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lolitac0re · 1 month ago

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New family.

plot: teenage daughter, resents out of place fiancé. Struggling with change and feeling displaced, she clashes with the fiancé. Through quiet moments, family talks, and introspection, the daughter begins to confront her fears and accept the new presence in their lives.

characters: Shanks, Mihawk, Mihawk’s daughter.

genre: angst, home, fluff, broken

WC: 1.4k-1.5k

i don’t think there’s any spelling mistakes.

Mihawk had recently got engaged to a new man. Being his young daughter who took in a lot of mihawk’s genes, i didn’t like change. just like mihawk.

just didn’t like my fathers new partner. it was hard to accept new people into my life who i knew might stay forever. He was pretty obnoxious, compared to mihawk and i. And he was a bit of an alcoholic. He tried bonding with me, getting to know me. But i usually always ignored him or left.

⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆

i was baking in the kitchen, making Clatite. A romanian pancake dessert, similar to crepes. i had made a few of them. they didn’t look the best since it was my first time. but i’m sure they would still taste good. i made a strawberry and cherry jam to fill inside the rolled pancakes.

it was around 10AM, which was late morning for you. But for your father and his fiancé it was still early. So you were the only one up as of right now. the castle was still pretty quiet. the only sounds were the music playing from your phone, the sound of pancakes slowly cooking on the stove, and an occasional creak from the castle.

The smell of warm pancakes filled the kitchen as the quiet morning light seeped through the high arched windows of the castle. The place always felt too big for you and your father, Mihawk, but it had become your sanctuary over the years. At fifteen, you’d grown used to the stillness of the mornings. It was one of the few times you felt truly alone—your dad usually didn’t stir until late, and his new fiancé, Shanks, was even worse.

You flipped another pancake onto the growing pile next to the stove. Clătite weren’t as easy to make as you thought. The first few came out lumpy and misshapen, but they still smelled sweet. You figured you could salvage them with the cherry and strawberry jam you’d made last night. You reached for a jar and spooned some into one of the better-looking pancakes, rolling it carefully.

The soft melody of Billie Eilish’s Happier Than Ever drifted from your phone on the counter. It was a fitting song for how you felt lately. Ever since Shanks had started staying here, everything felt… off. He was loud and boisterous, always cracking jokes and trying to include you in his endless stories of adventure. You hated how he tried to be friendly. It wasn’t his fault, not entirely, but he wasn’t your dad, and he never would be.

You bit your lip, shoving the thought away. The castle creaked as if to remind you it wasn’t entirely empty. Somewhere, Mihawk and Shanks were probably still fast asleep. Good. The quiet was yours for a little while longer.

Rolling another clatite, you paused when you heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Heavy ones, with a faint, unsteady rhythm. Your stomach sank. Shanks.

The door to the kitchen swung open, and there he was, in all his disheveled glory. His red hair was a mess, and his shirt hung loosely over his broad frame. He rubbed his eyes and grinned when he saw you. “Morning, Jade,” he said, his voice a little too chipper for someone who had probably been drinking the night before. “What’s all this?”

“Nothing,” you muttered, focusing on your work. You hoped he’d take the hint and leave, but instead, he walked over to the counter and leaned against it, watching you.

“Pancakes, huh? Smells great. Didn’t know you cooked.”

“I don’t,” you said shortly. “It’s my first time.”

Shanks chuckled, clearly unfazed by your cold tone. “Well, they look better than anything I could make. You got a recipe, or is this all improvised?”

You didn’t answer. The truth was, you’d found the recipe in an old cookbook tucked away in the library. Your dad had once mentioned clătite were his favorite, and you thought maybe, just maybe, making them would bring back a piece of the life you’d had before Shanks showed up. But you weren’t about to tell him that.

Shanks leaned closer, his curiosity getting the better of him. “What’s inside them?”

“Jam.”

“Jam, huh? Fancy. Can I try one?”

“No.” The word came out sharper than you intended, and Shanks raised an eyebrow. You immediately felt a pang of guilt, but you shoved it down. He didn’t deserve your kindness, not when he was trying to insert himself into a life he didn’t belong in.

