#dracul quirk

[almaadst]

Commission for sweet @theforgottensheikah! ^v^ It was lovely to come back to making MHA character sheets! ⎛⎝(•ⱅ•)⎠⎞ Other: Commission info MHA OC: Cata Denki and self-insert PLEASE DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT MY or OWNER PERMISSION!

[fanaticsnail]

Sapsorrow - Chapter 1

Masterlist here, Mood Board here.

Word Count: 6,022

Song Accompaniment: La Petite fille de la mer

This is the first part to a multi-chaptered series. Thank you @feral-artistry for brainstorming with me and shepherding me into the right direction.

Themes: enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, forced proximity, lord and subordinate, one bed trope, apprehension, mutual pining, obligation, slow burn, eventual love, protective, "where is my wife" trope.

The cobblestone steps greeted your eyes with an iron and intimidating intensity, your future as uncertain as the words that were addressed to you regarding your newest undertaking. Two wards under the care of the Lord of Kuraigana were allegedly in dire need of training in the art of navigation as they began interacting with the upper classes. At risk of embarrassment, Lord Dracule Mihawk had humbled himself with his carefully and hastily composed words and sent them through to meet your eyes only.

Clasping firm the address within your fingertips, you reopened the rolled scroll to once again read over the words Dracule Mihawk had written to you. You smoothed over your formal title with the pads of your fingertips, reading the carefully crafted words beneath to ensure you did not misunderstand any minor detail:

“I hope this letter finds you well.

I will not dance around the issue at hand with formalities and fluttery words. I need use of your abilities as a trainer and governess.

Your resume speaks volumes, and your many debutants and young lords you have presented under your guiding hands have captured my attention with their attuned supremacy in handling all manner of circumstances. Although my wards are not of debutant age: both much older than the appropriate age of presentation, I find myself out of depths in training them to handle the upper class as fluidly as I know you are capable of doing so.

Two young adults: one young unrefined gentleman in need of carving down to size, and one young lady who I cannot donate my time to attune to her femininity.

I simply can’t - I cannot handle it. - Please can you – I need -

Should you desire to undertake such a challenge, I would humbly request – I expect you could – please find the disclosed location for my castle at Kuraigana.

To run the risk of sounding desperate, I once again reiterate: I need you, Governess.

I look forward to hearing your reply, and should you accept the position, I shall adjust wings accordingly for your stay along with discussing wages.

Kindest regards,

Lord Dracule Mihawk of Castle Kuraigana.”

Rereading his honest words, and smiling at his scratched and stricken notation, you began your ascension up the towering steps towards the large double doors of the keep. Having met the ex-warlord a handful of times at events held by the world government, you had never assumed he had paid heed to many of your accomplishments as a finishing instructor and governess to the upper class. Always professional, never swaying your gaze from your pupils and debutants under your watchful instruction, you could maybe recall a small amount of polite conversation between you and the Lord of Castle Kuraigana. 

Again, you found yourself recollecting the handful of times you had spoken to the warlord in the past. He had always been professional, and you had always reciprocated in an appropriate manner to him.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“Governess,” a smooth voice addressed you at your right hand side. Unmoving your gaze from the young gentleman you had been training for the past eleven months, you smiled and nodded your head in acknowledgement.

“Warlord,” you addressed him in return. Your pupil had finally worked up the courage to ask a young lady to dance, an action prompting you to sigh in both pride and relief.

“One of yours?” He asked, his voice quirking up at the end in question. Although it was deemed impolite to disregard a member of the upper class, you could not tear your eyes away from your young student as he was following the proper mannerisms of courtship. He extended his right hand, bowing politely to the young woman as she accepted by placing her gloved fingertips within his own.

“Indeed,” you drew out your response, cocking your head to the side to follow your pupil with your gaze more thoroughly. Your student began effortlessly twirling the young lady on the dance floor; swaying her to the melody performed by the stringed quartet. The twin violins began to swell, the viola accompanying their melody with harmony while the cello droned the bass notes effortlessly.

“He’s doing quite well,” he complimented with a polite expression within his tone, “I offer my praises to your abilities.”

“They always do,” you replied with a small smile tickling left hand side of your lips, “and thank you for your kind words, Lord Dracule.” Mihawk hummed in response, holding firm his yellow gaze affixed to your young pupil as he spun the debutant within his arms.

Both you and the warlord at your side allowed several moments to pass between you as you witnessed the successful maneuver of carefully articulated dance moves to be initiated by your student.

“Do you dance, Governess?” he asked you with a lazy air of curiosity about him.

“I have an array of many talents at my disposal, Warlord,” your smile broadened, “musicality, linguistics, formal ceremonies, and dance are a few skills I can call on from time to time. However,” you finally allowed yourself to look away from your pupil to focus on the awaiting gaze of the man beside you, “I find myself relishing in the propel of my students rather than to chase the thrill for myself.”

“Indeed,” he nodded, bringing his right hand to clasp the tip of his broad hat within his thumb and index finger, “until the next soiree, Governess.”

“Warlord,” you crossed your right leg behind your left, your toes curling beneath your foot as you bent in a low stooped curtsey. Your eyes shut politely before you rose, dragging your toes against the floor to brandish at your side and turning your back to the gentleman.

Stalking the perimeter of the dance floor, you once again found your pupil: he attempting to engage with the young lady’s chaperone to indicate his intentions of courtship. Another blissful sigh of the night fell from your parted lips, brimming with glee at another successful pupil finding a potential partner within the upper class. Unaware to the two amber eyes honing over your figure, you continued to fix your gaze on the young man, smiling further as he bowed lowly to take his leave and join once more with you.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Drawing the back of your knuckles upwards and rapping politely from the door, you stepped back and smoothed over the front of your formal governess attire. Hearing clangs, clashes and heavy laden footsteps falling in a thud towards the door, your eyes finally met with the warm, hazelnut gaze of a tall man with moss-coloured hair littering his scalp in an array of tussles.

“The fuck do you want-,” he began, halting as soon as a pale palm and slender fingers grasped his cream-coloured shirt and thrust him inside. Hastily closing the door behind him and stepping out into the foyer lay the towering form of the broody warlord who wrote to you.

“Governess,” he addressed you, sucking in an exasperated breath through his teeth. You took in the gentleman falling from the doorframe. His intimidating and intense aura was tainted with a slight amount of dishevelment.

“Warl-,” you halted your words, recognising his relinquishment of his prior status with a small quirk of your chin, “force of habit,” you smiled at him, lacing your fingers behind your back before correcting yourself, “my lord.”

“I will not hold it against you. It takes some adjustment,” he nodded. You bowed your head in a polite curtsey before again raising your gaze to beam against your new employer.

“Your latest protégé, I assume,” you nodded your head towards the door, eyes beaming with a small air of teasing.

“My latest project. As you can see,” he, himself, nodded his head towards the recently shut door, “his manners and language are of the highest priority.”

You hummed in response, looking over your latest recruiter with an intense and examining gaze. He took the opportunity to straighten his attire, rotating his shoulders back to adjust his posture upright and rigid, as was how you had come to acknowledge his stature through your prior interactions.

“Your letter-,” you began, halted by the palm of Mihawk’s hand presenting itself before your eyes.

“-I apologize for my hastily written words. I should have thought about them further before sending for you,” he commented, cutting off your sentence with a bored and dismissive tone. You clenched your jaw, displeased by his silencing of your words. Humming and straightening your own posture, you began looking up at him with a challenging intensity.

“I agree, my lord. Before you interrupted my words,” you coughed to release a small amount of agitation from your throat. “you currently have two wards in your care?” He roughly sucked in an air through his nose, shutting his eyes to rid himself of his own abrasive emotions. He reopened them, his pupils immediately narrowing in on your own.

“Yes,” he gruffly confirmed, his agitation not hidden by his rough words.

“And you require my help with rearing them?” you asked once more, stepping towards his towering form. He again inhaled very slowly to calm the simmer of his anger rising upwards.

“Yes,” he hissed from clenched teeth, again confirming his need for you. You smiled softly at him before turning your gaze towards the door once more.

“How wonderful,” you commented, stooping to reclaim your bags from the doorstep as Mihawk held his honeyed-gaze on your form, “I simply can’t wait to get started.”

“I would not be so eager, if I were you,” he reprimanded, reaching behind him to clasp the handle to reopen the door.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The ornate hall was decorated from the top of the roof floating all the way to the join against the floor with intricately painted designs. Angelic silhouettes or seraphim and cherubim floated at the highest point of the design, painted clouds parting to reveal the radiant beams of sunlight warming their drawn smiles. This was not a sight you foresaw, judging from the dark and gloomy halls and wings of Castle Kuraigana in the many rooms prior.

No. This room was special. Something truly holy and sacred to contain the vast accumulation of wealth displayed on the ornate, glass shelves and carved marble. Gemstones glittering with colors of the darkest of reds to the pastel hue of a magical and mossy green lay perfectly cataloged along the benches. The golds, silvers, coppers and platinum bands and bangles reflected the light beaming from the stained glass with drawn back, velvety curtains showcasing their majesty.

You should not be here.

Those were the words that you thought as your right arm lay laced within your pink-haired debutant pupil as she guided you throughout the beautiful halls, with your green-haired ‘gentleman in training’ lay sculking behind you with his left hand clutching the neck of a brown-stained beer bottle. You couldn’t hear a word she was uttering through her enthusiastic lips, no doubt informing you of the different historical properties and peculiarities lord Dracule Mihawk managed to procure over his time with piracy, and purchases he made under his former title as Warlord of the Seas. You were simply awestruck by the different paintings, musical instruments and finery fabrics that lay embroidering the perimeter of the room with their carefully attuned presence. 

“And this one,” Perona’s voice shook you from your trance as she escorted you to the center of the room, “This one is my favorite. I don’t know exactly why he’s put it on the cushion, but I enjoy trying it on from time to time.”

You drew your gaze to the plush, deep emerald cushion. Laying in the center of the plush object lay a small circlet of gold, the central piece being a smoked piece of moss agate with the green floating across the circular stone. Compared to the other pieces, this one appeared to be of far lesser value in its make and mastery. 

Perona pulled you towards the pillar the cushion was sitting comfortably atop, a wide grin pulling at her lips to beautifully decorate her cheeks. Unlacing her arm from within your own, she reached up to take the small ring within her slender fingertips; rolling it over in her palms before trying it on each of her fingers. The band easily slid off each of her long fingers, a small giggle falling from her parted lips as she did so. 

“Zoro,” she elevated her tone in addressing her peer, “Come over here, you try it.”

“I’d rather not,” he grunted, raising the beer to his lips and taking a swig. 

“And I’d rather you refrained from drinking alcohol so early in the day, young man,” you chastised him, gesturing to the glass bottle clutched tightly in his hands. His brows furrowed in a deep frown at your words. Making unblinking eye contact with you, he raised the tip of the bottle to his lips and hurriedly gulped down the yeasty brew to relinquish its presence within the container.

“I don’t have to do what you tell me, Governess. I neither need you, nor do I want you,” he spat in a gruff grunt, walking over to your place beside the cushion and taking the gold circlet from his peer’s hands. Unable to get the object over the first bended knuckle of his thumb, he tried three of his fingers with similar resistance while continuing to hold his frown against his brow. 

“There’s no way this thing is getting on my-,” he halted his words as the ring slipped over his secondary knuckle on his smallest finger; immediately lodging the small band atop it. Looking between you both, eyes now widening with a small air of panic, his words struggled to flee from his lips.

“I-It’s stuck,” he gasped, gulping back his stress within his throat, “I-I can’t get it off. Help,” he quickly darted his eyes between you both, looking down at his swelling pinky finger and back up, “don’t just stand there! Do something!” 

Perona, immediately sensing Zoro’s panic, lunged towards him and began pulling and tugging at his fingers. Zoro yelped as the young woman almost dislocated his finger under her strain. 

“For fucks sake, Perona! Stop!” Zoro yelped with his voice, cradling his left hand within his right and soothing over the back of his knuckles, “Governess, you do it!” 

You shook your head, a small sigh falling from your lips as you slowly drew yourself closer to the towering form of the unrefined swordsman. Clearly Mihawk was telling the truth in your abilities as a trainer and governess being of use to sculpt his wards into shape. 

“I thought you didn’t need a governess, Zoro,” you kept a stern air with your voice, presenting your right palm upwards as a gesture to collect his left within it. 

“I don’t,” he spat with a small tremble in his tone, immediately placing his swelling hand within your gentle grasp. You smiled and carefully inspected the digit with your examining gaze and the gentle and featherlight touches of your fingertips. 

“Clearly,” you jabbed back at him, allowing your touch to attempt to rotate the band circling his pinky finger. The ring had a large amount of resistance, unable to move the object under your gentle touch. You sighed, reaching into your pocket to trace over a variety of hidden objects within your collection. Small scissors, a single bobbin, safety pins, and spools of cotton string jangled around in your pocket as you finally collected the object you were searching for. Drawing it up, you rolled it over beneath the pads of your thumb and index finger and revealed the length of the dark, satin ribbon to Zoro.

“I need to lace this around your finger to tighten the swell,” you said, following through with the action as you informed him, “and should all things go according to plan, I will be able to-,” you heard an echoed footbeat click against the hall outside the large door. All three of your eyes widened as the calculated thump drew nearer and nearer to the treasury door.

“Get to it, then!” Zoro’s harsh whisper commanded you, prompting you to continue tightening the ribbon over his finger. As the area compressed, the ring began moving back over his knuckle and slowly drawing its way down to his fingertip. This is not how you imagined your introduction to the two wards to go, but something you should have prepared for regardless. 

Clearly Dracule Mihawk was not exaggerating your overzealousness in commencing your undertaking so hastily. The thumps fell silent as the crescendo of the steps fell in front of the large door. The shadow beneath the wooden frame halted its movement, a small rotation of the handle began to hasten your movements and increase the motion of your hearts rapidity. 

Finally, the object was unceremoniously flung from Zoro’s fingertip and rang in a bell-like jingle against the polished marble floor. 

“Pick it up, pick it up, pick it up,” Perona hastily whispered her commands to you with a frantic air to her words. 

As the door flung open, you backed your way towards the object with your eyes holding firmly against the darkened silhouette. Stooping low and quickly finding the object, you hastily drew back up to your prior, formal posture and held your hands fastened behind your back. Zoro immediately drew himself between you and Perona, his form attempting to shield the velvet pillow from showcasing its bare surface to his mentor. 

As your eyes met with the amber, calculated stare of the former warlord in front of you, all thoughts of sense fled from your mind. You immediately slipped the circlet onto the third finger of your left hand, holding it secured for safe-keeping. You were hoping to wait until his back once again turned for you to place it back on its comfortable position atop the dark, green cushion. But alas, not all things go according to plan.

“What are the three of you doing in the treasury?” his eyes narrowed, examining the three of you with a harsh and calculating gaze before immediately drawing his body closer in. He shoved the swordsman out of the way of the pillow, his eyes widening as his sights were met with nothing than the material of the plush pillow.

“W-Where,” he began, coughing slightly to rid himself of his panic, immediately looking to Perona, “where is the ring? Where did you put it, Perona?”

Before the pink-haired ward could answer and was unwilling to wait for you to offer an explanation, Zoro spoke up.

“She wanted to see it,” Zoro nudged his head to your form and laced his arms over his broad chest. You snapped your eyes over to the green-haired swordsman, clenching your teeth hard in anger at his words behind your thinned lips. You drew your eyes back to the lord of Kuraigana as he immediately sought out your forearm and harshly yanked it from its place laced behind your back. 

“What are you-,” you began, immediately halting your words within your throat as you witnessed all of the pale color draining from Dracule Mihawk’s face as his expression changed from panic to absolute terror behind his amber eyes. You sucked in a stifled breath as he immediately clutched at your fingertips with both of his hands. He gasped, bringing his eyes over the gold circlet firmly placed effortlessly over your wedding-ring finger.

“N-No,” he stifled out, gently thumbing over the gemstone placed on your finger beneath his firm hands. As his hands clutched yours within his, you could almost feel them trembling beneath your own, “Why would you-, how could-, why would you put it on.”

“I-It was an accident,” Perona’s voice squeaked from beside Zoro, prompting your eyes to look at her in panic. 

“You accidentally found yourself within the halls of the treasury?” Mihawk hissed at her, prompting her to cower behind Zoro. A pregnant pause fell between the four of you within the room, tension arising in a swell so suffocating you could tangibly feel it throughout the room. 

“I can remove it,” you offered in a small voice, drawing up your right hand and gently placing it over Mihawk’s knuckles. He drew his eyes from their place holding against the ring to your two orbs. A small softness threatened to peak through his intensity, before he sighed and furrowed his brows.

“We are well past that now,” he sighed, removing his hands from their place clutching yours. He moved his neck in a small rotation, relieving the tension with a small ‘click’. He sighed once more, pinching his brows between his thumb and index finger and drawing himself away from the three of you. His boots began rhythmically falling against the floor as he paced from side to side.

“I’m assuming you do not understand the significance of such an object?” He uttered, drawing his eyes against yours once more. You gently shook your head, furrowing your brows at his words. 

“All of us had one,” he spoke up, “the warlords and higher ups within the world government. I’m surprised at you, Governess.” Immediate realization hit you in the face with the intensity of a cannonball. You immediately drew up your right hand again to take off the small circlet from your finger. 

“If I’d have known-,” you began, stopping only as you felt Mihawk’s hands atop your own to halt your movements. 

“-As I said,” he again informed you, “we’re well past that.”

“Will one of you spit it out to clue us in?” Zoro’s gruff voice called to you both, “we’re in the dark here.” You let a shaken breath release from your lips as you looked down to your finger. The beautiful circlet of terror was truly an amazing piece, albeit not as spectacular as the other pieces within the treasury. 

“These rings were made specifically to hold a particular covenant,” you uttered darkly, shutting your eyes, “none were the same. Each attuned specifically to the individual who purchased or claimed it.” You shook your head and drew your hand back from within Mihawk’s.

“Why would you have such a thing, my lord?” you asked him, not drawing your eyes back up from its place affixed to the floor, “You do not seem the type to desire marriage or courtship.” Both Perona and Zoro’s jaws fell slack, looking between each other before falling their widening eyes back to their mentor and lord. 

“Which is precisely why I commissioned such a piece,” he commented, turning his back away from you and his two wards, “I will write to the appropriate channels to inform them of such an event.”

“I hardly see that as necessary,” you replied while drawing up your right hand to tug at the item attached to your left ring-finger. 

“You placed it on your hand,” Mihawk informed you, gesturing to the object attuned to your flesh, “and now, unfortunately, we must bear the consequences of such an idiodic undertaking.”

You sucked in another hissed breath through your teeth, your tongue placed against the back of your top two teeth. Never had you so much as thought about marriage, opting to remain forever in your solitude in training the upper class to begin their courtships with poise and elegance. You were content with working your way through singledom: first achieving the status of Spinster and well on your way to becoming a Thornback or Doomwitch, you had never considered marriage a prospect for yourself.

