. No Marine left standing. The blade in his hand was alive—fierce, burning, perfect. She responded to his every movement like an extension of his own will.

When he reached the docks, moonlight glinted on the waves. His small ship waited quietly. He stepped aboard.

The blade in his hand shimmered—and transformed.

Yoru stood barefoot on the deck once more, hair wind-blown, chest rising and falling in sharp breaths.

“I—” she began, voice catching. “Thank you.”

Mihawk’s eyes met hers. He shrugged off his coat and draped it around her shoulders.

“You’re free. I just cleared the way.”

He turned and moved toward the helm. “What you do now is your choice.”

She stared at his back, stunned by the simplicity of it. No demands. No expectations.

Only freedom.

She stepped aboard and quietly took a seat near the mast, pulling the coat closer around her.

She didn’t know where to go. But for now, she’d stay.

Not because he asked. Because he didn’t.

With the marine base out of the map, the cursed sword reminded just a legend, a myth.

And Yoru, a free woman.

**************************************************

Let me know if you like it! I turned Yoru into maybe a oc thingy. Might keep writing it as short stories just for fun! Oh and forgive any mistakes pls <3

You can find the next part here

[dahl14]

The one with the ball

Mihawk x Human! Yoru pt5

Masterlist

Sorry this took so long! I was struggling with writer's block (and depression), I also got a summer job that kept me quite busy, but here it is finally! I hope you still enjoy reading this very self indulgent fic <3

Let me know what you guys think, and sorry for any mistakes, this is not proofread jeje (I also might have been listening a lot to the phantom of the opera musical while writing this).

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This time, Yoru and Mihawk were after intel regarding a Marine base and the new naval routes.

A certain Marine commodore—known for having a loose tongue, especially during the lavish parties he hosted at his estate in the capital—was their target. These soirées were famous across the island, frequented by lost nobles and ambitious merchants alike, a true exhibit of power and wealth.

You could only enter with a personal invitation, but of course, they had a plan.

After lingering on the island for over a week, gathering gossip and studying the elite, they stole invitations from a young baron and a woman who had recently inherited her father’s successful textile business.

Now, it was time to play dress-up.

“The commodore is weak to two things,” Mihawk said, adjusting his ivory cravat in the mirror.

Yoru glanced at his reflection behind her. He was already dressed—elegant, composed.

"Let me guess...wealth and flattery?"

Close.” His gaze shifted to her as she brushed her long dark hair with her beloved wooden comb. Watching her do so had become his guilty pleasure—he often found himself suppressing the urge to run his fingers through it. “Wealth… and beautiful women. Get him to talk. Should be easy enough.”

“And I’m the bait?” she said, arching a brow.

“Well… you are beautiful,” he said matter-of-factly, stepping closer. He unclasped his golden cross necklace—Kogatana—and fastened it around her neck. “Exceptionally so. And I suspect he’s not immune to that.”

Yoru touched the necklace with her fingers as she stared at it, feeling a slight heat rising to her cheeks.

Now, my lady,” Mihawk said, extending a hand with mock elegance and a smirk, “would you be so kind as to turn into a sword so I can steal our carriage?”

She rolled her eyes, hiding a smile, and placed her hand in his before transforming into her Kriegsmesser form.

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The crimson silk and embroidered beads of Yoru’s gown shimmered beneath the chandelier light as she strode into the ballroom. The air was thick with the scent of sandalwood and the elegant music filled her ears.

She moved with grace and poise, her bodice hugging her figure, the silk ruffles of her dress flowing with each step.

Mihawk watched from a distance, leaning near a marble column, playing the part of a reclusive young baron. He wore a dark velvet tailored coat, a black silk waistcoat, and a crisp white shirt with ruffled cuffs. He looked the part effortlessly—but his golden eyes never left her.

His eyes didn't miss how the commodore looked at her, how his eyes trailed down her figure and lingered on her sweetheart neckline without shame. Or when he kissed her knuckles.

Mihawk’s jaw tightened. His hand clenched around his champagne glass, nearly cracking the stem. He had to stay calm. Couldn’t jeopardize the mission. Couldn’t lose control.

"Commodore Garcia, I must say this is such the lavish soirée". Yoru told the commodore as he straightened up.

She was opened her decorated fan, waving it delicately specially over her bosom.

" I am glad you are enjoying yourself, Lady..."

"Alma. Alma Cortes. A pleasure to meet you, Commodore"

"The pleasure is all mine" he replied, offering her a glass of sparkling wine.

Mihawk lingered, at a safe distance, just as a precaution. But his sight missed nothing. The way the commodore inched closer, how his fingers brushed her lower back, how he leaned in—far too close—to whisper something into her ear.

He was spilling all that classified information to Yoru, obviously in efforts to bragg and impress her in order to get closer.

And then she smiled. That slight, confident, victorious smile.

He hated this.

Not the plan. Not her performance—she did it flawlessly. Too flawlessly.

What he hated was the commodore looking at her like she was a prize. A fleeting night’s thrill. He didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as her, let alone touch her.

Mihawk had always believed himself immune to this kind of jealousy. That messy, reckless emotion that made men act like fools.

And yet—

"I’m not lying! There are impostors at the party!" someone shouted.

A commotion had started at the entrance. From across the room, Yoru’s eyes met Mihawk’s. That was all they needed.

"Oh, Commodore, would you be so kind as to excuse me for a moment? I’d like to get a breath of fresh air."

"Of course dear, I hope the gardens are of your liking—I’ll join you shortly. Let me see what all that shouting is about."

And just like that she slipped away and met her swordsman at the gardens.

"I think we've been caught"

"We need to leave before they start looking for us," he said, calm and composed at first glance. But Yoru noticed the tension in his jaw, the stiffness in his shoulders—and the way his golden eyes looked at her, like sparks leaping from clashing steel

"At least we are successful" said Yoru

"Search everywhere! They couldn't have gone far!"

"Not yet" said Mihawk sternly. He grabbed her hand and pulled her away slightly. "Come "

The garden was quiet, filled with the scent of blooming gardenias and the trickle of fountains. Cicadas hummed in the distance, but the footsteps and voices of guards drew nearer.

Yoru’s attention flicked momentarily to a marble statue—and she stepped on a twig.

"Over there!" a guard shouted

She turned to Mihawk in a swift motion, her hands rising to cup his face as she pulled him close.

"I'm sorry," she whispered—just before pressing her lips to his, as a light was pointed towards them.

Mihawk stiffened—only for a heartbeat. Then his hands found her waist and pulled her flush against him as he kissed her back, deepening it.