Shanks didn’t push. Instead, he leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms. “You know, your dad used to talk about you all the time before I met you,” he said after a moment. “Said you were smart, and a mature young woman. reminded me of my daughter…”

You froze, your spatula hovering over the pan. “Why are you telling me this?” you asked, not looking at him.

“Because,” Shanks said, his tone softening, “I get the feeling you don’t like me very much. And that’s okay. But I’d like us to get along, at least a little. For your dad’s sake.”

You turned to him then, anger flaring in your chest. “You don’t get it, do you? It’s not about liking you. It’s about you trying to take over a part of my life that’s not yours. My dad and I were fine before you came along. We don’t need you.”

Shanks didn’t react the way you expected. He didn’t laugh it off or get defensive. Instead, he sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. “I’m not trying to take over anything, Jade. I know I can’t replace what you and your dad have. I don’t want to. But I care about him, and I care about you too, even if you don’t believe that.”

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. Part of you wanted to argue, to tell him he didn’t understand, but another part of you—the part that hated how lonely you felt lately—wanted to believe him.

You turned back to the stove, flipping the last pancake onto the plate. “I don’t need you to care about me,” you said quietly. “I just need you to stop trying so hard.”

Shanks smiled, though you didn’t see it. “Deal,” he said. “But can I at least help you clean up? Looks like you’ve got a bit of a mess here.”

You hesitated, then shook your head. “i’m good.”

disappointment set into his eyes, but it was a understanding disappointment. “K…i’m gonna go get back in bed.”

“mkay..”

shanks sauntered away and back up the stairs. leaving me alone with my music and cooking. the song ended and it changed to ‘brutal’ by Olivia Rodrigo. you quietly sang the lyrics.

“i’m so sick of 17…where’s my fucking teenage dream? if someone tells me one more time “enjoy your youth” i’m gonna cry…and i don’t stick up for myself. i’m anxious and nothing can help. And i wish i’d done this before. and i wished people liked me more….”

The song continued playing as you cooked. I set the poured the last bit of pancake batter onto the pan and let it cook. I waited for the bubbles to start appearing through the thick batter. once they started popping up, i slipped the spatula under the pancake and flipped it. i waited a few more minutes before taking the last pancake of the grill, letting it cool, filling it with jam then rolling it.

after that, i set the pancake batter bowl in the sink and filled it with water. then turned off the stove. i went back upstairs and went into my room. i dimmed the lights and started playing some game on my TV.

⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆

it was now around 12pm. Mihawk and shanks had woken up. They were downstairs, eating the breakfast i had made. i was still up in my room.

i had gotten pretty bored but i didn’t want to go see Shanks. i was planning to sneak out and go to my boyfriends house but he was called into work.

I finally decided that i would go down just for a bit, say good morning to mihawk, then go back upstairs. And i did just that.

i brushed out my hair so it looked presentable, then i put on some pants so i wasn’t walking around in just a shirt and underwear. i stepped out of my room and walked towards the stairs. I slowly walked down the stairs, purposefully taking my time. Once i reached the bottom step, i stood there for a second, deciding if i would rather just text mihawk a ‘good morning’ or actually say it in person. i decided to be nice and say it in person.

i went into the kitchen and grabbed a plate.

“good morning, father.”

“good morning…nice of you to join us..”

Shanks, seated to Mihawk’s right, was in stark contrast. He was halfway through one of the clătite you had made, a satisfied grin plastered across his face. His crimson hair was slightly damp, as if he’d just taken a hurried shower, and his relaxed demeanor filled the room like an unwelcome breeze.

“Morning, Jade,” shanks spoke

You ignored him, your focus on grabbing a plate and serving yourself. The clătite were still warm, and you carefully picked the ones that looked the most presentable. You felt Shanks’ eyes on you, but you pretended not to notice. Instead, you turned to Mihawk.

“Did you sleep well?” you asked, making an effort to sound polite.

Mihawk folded the newspaper and set it aside. “Well enough. Thank you for breakfast.” His voice was calm, but his subtle glance in Shanks’ direction told you he’d noticed your deliberate coldness toward his fiancé. You ignored it.