But this gemstone encrusted within a finely tuned band of promise held a different fate for you. This hand of horrors now held your fate clutched entirely within its circlet of destiny. What this ring was intended for, and was now holding you completely to complete its obligation, was for you now to join with the owner in holy matrimony. Whom shall ever place the ring on your joining finger, and have it fit perfectly beneath its band with no need for alteration, would find themselves committed to wedding the owner of such a prize.

You felt your eyes beginning to sting with a foreign sense of hopelessness as you gazed upon the mighty band atop your ring finger. 

“I will simply cut off the finger,” you declared, a rise of destiny swelling your chest alongside its solid intentions. 

“It matters not,” Mihawk declared, refusing to turn to look at you, “the sign has already been addressed. We are to wed and, unfortunately, there is nothing either of us can do about it.”

“And if I refuse?” you quirked your head to the side, affixing your eyes to the band on your ring finger once more. Mihawk halted his pacing, looking over his shoulder at you through his peripheral vision. 

“You know very well that neither you, nor I, can halt the ribbons of destiny,” he spat in an agitated breath. He was enraged, his thoughts and actions eclipsed with a fury he had not felt in a long time. You sighed, shaking hands drawing themselves down in front of you as you stepped closer to the former warlord before you.

“Fine,” you spat, rotating your shoulders back and affixing your posture to the most rigid state you could make it.

“Fine?” Mihawk questioned, turning to face you once more at his spot firmly placed beneath the door of the treasury. You immediately flung yourself into a trade of impossible circumstances to complete, one thought outrageously eclipsing the other with its demands. 

“I require three things in order for us to wed, former warlord of the seas,” you uttered in a low and serious tone. Drawing up the finger containing the moss agate ring, you placed it on your bottom lip to ensure the cursed item did not miss a single syllable of your demands.

“To wed, I require three items,” you narrowed your eyes and lowered your forehead to the floor. Glancing up at the World’s Greatest Swordsman, he ushered you to enlist your demands before the ring. Grasping at straws, you decided to list three impossible items that dawned on your mind, carelessly spitting them out as they dawned on you.

“For the ceremony; I require a dress that is as radiant as the moon. A dress that glows with a hue so majestic, it eclipses all else with its mastery,” you declared, drawing your irises up to meet the honey-hue of the man who was entrusted to fulfill such an obscure demand.

“And what of the other two, Governess?” he spat in a serious and low tone. Refusing to shy away from such a verbal challenge, you declared another outrageous demand.

“For the reception,” you quirked your head to the side, stepping yourself closer to his towing form, “I require a dress so magnificent, the stars are envious of its sparkling vibrancy. Deep and darkened material accompanied by dust and orbs of glimmering starlight is what I require.”

Refusing to draw down the ring from your lip, you drew yourself uncomfortably close to the lord of Kuraigana and maintained a serious air of propositional eye contact. 

“And the final demand?” He questioned, looking to your bottom lip lying flush against the cursed stone wrapped around your second littlest finger on your left hand. You took a moment to collect your thoughts, looking down at the piece clutched firmly against your finger. You sucked in a final, shaken breath through your teeth and parted your lips to release it from your chest with your last request.

“Sunlight,” you uttered quietly, drawing your eyes up to meet with the intense, narrowed gaze of the swordsman before you, “I require a dress that meets the intensity of the sun with its rays of gold and copper. An accumulation of material so outrageously forbidden, it be intended for your eyes alone with its intended purpose. A dress so scantily designed,” you stepped closer in proximity to the man before you, glaring up at him beneath his feathered hat, “that you will find none to ever match its equal in both color and provocative appearance. This be the final demand I ask of you, my lord.”

He sucked in a winced breath through his teeth and snarled at you.

“You ask me to meet three impossible circumstances for me to ever claim you as my bride?” He hissed, stepping closer into you. You felt his intense breaths exiting from his nose onto your face as he continued to snarl at you.

“Yes,” you nodded in confirmation. In your logic, if he was never able to meet those three impossible tasks - you would both get what you desired. Living forever in a dance of singledom, honing in to master your respective industries. 

“A dress akin to the glow of the moon,” he confirmed with a curt nod, “another that is as radiant as the stars that litter the night sky.” Stepping closer again to you, drawing the ring away from your bottom lip to claim within both of his hands. 

“And-,” he found the final demand catching within his throat. Watching the bob of his Adams apple brought you a sense of glee you did not intend of feeling on the first day you were invited to grace the presence of the castle; as you were initially hired to undertake the training of his two wards.

He uttered in a low tone, barely above a whisper; “lingerie that is as vibrant as the sun, cascading over your body with such radiancy that all those unintended to look upon it will shy away from its beauty.”

It was your turn now to click your neck under a graceful maneuver of rotating your chin. Extending your right hand out to him in a gentle and firm gesture, you confirmed his relay with a few words.

“Bring me such items,” you declared as he drew his hands up to meet with your own, “and we shall marry on the morrow the final demand is met.”

Clutching your right hand within his own right, he drew up his left hand to encase itself around it. Stooping in a low bow, he brought his face closer to your non-encompassed right hand and pressed his lips against the back of your knuckles with a chaste kiss; solidifying his promise to you with an utterance of confirmation.

“We will marry on the morrow.”

As he withdrew his face from your hand, you felt obliged to affix your gaze onto his retreating form. Relinquishing his hold on your hand, he looked to his two wards at his side and uttered a reprimand to scold the two of them.

“Do not think I will ever forget such a betrayal,” he hissed at both Perona and Zoro, swiftly falling his heavy feet against the polished marble towards the exit, “and you-,” You felt your heart rate quicken under his firm chastise, baring your unwavering gaze into his yellowed orbs. He sighed, taking a moment to collect himself before uttering a swift command; “get back to work.”

“Yes, sir,” you clicked your heels together and bowed lowly to the lord of Kuraigana, shutting your eyes to avoid his gaze as the great lord exited the treasury. The loud thump of your heartbeat echoed within the chasms of your hollowed chest, finality of the situation dawning on you.

You were now fixed to marry the former warlord of the seas. The World’s Greatest Swordsman. The never swaying gaze, the ever sought after bachelor of the four corners of the ocean. Something you had never desired; marriage. 

After taking a small moment to collect yourself, you turned to face both of the two wards falling within your care. You narrowed your eyes at Zoro, finding a small bead of sweat falling from his temple to drag itself down to his chin. Wordlessly. You drew your eyes over to Perona, watching as she gulped a dry mouthful of breath down into her throat.

“I hope you’re both well pleased with yourselves,” you monotonously informed them, relishing in the slump of their shoulders beneath your chastised words. Stepping forward, you reached your right hand over to Zoro’s, claiming the neck of the brown-stained beer bottle beneath your nimble fingers.

“You will now heed my every word.” you scolded him, drawing up your left hand to collect Zoro’s chin and elevate it for his hazelnut irises to meet your furious gaze. His breath halted in his throat as he was met with your complete ferocity and intensity. 

“My word is now law,” your tone continued to hold its low and serious air. Relinquishing your hold on Zoro’s chin, you stepped over to Perona and ensured her eyes would follow you, “Is that understood, pupils?”

Both of them enthusiastically nodded, prompting you to draw your thumb and index finger to your brow, pinching it below the pads of your fingers. 

“When I address you,” you warned them, relinquishing your hold on your brow, “You will respond with ‘Yes, my lady’. Is that understood?” 

“Yes, my lady,” they both spat out with haste, almost allowing a small stifled chuckle to find anchor within your throat, you hastily stifled it within your chest with a small, curt cough. 

“Good, pupils,” you praised them, turning to the door and walking swiftly over to it, “now, the real work begins.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-BONUS-.-.-.-.-.-.-

As Mihawk shut the iron-barred, wooden door behind him, he allowed himself to have a small emotional outburst as soon as he heard the ‘click’ of the hinges. The lingering warmth against his hands, the illusionary touch of your skin still pressed against his palms and fingertips continued to propel his fury onward. 

Why were you in the treasury? What possessed you to ever reach for such an item? Was it fate, or something else entirely?

These words flooded the brain of the dark-haired former warlord as his brows creased in the center with a rage he had not felt in some time. His lips curled back to bare his pearled teeth in a snarl, your demands echoing throughout his mind. He knew without a doubt you were challenging the curse carefully integrated into the moss agate ring. 

Were you aware that if he did not complete the challenge, he would die? Absolutely not.

After taking a moment to collect himself, he drew in a final baited breath and began listing the items you had demanded one final time. 

“A dress with the glowing hue of the moon, a dress littered with orbs akin to starlight, and-,’ his verbal list halted in his throat as he felt a warmth rise to taint his cheeks with a reddening glow, “-lingerie as forbidden as a kiss from the sun.”

He rotated his shoulders back to rid himself of the swelling tension from behind his new undertaking. Immediately, he began propelling himself closer to his personal wing with a sense of purpose now falling onto him. 

“If I am to take a bride,’ he uttered to himself, allowing a small breath of anger to escape from his lips, “she will want for nothing.” He, again, began calculating the price, location and availability of fabrics, seamstresses and designers from all corners of the seas. 

Once reaching his office, he stalked over to his desk and unceremoniously plonked himself into the studded, red armchair behind it. His elbows placed firmly against the desk, he cradled his forehead within his palms and allowed a shaken sigh to fall from his parted lips. After collecting himself, he withdrew a large amount of parchment paper and collected an inkpad and quill from his desk drawer. Beginning immediately with his undertaking, he was immediately seeking out the three impossible items. 

Reaching up his right hand and shutting his amber-hued irises, he ran his fingertips over his bottom lip as he recollected the smoothed back of your knuckles he caressed with them moments prior. Sighing out a shaken breath, he reopened his eyes and glanced at the parchment paper.

“I will not fail you, my lady,” he uttered to himself, scratching his quill against the parchment with flourish.

Chapter 2

Tag List:

@writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @since-im-already-here

[somanyratsinthewalls]

A Little Funny Business (+18)

Pairing: Buggy x Afab!Reader

WC: 3760

Summary: As a Warlord, you’re always being invited to prestigious Marine Events. With your insatiable sexual appetite, you use these events as a hunting ground for your next prey, and tonight you’re feeling a bit… silly. 

Warnings: Bisexual cunty BFF Mihawk, Alcohol consumption, Face Sitting (HONK), Oral Sex (m and f receiving), Inappropriate use of Devil Fruit Powers, nervous Bugs, Missionary, unprotected sex (bad idea!), cream pie (worse idea!), spitting, multiple orgasms, porn with a lot of plot for no reason. 

*authors note* I saw someone ask a few weeks ago for more fics about Buggy being a huge loser and I was a little inspired by that LOL he's such a dork wow

MINORS DNI YOU WILL BE BLOCKED

——

“And why do I need to come to this again? I have much better things to be doing than rubbing elbows with those fools.” Dracule ‘Hawkeye’ Mihawk was lounging in your parlor chair with his  boots kicked up on the glass coffee table, the large glass of red wine you had offered him swirling in his hand. He was your best… friend? As a fearsome pirate, no one had friends, per se, but he was probably the closest thing you had other than your own crew. 

“Because…” You emphasize while you throw on one of your dresses from behind your changing curtain. “I’m in the mood for a romp and if I can’t find someone I think can satisfy me tonight, I might as well bring along ole reliable.” You peek over the top of the curtain and shoot him a wink. Over the years you’ve known each other, you and Mihawk realized that you have incredible sexual compatibility but the thought of being in a committed relationship repulsed you both. 

Mihawk rolls his eyes at you. 

“For future reference, it’s not sexy to tell a man that he’s your second choice.” He smirked as he sipped his wine. He was indifferent, he just liked to poke fun at you. “So who do you have your eyes on, then? Another Admiral?” He teased.

You scoff as you exit the curtain in a red plunging, halter, backless gown with a slit up nearly to your hip. “After Aokiji? No way. His hands were so cold I felt like I was the the doctor’s office.” You give Mihawk a twirl, gesticulating at your dress. “Thoughts?” 

Mihawk takes another sip of his wine. 

“You look like a whore.” He smiles slightly and quirks up an eyebrow at your body. You turn around to face yourself in the mirror. You grin. 

“Perfect.”

— — 

Upon docking your ship at the upper-class Marine town where the ball was being held, you slipped on your jacket and heels and made your way to the banquet hall. You made sure to arrive fashionably late, to make your presence known once most of the attendees have already gotten comfortable in their cups. 

“Miss Y/n, I can take your coat, please allow me.” A dinky little pink-haired Marine Cadet gently shuffled your coat off your now bare shoulders. 

“Aren’t you cute, thank you dear. Keep it warm for me, hey?” With a wink you slipped a one-thousand berry note into his uniform pocket. 

“Y-y-y-yes! Of course, Miss! M-m-my pleasure!” The young cadet sputters out while hurrying off to hang your coat. 

You square your shoulders as you saunter into the extravagant banquet hall filled with important men and women. The hall had vaulted ceilings with beautiful skylights and the walls were adorned with gold appliqué and candelabras. You feel the eyes of many on you as you stroll towards the bar. 

“A gin martini please, up, extra dirty.” The bartender nods at you and begins mixing your cocktail. You reach into your purse for your pocket mirror and lipstick and reapply the gorgeous shade of red that matches your dress. After stowing your cosmetics, your drink was ready so you reach out and touch the martini glass. 

“Really? The Marines can’t even spring for chilled glasses?” You furrow your brow at how cheap the government organization had gotten lately. You hear a low chuckle from the man next to you. 

“Allow me.” You hear him say. Suddenly, as if by magic, a frost of ice begins to form from the bottom of your glass to the very top. Realizing who was standing beside you at the bar, you smile. 

“I wondered where you’d made off to. You never called me back, you know.” Admiral Aokiji looks down at you. 

“I do know. It’s nothing personal, Admiral, but keep frosting these glasses for me and I might just change my mind.” You wink and stroll back to the rest of the party with your drink. 

After scanning the crowd you see Mihawk seated at a table with a few others. He was hard to miss… he just had to bring that eyesore of a weapon everywhere. You take the seat next to him and put your drink on the table. 

“I miss anything good yet? Did the fishmen get here? They always make it weird.” You question Mihawk. 

“No, painfully boring as expected.” Mihawk swigs from his drink. “At least it’s an open bar. Have you found your ‘soup of the day’ yet?” He inquires about your hunt for your next sexual conquest. You laugh out loud at his phrasing. 

“Hah! Not yet. Old man Garp looks kind of nice lately though…” You say looking over your left shoulder at the vice-admiral who was paying attention only to the roving stewards with trays of meat-heavy appetizers. Mihawk crinkles up his nose slightly. 

“He looks like he bites. Not in a good way.” The two of you make eye contact then snort into your drinks trying to hold in your laughter. 

“Ah, my friends! What a pleasure to see you both!” A booming voice caused both you and Mihawk to turn around in your chairs. A massively tall, blonde, sunglasses-clad man was sidling your way. 

“Oh gods, why him? I thought for sure he wouldn’t make it…” Mihawk whispers as he takes a huge gulp of his drink. 

“Ugh.” You turn back towards the table, hoping he would just go away. 

“Is that any way to greet an old pal?” DonQuixote Doflamingo laughs as he muscles his way in-between the two of you. 

“Doflamingo.” You beam up at him with the fakest smile you could muster. You extend a limp hand which he takes in his much larger one. He licks his lips before he kisses it. “Couldn’t be bothered leaving that gaudy thing at the coat check?” You nod your chin towards his ridiculous hot pink jacket. Doflamingo chortles. 

“Always such a charmer, y/n. What does a King have to do for you to join them in his bedchambers tonight?” He licks his lips again. Still smiling at him widely, you respond. 

“When I say that I would rather cover a sea cucumber in sandpaper and-“

Doflamingo leans over you, trying to intimidate you. 

“You’re rejecting me? You must think I won’t kill every single one in here and then-“ 

Mihawk rises and pushes a hand against Doflamingo’s massive chest. 

“Wait until she has a few more martinis. She’s much more… adventurous. Speaking from experience… friend.” Mihawk dispels the situation with ease. Doflamingo huffs and heads off to converse with some Marine Higher-Ups. 

“He’s going to actually kill you one day, you know.” 

“I’d rather fight him than fuck him. He’s insufferable and you know it. Fucking bird brain.” You snap at Mihawk as you take the last sip of your drink. You notice Mihawk’s drink is empty as well. “Get me another drink, will you love?” You smile sweetly at the swordsman. 

“You’re lucky I can’t say no to you.” Mihawk grabs your empty glasses and leaves for the bar. You take this opportunity to scan the ballroom for potential lovers or anyone interesting enough to even have a conversation with. You were starting to regret even coming… when you overhear two marine captains chatting near you.  

“Who invited that guy?”

“Bro he’s a warlord now, can you believe that?”

“No way… he’s so… lame?”

This piqued your interest. You looked in the direction they were gesturing in. There was a man who had just arrived at the event, one you had yet to meet in person. This gentleman was wearing a slightly dirty orange fur jacket with a matching giant, orange pirate hat adorned with blue and green. What you noticed immediately, though, was his large, round, red nose. 

“Buggy the clown, nice to meet ya. It’s me, Buggy, the clown. The Genius Jester, Buggy the Clown, yes that’s me. Captain Buggy, pleasure to meet ya.” The silly looking man was shaking hands like he was running for office. It was corny and he was clearly out of place. You found yourself smiling at his awkward behavior. After pandering to the crowd, the clown eventually seated himself at a table across the room with a glass of whiskey. 

“Your martini, my lady, just the way you like it.” Mihawk returns with a new martini for you, unfortunately not chilled. 

“Thanks. Say, what do you know about the circus guy?” You nod in Buggy’s direction.

“Oh him? We have an old mutual friend. He’s an idiot. Everything good that’s ever happened to him he’s stumbled ass-backwards into it. I give it a week or two as a warlord before someone’s killed him for his spot.” Mihawk explains. 

“Interesting. I’ll be back.” You stride towards Buggy’s table at the opposite end of the ballroom. Without asking or saying anything, you take a seat right beside the clown. 

“Hi.” You lean on your elbow on the table with your head tilted to the side. 

“O-oh, Hi! You’re uh- um- y/n!” The clown stutters out, startled by your sudden appearance next to him. 

“Mhmm…. And you’re Buggy… Captain Buggy.” You look into his sea-glass colored eyes. 

“Y-yes! I am Captain Buggy the Clown. A powerful warlord of the sea!” He nervously chokes out at you.  You giggle. 

“Yeah, me too. So…” You draw circles on the table with your finger. “What brings you to some stuffy Marine function like this one? Doesn’t really seem like your speed.”

“Uh… The free food and booze, honestly.” 

You laugh. Buggy’s posture becomes less stiff and uncomfortable. 

“I’m glad we’re here for similar reasons, Mr. Clown.” You raise your martini glass in his direction. Buggy raises his whiskey and clinks his glass to yours. 

“Please, y/n, call me Buggy. Mr. Clown was my father.” 

Maybe it was the gin talking, but you found yourself laughing out loud at his stupid joke. You both finish your drinks after your toast. 

“Hey, y/n… wanna see a card trick?” Buggy pulls a crusty old deck of cards out of his coat pocket and starts shuffling them. Your eyes widen, not expecting this man to be fully committed to the clown bit. 

“Fuck it, show me.” 