To the approaching guard, they were nothing but two lovers stealing kisses beneath the garden lights. Flustered, the man averted his gaze and walked off.

They pulled away from each other when they heard the guard leave, breathless.

“S-sorry, we had to hide our faces... They wouldn’t be likely to pry... I read it once in a novel. I’m glad it worked,” she explained, heat rising to her cheeks.

Mihawk’s hand rose slowly, his thumb brushing tenderly across Yoru’s parted lips—still slightly swollen from their kiss.

Her breath hitched.

He stared at them for a moment, as if memorizing every curve.

Then he closed the distance.

This kiss was different.

Deeper. Fiercer.

He kissed her like a man long starved of something he hadn’t allowed himself to want. His lips moved against hers with quiet desperation, coaxing a soft gasp from her throat. His hand slid from her cheek to the back of her neck, fingers threading into her hair as he pulled her closer, anchoring her to him.

Her fingers gripped the front of his coat, drawn to the taste of him, the smell of him, the heat of him.

Mihawk’s lips left hers only when the need for breath became impossible to ignore.

Yoru’s fingers lingered at the collar of Mihawk’s coat, his heartbeat thundering beneath her palm. She felt the rise and fall of his chest with every breath.

"Couldn't help my self..." Said Mihawk as he looked down at her. He moved a hand from her waist to hold one of her hands. She was distracting, with the way she looked at him, the way she looked in that dress...

He cleared his throat

"We still need to get out of here."

"I- yes, I am aware"

Her body shimmered with that familiar light as she transformed, her sword for soon spearing on Mihawk's right hand.

He could see her into the reflection of the blade, flustered, her bare shoulders tense.

He smirked.

"Feeling shy now, Yoru? Are you hiding from me?" He teased

“Do you want to fight your way out barehanded?” she snapped from inside the blade with red cheeks.

" It's not fun that way, we aren't savages"

The back exit was poorly guarded. Mihawk made short work of the few soldiers in his way—disappointingly unskilled—and stole a horse from the nearby stable.

As he mounted, the blade shimmered, and Yoru reappeared behind him, arms wrapping tightly around his torso.

He could admit—he didn’t mind her holding on to him.

After a long silence, her voice reached his ear.

"I'll fill you up on all the information I got once we are at our ship"

“You did well tonight,” he replied, steady as ever.

There was a pause. Then:

“And… are we going to talk about what happened?”

He felt her grip tighten slightly, just enough to give her away.

What’s there to talk about?” Mihawk said, turning his head just slightly.

“Didn’t my actions speak louder?”

That's all she needed to hear.

Yoru exhaled softly and rested her cheek against his back, letting herself relax for the rest of the ride.

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I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you think <3

[dahl14]

[dahl14]

You know what? Where are all the one piece edits with Top Line by Stray kids???

[dahl14]

Omg this style of fic is so fun!!!!

Roses or Swords - choose your story pt.1

zoro x fem!reader + sanji x fem!reader

how it works

a/n: let's tryyyyy, hope we'll all have fun with it! let's try short and easy and remember to vote at the end.

tags: love triangle, secret admirer, slow burn, crew dynamics... the rest tags will come with your choices.

words count: 2.1k

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The sun sets over a new island.

The scent of salt and citrus drifts on the wind, and the golden light dances across the water like glitter. A couple of seagulls circle overhead, crying out before gliding toward the trees beyond the village.

Orange and pink mix in the sky like paint on a canvas. The Thousand Sunny is docked by a peaceful shore, where a small village waits nearby.

Sanji stirs a pot in the kitchen. The smell of garlic and herbs floats through the air. He hums quietly but stops when he hears your voice from the deck.

“Sanji! It smells soooo good! What is it?”

You’re smiling. Just one sentence. Just one smile. It’s enough to make his chest feel tight, but he only smiles back and nods.

“Dinner will be ready soon. A surprise!” he says. Calm. Simple. Not his usual heart-eyed, dramatic self. He doesn’t spin or cry or float in the air like a cartoon.

You blink in surprise “No… ‘Mademoiselle’, or ‘Goddess of the sea’ today? Nothing? No heart eyes?”

He shrugs “Trying something new. Something serious.”

You laugh a little and walk away as you dramatically say "I'm even wearing a new shirt..."

Sanji watches you leave. Then, he sighs and stirs the soup harder, and as soon as he's sure you won't listen he softly says "Oh I noticed the cute light blue shirt... Of course I noticed... It suits you so well, Y/N..."

Later, in the village, the crew splits up to explore. You go with Robin and Nami to the market to find something cute to but. Sanji tags along for a while, but when he sees a group of local women smiling his way, he walks over to them.

He turns on his charm side “Ladies, may I say, this village is full of beauty.”

They giggle. You don’t even turn around. You’re busy looking at some books with Robin.

He keeps glancing your way.

“She didn’t even flinch. Not one look. Not even a roll of the eyes. She doesn't care at all.” He thinks.

Sanji’s smile fades. He says something kind to the women and excuses himself. Going on the opposite side from you.

That night, as you walk back to the girls' room, you find something in there.

A small bouquet of red and white roses. Tied with a blue ribbon. A small note with your name on it and a heart, nothing more.

You gasp.

“Who…?” You hold them close and smile so wide your cheeks hurt. You run to show it to Robin.

Robin tilts her head “There’s no name?”

“No… but look how beautiful! And they smell so good.” You pull two petals off carefully and hold them out “Can we press these into a heart? For a bookmark?”

Robin smiles warmly “Of course. I’ll help you.”

She helps you press them into a book. You choose your favorite one to do it.

Sanji watches you from the kitchen door. He can’t hear your words, but your smile says everything.

“She loved it. I'm happy.” he whispers to himself.

He exhales slowly, the sound almost lost in the quiet hum of the ship.

There is warmth in your smile, but it isn't aimed at him. Not really. He turns back to the stove, tasting the soup with a wooden spoon. It's perfect... but suddenly felt bland.

The next morning, Zoro finds you sitting on the deck, holding the roses bouquet in your lap.

“What’s with the flowers?” he asks, yawning.

You look up, dreamy “I got them last night. A secret admirer, maybe? I don't know, there was no name apart mine on it. And a heart.”

Zoro raises an eyebrow “Seriously? Someone on this island? Who?”

You nod “Must be. No one on this crew would do that. Maybe that guy who stopped me at the marked. But I don't know... he looked more interesting in having the book I was holding than in me. Or maybe that one who gave me a strawberry from his stand. I have no idea.”

He doesn’t reply. Just watches you as you smell the roses again.