Sliding into a chair across from them, you began eating in silence. The sweetness of the jam paired with the soft pancakes was comforting, but it didn’t erase the tension that seemed to linger whenever all three of you were in the same room.

Shanks, of course, couldn’t let the quiet last. “You know,” he began, leaning back in his chair, “I was thinking we could all do something together today. Go into the village, maybe hit the market, or just—”

“I’m busy,” you cut him off, not even looking up.

He chuckled, undeterred. “Busy doing what?”

“Things.” Your tone was clipped, and you finally glanced at him, daring him to push further. Shanks met your glare with an almost amused expression, which only irritated you more.

“Jade,” Mihawk interjected, his voice low and firm, “enough.”

You bit your tongue, looking down at your plate. Mihawk rarely raised his voice, but when he did, it carried the weight of a thousand unsaid words. You didn’t want to upset him, but you also couldn’t pretend that everything was fine.

The rest of breakfast passed in uneasy silence, with only the clinking of utensils breaking the quiet. When you were finished, you stood abruptly and took your plate to the sink.

“Thank you for breakfast,” Mihawk said again as you turned to leave. His voice was measured, but there was a hint of something else—disappointment? Concern? You didn’t linger long enough to figure it out.

“Yeah,” you muttered, walking out of the kitchen and heading back upstairs.

You spent the rest of the day holed up in your room, alternating between texting your boyfriend, scrolling through social media, and playing games. Every so often, you’d hear muffled laughter or conversation drifting up from downstairs—Shanks’ voice carrying the loudest. You tried to block it out, but it was like a splinter under your skin, impossible to ignore.

Around mid-afternoon, there was a knock at your door. You sighed, already guessing who it was. “What?” you called out, not bothering to hide your annoyance.

The door creaked open, and Mihawk stepped inside. His imposing figure filled the doorway, but his expression was unreadable. He closed the door behind him and crossed his arms.

“We need to talk,” he said simply.

You set your controller down, leaning back against your bedframe. “About what?”

“About Shanks,” he replied, his golden eyes fixed on you. “I understand this adjustment hasn’t been easy for you, but your behavior is becoming unacceptable.”

You scoffed. “Unacceptable? I’m not the one who brought some random guy into our home and expected everything to be perfect.”

Mihawk’s gaze didn’t waver. “He’s not ‘some random guy.’ He’s my fiancé. And while I respect your feelings, you need to understand that this is not just about you. It’s about us as a family.”

“Family?” you repeated bitterly. “He’s not my family.”

Mihawk’s expression hardened, but there was a flicker of something softer beneath it. “You don’t have to like him, Jade. But you will treat him with respect. For my sake, if not your own.”

You looked away, your throat tightening. “He doesn’t belong here,” you said quietly. “It was always just you and me. Why did that have to change?”

Mihawk sighed, and for a moment, the mask of the world’s greatest swordsman slipped, revealing the father beneath. He sat down on the edge of your bed, his voice softer now. “Change is inevitable. I didn’t plan for this, but Shanks… he makes me happy. And I want you to be happy too.”

You didn’t respond. The lump in your throat made it hard to speak. Mihawk reached out, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“I know this is hard,” he said. “But give it time. For me.”

You nodded reluctantly, not trusting yourself to say anything without your voice breaking. Mihawk stood, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze before leaving the room.

Later that evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, you found yourself in the library. It was your favorite place in the castle, a quiet refuge where you could escape the chaos of the world—or the chaos downstairs. You curled up in one of the oversized chairs, a book in your lap, but your mind kept wandering.

You thought about what Mihawk had said, about family and change. You thought about Shanks, his easygoing smile and relentless attempts to connect with you. Maybe you’d been too harsh. Maybe.

The door creaked open, and you tensed, expecting Shanks. But it was Mihawk again, carrying two cups of tea. He set one on the table beside you and took the chair opposite yours.

“Thank you,” you said softly, wrapping your hands around the warm cup.

Mihawk nodded, his eyes calm but watchful. The silence between you was comforting, a reminder that some things didn’t have to change. For now, that was enough.

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