Several minutes of shuffling and slight-of-hand go by before the clown pulls a Queen of Hearts out the deck. 

“Is this your card?” He raises an eyebrow at you. 

“No fucking shit!” You slam your hands on the table, genuinely impressed that he had picked your card. 

“Hah Hah! Told ya!” Buggy laughs as he finishes his drink. You notice his empty glass. 

“Let me get you another drink. Don’t go anywhere.” You wink as you grab your glasses and turn towards the bar. After ordering and receiving your two drinks, you spy Mihawk at the end of the bar facing outward. 

“So, how’s the plight of the huntress going? Anyone that you-“ He starts as he brings his drink to his lips, but you cut him off. 

“I’m going to fuck the clown.” You say with a deadpan expression. 

“Gods, y/n, what?” Mihawk chokes out after he spits out his drink. 

“Yep. See you!” You don’t give Mihawk a chance to criticize your choice before you walk off. You bring the drinks back to the blue-haired clown and sit down, pulling your chair close to his as you sit. 

“Thanks!” Buggy takes a big gulp of his drink, noticing that your knees are now touching his. “So… uh… y/n? I gotta ask… with all these big wigs here… why are ya talking to me all night?” 

You sense his insecurities. Cute, you thought. 

“Well, Buggy,” You emphasize his name. “Unlike you, I am not new to this game. And since I am not new to this game, frankly, I am bored. All these stuck up, no-fun, corporate dickheads make for a very boring party.” You grab his hand that’s clutching his drink on the table. “You however…” You stroke your thumb along the back of his glove. You could see a drop of sweat slide down his temple. “You are fun. I like fun.” 

Buggy giggles nervously.

“Heh, well, uh, t-thank you. You’re… you’re f-fun too…” He uses his free gloved hand to rub the back of his neck. 

“Do you wanna see how much fun I can be, Captain Buggy?” You cock your head to the side and place your other hand on his knee. Buggy’s eyes blow so wide you thought he had seen a ghost. 

“I-… I- Um… Ah!” He jolts as you slide your hand up his thigh, further trying to get your point across. 

“Want to come back to my ship with me, Buggy?” You lean and whisper in his ear. 

“Yes! Of course I do! Now? Can we go now?” He stands up. You laugh. 

“Follow me, funny guy.” 

— —

Buggy follows you all the way back to your ship like a lovesick puppy. Trailing behind you and asking you all kinds of questions and oversharing about himself. You board your ship and lead him into your luxurious captain’s quarters and close the door behind you both. 

“Wow it’s really nice in here, y/n! Who does your…-mmph!” Buggy is cut off by your lips smashing against his as you push him against the closed door. 

You wrap your arms around the back of his neck and kiss him deeper. You feel smooth gloved hands wrap around your waist as he finally kisses you back once the shock wore off. Your lips move slowly together at first. Buggy is awkwardly trying to find a rhythm, but after a few moments he feels confident enough to walk you backwards and push you both onto your plush pink comforter. Now laying down, you wrap your legs around his hips, effectively hiking your dress up and exposing your panties to him. Buggy pulls back breathlessly and looks down at you. 

“Uh, so, uh… I-I don’t do this a lot… A-Are you sure you want to-?” His brows are furrowed and his eyes are full of uncertainty. 

You bring your hands up and remove his hat and tossing it to the floor, smoothing his long blue hair off to one side. 

“Buggy. I want you. Please.” With your last plead, you bucked your hips upward to grind into his hardened bulge. Buggy’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. 

“Fuck! Okay, okay, okay- let’s get this thing off you, hey?” Hurriedly, Buggy lifts your already hiked up dress over your head leaving you fully exposed except for a red lace thong with a little wet patch right over your hole. His eyes dart from your naked breasts to your long legs to your clothed sex, before you snapped him out of it. 

“I think you have too many clothes on.” You jump up and slide his jacket off of his shoulders and then lift his shirt off his head as he takes off his trousers and boots. Not wearing underwear (you smirk at this realization) he was now naked in front of you. You grab his face with both hands and pull him into a passionate kiss. He falls on top of you again. But during your heated make out, you roll him over so that you’re on top, grinding your lace covered cunt against his hard cock. 

“Y-y/n! Ah!” Buggy moans out lewdly, and he isn’t even inside of you yet. Perhaps knowing he wouldn’t last long once he feels your warm insides sucking him in, he pleads with you.

“Let me taste you, please, y/n. Wanna make you feel good on me…” He was so desperate, it was so cute. You giggle.

“Aww, you’re so cute, Buggy. Of course I’ll let you have a taste. Now open wide baby…” You shuffle your way up to his face and straddle it with your body facing the headboard. You grip your panties and push them forcefully to the side, exposing your slick pussy mere millimeters above Buggy’s waiting mouth. You fully seat yourself down on his face, knowing he could take it. He was a warlord now, after all. 

“Mmmpph!” Buggy swirls his tongue experimentally around your slit, groaning at the sinful taste. He laps and sucks up and down your cunt until he eventually finds your clit, eliciting a loud moan from you when he slurps it between his lips. 

“Fuck, there!” You throw your head back in pleasure as the man below you learns what turns you on and how to bring you to that edge. “Just like that, fuck! Keep going!” He enthusiastically licks at your clit harder with your praise. He moves to slip his tongue into your hole, you sigh out and wind your hands in his hair below you. Instinctively, you push your cunt onto his face, trying to force his tongue deeper into you when you hear-

HONK!

You gasp as all motions on your sex stop and you look down. Nervous, anxious eyes look back up at you from between your legs.

“Buggy… baby…” 

“Y/n I-“

“Baby that’s so hot.” You were panting down at him. His expression became one of even more confusion. “I want more. Do it again.”

Buggy was in shock. There’s no way you were really saying his nose was… sexy? It was turning you on? You had to be joking. There’s no way that you-

Buggy’s thoughts were cut off by you pushing your pussy down onto his mouth again, whining and begging for more of his tongue. 

HONK!

“Please baby? Make me cum on that handsome face of yours.” You gasp out as he resumes his ministrations on your swollen clit. You close your eyes and moan loudly. You feel two hands massaging at your breasts, and you snap your eyes open to see two disembodied hands at your chest. 

“Shit, yes! I’m gonna- ah!” 

With a final pinch of your nipples and a harsh suck to your clit, your orgasm rips through your body and you shriek out and grab the headboard in front of you for balance. Shudders of pleasure still radiate through your body as you hear Buggy’s hands reattach to his body and he pulls you down onto the bed with him. He cradles your face and kisses you deeply. You moan at the taste of your release on his lips. 

Buggy pulls back from the kiss. 

“D-Do ya still want to-?” Buggy asked, hesitantly, like he didn’t just let you ride his face. 

“Gods, yes. Fuck me.” You sighed as you slipped your panties all the way off and laid back on the bed with your legs spread. You were wiped from your orgasm, but your hole was still aching to be filled by the clown. He climbs on top of you and smiles a wicked smile. 

“Get it nice and wet for me first, kay?”

Suddenly you feel something velvety and hard tap against the side of your mouth. You glance down and see Buggy’s detached cock prodding at your kiss-bitten lips. You mindlessly obey and open your mouth and allow Buggy to slide it onto your tongue hands (and body) free. You wrap your lips around his shaft and try to suck it in as far as it will go down your throat. 

“W-wow doll, you really are somethin’!” Feeling himself already losing it at your cock-hungry expression, he pulls himself from your lips and attaches his spit-soaked cock back to his body, positioned at your dripping hole. 

“Just fuck me already, Buggy!” You grab his ass and push his hips into yours. He gets the message and swiftly bottoms out inside of you, the sloppy wetness of your saliva and arousal making it easy to slip right in. His long blue locks are splayed over his bare shoulders that stutter as he tries to compose himself now that he’s fully buried in your hot sex. You groan out, finally feeling him fill you. 

“FUCK, y/n!” Buggy leans forward and bites deeply into your neck, still trying to steel himself. Thinking this would keep him from cumming immediately, it had the opposite effect. When you felt his teeth in your neck, your cunt clenched on him so tight that it triggered his orgasm. Buggy’s eyes roll back and he muffles his moan. He can’t let you know that he came so early. 

Fighting overstimulation, he shallowly starts thrusting his hips into yours. Buggy whimpers at the feeling of his oversensitive cock gliding through your slippery, now cum-coated walls. 

“Harder, fuck me harder, PLEASE!” You were begging him to rail you, and he knew he had to give it to you. Hearing you plead made him fully hard again immeasurably quickly. Buggy places one hand on your hip and angles himself to thrust upwards inside your cunt. 

“That’s so good baby, please, right there just like that, you’re doing so good for me.” You slid your left hand down and rubbed your clit in tight circles. 

“Fuck, let me…” Buggy slaps your hand away to replace it with one of his now detached hands. He slows down his thrusts enough to drop a glob of spit down onto your clit and start rubbing it himself. 

“Bugs, fuck! Gonna cum! Ah, shit… yes!” You jolt upwards and waves of pleasure start overtaking your body. Buggy fucks you through your orgasm and picks up his pace. He attaches his hand and now places both hands on your hips to slam you onto his cock at a breakneck speed.

“Gonna fucking make you mine…. All mine…”

“Ah- yes- yours- fuck-“ You sputter out incoherently as you bounce back and forth against the bed on Buggy’s cock. 

“There it is baby… yes-!… ” Buggy slams his hips into yours deeply and empties himself for a second time inside of you tonight. After catching his breath in the crook of your neck, Buggy rolls off of you and lays his head on the pillow next to yours. You both make eye contact and start laughing. 

Buggy eventually rolls his body into a sitting position and rises from the bed. He begins picking up his belongings and tries pulling his shirt over his head. You sit up and look at him, while pulling the blankets over your body. 

“You’re not staying?” You inquire of your clown lover. 

“I-I wasn’t… I mean I wasn’t invited to sleep- sleep over? You know? I didn’t want to-“ He stutters out, his shirt on, dick still out in front of you. You giggle and flop back on the bed. 

“Get in here. I may be tired now, but I might want to see what else those chop-chop powers can do in the morning.” 

Buggy strips his shirt again and hops under the covers with you. 

“Doll, you haven’t even seen the half of it.”

xx 

[buggysangel17]

Dissolution

Summary: The abolishment of the Seven Warlords has finally come, but it seems Mihawk is no longer alone in cleaning up the mess that the Marine has placed upon him. Characters: Dracule Mihawk x Wife!Female Reader (Amihan) Word Count: 926 Chapter Warnings:  None divider by: @cafekitsune

Masterlist | Series Masterlist || Send Me An Ask?

“Your people’s debt is paid and there is a ship already waiting for you with everything you would need for your journey back to your island.”

There was a mix of sadness in the very root of Mihawk’s system as he stared as his wife, no, you were not his wife. Not in the way he would have hoped you to be one at least. You were a companion to him, a woman that was taken as collateral but had grown so fond of.

But there was also the excitement that never truly left him, not just for the Marine’s eventual arrival to take him away, but it was the excitement of the day that would come where he would see you again, on a much different circumstance than what was initially given to the both of you.

Maybe in another life, if the circumstance was in both of your favor. He would have loved to have you as his wife and profess his devotion to you in a way that you deserved. But it wasn’t in this moment, he loved you too much to allow you to be involved in the crossfire with the Marines.

“What are you talking about?”

The sound of the siren echoed through the outside walls of the castle. It was time.

“Surrender yourself now! “Hawk-eye” Mihawk!”

There was a trembling coursing through his fingers as he finally held onto his sword. But he wasn’t worried about himself, more worried about you. He placed his hat back on as he looked at you, genuinely looked up at you from where he sat.

This was the very thing that he loved so much about you. You feared nothing, the moment he had arrived at your island you held a sword right onto his neck, unfazed by his notoriety and the death that paved his way. You looked at him without fear and without doubt. He was certain that you would fight now if he so much as asked you, but he wouldn’t. He didn’t allow such a burden to also be placed on your shoulders because of him. It was too much that he had taken you away from your family. He will not allow for you to also take your life away that was all too precious to him.

“You need to leave, the Marines will be after me and I am uncertain if I will be able to keep you safe during the fight.”

It was his fear, more than you being a burden to him in this moment. He did not have the heart to allow you to be placed in the middle of all of this. He had feared that should either of you be able to escape this, the Marines would also place a bounty on your head, a target on your back that he no longer had the power to absolve you of.

“I’m not leaving.” Your voice held no hesitation as you tore the floor length dress you had on.

His brow quirked in wonder with what you had planned. Watching you dismantle one of your dresses’ skirt until it now reached above your knees, and the sleeves were haphazardly torn off without much effort much to his surprise. But then again, you were truly full of surprise.

“Am I your wife, Mihawk?” You inquired, voice never once wavered as your eyes stared onto the window, the blaring lights of the impending attack of the Marines were drawing near.

“You are.”

“Then as your wife, I will stand by you, when death takes my hand, I will hold you with the other and promise to find you in every lifetime.”

It was a vow, a vow that has never once escaped your lips during your arranged ceremony all those years ago. But you spoke of it as if it was a vow you had made since the beginning.

“But you can’t fight them with what they have in store. We have not yet trained you to your true potential.”

You smiled, holding onto his sword for a moment but he held onto it tighter but his eyes lingered on your skin as you held onto the base, A black essence had seeped through your skin and into your veins from just holding onto his sword. His eyes narrowed as you pulled away and your eyes turned to look at him.

“I know it’s far too late to explain myself now, but the Devil fruit that my people have been hiding for so long isn’t placed in a secured place as you had once believed.”

Taking a step back, he had watched you place your palms together, watching the black essences move upward to your palm and as your opened your hands, a sword quite similar to his own slowly materialized from your palms.

“I’ve already eaten the Ken Ken No Mi.” You confessed. “That’s the reason why my family has been isolating me from the world since I was a child.” You continued holding the sword in a stance that he would have never expected from you.

You held onto the sword in your hand. The exact replica of his Yoru sword gleamed ominously, and she wielded it with a grace that defied belief, even for someone like him, deemed the greatest Swordsman known to man.

“Aren’t you full of surprise, My Dear?” He chuckled finally standing up realizing that the circumstance would become more entertaining indeed.

“Isn’t that why you agreed to marry me, Dear Husband?” You quipped right back.

“Touché, my love. Touché.”

[salty-says]

Ok wtf the post went away but the lovely @amortentiaz asked for monster trio + Shanks reaction to reader that was previously involved with other pirates romantically!

Monster Trio + Shanks

• When Luffy first saw you, he instantly knew you had to be a member of his crew. You are strong and carry yourself quite confidently. When you helped him out reluctantly in a scuffle with Marines he asked you to join and absolutely didn’t take no for an answer.

• You quickly got along with the rest of the crew as you already had proved yourself greatly by helping them out in a tight pinch.

Luffy

•Luffy didn’t really understand his attraction to you at first as he never felt something like that for anyone else. He was confused as to why he felt differently about you than the rest of the crew.

•He finally admitted to you that being around you “feels like he’s going into Gear 2” as his heart starts pumping rapidly and he feels stronger.

•Soon enough you reciprocated his feelings and he was overjoyed. He treated you very special and because of this he let you nap with him and “share” some of his food (the crumbs).

•One day Robin was reading the paper during breakfast and mentioned that Sir. Crocodile had been prosecuted into Impel Down. Immediately you froze and asked to see for yourself.

•You couldn’t believe your eyes when you saw that he was in fact in Impel Down. After not hearing from him in years this was certainly a shock.

•Usopp watching this questioned your odd behavior but you tried to hide it best you could. Robin being the second in command to Crocodile during her time with Baroque Works interjected, “Did they not tell you that they had a ‘thing’ with Crocodile?”

•Immediately everyone in the room froze. The tea Sanji was pouring splashed onto the ground, Usopp’s jaw fell to the floor, and Chopper’s eyes looked as if they popped out of his head.

•You looked down and blushed shamefully not knowing how to even recover from that. “Is that true?” Nami asked. All you could do was nod your head in response.

•Then they turned to Luffy who was still gouging his way through his meal, and stealing the forgotten food off of the others’

• “Are you going to say anything about this Luffy?” Usopp asked. Luffy paused his eating momentarily and quirked a brow. “What do I need to say about it?” Nami shrieked at Luffy, “Do you really not care that they had a personal relationship with Crocodile? Remember the one that stuck his hook through your body?”

•Luffy only furrowed his brows in confusion, “Why should I care who my partner was romantically involved with. It’s their past and I don’t have any reason to pry in out of them. Plus it’s over and they like me so.”

•Your eyes widened as you looked at Luffy. You smiled and blushed knowing you hit the jackpot with the captain.

Zoro

•Zoro didn’t care much for relationships, believed that they were merely a distraction. But when you came along he decided that maybe something casual wouldn’t hurt.

•He was blunt with it, telling you his feelings. Doesn’t do much physical affection until it’s night and he uses you as a personal teddy bear. He doesn’t need constant reassurance of your feelings for him and that’s what he likes most about you

•One night as you were up in the crow’s nest with him after her just got out of the shower you mustered up the courage to ask how he got that giant scar on his chest.

• “Battled the world’s greatest swordsman when I really shouldn’t have” He simply responded looking for his shirt. “And he did that to you?” You asked. “Yeah, I got owned by Mihawk.”

•You paused before your eyes widened and you turned to be face to face with Zoro, “Mihawk did that to you? The Dracule Mihawk?” Zoro furrowed his brows, “I’m pretty sure there isn’t any other master swordsman named Mihawk. Why do you ask?”

•You paused debating to tell him. “Oh, nothing…” Zoro knew this was a lie and kneeled in front of you gripping your chin and turning it towards him, “Tell me.”

•You sighed and pulled your legs to your chest, “You’re going to hate me if I tell you.” Zoro smirked, “Is that so? I want to know even more, now.”

•You exhale and look away once again, “I had sex with Mihawk.” You said swiftly hoping he wouldn’t catch all of it. Out of all the things to confess he never believed you would say that. Zoro paused and stared at you in disbelief. After a bit he squeezed his eyes shut and breathed in deeply, “How long ago?”

•You looked in his general direction but avoided his eyes, “Honestly, the last time was like a couple weeks before I met you guys.” Zoro’s eyes shot open, “A couple wee-…?! Did you just say ‘last time’? It happened more than once?!”

•You squeaked a bit, “Are you sure you want to know the answer to that?” “YES!” You bit your lip, “I don’t even know like a lot. And I mean a lot. He may not show but goddamn he can get quite passionate, and it-”

•Zoro put a hand over your mouth, “Before you ask I’m not mad. But I do have to ask, was he bigger than me?”

Sanji

•Lover fucking boy Sanji. When you came along gosh he felt so many emotions rushing to his body. Instantly fell in love but it felt different than the love he felt for anyone else.

•Gives little treats to spoil you, makes you specialty dishes and constant hugs. Gosh he just loves you so much and you can’t help but love him back.

•Feels so genuinely in love and lucky to be with you. Doesn’t fully understand why you chose him but tries not to think about it to often. Loved when you join him during his meal prep time. You guys talk and he makes you try different things to see if you like it.