Sanji walks by with a tray of tea “Mosshead, stop standing around. You’re wasting space as always.”

Zoro grunts “Tch. I wasn’t talking to you.”

Sanji doesn’t look at him. He gives you your tea before leaving to give the rest to Nami and Robin.

His eyes go to the roses.

Then to you.

Then away.

“Some people don’t appreciate beauty until it’s handed to them.” he says quietly, walking into the kitchen.

Zoro frowns but didn't hear what Sanji said.

You also don’t hear it. You’re still lost in your petals.

The Thousand Sunny bobs gently at the edge of another island. This one is bigger than the last and lush with trees and a quiet beach, but no nearby villages.

The crew is back from a short scouting trip. You’re walking toward the deck when you hear Brook’s voice.

“Yohohoho~! What is that? Can I open it??”

Everyone turns. On a crate near the mast sits a small, wrapped box. It’s neat and tied with a ribbon, not flashy, but special. A folded note rests on top.

Your heart skips reminding of the roses of last time.

Nami walks over and picks up the card “It says your name Y/N.”

Usopp whistles “Oooooh! Another gift from you admirer?? Let’s see, let’s see!”

You hurry over and gently take the box. You untie the ribbon, fingers shaking a little.

Inside, there’s a beautiful bracelet made of sea glass and tiny shells, all smooth and shining under the sun. In the center is a silver charm: a little star.

“Oh my god...” you whisper “It’s so pretty.”

You hold it up and the sunlight dances through the sea glass. A big smile spreads across your face.

“Wow” you breathe “They made this. You can tell.”

Nami nods “Definitely handmade. Whoever this is, they’re thoughtful.”

Luffy leans in, eyes wide “Someone gave you treasure jewelry?!”

Then he frowns deeply “Who’s trying to steal someone from my crew?”

Usopp laughs “Luffy, she’s not getting kidnapped or anything.”

“But still!” Luffy crosses his arms “This person… what if they’re evil?!”

Brook chuckles “Maybe a romantic villain~! Yohohoho!”

You giggle and slide the bracelet on your wrist “This means it can’t be a villager from the last island as we thought. We're already on a new island…”

Nami taps her chin “Hmm… that is strange. First roses, now this.”

“Could be another pirate!” Usopp suggests “Someone who saw her and got smitten! I bet it's that Eustass Kid, he looked flustrated talking with her last time!”

Brook adds, “Or maybe it's a marine! One of those strong and silent ones? And it explains why they don't let you know their identity.”

Your eyes go wide “No way, really? You think that could happen?”

Sanji watches from behind the railing. He lights a cigarette. His hands are almost shaking.

“She didn’t even think it could be me. Not even a little. Who else she thinks could know how she likes her jewelry.” He thinks.

He forces a smile and walks toward the kitchen before anyone notices him staring like that.

Inside, he leans against the wall. His heartbeat is loud in his ears.

“She’s smiling. That’s all that matters, right?”

But still…

On the deck, Zoro stands near the railing, arms crossed. He watches you from the corner of his eye as you show the bracelet to Nami and Brook.

When Usopp says, “Maybe she actually has a secret boyfriend and she doesn’t want to let us know!”

Zoro’s jaw tightens at that. He turns and walks away.

Every step away from you made his chest feel tighter. He hated this feeling of being… replaced. And worse, not knowing if he has any right to feel that way.

“Where are you going?” Nami calls after him.

“Nowhere.” he mutters.

You look over and see his back as he disappears below deck.

Weird. Is he… mad?

You shake the thought away. Your fingers trace the charm again.

Whoever they are… they’re watching. And you want to know who.

You lean over the railing, watching the ocean sparkle like glass. The bracelet dangles from your wrist, catching the sun. It still makes you smile.

But something else makes your chest feel heavy.

Zoro’s been weird.

He barely talks to you anymore. No usual dry jokes, no comments during training, not even a simple “hey” when you walk by. You used to sit on the deck in silence together, side by side, and it never felt awkward.

Now he walks away every time you get close.

So today, you decide to follow him “Zoro!”

He doesn’t stop.

You jog after him across the deck “Zoro. Hey. Hey! Wait!”

He finally turns, not angry, but definitely annoyed “What?”

You frown “Okay, what’s your deal?”

“No deal.”

“Seriously? You’ve been avoiding me for days. You barely even look at me anymore. You don't even talk to me.”

He crosses his arms and glances away “You’re imagining things.”

“No, I’m not.” you say, stepping closer “Did I do something?”

Zoro sighs, then mutters, “No.”

You tilt your head “Then why are you acting weird?”

He hesitates.

You wait.

He looks away again and mutters, “I don’t like this secret admirer thing.”

You blink “What?”

“I said...” he scratches the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable, “...I don’t like it.”

You’re confused “...Why?”

His jaw tightens “Because you don’t know who it is. Could be dangerous.”

You raise an eyebrow “Dangerous? They left me roses and a bracelet, Zoro. Not a bomb.”

“Still,” he says, avoiding your eyes, “you’re trusting someone who won’t even show their face.”

You fold your arms “You think they’re trying to hurt me?”

“I think you’re being too careless.” he says sharply, then softens a little “What if it’s someone using the gifts to get close to you for the wrong reason?”

You pause. For a second, you almost believe him.

But something feels… off.

“That’s not the real reason, is it?” you ask, voice quiet.

Zoro opens his mouth, then closes it.

You step closer “Zoro. We’re friends. You always tell me when something bothers you. Don’t stop now.”

He looks at you for a long moment.

Then he turns his back “I told you why. You don't believe me... So, just forget it.”

And just like that, he walks away again.

Leaving you there, staring after him, the sea glass on your wrist suddenly feeling a little heavier than before.

You watch Zoro’s back as he disappears into the lower deck again.

Your heart sinks. It’s not just about the secret admirer, something else is pulling him away from you. And he won’t say what.

You sigh, fingers touching the charm on your bracelet. The silver star is warm, but it doesn’t comfort you as much today.

Fingers wrapped around your wrist where the bracelet is.

You don’t take it off. Can’t.

But the questions in your head run like waves in a storm. Who left it? Why Zoro ispulling away? Why Sanji kept looking like he wants to say something but never does?

You sigh and turn toward the stars... they blink gently, like they know more than they're telling.

As you stand frozen between the open kitchen and the quiet stairs, Luffy passes by munching on a chunk of meat.

“You okay?” he asks, tilting his head.

“Kinda,” you say “Just thinking.”

Luffy gives you a nod “Thinking too much makes your head hurt. That’s why I only do it sometimes.”