•After a meal one night you offered to help him with dishes and even after him rejecting your offer countless times you still managed to wiggle your way over to the sink. He compromised by letting you dry to dishes and you rolled you eyes and obliged.

•After you guys finished Sanji lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. He released the smoke out and sighed contentedly. You smiled mischievously and grabbed it out from his lips and took a drag yourself.

•exhaling the smoke you managed to keep back the coughs that wanted to escape your throat. Needless to say Sanji was very shocked at this sudden new revelation.

•He took back the cigarette in his hand and took a drag of his own, “You never told me you smoked.” A small cough escaped your throat and Sanji quirked a smile, “I haven’t in a while.”

•Sanji raised his brow, “You used to?” You smiled slightly shifting on your feel noticing the conversation shifting in a direction you hadn’t told him about yet. “Yeah, but only once in a while. My ex smoked cigars more than 8 times a day.”

•Sanji nodded and his heart raced nervously as this was the first you had mentioned anything about your ex to him, “That doesn’t sound healthy, I mean I know I’m not one to talk, but more than 8?! He’s basically asking to die.”

•You chuckled and shrugged your shoulders, “Well they can’t actually hurt him, believe it or not.” Sanji’s head cocked in confusion, “How’s that?”

• You sighed deciding now was the best time to tell him, “Devil fruit. Guy was actually made of smoke.” At this Sanji inhaled too quickly and started a coughing fit. You panicked and rubbed his back trying to soothe him through it.

• Once he regained his compuse, “Sorry, mon ange, but you’re not insinuating that you ex is that marine captain Smoker, are you?” You went silent. “Are you?!” He asked more impatiently.

•You looked down and nodded, knowing it was shameful for a pirate to ever be involved with a marine. You looked up to meet Sanji’s flabbergasted gaze, “I know, and I’m sorry I never told you. It’s not fair to you. I understand entirely if this changes your feelings for me. I will not hold anything against you if you don’t want to be with me.”

• At this Sanji straightened up and regained his composure. Quickly putting out his cigarette he cupped your cheeks softly. “Oh mon ange, my feelings for you could never change. If you think this silly thing is enough to stunt my love you are truly mistaken. I love you so much! Something like this, yes, is surprising. However, you’re with me now and I’m the luckiest man in the world to be able to call myself your boyfriend. Do you understand me, ange?”

•Tears filled your eyes as you launched yourself into Sanji’s arms. “I love you.” Sanji smiled and held you close, “I love you too.”

(I know Smoker is a marine not a pirate but I thought he was a good character to put)

Shanks

•Shanks met you on an island and knew he had to take you with him on his adventures. You were a proud member of the Red-Haired Pirates and the proud partner of Red-Haired Shanks.

•Shanks loved to party and get drunk with you. Loved laying sloppy booze tasting kiss to your mouth. And absolutely lost it when you sat in his lap as the rest of the crew partied around you guys.

•You a more on the light-weight side always got giggly when you were drunk. As you sat on Shank’s lap you told him the most random things from your life. Tonight you decided to tell him about one of your old romantic conquests.

• “You wanna know s’mthin crazy Shanks?” You lazily asked him, your head resting on his shoulder. He smiled down at you, “Yeah, what’s that?” You giggled into his neck, “I once dated a clown. An actual fucking clown. You ‘leive that?!”

•Shanks paused for a moment before images of his old buddy Buggy resurfaced. Shanks smirked and looked down at you, “Let me guess, his name was Buggy?”

• “Nuh Uh. You’re s’upid. His name was Bugg- wait how’s you know?!” You sat up quickly.

•Shanks had never been more amused in his life, “I’m just really good at guessing.” You grimaced, “Are you mad at me because I dated someone ‘fore you?”

•Shanks brought you in for a quick kiss, “Nope!” You looked at him shocked, “Really!?” He kissed your nose, “How could I be mad when I dated the clown too?”

• You sighed and went back to resting against his chest, “Feel better now…WAIT WHAT?!”

(I know Ace was supposed to be in here but I truly don’t know how to write for Ace bc I have a shallow understanding of his character and I didn’t want to give a shitty one so I simply just didn’t include him)

[short-honey-badger]

Peppermint Tea 30 - All Blends

Alright. We're jumping around quite a bit here. Also, I'm doing my own thing with the OP timeline. I tried to keep it as close to Canon as I could in the beginning, but we're gonna go a little off course now. Hope ya don't mind!

Warnings! Mihawk and Shanks have a pity party, and some smut happens. Out reader gets some company she really doesn't want.

Masterlist

Mihawk cradles brow in one hand, his head pounding in a hangover. After his Angel had ended the call, he and Shanks had cracked open the “good stuff” as the redhead called it. He must have passed out still sitting in his chair, and the young man had curled up on the loveseat tucked in the back corner of his study. He wipes his eyes, grimacing at the state of himself. The warlord had definitely let himself go in these two weeks.

How could he not when you had sent him away? Told him to leave with such a cold look that he had no idea how you felt about all of this other than utter betrayal? Mihawk couldn't get his mind off of his angel. Were you okay? Were you getting enough to eat?

He and Shanks had taken up a lot of duties around the cottage as the weeks passed. Doting on you and making sure that you and their baby wanted for nothing. Shanks liked to cuddle you close on the couch, making sure that you couldn't move while Dracule uttered around the house, cleaning up after a lazy week and taking care of the early morning chores.

“I bet she'll have red hair and big golden eyes just like her daddies,” Shanks murmurs into your ear, his single arm curled around your waist and holding you to his chest. You blush at his words, eyes closed as you imagine a little girl like your lover describes, laughing and playing in the shallow waters.

Mihawk leans against the wall that separates the kitchen and living room, a fond smile playing on his lips as he watches his two dearest ones laid up on the couch together.

He pushes himself back, wobbling to his feet and groaning when his stomach sloshes dangerously. His head feels full, mouth dry, and cottony. Every step makes the pain in his head spike, and Mihawk shoves at Shanks’ shoulder when he makes it to the loveseat.

The redhead makes a sound closer to a wounded elephant than a human, cracking his dark eyes open to glare at Mihawk. The warlord shoves at him again. He sighs heavily before shifting to lay on his back. Satisfied, Dracule draps himself over the broader man, tucking his face in the crook of Shanks’ neck and sighing when he feels an arm sling across his back.

The two of them lay there for a while, dozing off at some point and waking back up to find a more comfortable position before dozing back off.

Dracule wakes to the feel of nails scratching his scalp. He hums low in his throat, pushing his face into his tan skin and pressing his lips along the sensitive skin. He leaves a smattering of kisses there, lips quirking up when Shanks tightens his arm around his waist. A soft groan leaves the younger man when Mihawk shifts up to run his lips along his scruffy jawline, and his eyes crack open when Dracule kisses him.

The kiss is slow and steady, a sweet push and pull that stays innocent. Mihawk pulls away and rests his head on his lover's chest, pillowed on the strong pecs there, eyes sliding shut until he breathes deep and gets a whiff of them both.

Mihawk jerks his head up, lips curling in a sneer. Neither of them have taken very good care of themselves and had continued their self-destruction after you had called, wallowing in self-pity and lamenting about their shitty choices.

“I never should have told her, Shanks,” Mihawk bemoans into the glass of hard liquor. The redhead stares down at his lover and shakes his head at the wreck slumped over his desk, “Perona has not stopped her incessant whining. I know I'm in the wrong.”

“I know, baby. She'll call again, though. I'm sure she will,” Shanks murmurs and then pours them both drinks. He leans his weight into Mihawk. “She just needs some time.”

After you called last night and more or less sober and hungover, Mihawk wasn't very inclined to continue his beder. Hawkeye wonders where the ghost girl had run off to. He vaguely remembers shouting at her a couple of days into his self-destruction. His head hurt too much to think about that right now.

Mihawk shoves himself up from Shanks, making the redhead huff and trying to pull him back down.

“Let me go, Shanks. We need to get up,” Dracule grumbles at the younger man. He has to wrestle his shirt out of the redhead's grip and quietly curses him when it causes Mihawk to tilt dangerously to the stone floor.

“Noooo. Stay here. It's cold, and you're warm,” Shanks whines and makes a grabby hand at his hawk.

“Red, we stink worse than a dive bar. I'm getting up to bathe,” Mihawk hisses right back and finally stands from the loveseat.

“_, would kill us if she saw us like this. Come on. We need to clean up.”

It takes a bit more coaxing for Shanks to get up, and he's all but useless in trying to direct to the bathroom. The redhead is still drunk as hell, and Mihawk has to sling the Emperor’s arm over his shoulders to get him going. Dracule grumbles all the way to the bathroom and drops Shanks on the nearest stool. He sways to the side, only to jerk back up when Mihawk smacks the side of his face just hard enough to sting.

“Wake up, Red. I am not washing you.”

Shanks pouts, hand holding his sore cheek as he gives Mihawk the best stink eye he can muster up right now. His hurt feelings dissipate the moment his woozy mind catches up to where they are, and his eyes zero in on Mihawk when the older man begins to undress.

He watches his hawk peel away his shirt, exposing his muscled back and tapered waist. Shanks feels his mouth run dry, and he wants more than anything to explore that smooth expansion of flesh with his teeth and tongue. To leave behind his own marks. He keeps watching, cock hardening in his pants when Dracule shucks off his pants, giving Shanks an excellent view of his backside and creamy thighs that he wants wrapped around his waist. He can't help the groan of want that leaves him when his treasure bends over to turn in the faucet.

Dracule glares at Shanks from over his shoulder, cheeks coloring when he notices those stormcloud eyes eating him up. He whips back around and gets into the hot spray of the shower, ignoring how his thighs tremble and his dick twitches in interest. He begins to wash, body relaxing at finally being clean, and a weight he didn't realize was there lifted from his shoulders.

It doesn't take long for Shanks to join him, and though he said he wasn't going to help the younger man, he did. Taking the loofah from the redhead and motioning for him to turn around so that Mihawk could scrub his back. He scrubs that shaggy red mane until Shanks looks more like a poodle than human. He huffs at the image, feeling forlorn when he thinks of you and how you would have snickered at the two men being silly.

Mihawk washes his own hair while Shanks stands under the hot spray of water, watching the way the water ran down that perfect body and feeling hungry. He waits until Mihawk and he swap places, watching the warlord rinse his hair before Shanks drops to his knees, hand coming up to curl around one muscular thigh.

Dracule jumps at the sudden touch, opening his eyes and glancing down to see Shanks kneeling before him. His cock floods with blood, and he almost feels light headed with how quickly it happens.

“Let me make you feel good, baby,” Shanks murmurs into the thigh he isn't holding. He kisses the inside, teeth nipping at the delicate flesh and making Mihawk jerk in his hold. He looks up, smirking when he notices the flush on his lover's face and the barely there nod he received.

Shanks releases the leg he holds, smoothing his hand over the older man's hip and digging his thumb into the dip of his waist. He relents and keeps going, fingers gently stroking the sensitive skin of his tests before wrapping around the base of Dracule's dick.

He pumps the other man, eyes landing on the bead of precum that wells up, and he leans in and licks it away before the shower could claim it. Mihawk hisses at the kitten licks, one hand finding the wall while the other slips into Shanks’ hair to hold tight. He leans in, lips wrapping around the head of his cock and suckling lightly, tongue rubbing teasing circles on the bottom of his length.

Mihawk curses quietly, hips jumping forward to find more of that welcoming heat. Shanks eagerly takes more of him down, jaw dropping and throat relaxing until his nose bumped against Dracule's pelvis. He swallows around the cock in his mouth, humming low in his throat and loving the way that Mihawk clenched his eyes shut and ruts into his mouth without abandon.

Dracule loves it when you suck him off, but Shanks has always been the best at giving head. The man had zero gag reflex and had had no problem when Mihawk became rough, fingers tangled in those red locks and moving Shanks the way he wanted. He fucks that sinful mouth, teeth bared as his orgasam crests closer and closer to he edge.

It's a surprise to both of them when cum floods Shanks’ mouth, and the redhead’s eyes flutter as he swallows It all down, lips and tongue massaging the length In his mouth until it grows soft and Dracule it pushing him away, grumbling about how sensitive it is. Shanks presses his face to a pale thigh and looks up through his lashes at Mihawk.

The hand in his hair loosens and gently strokes the wet hair out of Shanks’ face, and he aims a tiny smile at the younger man. The two of them stay in the shower until their fingers prune and the water runs cool. They dry and dress in clean clothes, leaving the bathroom for the kitchens where Shanks tries to help Mihawk cook breakfast.

The two men hover around one another for the rest of the day, hardly leaving the other's side. Mihawk puts away the alcohol and wonders outside, breaking in the gloomy air of his island. Shanks stops beside him, arm hooking around his waist and pressing his cheek to the other man's.

“I hope she calls soon,” he murmurs quietly.

Mihawk nods, pressing back into the redhead's scratchy cheek, chest tight and full of worry for his angel so far away from them.

“Me too, Dear.”

~~~~~~Line Break~~~~~~

One month ago

In the New World on Whole Cake Island, Wiseman ran through the palace halls, dodging servants and children alike to get to his captain. He is stopped outside of the courtroom by her guards, but they let him pass after confirming who he is. Inside, Big Mom and Katakuri are speaking, and Wiseman waits patiently for his Captain to acknowledge his presence.

“Well, if it isn't one of my oldest crew, what brings you back here? Hmmm?” Big Mom demands of him from a top her sentient cloud.

Wiseman bows low and then straightens back up, giving his Captain a lopsided smile.

“I overheard something that may be of importance to you. Red Haired Shanks has apparently found himself a woman. One that happens to be the lost princess to the Nammi Isles. I tracked his ship, and her island was back in Paradise, close to Little Garden, safe and tucked away beside the Calm Belt.”

Big Mom grins, plans already forming in her mind about which of her sons she could marry the little brat off to. This was the perfect leverage she needed to get to his brother, too.

“Well done, Wiseman. Take whoever you need and go retrieve our lost pet, would you?”

Wiseman grins, and dips his head, “The pleasure would be mine.”

~~~~~~Line Break~~~~~~

Tomura was glad that his crew was full of marines who could be called competent most of the time. The other half of the time, the devil fruit user wondered why he kept them around. However, his crew must be able to tell that he wasn't in the mood for any kind of nonsense they could stir up. He'd left the backwater island as swiftly as he could after Smoker had informed him of the rumor about his sister. However, the Grand Line was unpredictable, and the weather had turned to shit not a week into their journey back to the safe house on his sister's island.

If the rumor had already made its rounds, there was little doubt that Big Mom knew about his sister. The thought of the Emperor getting her fat, grubby hands on you made Tomura's blood boil, red eating at the corners of his eyes and he's broken more than one railing on the ship in his rage.

The same private from earlier hadn't left his side, always ready and eager to help his Vice Admiral with anything Delemur may need. Nitchell was also incredibly curious about what had sent his superior into such a tizzy.

He shoved his brown hair back under his cap and went to the Vice Admiral's side, standing at attention until Tomura rolled his eyes and told him to stand at rest.

“What do you want?”

Nitchell licked his lips. He wanted to ask, but he also didn't want to be tossed overboard.

“Orders were to head to Dressrosa and help mitigate the damages that the Straw Hats left behind, Sir. But we're going back to Paradise.”

Tomura glared at the horizon. They were finally making good headway and would make it to the navy sanctioned area of the Calm Belt in the next day or so. He cuts his eyes at the private, turning to give Nitchell his full attention.

“You want to know why?”

The private nods, and Tomura sighs heavily, leveling the younger man with a narrowed eyed look.

“Not a lot of people know I've got a sister out there, and I think she might be in trouble.”

~~~~Line Break~~~~

Present Day.

Perona had left three days ago, and you felt even more lonely than you had before she'd shown up. It had been nice to catch up with the other girl, however, and assured her that you would call her if you needed anything.

You sat on the couch, curled up on your side with Mihawk's coat draped over you like a blanket, wearing one of the redhead's shirts like usual. As the weeks passed and your belly grew, you found that none of your clothes fit you anymore. It's been a slap in the face that had made you break down for the third time that day.

Sukuna and Hank lay with you. The fluffball curled across your swollen belly, and your shaggy dog lay over your legs. The record player belted out a slow tune that made you think about Mihawk and had mist gathering in your eyes. Fuck. You missed your boys so freaking much.

Hank wishes that his human would start feeling better. She'd been down and sad for so long that the scent of her angst was stuck in his nose. He knew that Sukuna fared no better than him.

His ears twitched when the crashing of the ocean waves broke, and his sensitive ears picked up the sound of loud human voices jeering and yelling. Hank raises his head, curious if it were the same humans that the redhead led, but he didn't hear anything familiar about any of the loud sounds. He looks Sukuna's way and sees that the cat's ears are flat against his skull and knows that whoever is on their island aren't nice people.

You jerk up when a low growl erupts in the room. You have never heard Hank make that sound before, and before you know it, Sukuna is joining him.

Outside, Neal bleats loudly, his sensitive nose picking up the scent of humans who don't belong here. He circles back and forth in his pen and bleats again, louder this time to get Hank and Sukuna's attention.

Snow sprouts out around you, fear curdling in your stomach as the animals continue to show such aggressive behavior. Hank and Sukuna jump off the couch, the cat's tail lashing, and he hisses at you when you go to follow them, making you jerk back in hurt.

“What the hell is going on?” You demand, and that's when you hear the sound of yelling, men and women stomping up your path from the beach. Your eyes go wide, and you are quick to run to your bedroom, finding your snail phone and booking it out the back entrance, Hank and Sukuna on your heels.

You have no idea who is on your island, but you have a horrible feeling about it, and you do not want to be found.

From here you can see the silhouette of a group of about fifteen people, you can't make out any faces, but one of them has a shirt that sports a familiar jolly roger, and you know who is on your island at that moment.

Somehow, Big Mom had found you.

You circle around them, heart in your throat as Hank and Sukuna keep close to you. You run the length of the thick forest and curse your island for being so damn small. The only place you could hide would be the caves up in the mountains, but even then, there were hardly any big enough for you to fit inside any of them.

You aren't sure how much time has passed by the time you make it up the short mountain, but you are exhausted, and your feet are killing you. You would have used your devil fruit, but after a long talk with Mihawk and Shanks, the three of you agreed that using the fruit would put you and the baby in far too much risk. Who knew what could happen if you turned to snow while still pregnant.

Thankfully, Hank had led you to a cave that the three of you could fit inside. Your heart ached for your chickens and Neal, and you could only hope that the pirates had left them alone.

With trembling hands, you dial Mihawk's transponder snail, but it rings and rings without an answer. You curse as tears fill your eyes, terror eating away at you when the sound of yelling could be heard getting closer.

You could hear them calling out your name, assuring you that you were safe and everything would be alright. Lies. All of it.

You dial Perona next, and thankfully, the ghost girl picks up after a couple of rings.

Ca-lick

“Hello? _, is that you?”

You sniff loudly and clear your throat, “Perona. I- I need help. I think Big Mom's crew is here.”

You hear Perona curse loudly and yell for one of her stuffies to hold the wheel of the ship she'd taken from Gloom Island.

“Are you safe? Have you called Mihawk?”

“He didn't answer. Please, get a hold of him. I'll keep trying on my end.”

Perona quickly promises the same and then hangs up after demanding that you be careful. You promise to try and then end the call, quickly ringing for Mihawk again. You try Shanks next and could have cried when the transponder connects.

Ca-lick

“This is Beckmann.”

“Ben!” You cry and clutch the snail to your chest, sobs coming in hard at hearing his voice. If Ben had answered, then Shanks had to be near, “I need help! The Big Mom pirates are here.”

You hear him curse even more colorfully than Perona, and then he assures you that he would get Shanks back on the ship as soon as possible. You thank him and then hand up, fingers shaking as you try Mihawk's number again and again.

The sound of hissing and Hank snarling grab your attention, and you jerk your head up to see a gaggle of lights coming up the mountain. You press yourself into the cave, dragging Hank and Sukuna close to keep them hidden, but it is all for nothing. Your heart jack hammers when the lights crest the rocky pathway, and you are greeted by the sight of two men looming over you. One is older with well kept Grey hair pulled into a half bun. He wears a three piece suit and has a vile grin on his face.

The other is short and stout, arms jointed in two separate areas and dressed similarly to the older man. He looks just as gleeful to see you as the other one.

“Looks like Red Hair was right, Wiseman,” the short one says and leans in close, sneering down at you.

“Big Mom will be pleased.”

@writingmysanity @djbumblebee @goth-mami-writer @myradiaz @fluffybunnyu @bookandstar @foggyturtleknightangel @browneyedhufflepuff @anastasiyax @jaguarthecat @atricksterwithwings @black-swan-blog27

[silverinkbottle]

Catch and Release pt. 1

Summary: It's been five years since you first met Dracule Mihawk. Things haven't changed, until one night, they do.

Word Count: 8.8K

Warnings: Explicit references of prostitution, violence, foul language. Sexual Content= fingering, clit stimulation, the wonderful female orgasm. Just slapping on an 18+ warning here now.

F!Reader is a Madam of a ship brothel.

Author Notes: My first ever Tumblr fic! I hope everyone enjoys, I do have more coming down the pipeline! I know my writing style may be a bit different than the usual, so if you have any kind tips please drop an inbox!

Chapter 2 ->

There were times you regretted entering into your agreement with Dracule Mihawk. It was supposed to be a simple exchange of commerce. Your esteemed company on occasion and a consistent exchange of information at the notorious Warlord’s leisure. Mihawk’s favor kept overly enthusiastic pirates and marine alike from harrying the floating brothel.  Profits have never been higher,‘Unexpected’ expenses were almost nil aside from the occasional over indulgent client.

It all worked out. Practically.

A hiss escaped your lips as the leather strings of the corset around your bosom cinched a fraction tighter. Manicured nails dug into the strong wooden bedpost in front of you as you bit down a retort as a telltale ‘tsk’ came from Bathory behind you. 

“Must it be so tight?”

“If you want to show your appreciation properly, yes. It’s a beautiful piece, Madam. It has to be shown properly,” Bathory retorted as the corset’s tug cut off your retort. Thankfully it was the last set of laces as the red-haired woman stepped back with a directed thumb in the direction of the mirror behind her. 

“You are right. For once ” You reluctantly admitted as your fingertips smoothed down one of the many frilled layers of the corset’s bottom half. It was like the delicate flourish of a rose’s crimson petals layering upon each other as the wave of petals crashed into one another, leading to black silk. Small brass buckles no larger than the tip of a knife clicked into place over your bare collar bone to allow the flowing sleeves of fabric to drape down to your wrists.  Tinted lips quirked as a familiar necklace settled over your throat, a delicate little piece of jewelry. One that both infuriated you initially and softened your heart as time went on. A silver dove with its outstretched wings speckled with shattered rubies. The accessory was no larger than the center of your palm, but it felt all the heavier against the top of your sternum.

“Seems almost a shame. Gets you finery to wear and the like but hasn’t done anything with-” Bathory’s snide comment was cut off as the nosey prostitute hastily ducked from an errant steel-backed hairbrush thrown in her direction. The dove’s weight caught your breath as you spun on your stocking covered heel as sharp nails caught Bathory’s blush tinted cheeks. Dark eyes were wide in fear as you fought the urge to sink your nails into her.

“We don’t discuss the arrangements with private clients, Bathory. Ever. If we ever find you smothered in your sleep, we will know it’s because you mouthed off about the wrong client in bed. It will be YOUR fault. So let’s use this past mistake as a lesson,” You hissed before releasing your grip on the woman’s delicate features. Cool anger brushed through your veins as you knew the woman’s snide remark had some truth in it. Your company had been requested frequently, more than several times in the past few months. An unusual uptick. However, it wasn’t for ‘that’, no, the pirate was restless. Bored. As he put it, what better way to pass the time than wind you up before leaving come dawn.

“Bored. I’ll show him. Bored.” You snarled under your breath as you forced yourself to not fidget as Bathory hurriedly finished your dressings. A trademark of your ship, all crew members clad themselves in modified skirts. Their lengths reach down to the feet, but cut window-like at the thigh, bearing stockings and the like. The cut fabric is held up by garter belts and straps at the waist, easily allowing the wearer to sweep aside excess fabric in a curtain-like fashion to be pinned back with a few quick ties. 

“Not my place but-” Bathory’s words were stifled by a whirl of skirts. Your eyes narrowed further as a clear sign that further commentary from her wouldn't be tolerated. Besides, it was all too easy to pick up her next questions. Were you restricted from other clients? No. Why not take a dedicated lover amongst the crew if your needs were so insatiable? 

Because. Boring. Your nails dug into your palm as the mere word floated through mind in that exact infuriating inflection and tone of his. Mihawk made even the mere thought of someone else in your bed, a boring prospect. 

“He’s ruined me, Bathory,” You moaned pitifully as the woman rolled her eyes at your theatrics. It wasn’t something as childish as love. You weren’t that naive. No, it was the rush of excitement that came from being with one of the Warlords of the Sea. The mere sight of the sanctioned pirate made weaker men piss their boots.

“Shall I bring you last month’s berry stash for you to wipe your tears with?” Bathory deadpanned before marching over to your quarter’s door, opening it at the expected knock. 

“You’re up, Hepa. Now quickly before we have to get the salts out for the dramatic Madam Captain’s vapors. We have reached Baratie, right?” Bathory asked as the young man in front of her flashed a bright smile. A wordless confirmation that the docks of the famed restaurant were within eyesight.

“Shall I bring you the salts anyway, Madam Captain?” Hepa snickered as he mockingly offered you his arm to be escorted from the privacy of your quarters through the dimly lit underbelly of the ship. All about you was a flurry of activity as prostitutes and sailors alike moved in a coordinated dance. Gulls cried out their welcome as the flag of the Victoria waved boldly in the bright sunshine. Her Jolly Rodger was that of a blooming white rose, its stem wrapped around by golden chains.

“Madam Captain, afraid we might have some problems with a few select patrons of the Baratie if my memory of the crews are correct. I’ve already spread the word to others about potential issues.”  A hoarse voice addressed you from above as an agile form landed gracefully on the deck, swiping long black bangs from her features. A harsh jagged scar across the woman’s features did little to dim the natural beauty of pale green eyes. However, there were a few that had been deterred by Joan’s prickly nature. The woman wasn’t cowed by anything, not for any amount of money. 

“Does that include yourself, Joan? Wasn’t there that one poor fellow from the 65th Marine regiment that walked off our decks with a few missing digits? I believe your threats to  his wee -” 

Hepa’s recollection was cut off by your hand over his mouth. The crew didn’t need to be reminded of that particular incident. Nor the bribes that to be paid to that Marine’s commanding officer to keep the grievance quiet. It was the first time you heard Mihawk laugh after you complained about the incident. Scoring Joan a few points of respect with the temperamental Warlord upon their next encounter. She was the perfect 1st Mate after all, and had been for the last five years.

Adjusting the center of the small black flat bonnet, the crimson ribbons delicately flowed from the headpiece as you forced a practiced smile on your lips. The games had begun as soon as the heavy thud of the gangplank hit the docks, announcing your arrival. It was a practiced mockery of polite society with all the bows from the fishman host, expressing their delight to be hosting your company once again. On such unexpected notice too. Once again it was a simple exchange of commerce. Lusty clients would cajole company with food and drink, heedlessly ignoring the cries of their money purse as it flowed into the infamous pirate turned head chef’s pockets. You had earned the moody chef’s ire exactly once, after a dispute had broken out between clients over a favored whore. Breaking a few dishes in the process, no, the worst expenses came in the blood that would have been scrubbed relentlessly from the pressed tablecloths.

Even a mere shrug of “We are pirates, you know.” didn’t stop Zeff from charging you for that mistake. For months on end, News Coos would be commissioned to harass you at the break of dawn until you finally paid up. 

“A pleasure to see you again, Madam.”  The warm but glassy tone stirred you from your thoughts as a pair of wine glasses were set in front of yourself and Joan. A genuine hint of a smile brushed over your features as your cheeky waiter winked at your surprised reaction.

“Causing trouble again for Zeff, Sanji?” You mused as Sanji muttered something under his breath. So, the pair were bickering again, the men fought over the culinary aspects of life like dogs over a meaty bone. 

“It is to my great fortune, as I get to see your beautiful face once more. Yours and Miss Joan’s-” Sanji’s words slurred with the edge of a rasp as the flirtatious blonde’s attention slid over to Joan. Her face had hardened like stone as she snorted before idly waving away Sanji’s words like an unpleasant smell. Even that harsh rejection didn’t seem to dampen Sanji’s attentive nature as the man was all but offering to sit in your lap if it pleased you.

“Such a good boy.” You purred as Sanji recalled your specific request for wine from a previous visit. Delicate, full-bodied crimson wine flowed into the crystalline glass as you took an apprehensive sip of the vintage. It was perfect. Dry, but hints of oak and cherry lingered on the edge of your taste buds. 

“I live to serve,” Sanji simpered before his good-natured smile slid off his face as if someone had slapped him with fish as a far coarser voice demanded his attention. 

“I pity that man’s kidneys if he asks Sanji another question.” Joan muttered wickedly as Sanji’s charming demeanor had turned into a threatening storm cloud as the unruly guest jabbed a thumb into the waiter’s chest. 

“Let’s just pray for all his internal organs, hm?” You retorted with another sip of the glass. Sanji could be as short tempered as his mentor if someone pushed the wrong buttons. Your veins sung with an elevated flood of adrenaline as you watched the visible muscle in Sanji’s defined cheek jump. Oh he was becoming livid. You were about to find out about what soon enough.

The man was all but sweating whiskey as he placed an unsteady hand on the table next to your  placed wine glass. You could smell the sour notes of alcohol as he gave his best ‘winning’ smile before clearing his throat loudly. 

“It is a great honor that the Steel Madam grace us with her presence, on this fine evening. Your crew’s charm and beauty is well-known even in the youngest cadets barracks. Some would say it is their goal not to catch the most notorious pirate, but to lay eyes on your very form.” 

It was too easy to read the man. Marine. Boldly displaying his rank as a lieutenant with his few paltry stripes on his coat. The tops of his knuckles free from painful rope burn or the small cuts of errant swings during sword drills. Beyond all that, it was sheer arrogance in his smile when his other hand brushed over your thigh.

A burst of giggles spilled from your lips as you brushed off the advance with little interest. Confusion, anger and surprise flinted over the Marines face as Joan snorted into her wine glass from across the table. As your laughter subsided, you forced a polite smile on your face before allowing the cruel but practiced rejection to begin.

“You honor me with your words, Marine. Afraid you won’t be able to enjoy my company tonight, you see it isn’t because I am occupied at this very moment. No, it’s because you would bore me to tears with your little bravado and tales. Past experience has made me realize men with such pretty little lines and false sincerity have far more 'inadequacies’ in my manner of expertise. Perhaps, you should try your luck with my companion here. She does like teaching stupid puppies little tricks..” 

Joan’s sharp kick to your knee stilled your words as you winked across at the stoic woman. It was far more likely that Joan would leave the man with more than bruises and healthier respect for the world’s oldest profession.  You and your crew clad yourself as people first and then a commodity, sometimes others saw the second first.

Like now as ringed fingers harshly gripped your face, pulling your attention from Joan to the infuriated Marine. Oh, he wasn’t used to rejection as your eyes narrowed when his grip didn’t loosen. Now he was playing a dangerous game. The few quiet conversations around you stifled as onlookers waited to see what would happen next.

“You think you can reject me? You’re just a fucking whore. Aren’t even worth the trash namesake of pirate, since all the fighting you and your fucking slags do is on your back. You should be on your knees sucking my co-”

 You quickly removed the three inch long hair pin from your hat. Fluidly driving it through skin and muscle alike into the man’s other hand, placed ever so perfectly on the pristine table cloth. The sharp point driven with such finesse that not a single droplet leaked from the impaled flesh.  A pained gasp slipped from the Marine’s lips as you easily ripped out the tinted needle from flesh before neatly wiping it off with a folded napkin.

“You may not want to bleed too much on that floor. I am surprised someone as ‘well-traveled’ as you wouldn’t recognize a pirate. After all, prostitutes are one of the most profitable pirates alive. I could just as easily strip you naked, take your coin with a gentle smile, and decide to dump your broken corpse into the ocean after bombarding your stationed vessel because you failed to please me. All of those troubles are because of someone stupid letting slip about the changing of the guard and where exactly your treasurer keeps ‘stolen’ goods. All these little simple things that you can’t see potentially unfolding in front of you. All because you can’t see beyond your little shriveled worm of a thing I am sure you boast off as a cock. So, do kindly, go fuck off somewhere else.”

If it were possible for the Marine’s ruddied face to turn any harsher, you would have been surprised. Except, the little bout of entertainment was drawn to a close by the sickening noise of human teeth crashing against the floorboards from Sanji’s foot plowing downward into the man’s spine. Your head tilted inquisitively to the side as you were sure that some of the spinal column in the moaning man’s lower back had tilted a little to the right. Too far right if your guess was correct.

“Excellent choice in wine, Sanji” You hummed as the waiter stepped over the groaning lump with a well-practiced movement. Tipping in the precious liquid into your half empty glass with a slight glint of amusement.  The waiter wasn’t meant to be a waiter, no, Sanji had proven once again about the reputation of the fighting chefs of the Baratie. Sanji bent at the waist in an elegant bow before offering you his hand to assist you from the table.

“That won’t be necessary, Sanji. Thank you. If I require anything else, I will know who to ask for.” You said softly as the man’s bright smile shrunk a mere centimeter. Still, he allowed you to collect the opened bottle with little question as you passed by him with a cheeky wink. 

“I have seen kicked dogs that looked less put out than him.” Joan whispered conspicuously from behind as you both ascended the gilded staircase, the pair of empty wine glasses clinking merrily together.

“Please, Joan, not now. We have far bigger issues than him if-”

Your words froze on your lips as you reached the landing of the bar space. It was near impossible to miss Mihawk’s signature blade, coat and hat. Anyone who was anyone knew of the Warlord as several patrons gave him ample space with exchanging silent worried glances as the faintest hint of a sigh caused Mihawk’s posture to go from languid to stiff. Even from behind, you could tell he was focusing on something by the slightest tilt of his head, provoking his feathered hat to tremble from the movement. 

“He’s…listening for something” You whispered in Joan’s ear conspicuously dragging her toward the edge of the bar by her wrist. Thankfully, there were a pair of open seats across the way as few seemed to be willing to subject themselves to the loudmouth drunk at the bar. Boldly boasting about a victory over the Marines. Was this the apparent target from Mihawk’s letter? Your hand didn’t leave Joan’s wrist as a quiet command for her to wait. However, it didn’t stop her from hissing under her breath as your grip involuntarily tightened when Mihawk’s gaze met yours for the first time.

Gods, he had beautiful eyes. To targets, their orangish hue struck fear into their hearts as a bird of prey rips a mere sparrow out of the sky. Yet, you knew better. The gentle flicker of warmth as you recount stories of some long ago memory, a curious tilt of head when you lose track of the conversation. The cool resolve and defiance as you begin to bicker over something petty, followed by mischief as he begins to try to crumple your resolve. Except, now all that you could read was an air of ignorance bellied by prickling irritation as you could see a nail run over the bottom of his wine glass.

Your eyes flicked to the loud drunk in a silent question “This can’t be him. No pirate is this-”