You smile despite yourself “Thanks, Luffy.”

“You want meat?” he offers.

You shake your head and laugh “I’ll be fine.”

He leaves.

As you stand there thinking, a voice cuts through the silence behind you.

“Are you actaully okay, sweetheart?”

You turn and find Sanji leaning in the doorway of the kitchen, cigarette between his lips, soft worry in his eyes.

“Not really... No...” you say honestly.

Sanji steps forward “Want some tea? Some ice cream? You look like you could use a break. And something sweet.”

You hesitate. You could use the tea. And the company.

But another part of you still wants to chase after Zoro. You’re not ready to give up on him, not yet.

You remember the night you sprained your wrist during a training session. Zoro barely said a word at the time, just handed you a cold pack and sat beside you in the dark. You’d watched the stars in silence, shoulders brushing. That night, it felt like he’d always be there. And that's how your friendship actually started.

Or maybe… you should stop thinking about both of them and just talk to the rest of the crew. Laugh. Take your mind off this whole emotional mess.

You look from the stairs Zoro vanished into, to Sanji’s open, waiting hand.

And then out to the deck where Usopp and Nami are chatting about your secret admirer again.

Choices spin in your head.

[dahl14]

If I had a coin for every time I had a Doflamingo nightmare....girl I-

[dahl14]

Mihawk × Human! Fem! Yoru

1- The one where it started

2- The one after their escape

3- The one with the red haired

4- The one with the winter island

5- The one with a ball

6- Coming soon

[dahl14]

The one with the winter island

Mihawk × human! Fem Yoru

Masterlist

Hey! I know it's been almost a month? but I was caught with my exams and wrote this in between study breaks (and procrastination)....it's a long one tho.

Hope you enjoy it and please let me know your thoughts on it!

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After barely making it alive ashore a winter island during a heavy storm while sailing on the Grand Line, they stumbled—half-dragging each other—across an abandoned cabin inside the woods.

Mihawk kicked the door open.

Their clothes were drenched, it was dark, and they were freezing.

Their breaths came in ragged clouds. Yoru turned her arm into a blade, cut through an old wooden chair, and threw it into the fireplace. She dropped to her knees in front of it, shivering as she struggled to light it.

Behind her, Mihawk silently scanned the cabin to make sure it was safe and to look out for anything that could be useful to them.

Yoru let out a relieved breath when she managed to create fire, feeling instant relief from its flames.

Mihawk knelt behind her and wrapped a thick quilt he had found around them both. His arms settled around her shoulders, steady despite the chill. They sat like that for a moment, breath heavy, skin cold but slowly warming.

“I found some furs,” he said quietly, voice a low rumble against her ear. “We need to get out of these wet clothes. We’ll get sick if we don’t.”

Yoru nodded.

They stood, backs turned to each other. They undressed quickly and peeled away the layers of soaked fabric with numb hands. Mihawk tossed her a thick pelt, wrapping one around himself as well.

Still shivering, they sat again by the fire, pressed close. Yoru’s back rested against Mihawk’s chest while he leaned on an old piece of furniture, his arms circling her once more, covering them both in more furs.

“There should be a village nearby,” Yoru said eventually, her voice soft.

“We’ll look for it in the morning,” Mihawk replied.

“For now, we survive the night.”

“We won't die here,” said Yoru. “I refuse.”

One of her hands found his, and she laced their fingers together—like she had so many times before, right before turning into a blade and letting him wield her. But not this time. This time, she stayed human. She studied the shape of his hand in the firelight. Traced his scars with her fingers.

Her head rested against his shoulder as he watched her play with his hand. It was a strange sensation, but not in a bad way. He liked it.

Her body gradually stopped trembling. The warmth, the silence, the steady rhythm of his breathing behind her—it eventually all lulled her into sleep.

He glanced down at her, her face softened in rest, and tightened his arms around her just slightly, eventually falling asleep himself.

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Yoru slowly opened her eyes when she felt the sunlight hitting her face. She felt the comfortable weight of Mihawk's arms still wrapped around her.

She shifted slightly, and his arms instinctively tightened around her—a small, unconscious motion.

She turned her head slightly to look at him. If it weren't for his rhythmic breaths and the fact that he felt warm, she would have thought he was dead, but he was just still asleep.

She studied the sharp angles of his face. He looked serene, with his usual frown now softened by sleep. Loose, unruly strands of black hair had fallen across his forehead. His skin was fair with some moles here and there... His features were angular and striking.

'A handsome face', she thought.

Yoru found herself staring, unable to look away.

Mihawk opened his eyes slowly.

For a moment, he simply looked at her... no words, no movement.

Yoru froze, caught in the act. But instead of pulling away or making some sharp comment, Mihawk's gaze lingered on her, unreadable yet strangely soft.

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Enjoying the view?" he said, voice still heavy and rough from sleep.

Yoru huffed and turned her face away, but the blush blooming at the tips of her ears betrayed her.

"I was just trying to make sure you weren't dead."

She pulled away, and they both got dressed in their now dry clothes. Keeping the furs to shield themselves from the cold, they needed to go out and find either something to eat or a nearby village.

They went out to explore, keeping each other close in case of a threat.

They walked for a long while until Yoru pointed at a marking on a tree—it was a detailed carving shaped like a fish.

They started finding more, and following their trail led them to a village near the coast.

Yoru could see it was built with care, every structure sturdy against the harsh weather. Large cabins made of dark wood and heavy stone stood proudly, with smoke curling lazily from wide chimneys, the scent of firewood and sea salt carried on the wind. The village was alive but calm, people moved with an easy, measured pace, wrapped in furs and colorful wool, exchanging quiet greetings as they passed one another.

At the center stood a wide, open plaza with a great stone hearth burning bright. Surrounding it were market stalls. Children played along the pathways, their laughter reaching their ears as they walked.

In the distance, closer to the water, fishermen hauled in nets heavy with silver-scaled fish. A squat stone fortress guarded the harbor, more a lookout than a place of war. And somewhere behind it all, you could hear the faint, rhythmic hammering of a forge.

They caught the attention of the locals. As they walked into the plaza, they both stood out, with their different clothing and appearances. Mihawk looked especially intimidating. He was tense and untrusting, but they needed help. Yoru grabbed his arm as they kept walking, sensing his wariness.

"You must be travelers," said an older lady in the market. "Welcome! My name is Dasha."

She was weaving a tapestry—but the threads came straight from her fingertips. A Devil Fruit user.