A twitch of his pointer finger was all the answer you needed “No. But wait.”

It would be difficult to miss as the loud drunk proclaimed himself as Captain of some mighty crew. Bold and brave enough to disable a marine ship. For the warrior of the sea was the great Captain Ussopp, it would have almost been an impressive tale if the man clearly wasn’t so deep in his cups.  Even lies had a hint of truth to them. Why else would Mihawk be bothering to eavesdrop like this?

“A little push may be needed, Joan. If you don’t mind.” You muttered as you sent off the woman with a small tap on her butt towards Ussop. It was like watching an octopus camouflage itself within a new reef as the disgruntled woman’s cool expression turned into a warm, bright smile. Giggling loudly under her breath as Joan leaned forward on the bar counter, startling Usopp into almost dropping his drink. Did the man just enjoy hearing himself tell lies unaware that he could be attracting attention?

“You don’t mean you fought off all those Marines by yourself. A whole ship against a pirate crew? How frightening.” Joan whispered in a lower tone as Usopp grinned roguishly before raising his hand to his mouth in a mock stage whisper.

“Well no. You see, there is this guy..kinda our captain, Luffy, bounced it right back at the-”

Mihawk blinked slowly at this reveal as you took a few steps closer to the enraptured Joan, a far more demure expression on your face in comparison to Joan’s look of adoration. It was turning into a pincer movement as Mihawk joined with a mere request to meet this strange Luffy. Akin to a sheep amongst wolves, Usopp agreed as he slung a loose arm over Joan’s shoulder with little regard to her flicker of irritation. Guiding his ‘date’ and new ‘friend’ towards a far quieter table. Unfortunately, his associates  were far less dim-witted as the swordsman called Mihawk out by title and demands for a duel.

Fuck.

As the game was revealed, Joan shoved away a nervous Usopp with a look of disgust.The young man was looking paler and paler by the second, threatening to spew all he had drunk over the bar floor. Or was it from the escalating air of violence that whispered between the swordsmen as Mihawk indulged the whimsical, but potentially fatal request of the young upstart. All, while the orange haired woman’s emotions were as plain as day on her face; all the fear and anger, brief for a moment as it was composed into a mask of calm.

“ You look somewhat familiar to me. Makes me wonder if you kept even stranger company than this-” Joan retorted as eyeing Nami.. Only leaning away when Zoro’s booted feet slammed against the table, a clear warning for the woman to back off.

Astute dark eyes slid over to your seated form at the bar as you gave a flicker of your fingers in greeting. Even drunk, you could see him rip through the facade of silks and make-up. To the weaponry hidden underneath the elaborate skirts. The heavier weight of the leather sheath brushing against your knee was all the more comforting now. Ronoro Zoro was dangerous, even you weren’t stupid to deny that.

However, you had far more pressing issues as your brain short-circuited as the mouth-watering scent of Mihawk surrounded you like the ocean itself. Close. He was far too close as you saw the tell-tale tick of his mouth flicker. Enjoying your stunned reaction far too much as he stood in front of your seat, blocking you from view. The delicate wine glass in your other hand shattered into fragments on the bar countertop when the swordsman’s right hand brushed over your left hip bone, strong fingers possessively curling around you. A quiet demand for your attention instead of fretting over the green-haired duelist.

Not once in five years had Mihawk been this public with his touch. The world rushed around your ears as you could see but not hear his sigh as Mihawk glared over his shoulder at Joan. Peering around Mihawk, you could see that she was getting far too comfortable with baiting the challenger. However, any thoughts beyond the pressure against your hip were rendered mute.

Why now? Why was he doing this to you? Thousands of questions burned through your mind as you blinked blankly at Mihawk as prickles of irritation danced over his words as he addressed Joan.

“Leave the boy alone, Joan. I prefer opponents with their kneecaps still attached.” 

Oh. When did the woman’s mace come out as its heavy head in the glass table with a screech. Zoro’s fingers drifted towards his swords as you could feel your heart pick up from the escalating tension. Or was it from Mihawk’s tighter grip as Joan gave her potential opponent a leering smile. She didn’t work for the Warlord, she worked for you.

“Joan. Go find someone else to toy with.” Your tone sounded remarkably hollow to your own ears. Like you still weren’t present even as you could feel the faint stinging sensation of splintered glass piercing your palm. Followed by the faint glare of the bartender dutifully cleaning up the mess you caused. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered at this point as your brain tried to connect unseen dots of Mihawk’s display.

It was like floating in a dream, half-awake but knowing it wasn’t real. That it could all shatter within a blink of the eye as Mihawk escorted you back down the dining floor. An infuriating barely there smile on his face from your reaction. What was he playing at? Even the screech of the opposite chair and its sturdy back did little to make you speak those words.

The world came rushing back as the stinging of glass was pinched and prodded by calloused but gentle fingers as you tried to make a fist. Mihawk quickly pressed a thumb to your wrist, preventing the action with a cool stare from across the table. The dining area of the restaurant felt all the louder now as several conversations mingled around your table, some doubtlessly about you. All you could focus on was the tinted red fragments of glass piled up on the table, pulled from your hand. The bloodied fragments were almost as red as the wine in Mihawk’s glass that he took a drink from as he tapped a finger impatiently against the table. 

“Please do stop staring at me like I am Donquixote Doflamingo acquiring you for my personal household. It was merely a bit of glass in your hand, not a mortal flesh wound.”

“It’s not that.”

“Isn’t it?”

Mihawk’s nonchalant attitude stoked your temper as he hadn’t ever publicly acknowledged the entire affair ever. Not once. Yet, now here he was acting as if it was a daily occurrence to show some sort of affection. 

“Are you dying? Are you worried about losing tomorrow? Did you piss off the World-”

Mihawk’s quiet chuckle stilled your hissed questions as your eyes narrowed suspiciously. The man was hiding something from you. He was truly dying? No. It had to be something far deeper. There was a reason behind the madness.

The light brush of his hand atop your knee underneath the table made you flinch in surprise.

“Because I felt like it, little dove. Is that reason enough?”

“Arrogant bastard.” Your voice dropped to a low hiss as you could feel goosebumps prickle over your legs as his hand reached further up to your thigh. Teasing at the silken window of fabric of your skirts in short taps. 

“I am not in the mood for games, Mihawk.” You spat as you took a deep drink from your own wine glass. Trying to keep a blank mask even as a hint of want brushed over your mind as Mihawk’s hand curled through your thigh. 

“Then tell me to stop.” Mihawk challenged as his amber gaze glinted with amusement. It was a look you had seen time and time again in bed. Wanting you to ‘run’ so that he could ‘catch’ you until you were at his mercy. Like a feline batting around a mouse for fun instead of substance. A soft ‘hm’ slipped from the quiet man’s lips as you daringly spread your legs further apart. Daring him with a move of your own.

“So. The boy interests you? That’s quite a change.” You muttered in a casual tone that pitched up an octave as agile fingers tugged at the unseen knot of your skirt’s strings. Cool air caressed your now bare thighs as the skirts now gathered to one side in a layer of fabric. Frustration and desire mingled longingly as calloused fingertips skirted against your skin. Tracing unseen patterns as you swallowed tightly as the fingers brushed near your inner thigh before retreating. 

“He has guts. A change, indeed” Mihawk retorted as his head tipped to the side eyeing your form. Quietly watching the subtle changes of your body as arousal trickled into your mind, clouding far more rational pride and decorum. The smallest increase in your breathing patterns, the start of dilation in your eyes. The keen observation made the pit in your stomach grow all the larger as the slightest deviation from the normal was scrutinized. A maddening talent when Mihawk felt like drawing out your pleasure in bed, edging you until you dangled on the tip of euphoria but pulling you back with ease.

“Ask.” Mihawk teased as fingers brushed over the edge of your hip. All it would take was a single pull of the ribbon holding up your underthings. Then you would be truly bare to the world. In public. Heat sank into your form as you could feel yourself begin to relax. It had been some time since your last coupling, and self-pleasure could only get you so far in dousing your needs.

“Mihawk.” Your voice was a mere breath that edged on a whine as your eyes dilated with the first gentle brush over your core. That little bundle of nerves would be your downfall even as the fabric of your lingerie covered it, it was almost as good as bare as soon as his pointer finger trailed over it. Slowly manipulating the digit at a snail’s pace with practiced brushes as you shifted closer in your seat.

It was almost infuriating as Mihawk was looking like the picture of elegance across the table. Draining the last bit of wine from his glass as he put it back on the table. Tracing the crystalline stem contemplating even as his other occupied hand did the same. The same slow, almost painful pace as you bit the inside of your cheek. You weren’t going to break that easily. Not yet, as you swallowed a whine as he brushed over the edge of your cunt’s lips, smearing fluid over your wanting clit. Further increasing the pleasure of the next brush as your hands tightened around the edge of the table cloth.

“Don’t give up the game so easily, dove.” Mihawk mused as you didn’t dare open your mouth to retort. It was impossible to know in the haze of lust if actual words or a mere pitiful whine would slip from you. Or if the man’s agile fingers would decide to go from teasing to dangerous. The rational idea that he wouldn’t make you orgasm in the very crowded restaurant was becoming illogical as you knew that look in his eyes.

It was all a game for him. Playing with your desires, bringing you to his desired peak before letting you go. Waiting for you to explode from a white-out blinding pleasure. It was inexplicably cruel and unexpected during your first entanglement, but now it was exciting. Dracule Mihawk was an exceptional lover when he wanted to be. Perhaps one of the man’s biggest secrets known only to you. 

He was patient. You were not.

The little game of two turned into an unwelcome three as Sanji’s gentle voice broke through your focus. A fresh bottle of wine in the waiter’s arms as Mihawk gestured for him to set the bottle down. Watching the cork of the wine bottle opener was maddening as with rotation, Mihawk’s fingers swept over your throbbing clit as you bit down on your lip as you could feel your thighs begin to tense. Your breath pitched for the briefest second as cheeks burned with embarrassment when Sanji’s concerned gaze turned from the bottle to you. 

“Are you alright, Madam?” 

A hiss of pain escaped your lips as you forced your knees upward into the table. Bucking Mihawk’s meddlesome fingers away from you for a moment as you forced a watery smile on your face.

“Yes, fine. Sanji- thank-”

Your words edged from collected to a whine as Mihawk retorted with actions of his own. Within a span of seconds, shifting your lingerie aside as cruel digits brushed over your now bare clit. Want and desire purred in your veins as you swallowed tightly, rolling your neck as if that would stop the wave of lust shorting any rational thought from your mind.

“Are you sure? You are looking a bit red?” Sanji asked gently, touching your shoulder as Mihawk’s gaze flickered from your crumbling face to the waiter’s hand. Now the swordsman’s digits drifted from your clit to your soaked pussy, brushing over the hot velvet walls as your gaze went wide at him.

Don’t you dare.

Then pay attention to me.

Jealous. He was jealous. A completely foreign idea to you that the swordsman could become so prickly over Sanji’s familiarity. Then again, he was full of surprises tonight as you forced a strained smile on your burning cheeks

“I’m fine, Sanji. Don’t worry.” It was a poor performance as your words caught on your breath as the waiter's gaze slid from you to Mihawk. The utter disdain and irritation from the swordsman rolled off him in waves now. Go. Away .Now. It was a message made loud and clear as your eyes narrowed at Mihawk as Sanji’s steps retreated.

Too far.

A scoff at the minor scolding sent anger chipping at the edge of lust and want. The reality of the situation was the absurdity of this entire dinner. Mihawk’s strange affection and daring had turned you upside down as you struggled to put yourself into a rational mindset. Repercussions could be severe if you were caught in such a vulnerable position, much less the creeping shame of the blatant display of sexuality. The realization hit you like a cold wave of water, private, you wanted this to be between Mihawk and yourself only. Selfish, greedy, all these things hissed in your head as your hand caught his wrist, lightly pushing it away. 

Why?

A curious tilt of his head as you hastily rearranged your skirts into their proper display as you rose from the table on teetering legs. Nails digging into the tablecloth to steady yourself as you took a deep breath before muttering under your breath for him to meet you outside in ten minutes.

The request was a mistake as your heels clicked restlessly against the fragmented dock. Even the gentle roar of the sea around you did little to quiet the restless thoughts that rampaged now. What was that about? Why did you stop it? What was Mihawk playing at? Did you even want that? All questions turned into aggression as someone grabbed your wrist forcibly halting your pacing. Violence and lust paired together so deliciously as you easily twisted ,while pulling a knife from your skirts, all too happily ready to slit someone’s throat. Anger singed the thought as you registered who it was.

There was a quiet screech of the blade of your knife embedding itself into the crate next to Mihawk’s head. His gentle sigh as the anger in your gaze flickered to hesitation as he released his grip on your wrist.

“We should work on your aim, darling.”

“Stop. That.” You snarled as your nails curled around the collar of his overcoat. Pulling your faces a mere inch apart as you could feel yourself being peeled back layer by layer within his eyes. It was like watching a precious gem shatter into pieces as you could see flickers of his own emotions. Want, confusion, amusement, a speckle of irritation when your grip didn’t loosen after a few seconds. 

“What?”

Your retort went to ashes in your mouth as the question was one even you couldn’t answer. Not now. It wasn’t from the pet names, no, it wasn’t the first time for that. Your heart thumped a little faster as you recalled the first time you addressed a dove. A lazy, but affectionate drawl as the heat of sex cooled around you. The critique of your ability to defend yourself? A mere speck of irritation when it came from the world’s greatest swordsman.

Then what was it?

A soft sigh escaped your lips as gentle fingertips brushed over your cheek, trying to pull you back from your labyrinth of thoughts. Followed by the skitter of goosebumps over your throat as Mihawk traced a familiar path downward. A hint of a smirk on his mustached face as he brushed over the gifted pendant nestled above your corseted chest. The involuntary scoff from you when his fingers brushed over the swell of fabric instead of the skin that lurked underneath it. 

“Now don’t pout, pet.” Mihawk muttered as your positions easily flipped with a light tug. Now the damp wood of crates brushed over your back as you all too willingly spread your legs apart to allow the swordsman's frame between them. This you could do. Could focus on as you shifted impatiently as Mihawk’s hands settled on your hips, teasing the knots of your skirt with slow contemplation.

“Do you want this?” A mere puff of words against your throat.

“Mihawk, don’t make me-” Your hand was quick to smother the bastard child of a moan and yelp as the cool sea air hit your lower half followed by delicious waves of pleasure. Your head tipped back against the crates as you tried to keep your panting softer, well-aware of Mihawk’s burning your expression. It would be over all too soon if you looked him in the eyes, he could read your body with a mere blink. Who knew when you would get this again.

“Should I stop?” Mihawk rasped as your legs quivered at the thought. While your foggy brain all but screeched in protest as the pleasurable rhythm over your clit paused. A hiss escaped your lips as Mihawk was quick to pin you back against the crate. Unable to twitch a single muscle, but feel the agonizing brush of leather against your soaked cunt. Even the scent of your own juices sent want further down your core as Mihawk lighted gripped your face with viscous fingertips.

“All I need is a yes or no..” Mihawk muttered as his eyes went wide in surprise with your next movement. Rutting, you were all but rutting against the man’s thigh, desperate to get some sort of friction against your cunt. Your panting came in short, harsh bursts as your nails desperately curled into the back of silken black hair. Pressing the swordsman against your throat to feel your thudding pulse as your whimpers pitched with relief when Mihawk’s thigh went an inch further between your legs. This was what you needed, wanted, hungered for after a long month.

Maddeningly your euphoric burst of pleasure didn’t come within minutes as expected. No, it is like standing on the edge of a cliff in your gut, never quite falling. Tears of frustration prickled the corners of your eyes as one daringly fell against Mihawk’s buried face. Shifting darkened lust to concern as he gently tipped your flushed face upward. Casually brushing away your traitorous tear as his head tipped in that silent question.

What’s wrong?

“I..tonight..was..alot. Just things on my mind.” You admitted sheepishly as your words sounded beyond clumsy. This entire affair wasn’t between fumbling teenagers or strangers. He knew your body as well as you did at this point. It was an infuriating talent of Mihawk’s to track the time it took for you to cum. With or without his assistance, he had astonishing accuracy. 

“So. Stop. Thinking.” Mihawk chidded with a note of amusement. As if your personal confession had been a mere quip instead of something as serious as this. His eyes rolled dramatically as you stared back blank-faced, you didn’t find it funny in the slightest. A hum slipped from him as you wiggled in protest as once more he trapped you with his own body. 

“I can help with that. Then you can happily prattle your worries off.” Mihawk teased as he pressed an open kiss to your thudding pulse.

“You fucker..” You hissed as he chuckled quietly against your throat. It was a dangerous start as you could slowly feel yourself starting to slip. Gods, you weren’t that needy were you? The entire evening could have been over and done without all the theatrics if Mihawk had just led with this. The telltale pricks of pain and pleasure as his teeth nipped at your sensitive throat. While his left hand gripped at your corseted right breast, feeling your frantic heartbeat beneath the cumbersome attire. Yet, the true joy came when you arched your hips supported by his thigh, as his right hand palmed at your clit. Tracing the small bundle of nerves in a slow circle as you could your breathing pitch. An immediate shift in pattern to up and down.

“Please, don’t stop..” Your voice edged on begging as you could feel your thighs begin to tighten. Closer and closer to that one thing you desperately sought as your nails sank into Mihawk’s overcoat. A selfish whisper of wanting for it to be warm bare skin instead of slicked cloth. 

“I’m sorry, that doesn’t sound like you are cumming all over my trousers, dove.” Mihawk purred as you hadn’t a chance to even think of a response. Fuck, you didn’t even think you could speak in the common tongue as your clit throbbed as the pace turned from casual to harsh. Wanting to drive every single thought from your worried head to piercing bliss.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” The vulgar swears came off your lips like a blasphemous prey as your core burst from the hot heat. Your nails had to have sunk deep through fabric as you could feel Mihawk’s breath pitch into a hiss from your hands dragging over his shoulders.  Yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to care as all you could feel was the slow ooze of hormones and the gentle throbbing of your cunt. You even managed a half hearted apology in your hazed smile, as a new jolt of excitement hit your cooling guts. 

Mihawk had that look in his eyes. One that was both terrifying and exciting at the same time. That this little brief moment of bliss wasn’t enough to satisfy the swordsman. No. He wanted you utterly fucked out.

“Mihawk.” Your voice was a mixture of a whimper and begging as he all too easily turned you around to face the crates. Your manicured nails bit into the sodden wood with reckless abandon as he slid on hand over the cusp of your soaked cunt. You couldn’t help but shudder as calloused fingertips made a v-shape around your inflamed clit. Even having the slightest pressure near the shocked bundle of nerves made you want to whimper. Too much it was going to be too much as you shifted away from the testing digits. 

“Stay still, dove.” Mihawk ordered as he nipped at one of your earrings. Humming gentle praise as your legs spread a bit further at his gentle urging with his free hand, caressing against your inner thigh. A choked moan slipped from your lips at the first gentle touch of your pulsing cunt. It wasn’t going to be frantic or rushed like your earlier failure, no, he was going to draw you out like a taut string.  Or at least that was his usual choice of play as you couldn’t help but sag in relief at his next words.

“Let’s get you out of this rain before you catch a cold..”

“Mihawk!” Your voice turned from gentle grace to a harsh pitch as pleasure arched into your spent body. That treacherous spot in your cunt would be your undoing as tears stung your eyes as you were bombarded by waves of pleasure. Splattered by the delicious pain of your overstimulated clit, it was all too easy to sink into the blissful black once more. A snarl slipped from you as far different pain sank into the side of your throat. Even then there was a tender moment as his lips met yours in a gentle kiss. Never pushing for more as you tried to resurface from the haze. The cool reality is sinking in from the heat.

“You are never biting me. Again. Ever.” You hissed in short breaths as you struggled to catch your frazzled brain up with your current irritation. An extremely pleased Mihawk’s full body weight pressing you against the crate from behind with one hand measuring your pulse with two digits. While the other tightly gripped your waist to prevent any sort of unwanted movement. Like the silent demands on an overgrown house cat or perhaps a panther would be more accurate, Mihawk would move when he wished regardless of your grumblings. Wanting to feel your hormone addled heartrate’s erratic thumping settle into a gentle lull in the aftermath of pleasure. A quiet reminder of life since death was done at the swordsman’s so often.

Or he found it amusing that you weren’t one for much cuddling after the fact.

Eventually you settled on the answer of it being a combination of both. Your strained patience could only take so much from tonight. Between the light drizzle of rain, disheveled clothes and the pressing weight of Mihawk languid stance, it was making the little floating feelings of pleasure circle the drain. A sharp hiss slipped from your lips as you gingerly brushed over the broken skin on the side of your neck. He had bit you far too hard this time. In such a public area, marking you for all the world to see. Breaking one of the few rules of your agreement.

“You’re going to pay for this. Aren’t you?” You growled as your manicured nails tapped against the swordsman’s buried face to pull his attention from your shoulder to your throat. Flippant pain radiated from the reddish skin as Mihawk’s lips pressed over the mark gently. Your nails threatened to leave moon-shape marks as your request wasn’t something to be toyed with. No, it was demand.

Fix this. Now.

“Shall I buy you a collar then? Something frilly and obnoxious that draws even more stares to you.” Mihawk muttered against your throat, you could feel the faint twitch of his smile as your nails gripped a fraction tighter. 

“This isn’t a game. I have a reputation to uphold. I can’t exactly maintain it if I walk around looking like I had been marked like some feral cat in heat..” You hissed as captains, wealthier clientele all held out for the miniscule chance you would take them to bed. An illusion that Mihawk took great pleasure in shattering by leaving marks on your body. No one liked to be reminded that their chosen company was shared afterall. 

“So uphold your reputation. The steel-spined Madam of the Basileia Pirates, Madam Captain of the Victoria. Speculated by rumors that she has turned into a frigid bi-”

“Mihawk, this isn’t-”

“A game. I know, dove. So stop trying to play it.” Mihawk rasped as he turned you around to face him properly. There was an undeniable seriousness in his gaze as he lightly tilted your face upward, forcing you to meet him head on. Any further retorts or biting sarcasm vanished from your mind as the reality of the situation slunk in like a scavenger. Five years, this arrangement had suited you both perfectly well. Never entertaining girlish thoughts of romance except on your worst days, practical and level-headed. Now Mihawk was in the flesh, proposing an alternative.

“So, speak plainly then.” You whispered as a flicker of embarrassment edged your words at the faint tremble in your voice. Was it fear for the future? Rejection? Excitement? You couldn’t explain the confusing tangle of emotion.

“Become my Paramour.”

The word sank like a stone in the vastness of the ocean. It had an echoing quality to it as your mind burst into frantic activity. Mihawk wasn’t joking, he wasn’t baiting you into another game. He meant it. ‘It’, you didn’t even dare name the proposal in your own head. Fuck, how were you supposed to accept it outloud.

“Please tell me these long periods of silence won’t become the norm with you.” Mihawk teased as your lips went into a flat expression of irritation. As if he hadn’t just proposed something that would monumentally shift the trajectory of your reputation. To him, such a change would be a mere splattering of ink on some documentation, in comparison to the news of sinking entire fleets. Yet for you. You could already imagine the new files that would have to be drawn up on you.

“You are serious. Aren’t you.This isn’t just a whim.” 

“Have I ever been one for whimsy?” Mihawk retorted with a roll of his eyes as your hands fisted around the lapel of his overcoat. A Paramour wasn’t a mere name lauded on some favored bed warmer. It had implicit marking of partnership, your name would forever be linked to the Warlord for better or worse. Seeing you at his side wouldn’t be a random chance, but expected. Spreading out of your life from bed to crew. What would their reactions be?

“I’ll give you my answer, tomorrow. Just don’t die to some upstart. I would blame this whole proposal as a sign of bad luck” You muttered

“Such little faith, little dove.” Mihawk teased as his lips met yours in a gentle kiss. The pair of you remained like that for some time. Even as the drizzling rain turned into a true display, it didn’t matter. Only tomorrow did.

Series Masterlist Here

[jainiss]

hello!

bringing an oneshot where you meet zoro, ace, buggy and mihawk, from one piece, thru your adventures. You don't know exactly who you like the most, but then, one of them catch your eye.

- I did the pros and cons and who you choose, with each one of them. -

Hope you guys like it ~~

Ps: forgive me if there are english mistakes. English is not my native language.

Ps2: all fictional.

You had embarked on a grand adventure through the Grand Line, seeking not just treasure but also love. As you sailed the vast ocean, you encountered four intriguing individuals: Roronoa Zoro, Portgas D. Ace, Buggy the Clown, and Dracule Mihawk. Each of them had their own unique charm and quirks.

As your journey continued, you spent time with each of these intriguing individuals, getting to know them better. Each encounter deepened your feelings, making your choice increasingly difficult. It was a journey filled with laughter, danger, and surprises.

a. Choosing Zoro

You think of the pros and cons about Roronoa Zoro:

Pros:

- Strong and skilled swordsman, dedicated to his goals.

- Loyal and protective, willing to sacrifice for his crew.

- His sense of direction might lead to comical situations.

Cons:

- Can be gruff and distant, slow to express his feelings.

- His dedication to training may take precedence over romance.

In the end, your heart led you to Roronoa Zoro. Despite his rough exterior, you saw the depth of his loyalty, the strength of his love for his crew, and the beauty of his dedication to his dreams. You found in him a partner who would stand by your side through thick and thin, even if he occasionally got lost along the way.

With a smile on your face, you confessed your feelings to Zoro, and his stoic expression softened as he reciprocated. Together, you continued your adventure through the Grand Line, knowing that your love would guide you through any challenges that lay ahead.

------

b. Choosing Ace

You think of the pros and cons about Portgas D Ace:

Pros:

- Charismatic and adventurous, with a warm and fiery personality.

- Possesses a powerful Devil Fruit ability (Mera Mera no Mi).

- Willing to go to great lengths to protect those he cares about.

Cons:

- A past filled with danger and enemies.

- His sense of duty to Whitebeard's crew might create conflicts.

As your journey continued, you spent time getting to know each of these captivating individuals. Your heart couldn't help but be drawn to Ace's fiery spirit and his unwavering dedication to his crew. The more time you spent together, the deeper your connection grew.

In the end, your heart led you to Portgas D. Ace. His passionate nature and fierce protectiveness resonated with you on a profound level. You recognized that love with Ace meant embracing a life filled with adventure, danger, and unwavering loyalty.

With a smile on your face, you confessed your feelings to Ace, and he responded with a heartfelt embrace. Together, you continued your journey through the Grand Line, facing the challenges of the sea and the world with determination and love.

--

c. Choosing Buggy

(just because ❤️)

You think of the pros and cons about Buggy, the Clown:

Pros:

- Brings humor and laughter wherever he goes.

- Unpredictable and adventurous, always up for a good time.

- Carries the potential for comedic situations.

Cons:

- Can be self-centered and unreliable in serious situations.

- His clownish nature might get on your nerves.

As your adventure progressed, you spent time with each of these captivating individuals. Buggy's comical antics, his flair for the dramatic, and his ability to make you laugh won you over. You discovered that beneath his clownish exterior, there was a charm that you couldn't resist.

In the end, your heart led you to Buggy the Clown. His ability to turn even the most dangerous situations into comedic adventures captured your heart. You realized that life with Buggy would be full of laughter and unexpected twists.

With a grin on your face, you confessed your feelings to Buggy, and he responded with an exaggerated and theatrical declaration of love. Together, you continued your journey through the Grand Line, facing danger and chaos with a smile on your faces.

--

d. Choosing Mihawk

You think of the pros and cons about Dracule Mihawk:

Pros:

- Elegant and mysterious, with unmatched swordsmanship.

- Offers a life of luxury and tranquility in the castle on Kuraigana Island.

- Possesses a calm and collected demeanor.

Cons:

- May prioritize his solitude and fencing over companionship.

- The world's greatest swordsman, which comes with its own set of responsibilities.

As your adventure unfolded, you spent time with each of these captivating individuals. Dracule Mihawk's refined elegance and mastery of the sword drew you in. You discovered the beauty in his solitude and the depth of his knowledge.

In the end, your heart led you to Dracule Mihawk. His aura of elegance and his unparalleled swordsmanship resonated with you on a profound level. You recognized that love with Mihawk meant embracing a life of tranquility and refined passion.

With a gentle smile, you confessed your feelings to Mihawk, and he responded with a subtle but heartfelt acknowledgment. Together, you continued your journey through the Grand Line, facing the challenges of the world with grace and determination.

Byebye ~

© jainiss ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

[kookie-doughs]

Evermore

Dracule Mihawk X Reader

-Your evermore with Mihawk is a story to be told

Chapter 3: I'll Never Shake Away The Pain, I Close My Eyes But She's Still There

Within the tranquil night, the moon hung like a glowing pearl in the sky, casting its gentle glow upon Mihawk's secluded island. Inside the castle, the grand hall was adorned with soft candlelight, creating an ambiance of quiet splendor. It was in this hall that Dracule Mihawk and Roronoa Zoro engaged in their rigorous training.

Perona, perched on a window sill with her characteristic nonchalance, let out an irritated sigh as the shrill ring of a Den Den Mushi pierced the silence. She picked up the device, her annoyance evident. "Ugh, why are these things always so loud?"

Shanks' voice crackled through the device, his tone as boisterous as ever. "Perona! Long time no talk! Is Mihawk around?"

Perona rolled her eyes at the enthusiasm in Shanks' voice. "Yeah, yeah, he's busy training with Zoro. What do you want?"

Shanks chuckled heartily. "Well, Perona, I've got some news for you. Mihawk and I's birthday is in a week, and I thought I'd drop by for a visit."

Perona's eyes widened in surprise, her annoyance momentarily forgotten. "His birthday? Seriously?"

Shanks laughed, the sound infectious. "Yes, seriously. And I thought it'd be a great opportunity to catch up with Mihawk. Can you let him know?"

Perona nodded, even though Shanks couldn't see her. "Sure thing, Red-Hair. I'll make sure he's aware."

Shanks' voice turned mischievous. "Oh, and Perona, if you could do me a favor, I'd really appreciate it."

Perona raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "A favor? What is it?"

Shanks' grin was palpable through the Den Den Mushi. "Since I'll be dropping by, how about you pick out a gift for me to give to Mihawk? You know him better than I do, after all."

Perona's cheeks flushed faintly, a mix of surprise and guilt washing over her. "Uh, well, I can't exactly leave the island, you know."

Shanks' voice held an understanding tone. "No worries, Perona. Just tell me what you have in mind, and I'll make sure to bring it along. Consider it a gift from both of us."

Perona's irritation at the Den Den Mushi's loudness had completely evaporated, replaced by a warmth that spread through her chest. "Yeah, okay. I'll think of something."

Shanks' gratitude was evident in his voice. "Thanks! Looking forward to seeing you all soon."

As the call ended, Perona stared at the Den Den Mushi for a moment, a small smile playing at her lips. The prospect of Shanks' visit, along with the opportunity to contribute to Mihawk's birthday, filled her with a sense of anticipation she hadn't expected.

~

Time had flowed by like a river without banks, uncontained and uncounted. How long had it been since you had come to this remote island, to Dracule Mihawk's side? The days and nights seemed to blur together, and the very concept of time had become an abstract notion, no longer tethered to any meaningful measurement. What did it matter anyway? This was your home now, and that was all that truly mattered.

Lying in Mihawk's embrace, you both were engrossed in your own books. The silence was comfortable, the unspoken understanding between you as soothing as a lullaby. It was in this serenity that a thought crossed your mind, one that stirred your curiosity.

"Your birthday is coming up," you mused, interrupting the silence.

Mihawk's gaze lifted from the pages, his expression a mix of mild confusion and intrigue. "Indeed. And?"

You smiled mischievously. "Do you want to celebrate it here, or should we join Shanks wherever he's settled?"

Mihawk's lips quirked into a small smile. "My dear, a celebration is not needed."

You let out a playful pout, your eyes sparkling. "Booo! Come on, Mihawk, where's the fun in that? And if you don't decide, you know Shanks is going to take matters into his own hands."

Mihawk let out a sigh, his gaze wandering back to his book. "I'd rather not clean up our home after his inevitable mess."

You chuckled, the memory of Shanks' rowdy visits vivid in your mind. "Ah, yes, the aftermath of Shanks' party. I remember having to clean it all up as the others were either passed out drunk or scrambling to leave before you could catch them."

Mihawk's lips twitched into a rueful smile, acknowledging the truth in your words. "Indeed, it's a mess I'd rather avoid."

With a playful glint in your eyes, you rose from his side, pecking his cheek before skipping off to another room. Mihawk followed, his curiosity piqued by your sudden change in demeanor.

You approached Shanks' snail to dial him and he answered on the other end, his voice boisterous as always. "Y/N! How're you two cute couple?"

You grinned, leaning against Mihawk's solid presence. "Oh, you know, the usual. Books, swords, and a touch of chaos."

Shanks' laugh echoed through the device. "Sounds boring. So, what can I do for you?"

With a playful smile, you winked at Mihawk before turning your attention back to the call. "Actually, Shanks, we were discussing the upcoming birthdays. He's being a party pooper and doesn't want to celebrate."

Mihawk leaned in, his voice carrying over to the conversation. "A celebration is unnecessary."

You turned your gaze to him, feigning mock hurt. "See? This is what I have to deal with."

Shanks' laughter was contagious. "Well, you know how he is. Stubborn as ever. But if you decide to celebrate here, let me know. I'll be going there in a week before or so."

You exchanged a knowing glance with Mihawk. "Will do, Shanks. We'll figure something out."

Mihawk took the Den Den Mushi from you, his tone decisive. "Very well, Red-Hair. I'll let you know if we decide on anything."

Shanks' voice turned mischievous. "Oh, and Y/N, I trust you'll make sure Mihawk has a good time."

You laughed, the sound bright and carefree. "Don't worry, I'll make sure of it."

With a quick exchange of farewells, the call ended. You turned to Mihawk, a playful glint in your eyes. "Looks like we have a decision to make."

Mihawk's lips curved into a rare smile, his arms encircling you. "Indeed, it seems that way."

You continued your banter, your teasing remarks and playful antics.

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Taglist?

@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @nykie-love-anime @khaleesihavilliard @littleleelee

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Two chapters in less than twenty-four hours. I literally haven't done this in a decade. Send help. Wheezing. May have thrown my back out. In need of life support.

Anyways here we gooooooo

Hearing Problems

LA!Mihawk x AFAB!OC

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Chapter 2: A Battle of Wits

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

Trigger Warnings: None for this chapter

Wordcount: 2.2k

Summary:

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.

Karimi did her best to steel her resolve despite the blood rushing in her ears as she lay there.

Lay there on the docks outside the seafaring restaurant, her strength zapped by the salt water, completely defenseless as Dracule Mihawk towered over her, his arms crossed, observing her with an unreadable expression and indecipherable tone to his question that still echoed in her ears.

Devil fruit, then, is it?

It wasn't too big of a surpise that he had figured it out that quickly. No, the surprise was his very presence there on the docks. That he had bothered to seek her out and ask her.

She finally expelled the breath trapped within her lungs in a slow sigh, closing her eyes again, feigning an aloof facade as well as she could.

"No idea what you're referring to," she said, as levelly as she could. She could hear a slight edge in her tone, but that was fine. That was to be expected. At least she had found the will to speak.

"There's really no use playing coy, dear. Though I am curious..." he said slowly, "what might lead a devil fruit user to intentionally dampen their own power."

"I don't think that's really any of your business," she said, mimicking his drawling lilt. "I am trying to drink myself into a stupor before morning and your presence is not helping the endeavor. So, if you would..." She lifted a hand and made a shooing motion. "Kindly fuck off."

Mihawk quirked an eyebrow, wondering whether every member of the strawhat's crew were insolent fools. Roronoa Zoro's challenge had been one thing—now this girl, this child, was mocking him to his face, attempting to shoo him off like a stray dog begging for scraps.

For a moment, he was completely speechless, feeling oddly as if he had taken a brief step out of reality.

Then he stepped slowly forward, stopping a few inches behind the crown of her tattered brown hat, and crouched down, casting a shadow across her much smaller form.

"You know who I am." It wasn't a question—apart from her abilities, which she still had yet to confirm or deny, he had seen the flicker of recognition in her eyes back on the deck of the restaurant. "Do you have a death wish, little one?"

She cracked open her eyes, meeting his gaze.

"If I say yes will you make it quick and painless?" Then she rolled them and shut them again. "Forgive me if I don't have much respect for glorified political puppets."

She was either too brave for her own good, out of her mind, or legitimately suicidal—and yet there was something intriguing about her complete lack of concern for the fact that he could easily push her right off the edge of the dock with the heel of his boot and watch her devil fruit abilities sink her like a brick to the bottom of the East Blue. There was a clear edge to her voice that told him she was well aware of that fact, and yet she carried on with her contemptuous sarcasm as if she didn't have a care in the world.

It was almost entertaining—a game of wit and intimidation that no one had played so readily or boldly against the warlord in years. He lowered a hand a flicked a few strands of her dark green hair away from her forehead, noting how she briefly tensed at his touch, very briefly; how her breath caught in her throat for a fleeting moment before returning to normal.

"You are in a rather...precarious position," he said lightly, "to be behaving with such impudence, little bird." She shivered when his knuckles brushed lightly down her neck. "As I said, I'm merely curious about the ability you demonstrated earlier. I can't say I'm particularly accustomed to having my mind invaded."

He watched her grit her teeth and abruptly sit up straight on the dock, swiping up the unmarked wine bottle sitting next to her and taking a swig.

"Oh, avast, sir!" she said in a particularly dramatic tone, "—and allow me a moment to wave a sad goodbye to the last fuck I had left to give as it drifts away on yonder tides."

His eyebrows furrowed as she lifted a hand and waved out at the vast expanse of the darkened sea. "Also." She tilted her head back, her eyes locking onto his.

"Call me little bird again and I will find where you sleep, cut off your balls, and feed them to you."

And with her threat hanging in the air between them, her voice slightly slurred, she tilted the bottle back again and took a couple large gulps. His eyes shifted briefly to the pair of daggers hanging at either side of her belt, passing over their ornate, slightly yellowed ivory handles, either antiques or impressive replicas.

Oh, but this was growing more entertaining by the second. Half-drunk and spouting off honest to god threats now—he honestly wasn't sure what to do with her. Mihawk straightened back out, circling slowly around the green-haired enigma, like a predator sizing up his prey.

"If you answer my questions, I will leave you be to drink yourself into an early grave, little bird." He watched as she heaved a sigh, rolling her eyes and glaring out toward the horizon, lit dimly by the crescent moon hanging in the sky overhead.

"Counter-offer," she said flatly.

Everyone else aboard the Going Merry seemed have completely lost every iota of intelligence they might have once possessed—Karimi figured she might as well join the questionable decisions club.

"Let the idiot swordsman live, and I'll work for you. Free of charge. For a year."

For a moment he was silent. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her, his eyes scanning over her as she sat there at the docks with her feet in the water, her head swimming more and more with every gulp of wine she downed and her face flushed beneath her freckles from the alcohol. Weighing her offer.

"And what would I want with a little bird flitting around after me for an entire year?"

The smug amusement was perfectly clear in his tone, and Karimi had expected it. Standing at five foot two, weighing in at perhaps eight or nine stone soaking wet, the twenty-four year old knew she didn't come across as much of a threat—but she shared the same stature with her grandmother, who had racked up a bounty of over two billion Berries in her heyday.