"The storm was wild last night," she said as she kept working. She was older, but she looked beautiful in her own way. Her gray hair was braided in one long, thick braid. Beaded jewelry adorned her neck, wrists, and hair: strands of polished stones, bone, and delicate metalwork that clicked softly as she moved.

"Oh! Yes, it was, we got caught in it last night. Our ship got damaged. Do you happen to know someone that could help us?" asked Yoru.

"Ah! I know just the man—Frode. He is the best shipwright here. He is probably in the harbor with the chief and the rangers. Come, I'll take you to him."

Yoru thanked the lady as she took them to the harbor, where a small group of people—most of them carrying swords, bows, and arrows—were dressed in thick wool, capes of fur, and headpieces made out of wolves’ heads. They looked at Mihawk and Yoru with uneasiness in their eyes. Warriors, they figured.

"Stay close," said Mihawk in a low voice as they walked. Even bundled in furs, he moved with a quiet, dangerous precision, like a predator who had no reason to hide what he was.

Dasha greeted a broad man, perhaps in his 50s, with graying hair and bold features. He wasn't wearing a headpiece like the others, but the sleeves of his heavy coat were rolled up despite the cold. He carried a utility belt with several different items.

Dasha introduced them to the man.

"This is Frode. He is the master shipwright, and these are rangers, they guard the village."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir. My name is Yoru, and—"

One of the rangers loaded a bow and pointed it at Mihawk. "This is a wanted man—Dracule Mihawk, the Marine Hunter!"

Before anyone could move, Mihawk took a single step forward. It was slow, deliberate. Not a threat—but a reminder.

His golden eyes locked onto the ranger’s with a dangerous glint. Yoru touched his arm gently—not to restrain, just to anchor—and stood protectively in front of him.

"If we meant harm, you wouldn't even see it coming."

A gust of wind passed between them, and right next to the ranger pointing the arrow, materialized a man—a Devil Fruit user.

He was tall, strong-looking, wore his hair short and wild, and his skin was sun-kissed bronze. His dark brown hair had a few silver strands, but he had a young glint in his eyes. He was also wearing a wolf headpiece, but it was decorated with feathers and beads. Along with a fur mantle, he was draped in layered robes made of dark blues, deep crimsons, and soft greys—unlike the other rangers, who only wore grey and white.

"What is going on here, Beom?" he asked.

"Chief Balam, these are pirates!" said the young ranger.

Balam raised a calm hand, his presence quieting the air around them. “Stand down, Beom,” he said. “There are no weapons drawn, no blood spilled. If they meant us harm, I doubt we’d be having this conversation.” His eyes flicked to Yoru with a teasing gleam. “Besides... I doubt this gentleman would take kindly to you putting an arrow in this very lovely lady.”

“We’re not here to cause trouble. Our ship was damaged in the storm. We just need help repairing it. We can pay.” Her voice was steady, but her dark eyes were pleading.

The ranger, Beom, lowered his bow reluctantly.

Balam tilted his head, his grey eyes narrowing slightly as he studied her. The wind around him stirred gently, ruffling the feathers in his mantle. “I believe you, kid,” he said. “No storm-tossed survivor comes this far inland with malice in their hearts."

He turned to his people. “We are not savages. We offer warmth to the cold, food to the hungry, and shelter to those in need.”

“Frode will see to your ship. In the meantime, you’ll be given shelter, warm food, and a hearth to rest beside.”

“Thank you.”

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They showed the shipwright where their ship had ended up, and a group of men helped transport it so it could be repaired. The damage was extensive, so they would have to stay for a while.

Many villagers whispered among themselves, and children peered curiously as the Chief showed Yoru and Mihawk around the lively village.

The Chief was kind. He offered them a room in his own home—part hospitality, part caution.

His wife, Ingrid, welcomed them warmly, and their five-year-old daughter, Kana, was fascinated by the mysterious pair. She clung especially to Yoru, her curiosity insatiable.

Days passed. Mihawk and Yoru helped around the village—cutting wood, joining hunts, and assisting with other tasks. Ingrid often lent Yoru clothes and braided her hair with beads, reminding Yoru of the mother she barely remembered.

Mihawk had taken to joining the rangers in their training yard. At first, they watched him warily. But over time, that wariness turned to admiration.

They were stunned to learn about Yoru's Devil Fruit ability—not only her power alone but also her combined strength with Mihawk.

Beom, the hot-headed archer who had once aimed his bow at Mihawk, asked for lessons. Eventually, other rangers joined as well. Mihawk was a ruthless teacher, and Yoru was an opponent none of them could best. Mihawk rarely took his eyes off her as she fought. She moved like a feline—fluid, agile, and fierce.

When she wasn’t sparring to test the limits of her power, she sat on the fence with Mihawk’s coat draped over her shoulders, watching. Kana, along with other village children, loved to sneak in and watch them train.

With wide eyes and flushed cheeks, Kana would often declare, “I’m going to be a strong warrior like my dad—and Mihawk—one day!”

Yoru would laugh and ruffle her hair.

“Then pay close attention. It all starts with how you stand...”

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At night, the villagers gathered by the great hearth, its fire crackling high into the cold air.

Mihawk often sat with the rangers near the flames, a cup of sharp herbal liquor in hand, while they pressed him for tales of distant seas.

Laughter mingled with the hum of old songs and stories. Kana tugged at Yoru’s hand, pulling her into the circle. “Come sing! Dance with us!”

Yoru laughed, letting herself be pulled into the revelry. Her hair, braided with bone and beads, shimmered in the firelight as she danced and sang with the others.

And Mihawk found his gaze drawn to her again and again. Something in her joy, so unguarded and alive unsettled him in ways he didn’t understand fully, but he couldn’t look away.

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One quiet afternoon, Yoru was sharpening swords near the training yard while Kana played nearby, humming to herself.

Suddenly, the girl spotted a small white rabbit hopping along the edge of the woods—and bolted after it without thinking.

“Kana, wait!” Yoru shouted, dropping the blade in her hand and running after her. But the child was fast, already vanishing into the trees.

Yoru’s heart pounded as she sprinted into the forest. “Kana!” she called again.

Then came the scream.

She found Kana moments later, frozen in fear, tears streaming down her cheeks as a massive gray wolf prowled in front of her, fur bristling, teeth bared.

“Stay behind me!” Yoru yelled, planting herself between the girl and the beast.

The wolf snarled and lunged. Yoru barely had time to think. Her fingers turned to steel, shaped like claws, rising in instinctive defense.

The wolf crashed into her, knocking her to the ground. Its claws raked across her side, and Yoru screamed. Blood soaked through her clothes and into the snow. Still, her metal claws tore into its flesh.