"Six years experience in covert mercenary work," she said, holding up one finger. She held up another. "An underling to send off on World Government errands that aren't worth your time." She held up a third finger, picking her head up and rolling her eyes up to meet his. It was fairly clear that he wasn't going to kill her on the spot—between that knowledge, the buzz from the cheap wine and expensive rum she had consumed earlier, and her utter exhaustion and present physical weakness from prolonged contact with ocean water, she was quickly growing less concerned. "I can literally hear the thoughts of everyone within a fifty foot radius at all times. Well..." She gestured toward her feet in the water, lifting her wine. "Not now, but usually."

She took a swig, set the bottle down, and laid back on the cool, damp wood of the dock again, closing her eyes and tucking a hand behind her neck.

"Play with your swords all you want, there's no weapon more dangerous than information."

"You're rather quick to leave your crew behind," he said said slowly. "That speaks very little to any loyalty you could offer."

"We're not even really a crew," she sighed. Karimi raised a hand to her face, rubbing at her eyes and shaking her head. "Zoro would tell you that just as quickly as Luffy would tell you that he's his first mate. So would Nami, but she'll be gone just after sunrise if she has any say. That's going to be enough of a blow. But Zoro *dies*, that's going to shatter Luffy." Another swig of wine, another sigh. "Poor kid's got rocks for brains but he's got a good heart. Just wants the whole world to drop everything and follow their dreams."

"An idealistic idiot and a suicidal swordsman."

Karimi gave a snort of laughter—that hit the nail on the head. "And a pathological liar that can't even tell himself the truth, and a girl so desperate to save her home that she distances herself and steals from the only people who have shown her genuine compassion in over a decade."

"It sounds like they're already falling apart from within." Karimi shrugged a shoulder. "So why, then," he said, clear skepticism dawning in his tone, "would a Marine Vice Admiral call me out here to take care of it?"

A Marine Vice Admiral.

Karimi didn't even bother trying to contain her smirk—even with her devil fruit abilities supressed, she knew exactly what that meant. She knew it alone from the attack that Garp had led on the Going Merry, and didn't even bother opening her eyes as she responded in a mocking tone.

"Well, I except Garp the Fist didn't want to see his grandbaby grow up to be a filthy pirate." No—she did crack one eye, to watch the subtle shift in the pirate warlord's expression. The slow lowering of his brows. The miniscule twitch in a muscle between the corner of his lips and his nose.

Registering that he had been sent out of his way to deal with a petty family dispute.

"My offer stands." She lifted her bottle as if in toast. "You let Roronoa Zoro live, you'll have one year free from dealing with this sort of bullshit, courtesy of yours truly."

Agreeing to her offer felt like it would be an admission of defeat. Whether the battle was one of blades or wits, it was rare—if ever—that Mihawk conceded defeat. The entertainment, the fun of this exchange had drained the moment she laid her claim that Garp was using him as a mediator to capture and deliver his grandson to him.

Once more he crouched down, at the girl's side this time, his eyes glued to hers.

"And for what reason should I believe you?" he said quietly, searching her eyes for any sign of deceit, of treachery.

Yet all he found in their emerald green depths was amusement. That paired with the noncommittal shrug of her shoulders served only to infuriate him more.

"You have no reason to believe me," she said, her tone just as smug as her smirk. "But I wouldn't want to work for anyone that would trust the word of a Marine over a fellow pirate, anyway."

Her eyes slipped shut again, as if the deal was already done, in a manner that suggested it was already set in stone.

In a way that made his blood boil.

The girl drew in a sharp breath when his hand wrapped around her chin, her eyes snapping open to meet his gaze as the pads of his fingers pressed into her wine-flushed cheeks, her breath catching for more than just a brief moment this time. She didn't breathe at all as he leaned down, his face barely an inch from hers, her eyes wide as saucers.

So she did fear death. That was something.

"I will consider your offer, little bird," he said lightly.

Karimi swallowed, watching his eyes flicker away from hers for a moment, toward her slightly parted lips.

"And you will have your answer after my duel with your swordsman friend."

He loosened his grip the slightest bit.

Shifted his hand, his thumb brushing across her bottom lip.

"Whether it be in the form of his continued heartbeat or his bloodied corpse."

And with that he released her and straightened himself out to stand over her. With one last sharp glance down toward her, he strode away down the docks.

Karimi didn't turn her head to watch his departure, simply staring straight up at the stars dotting the inky black expanse over her head as she drew in a slow, shaky breath. Normally silence was a comfort to her, but right now, with nothing but her own troubled thoughts slowly cresting from a murmur to a chaotic jumble of inane chatter somewhere between her ears, it wasn't.

And when she closed her eyes to sigh, to try to calm herself, all she could see plastered to the back of ger eyelids were his own sharp, yellow irises.

Next Chapter Link again for your convenience

[wordy-little-witch]

I'm gonna be annoying for a bit here but Fair Folk Buggy, and the sheer hilarity it could cause -

Roger Pirates Edition

Roger very distinctly could Hear smth OFF about Buggy the moment he met him. In my fic, I make it so Buggy KNOWS his species, has a Tragic Past, etc, but for this let's make it Unknown.

So Roger can Tell.

Buggy... cannot. He's just the red nosed little weirdo kid who this semi-feral man who is apparently a pirate captain took one look at, went "is anyone gonna adopt this kid?", and then didn't wait for an answer.

Buggy is a pirate now. Neat.

He's always been drawn to the Sea, to the Earth and Sky. Something about the three feel Balanced and Equal in a way he could never articulate or explain. He doesn't remember the safety and love of a parent's embrace, but he thinks maybe the feeling The Three give him is close.

He's always been a sweet talker, and on the ship, this doesn't change. Sometimes Buggy will flutter his lashes and poke out his lip, will clasp his heads and tilt his head Just So- and the crew will cave. Roger and Ray can Feel something just below the surface when Buggy gets That Tone, something Old and Formless, but their careful questions to the youngest on board yield nothing. He doesn't even realize he's doing it.

Shanks and Buggy click immediately in a wide manner of ways - they are thick as thieves and fight like cats and dogs. But there is an undercurrent between them, made all the brighter and thicker by proximity. Roger swears he can damn near taste the invisible waves which swallowed the spaces between his boys. It isn't dangerous, but it is different, and he never could put a name to it.

The fiasco with the devil fruit was painful for Buggy. With time to stop and think, he learned to realize it was not done out of maliciousness on Shanks' part, but when that fruit went down his throat, Buggy could feel the moment it hit his stomach, the moment it changed his body, the moment the sea, once a comfort and home and the closest he could fathom to a mother, recoiled from his energy. The loss was stark, heavy, and he mourns it to this day.

It was an accident, and he and Shanks both discussed it at length, forgiveness was given, but a small, hurt, explosive part of Buggy will always resent it. Shanks knows this. Shanks knows it is not active blame, not maliciousness, that it is simply one of the other parts of Buggy, and he carries it. He also knows the current Buggy uses the devil fruit as a ready-made excuse. The game they play in the canon timeframe is precarious at best.

Back to Roger, though, sometimes he'll catch odd little Quirks. Buggy loves performing, loves being the center of attention, but very few seem to notice how much he GIVES when he's center stage. His words drip with honey, sparkling like fire across sequined gowns, eyes searching, piercing, cutting, and cataloging each microexpression with a near terrifying ease. Buggy can assess a crowd and become precisely what they need with nary a hiccup. Sometimes, his infamous temper will get the better of him, but more often than not, Roger sees his child for what he is - a well of untapped potential that not even he could predict.

Buggy doesn't really know that what he does is Other. He thinks it's just something everyone does, or something he fucks up into.

It isn't until Cross Guild that Dracule "Hawkeyes" Mihawk and Sir Crocodile see, experience, and study his actions that Buggy finally begins to get answers to questions he never knew to ask.

[bulolity]

—- summary.

Everything in the castle carried heavy in your hands. The vast of amounts of furniture were a warehouse worth of dark woods—mahogany, clockhem, walnut—all of it adorned with metallic embellishments. It was a stark contrast to Navy-regulated material. You almost missed the cheap feel of the plastic backing of the off-white chairs in the coffee rooms.

( in which you accustom to the dracule mihawk’s quirks and the overall healthy change of pace in your life. )

— — —

The clouds clustered, and the humidity slipped through the cracks of the castle stone. The delicious touch of satin was cool against your skin as you combed through your wet curls. Dracule kept a steady, calloused hand stationed onto your thigh. His touch was languid, deep. Between sips of wine and the pages of his worn paperback, he drank in the sight of you. There were moments where his fingertips would drift higher, brush close. He knew the rules for wash days, and remained patient, prowling until the boundaries lifted.

“Braids tonight?” he asked.

“It’s late,” you said. “Besides, I’m not set to sail out any time soon.”

The conditioner was slick from the warmth of your hands and the humidity. You combed through until you heard the softest snap. You lifted the pick and noticed a new tooth gone, the plastic stub jagged like the adjacent spaces.

“Don’t move,”—Dracule’s touch was slight—“you’ve the piece in your hair.”

The shard of plastic was small, its red coating faded. Insistent on finishing, you continued to use the remaining two teeth. Dracule rose from the bed, the familiar warmth of his hand leaving your skin. His silk pants, as thin as your set, swayed with his movements and hung loose on his hips. His sinewy back, bare for the evening, was pale, littered with scars.

Before you could untangle the loose strands of hair that stuck and curled to your comb, your Warlord slipped something heavy into your palm as he returned. The bristles were wide, spaced. The touch of it was so cold, and the finish so dark, you were certain that it were some sort of antiquated metal.

“It’s batoja wood,” he said. “It’s been here since I’ve lived in this castle.”

The bed dipped as he settled back into bed. His hand, once again, made a nesting spot between the warmth of your thighs.

“Batoja wood? A Frunean export?” you asked.

He gave a low hum then reached for his book. You turned the comb in your hands. It was clean, oiled, with no traces of dust or debris, or stray hairs from a former owner. There were a few scratches, signs of wear, yet it shone in the light and had the faintest scent of bergamot.

Wash day finished as it always did, with a bonnet secure around your hair and Dracule deepening his touch. The moment you chose to set aside your gift was the moment he rolled his body over yours. He, all angles and sharpness, fitted against you perfectly. His lips trailed to your neck, the scruff of his beard scratching against your skin. You breathed deep. His scent was heavy and rich like autumn spiced oranges. You threaded your fingers through his cropped hair and tugged until he stared down at you, his eyes glowering amber in the dim hue of light.

“My lovely Hawk Eyes,” you cooed, words thick against your tongue, “how ever should I thank my darling consort tonight?”

[shiningqueen]

silvertongue, hawk eyes. / mihawk x fem!oc

genre: slice of life, relationship growth, slow burn. rating: sfw / e for everyone warnings: none for this part. characters: dracule mihawk + fay (a female oc) summary: a storm brings a castaway to kuraigana and with his interest midly piqued, mihawk allows fay to stay with him temporarily.

author's note: the start of my multi-part series that ive been slowly chipping at for months. this is my attempt to make a coherent series to explore fay as a character, and to share her relationship growth with mihawk.

Two days have passed since the storm finally abated.

Two days since Dracule "Hawkeye" Mihawk found himself with unexpected company in the form of a dark haired woman simply named Fay.

At the time, he'd been watching the storm rage over Kuraigana when his haki picked up on some distant human signature a midst the raging waves and boiling gray skies. There had been the occasional passerby to his island home but none had ever landed on his shores. He'd been expecting to sense the presence fade or be completely wiped out by the maelstrom.

Except it hadnt. The presence edged closer and closer, until it stopped and was idle for an hour. Mihawk had been intrigued but not enough to go investigating personally. He figured any unfortunate soul to wash up on his shore would succumb to the dangers of the wildlife and that was perfectly acceptable to him. He did not care for unexpected company even on his good days.

When it had become evident the intruder was heading in his general direction, he'd paid a sliver of more attention to it. To them. The Warlord couldn't determine gender on haki alone, but what he could determine was they were likely some stray pirate or sailor. Nobody really worth the effort of killing himself. Probably.

Yet how intriguing that they evaded the prowling humandrills and was eventually lingering outside on his very doorstep. That was when Mihawk decided to try and waylay the intruder and send them off accordingly, or just dispatch them to save himself whatever trouble they might possibly bring. Part of him sort of hoped they were a pirate, if only for the faux challenge it could become.

Contrary to the inclination of wanting even a mockery of a fight, the swordsman found himself loitering in the foyer as the grand doors creaked open just slightly and in slipped a sodden, exhausted woman. She slumped back against the entryway almost immediately and he'd assessed her in seconds. Sea damp sailors clothing of loose deck trousers, plain shoes and a bell-sleeved shirt over a black long sleeved undershirt. She wore a wide leather belt weighed by a few pouches and - oh- a knife?

Purely for utility, he determined, not truly a weapon. His discerning stare ended on her face, which was pale and shadowed from days without proper rest. Ah. She was looking at him too. He'd caught the flicker of recognition in those tense seconds of silence, and yet she held his gaze as if he weren't one of the most infamous people in the world. Alright, maybe he was curious now. Her eyes had been the color of storm clouds and her hair a wild tangle of dark brown, she looked a few years younger than him if he cared to guess.

"Did you think to slip in without notice, little mouse? Where's your bravado?" He'd drawled tonelessly, arms crossed over his chest and the weight of Yoru comfortable at his back.

He expected to see some flicker of fear or stuttered anxiety but instead, she'd quirked a tired smile and shook her head at him. "It drowns in the sea, will fish it out later." The lilt of a foreign accent curled her rasping voice, and the glib retort was almost amusing. Either she was too worn out to recognize the risk of being rude to him, or she was foolishly without caution. It could have been both.

Mihawk kept his scowling indifference in place, "You might join it in short order, what do you want? You are intruding in my home." She seemed just an unfortunate castaway, his senses told him there was nothing even remotely dangerous to her. Pity that.

Her face creased with perplexity and she'd mumbled something he didnt catch, then followed the incomprehensible words with, "Sorry, words hard. Do you know hand-speak?" He'd watched as her hands lifted to make a series of gestures in tandem. It was Sign language. Mihawk recognized it from having learned the workings of it in his youth. It had been awhile since he'd come across the need to utilize such a skill.

"Yes," he replied tersely, using one hand to make the accompanying affirmative gesture, battling his exasperation with some sliver of patient interest. He might as well humor her preferred method of communication for a brief time.

She smiled again with gratitude and with slightly shaky hands, Signed efficiently to explain herself. 'Sorry to intrude, my boat was attacked and then sank. I swam here.' A pause before she went on, 'I hoped to rest, I did not know this was your home.' The stranger then clasped her palms together and gave him a very shallow bow, a sincere gesture of deference. Mihawk thought it at odds with her first impression; a mercurial sort, wasnt she?

He considered her for a long moment and then decided, given that she was just some castaway and neither pirate or marine, he could deign to be hospitable. "You have strange fortune," he said plainly and turned, "follow me." He left for the stairwell and heard the soft shuffle of her following him.

Mihawk figured he would lend her a spare room, there was at least one other in his castle with a bed and furnishings not yet tossed out, then send her along in the dinghy stowed in the west wing. Nothing more than a passing stranger he'd not likely to see again.

"It is just you here?" The silence between them broken by her speaking again, he titled his head to peer at her from the corner of his eye. She kept stride a respectful distance behind him, but the tremor in her shoulders told him she was fighting to stay conscious every step.

"It was."

An audible huff, no, a laugh. She laughed at his sarcastic retort. Mihawk hadn't met anyone aside from perhaps Akagami that expressed mirth at his sardonic tendencies. That this complete stranger showed no wariness towards him was certainly novel.

"What is your name?" The swordsman redirected, turning down a hallway and slowing his pace slightly to walk adjacent with his guest. He watched as she wrinkled her brow a moment, "Fay," no surname attached but he did notice she provided a Sign-name as well. A simple gesture of combined nouns he couldnt place right away.

Mihawk did not feel compelled to introduce himself in turn and beckoned her to a door that led into what he sufficed as a 'guest room', "You may sleep in here, we will speak more when you wake."

Stormy eyes appraised him but he could not determine what crossed her mind, her exhaustion was a faint buzz along the edge of his own senses. Fay gave him another smile though, "Thank you." He supposed he could appreciate her courtesy now, but couldn't help the quirk of a brow when she Signed 'May your rest be peaceful too.'

He made a dismissive gesture and turned to leave, hearing the creak of the door as she slipped inside and out of the hallway.

At present she was still asleep at dusk of the second day, where he had taken detour to peer into the shadowed room to see her bundled under blankets and breathing deeply. The dormancy of her presence told him just how utterly drained she'd been when stumbling into his castle. Mihawk was admittedly a little impressed she had managed to stay alert and moving on sheer stubborn willpower after surviving the season's first true maelstrom. Let alone she had supposedly survived being attacked as well.

Her avoidance of the humandrills was likely pure luck, she was in no way a fighter from what he had gleamed initially. Still curious that a lone woman was sailing the Grand Line seemingly undefended.

Perhaps she had been part of some wayward crew as a miscellaneous member? Or a merchant? There were plenty of variables to consider - until he stopped himself from musing too long over Fay's origins. Why did it matter to him? Once she was strong enough to walk without stumbling, he would provide her the means to leave. Water Seven was a short distance along the edge of the Florian Triangle, he would point her in that direction and be done with it.

Mihawk roamed his gaze over the drape of her discarded belt on the bedframe and idly hoped she had retained her Log Pose, he hadn't seen it on her person. Another thing to brush aside and deal with when she woke.

He pulled the door softly shut and left to his own chambers, thinking she might sleep for a third day.

[norts-trolls]

Jackyl Dracul

Design by: @damistrolls

Your name is JACKYL DRACUL and you are a pain in most people's ass. You are the self proclaimed leader of the FERAL JACKALS. Though honestly speaking they just like watching you go. Other trolls consider you a freak of nature due to your mutation of Albinism and the fact you as rust blood have become a DAY WALKER.

Your interests include three things LIE, DRINK BLOOD, and SLEEP. With your telekinetics allowing the MANIPULATION of blood flow you basically have a free juicer for your needs. Of course you party here and there between your "super busy" schedule but ultimately there's nothing better than crashing at your BROTHER'S place. He's saved your ass more than once and you'd do anything for him even murder, again.

Name: Jackyl Dracul

Nickname(s): Jackal, Drac, Batty, Crunch

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Pansexual

Pronouns: He/him/they

Caste: rust

Height: 6'0"

Age: 13 sweeps

Voice Claim: Mahito (JJK)

Abilities: Blood Flow/heat manipulation. Vampirism, batshifter.

Typing Quirk: VV adds fangs at the beginning and end of sentences.

Occupation: Unemployed

Likes: B+ blood, heavy rainy nights, pepper jelly rolls

Dislikes: high pitched sounds, sesame oil, A+ blood, layered clothing. Where to Find Them | Plot Food: Night club, the hunter's chop shop, dead man's valley (daytime), drag race.

[heyitsdoe]

“would you care to dance with me?” for the one-sentence prompts feat. our fine swordsman mihawk 👀

He blinked. Once, then twice, eyes riveted on the outstretched hand from the intriguing person attached to it. You were bold, he gave you that, approaching a man of such renown as him. Or, perhaps you knew not of his reputation. But that idea was put to rest, seeing the confident and amused expression on your face, daring him to accept the invitation.

"How could I refuse?" He replies in a smooth voice, linking his fingers with your own and pulling you closer, bodies close together, all but disguised by the sea of other dancers surrounding you.

"I just had to know," you say, face close to his, "if you're as great a dancer as you are a swordsman, Dracule Mihawk."

"Hmm." He ponders an answer, feeling the quirk of a smile at the corner of his lips as you slowly circle in time with the music. And when he leans down to whisper in your ear, he sees the way you shiver in anticipation. "I am indeed a skilled dancer...both in an out of the bedroom."

[roll-a-troll]

Name: Miss Cridea Dracul Ancestor: The Lifetime Strife Specibus: hosekind Blood Color and Sign: Rust; Arza Handle: griefstruckTacenda Lusus: pandama Pronouns: ce/cet/cets/cetself Age: 11 sweeps Interests: cooking and knot tying Sexuality: straight Class: Mage Land: Land of Music and Dark, a bloody place, with depressed Moorish Viper consorts. It is a place full of lava and savanas. Mnemosyne lurks in this land's villages. Quirk: speak with perfect diction via roll-a-troll https://ift.tt/4nTyjxQ, do as you please