They struggled in the snow. The wolf snapped its jaws at her throat, and Yoru turned her leg into a long blade and slashed it.

With a snarl of pain, the beast stumbled back... and that was her chance.

Yoru bolted forward, scooping Kana into her arms and running with everything she had.

'Wolves don’t hunt alone.'

The thought burned through her mind as she tore through the woods, Kana crying into her shoulder. Her legs screamed in protest. Her wounds throbbed. But she didn’t stop.

Finally, the trees parted and the village came into view.

Yoru collapsed to her knees as soon as they were safe, breath heaving, Kana still in her arms.

“Shhh... we're safe now,” she whispered, voice shaking. She ran a trembling hand through the girl’s hair. “Let’s find your mommy, yeah?”

Villagers nearby rushed over. One of the rangers—Alina—knelt beside them, eyes wide with alarm.

“Yoru, what happened?!”

“It was a wolf,” Yoru tried to explain, but her voice was fading.

“Shit, you’re bleeding,” Alina said, helping her up. Gashes ran along Yoru’s arms and midriff, blood soaking through her torn clothes.

Mihawk emerged from the small crowd that had gathered. The moment he saw Yoru’s wounds, his expression changed—controlled, but tight with worry. He immediately stepped forward and picked her up, cradling her carefully in his arms.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice low.

“A wolf... I let my guard down.”

“Yoru...”

“I know... I’m sorry. I didn’t think,” she whispered. “She screamed. I had to—”

“I know,” he said quietly. “You did well.”

He said nothing more as he carried her inside, though a troubled frown lingered on his face.

A village medic cleaned and stitched her wounds, assuring them she’d be fine—but she needed rest, or she might tear them open again.

“You could’ve died,” Mihawk murmured later that evening. He was seated beside Yoru on the bed. On the other side, Kana had curled up beside her, fast asleep. The child had insisted on staying to take care of her, feeling guilty about the whole ordeal, but at least she was safe and unharmed.

Yoru gave him a weak, teasing smirk and reached for his hand. “What, and leave you without your sword?”

His expression didn’t change—but his grip on her hand tightened, just slightly.

“You’re not just my sword, Yoru.”

He caressed her hand with his thumb, then, to her surprise, brought it to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

“Sleep now. I’ll be here in the morning.”

Late that night, when Yoru was already asleep, Mihawk quietly left. He took a sword from the rangers’ armory and disappeared into the woods.

It wasn’t hard to find the wolf. The animal was dying, bleeding out in the snow. When Mihawk ended it, it felt more like an act of mercy than revenge.

Chief Balam saw him return to the village hours later, carrying the wolf’s body.

His family was deeply grateful—especially to Yoru for saving their only child. He ordered the wolf to be skinned.

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A few days passed, and Yoru’s wounds began to heal.

To honor their bravery, Chief Balam ordered a banquet in their name. The village came alive with music, dancing, food, and strong liquor.

In the middle of the celebration, the Chief called for everyone’s attention and raised his voice.

“For saving my daughter, and risking her own life, we offer our deepest gratitude to Yoru!”

Yoru’s breath caught as Kana came bounding up to her, carrying something carefully wrapped in cloth. She looked up at Mihawk, who gave a small nod.

The villagers revealed the gifts: a shoulder pelt and a ceremonial headpiece made from the wolf.

“These are symbols of our protectors,” Chief Balam declared, laying the pelt across her shoulders and crowning her with the wolf’s head. “You have our eternal gratitude… Woman of Steel, Yoru of the Wolf.”

The crowd erupted in cheers.

Kana giggled and hugged her tightly. Yoru ruffled the girl’s hair with an affectionate smile, her heart full.

Later, when the festivities had died down, Mihawk gently took Yoru’s hand and pulled her away from the crowd.

“You found the wolf,” she said quietly.

“It was bleeding out when I found it,” he replied. “I ended it out of mercy.”

Then he reached into his coat and pulled out a necklace—delicately carved bone, polished and gleaming.

“You’re not just a sword or a weapon, Yoru. You’re human… and I don’t own you. You are free.”

He fastened the necklace around her neck, then reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. He stayed close.

“If you decide to stay here, to join another crew, or sail off on your own—whatever you wish—I won’t stop you. But I need you to know… I’m grateful for the moment you chose to stay with me, and for every moment we fought together.”

Yoru swallowed hard, her fingers brushing the pendant. “We do make quite the exceptional team,” she said avoiding his case.

"We do,” he agreed, quiet as a confession.

He didn’t step away. If anything, he stood a touch closer now—close enough for her to feel the warmth radiating from him, to count the slow, deliberate rhythm of his breath.

She could look up. But she didn’t.

He could say more. But he didn’t.

Yoru thought about that night in the cabin. About the way he’d held her. About how hard it had been to let go.

And how badly, right now, she didn’t want to.

She dared a glance up. His eyes were already on her—sharp, unreadable, but softer than they used to be.

"Wherever you go... that's where I'll follow” she said.

A pause. And then—just barely—his expression shifted. He smiled.

“Good"

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“Do you really have to leave?” asked a teary-eyed Kana, watching as Yoru and Mihawk loaded supplies onto their newly repaired ship.

“Oh, darling...” Yoru knelt and hugged her tightly.

“We have unfinished business out at sea. And sooner or later, the Marines will track us down. We don’t want to put any of you in danger... not all Marines are righteous.”

“Our doors are always open to the both of you,” said Chief Balam, his voice warm. “You’ve earned more than just our gratitude.”

Mihawk nodded respectfully. “You’ve shown us kindness. We won’t forget it.”

“Will you come back someday?” Kana asked.

“I hope we can,” Yoru said, brushing the girl’s hair back.

“But if we do return for a visit,” Mihawk added, “I expect to see some improvement in your sword skills.”

Kana giggled through her tears and hugged his legs. Mihawk rested a hand gently on her head.

“Listen to your mom and dad, alright?” he said.

She nodded, eyes full of emotion, before hurrying back to her parents.

They said their final farewells and set sail—just the two of them once more.

As the village faded into the distance, Yoru stood at the rail, watching the coast grow smaller and smaller.

“Second thoughts?” Mihawk asked, adjusting the sails.

Yoru smiled faintly. “None.”

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[dahl14]

me as a writer

[dahl14]

The one with the red haired.

Another Mihawk × Human! Yoru short story I hope you enjoy it ♡

Here is the Masterlist

Also you can send me requests if you want to! I think that would be fun ♡

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Yoru and Mihawk had been traveling and fighting together for a few months now.

They had docked at a particularly lively town after their most recent raid on a Marine base, where they had hunted down a notoriously corrupt and feared Marine captain. Yoru had found a certain thrill and amusement in fighting alongside Mihawk. She knew he felt the same, though he’d never say it aloud. For him, it was a thrilling challenge. They both lived freely, doing as they pleased, and she was growing more and more fond of this chaotic, unpredictable pirate life.

Their treasure together was increasing—money, gold, things they both seemed to have an interest in.

When Mihawk anchored their ship, he offered her his hand to help her step onto the harbor. It was a small gesture, but one he repeated every time they docked.

Yoru could hear the seagulls in the harbor, street musicians nearby, and children playing in the streets. Her eyes darted from one distraction to the next, curiosity alight in her gaze.

They walked side by side until the sound of a guitar riff caught her attention, and she found herself drifting toward the terrace of a local bar. A young man with fiery red hair and a straw hat was seated at the steps of the busy tavern, strumming a guitar while sipping from a bottle of rum.

Yoru smiled at the tune. She liked music. She missed it more often than she let on.

The redhead glanced up and caught her gaze. A spark of mischief lit his eyes, a boyish, charming grin tugging at his lips.

“Well now,” he said, setting his guitar aside. “Am I being visited by an angel of music? Didn’t think my playing was that good.”

“You’re not half bad,” she replied. “But I am no angel.”

“But you sure are interesting. And you’ve got that look—like someone who knows how to make trouble and get away with it.”

Yoru chuckled. “What if I’m the trouble people don’t get away from?”

Shanks let out a low whistle, clearly enjoying the banter. “Then I’ll die a happy man. You see… I happen to have a thing for dangerous women.”

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “You’re drunk.”

He lifted his half-empty bottle of rum in salute. “A little. But not too drunk to recognize beauty when it walks up to me.”

Yoru folded her arms, amusement dancing in her eyes.

“The name’s Shanks, by the way,” the man said.

“Yoru.”

Just then, she felt a very familiar presence settle behind her—Mihawk.

He had walked up silently and now stood with his arms crossed, golden eyes fixed coolly on the red-haired flirt.

The man blinked, then broke into a broad grin. “Well, well, look who it is, you guys! It’s none other than Hawkeyes!”

Laughter and voices of recognition rang out from the bar behind him.

Shanks chuckled, undeterred. “You’re traveling with her?” He gestured towards Yoru.

“So… you two know each other,” Yoru asked.

“Unfortunately,” Mihawk replied.

“Oh, don’t be like that, my friend! We go way back, sweetheart. We’ve shared drinks, clashed swords—fun times. So… care to join us for a drink?”

Yoru glanced at the swordsman behind her. His expression didn’t change, but she caught the faintest twitch of his brow.

“I could go for a drink.” She responded.

“Excellent! Come meet my crew!”

The three of them entered the bar and settled among the redhead’s lively crew. Rounds of drinks came and went. Yoru listened with amusement as Shanks boasted about his duels with Mihawk.

“You have a very colorful imagination, Red-Haired,” Mihawk said with a bored sip of his drink. “That’s not how it went.”

“What are you talking about? I always win!” Shanks grinned.

“Against him?” Yoru raised a brow, eyes flicking toward Mihawk. “I doubt that.”

Shanks clutched his chest in mock betrayal. “You wound me.”

Mihawk smirked. “While I find your attempts to impress her entertaining, I must inform you...your charm is wasted.”

“Oh?”

“You could never deserve her.”

Shanks raised his glass with a laugh. “Can’t blame a man for trying.”

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The sun was beginning to set by the time Yoru and Mihawk left the bar. Shanks leaned against the doorframe, watching them go.

Yoru’s cheeks were tinged with a slight blush from the alcohol. As they walked, she slipped her arm through Mihawk’s. He didn’t pull away.

It was an odd sight for the red-haired pirate. She was probably talking his ear off—he couldn’t hear her words from where he stood—but Mihawk was listening. And responding.

She had his attention.

And that was a rare sight.

[dahl14]

The one after their escape.

Mihawk × Human! Yoru Pt 2(?)

You can find the first part here

Masterlist

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They arrived at a quiet harbor hours before dawn, the stars still bright overhead. Mihawk anchored the ship with practiced ease, the only sound the gentle slap of waves against the hull.

The town was small, mostly asleep, but a lone inn still had its lanterns lit. They went inside, and Mihawk paid for the only room available—at least it had two beds.

Once inside, Mihawk handed Yoru a small bundle of clean clothes from a bag he’d brought.

She slipped into the room’s bathroom to clean herself.

The warm water felt like luxury against her skin, rinsing away blood and grime. She washed her hair and did her best to detangle it with her fingers.

After the much-needed shower, Yoru dressed in the clothes Mihawk had given her. Her own were still filthy from the fortress. His shirt—a wine-colored one with black cuffs and collar, embroidered with subtle floral designs—was far too big, but she found it rather beautiful. The black pants were large too, but comforting in their own way.

Her wrists and ankles throbbed, still raw from the sea stone cuffs.

Mihawk offered her a small tin of medicinal salve and clean bandages. She tried tending to the angry red marks but fumbled with the wrappings. Wordlessly, he knelt beside her and helped—his hands steady and gentle. He said nothing, and neither did she.

“We’ll get you proper clothes in the morning,” he said. “And shoes. Rest, if you wish.”

Yoru curled into the soft bed. She couldn’t remember the last time she'd felt anything so warm. Her eyes drifted shut.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The scent of bread and spiced tea greeted her when she descended to the tavern the next morning.

Still wearing Mihawk’s clothes, she felt a bit silly—the shirt hung off one shoulder, and the pants were so large she had to knot them at the waist to keep them up.

Mihawk had cleaned himself as well. He wore a maroon button-up shirt, only done halfway, showing his toned chest and golden cross pendant. A deep green sash and dark pants completed the look.

"A pirate with fashion sense", Yoru thought, a little amused.

They ate quietly. The bread was fresh, warm, and tasted heavenly to her.

After breakfast, Mihawk handed her a satchel full of money—the money he had taken from the fortress where she’d been kept.

“It’s yours,” he said. “Buy what you need.”

She did.

Black fitted pants. A soft off-shoulder white blouse with golden embroidery. A violet sash, suggested by the kind shopkeeper—Yoru was glad for the advice. She also bought a comfortable pair of sturdy leather boots and a few personal items.

At a nearby jewelry shop, her gaze fell on a pair of long gold earrings—engraved plates with rows of delicate, teardrop-shaped beads. They reminded her of the ones her mother had worn in her memories.

She bought them without hesitation. She quite liked how they looked on her.

Later, Mihawk found her again, dressed in her new outfit, carrying a leather bag filled with her belongings. He handed her a small purple silk pouch.

“For your hair.”

She opened it and gasped. Inside were a few fragrant hair oils, a golden ribbon, and a wooden comb, carefully carved with intricate floral patterns.

“Oh… it's beautiful. Thank you, Mihawk.”

He simply nodded.

Her hair, he thought, deserved to be cared for. She was not just a blade. She was a woman—and a beautiful one at that.

They restocked the ship quietly and left the harbor as the wind filled their black sails. No one paid them much mind—just a man and a woman, setting out to sea.

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[dahl14]

THIS

[dahl14]

Mihawk×human (fem) Yoru

Prologue (?)

In response to my previous post. I don't have a title for this, I just tried to write it, English is not my first language so excuse any mistakes hehe.

Anyway, I tried, so...Enjoy!

Next part!

Masterlist

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Yoru came from a small, peaceful island—a happy place. She was a bright child, curious and sharp, always eager to learn about her world and the one beyond the sea. She asked endless questions to the grown-ups, exploring every corner of the island with laughter in her voice and the love of her parents surrounding her.

But when she was very young, everything changed.

Her island was raided. She remembered the smoke. The screaming. The feeling of a rough hand closing over her mouth as the sky burned red. She was kidnapped and sold by traffickers to the World Government.

They forced her to eat a Devil Fruit and forced her into a secret program that weaponized Devil Fruit users. The fruit granted her the ability to transform into a rare, powerful sword: a massive black-bladed kriegsmesser with a golden handle, capable of amplifying Haki.

They stripped her of her freedom. Forced her to remain in sword form for long periods of time. Abused and threatened her. Kept her in seastone restraints and starved her to keep her weak, to make sure she couldn't fight back or escape. They treated her as an object—a weapon for the Marines to wield and test at will, not a human.

Rumors began to spread.

Whispers about a cursed sword under Marine control—one with a spirit inside, a blade that responded to its wielder’s will and elevated their strength beyond measure.

The tale reached the ears of a young Mihawk, already known as the Marine hunter, a very talented swordsman. Intrigued by the legend, he set out to steal the sword for himself.

He infiltrated the fortress where it was held, cutting down those who stood in his way—silent, precise, and merciless. He moved like a shadow through the corridors. When a trembling Marine crossed his path, Mihawk raised his blade to the man's throat.

“Where is the cursed sword?” he asked, calm and cold.The Marine whimpered, drenched in sweat. Mihawk pressed the blade harder.

“Take me to it—or die.”

The Marine obeyed, fear guiding his steps. Mihawk expected vaults, high security, layers of protection. Instead, he was led to a poorly guarded chamber—panicked soldiers scrambled like mice. It didn’t make sense.

He cut them all down without hesitation.

Beyond a reinforced door, he found a small, cold room. No sword. No weapon.

Just a girl—no, a young woman.

Chained. Filthy. Bruised. Her long black hair hung in tangled waves down her back. She was dressed in simple black pants that reached her calves, and a loose, dirty gray button-up. Her wrists and ankles were bound in cuffs—sea stone, he noticed.

Something clicked.

“You’re the sword,” he said. “A Devil Fruit user.”

She slowly turned her gaze from the window to him. Her voice was hoarse, but steady.

“They said that in this form I wouldn’t be found. Guess you’re smarter than them.”

She looked fragile, but there was fire behind her obsidian eyes. A fierce determination to survive.

Mihawk said nothing. He stepped forward and cut through her restraints. The chains clattered to the floor.

She flinched—but he didn’t command her, didn’t drag her away.Instead, to her surprise, he simply offered his hand.Rough. Callused. Steady.

“Who are you?” she asked the man standing before her.

“Mihawk,” he replied simply.

She studied him quickly—dark hair, piercing golden eyes like a hawk’s. They were sharp, unreadable, almost unnatural. He stood tall with a calm, composed air. His frame was lean but powerful. A swordsman’s body.

She took his hand.

He helped her to her feet—bare and unsteady. She stood straight, her spine stiff with the last shreds of dignity, even aware of her bruises, her tangled hair, her ragged clothes.

For the first time in years, she was free.

“And your name?” he asked, his tone even.

“Yoru,” she said.

She could hear distant voices—Marines barking orders, boots pounding stone. Her breath caught, panic rising.

Without thinking, she gripped his hand tighter—and shifted.

In an instant, her body shimmered, and turned into gleaming black steel. A long kriegsmesser with a golden handle.

Her energy pulsed in his hand. He felt her breath. Her heartbeat. He could hear her voice in his mind.

“You may use me. Get us out of here.”

Mihawk didn’t hesitate.

He moved like death itself.

He carved a path of destruction. No Marine left standing. The blade in his hand was alive—fierce, burning, perfect. She responded to his every movement like an extension of his own will.

When he reached the docks, moonlight glinted on the waves. His small ship waited quietly. He stepped aboard.

The blade in his hand shimmered—and transformed.

Yoru stood barefoot on the deck once more, hair wind-blown, chest rising and falling in sharp breaths.

“I—” she began, voice catching. “Thank you.”

Mihawk’s eyes met hers. He shrugged off his coat and draped it around her shoulders.

“You’re free. I just cleared the way.”

He turned and moved toward the helm. “What you do now is your choice.”

She stared at his back, stunned by the simplicity of it. No demands. No expectations.

Only freedom.

She stepped aboard and quietly took a seat near the mast, pulling the coat closer around her.

She didn’t know where to go. But for now, she’d stay.

Not because he asked. Because he didn’t.

With the marine base out of the map, the cursed sword reminded just a legend, a myth.

And Yoru, a free woman.

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Let me know if you like it! I turned Yoru into maybe a oc thingy. Might keep writing it as short stories just for fun! Oh and forgive any mistakes pls <3

You can find the next part here

[dahl14]

Ok hear me out

I started re-watching Soul Eater and had a fanfic idea, and since I saw a post recently that said "write the fanfic you wanna read" that is exactly what I will try.

So the idea is: what if Mihawk's sword (Yoru) is actually a person, a devil fruit user!!! (Yes his sword is a person just like on Soul Eater)

So maybe a Mihawk × Human! Yoru(?)

I will try to write it, but if you see this and see the vision too, be my guest please write your own version of it if you feel like it, I would love to read it (tag me please), but I'll try to write a piece and maybe upload it later tonight idk.