#mihawk storyteller au

[fanaticsnail]

Chapter 7

Masterlist Here, Moodboard Here

Sapsorrow Masterlist

Word Count: 8,800+

The Storyteller - Sapsorrow"Whom so ever fits the ring becomes wed to the warlord who owns it"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.

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Tag List: @maybe-a-bi-witch @fuzzyfestcat @sordidmusings @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @since-im-already-here @feral-artistry @be-good-please @little-bunnybabe @sukilovesyou @buggyenjoyer @thesailus @under-kitty @acehyacinth @andriannag @one17 @canthebest1 @khaleesihavilliard @quirkyrascal @hungrhay @sentieence @lebanese-afg-ya @captaincupio @szired @sexc-snail @alphaash99 @mfreedomstuff @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mrs-wolfwood

Notes: Thank you to @i-am-vita for her banner! Thank you for your patience, I had this chapter beta-read twice. Thank you to @since-im-already-here and @vespidphoenix for their kindness in volunteering to do that for me! Such love and appreciation for you both.

Song Suggestions: Casper's Lullaby,

Their Wedding Serendade: Turning Page - Sleeping At Last

“I will not marry him.” 

Her voice held such sorrow, but her cries fell on deaf ears as her governess began to tug her hair into place with the rough scrape of a bone comb. Thrown onto her hands, pale gloves thrust up to her elbows by the hands of her ladies maids; her shoulder straps readjusted to float down her forearms like beams of radiant moonlight. 

“He has heard your demands, and seen them done. You are his princess...”—her governess’ voice paused while she shook her head to rid her eyes of her own tears—“...and now you are his bride. You bound yourself to him the moment you placed that damned band over your unity finger.” The small quiver in her tone had the princess’ eyes spilling over with a fresh stream of hot tears. 

Immediately springing to her feet and snatching her hair out of the firm grip of her ladies maid, she flung herself against the corner of the room. Her face was littered with tears, her eyes swollen and lip bruised from the force of her teeth clamping on them. 

“My princess,” the governess spoke, her hands quivering as they reached out in an anxiety induced panic, “You have been training your whole life to marry royalty. This was a title you were born to bear. You are to be queen of your lands, ruler of your home country. With your union to the king-.”

“-I will not marry him!” She beat her gloved hands against the wall, her enclosed fists almost shattering her bones atop the cobblestone walls. Sobs rocked her shoulders, her wails echoing throughout the hallway and flooded the ceremony space with her grief. Attendees held a similar somber expression, along with royal subjects celebrating with glee at the prospect of a new queen. 

“My lady,” the governess’ voice shook as she stepped closer to the shaking princess and placed her hand over her shaking shoulder, “My lady, please.” 

The bloodshot eyes of the royal princess snapped up to her with a cold and frightening stare. 

“What would you have me do, my governess? Wed this man who is more than twice my age? Dine with this man, consummate a union with this man? A man who already rules over these lands as king? A man who i-is-...” 

Her eyes fluttered closed as a fresh surge of tears fell from her darkened orbs. 

“A man who is my father?” 

The princess rounded on her ladies in waiting, her eyes now incandescent with helpless rage. “What would you do?” she continued. “What would any of you do, were you in my place? The law of the land binds me to this ring. I have become plagued by an unnatural and grotesque curse-.”  Her voice halted in her throat, plagued by her own revelation. 

That is exactly what this was. This was a curse. 

A curse on her soul to bind her in matrimony to her own flesh and blood. Where other children dreamed of fairytale romance, being spirited away into the arms of a lover, she was bound by fate to this ring. 

The princess’s gaze landed on a pot of water hanging in the fireplace. As she walked in that direction, her eyes never leaving it, the water went from simmering to bubbling to boiling over. Hardening her resolve, she grasped the iron handle and removed it from its place above the fire. 

“My lady! What are you-,” the calls of her ladies in waiting were silenced by a single look from  the governess. 

The princess’ sobs began to crack and cackle into maniacal and sinister laughter. 

“I will curse you. I will curse all of you,” she booms, casting the glove from her left hand to reveal a violet ring encrusted with an array of several stones bound within a thick band. Nine stones of unique colors danced within the light, their forms melded into a large central stone in the middle. The green hue of moss overshadowed the radiance of the smaller stones, the thick band dwarfing her unity finger. 

“If you are thinking of casting it into the fire, my lady,” the governess stepped closer, her hands held with palms facing outwards in defense, “The damage is already done. You are bound to marry him, there is nothing you can do.” 

The princess flung the band from her finger and threw the object into the iron pot. 

“In that hopelessness, I shall thee bind,” she intones in a hundred voices, at once of the deepest bass and highest soprano. The attendees within her chambers stepped back, some thrust onto their knees under the powerful boom of her voice. 

“Whosoever shall find, claim or attune to these crafts, their souls shall be cursed under the plague of unity,” she continued, her hair shifting in colors and tones to several shades closer to death, “May their suffering feed my heart with gladness and life, as my suffering brings gladness onto thee.” 

“-My lady,” the governess spoke, her eyes widening in fear as she witnessed the princess wither beneath her curses, “My lady, please-.”

“-And as my yearning for a love true and just shall never be quenched,” the princess’ voice hitched, her own tone dominant within the vocal strands of external forces, “I will allow the wearer to place a plague of conditions on their heart the moment the craft is thrust upon them.” 

Her hair whipped in the unnatural wind, the ring now smelting down into a lava of molten gold. The gems began dancing within the pale light as smoke poured from them in hues darker than night.

“Should their conditions never be completed,” the princess continued, her heart swelling with vicious rage, “I will claim their souls and bind them to my own in eternal suffering a year from the day it begins.” She ripped a fistful of her vibrant hair, placing it within the concoction alongside her tears. 

The ladies in waiting, the maids, and the governess clutched their hearts and covered their screams with their hands as the clouds of smoke spread through the chambers. 

“My lady!” The governess shrieked, “Princess, please! You do not know what it is you are making. This unnatural phylactery has no place in the lands of the living. My princess-.”

“Your Queen,” her voice boomed, her pupil-less gaze snapping over to her governess. Her face contorted into an unnatural and cool gray tone, her vibrant hair lifeless in hue while whipping around her face within waves of spectral ocean. 

“My queen,” the governess repeated, bowing her head to the royal witch. Her hue returned to her, the gold simmering down as she poured the liquid onto the coals below the surface. An unnatural steam rose within the flames, the vapors smelling of metallic blood mixed with the sweetness of honey. 

“I-I just-...” the princess wailed in defeat, her shoulders slouched, “-I just wanted to find love, governess. I wanted so desperately to find peace with a spouse of my own choosing. I wanted a partner to court me; to woo me, to cherish me. I never wanted-.”

“Sapsorrow, your king awaits you,” A voice called from behind the door, interrupting the unnatural scene within. As the ladies glanced nervously between the princess and  the door, the final words of the princess’ confession bound all but one stone within nine rings, leaving the central moss agate laying dormant, as if awaiting a final command. 

“I just wanted a love that was truly mine.”

- 

The echo of those final words plagued your mind, dancing as the concept of time began to mould from the past and spring you into your future. The repetition of ‘truly mine’ rotated and stirred within your slumber, breaking the peace you had once found for yourself beneath your bedsheets. You catapulted from your huddled pile of blankets into an upright position; your damp hair clung to your brow and sweat stuck your nightdress to your body. Your plagued slumber left you with more questions than answers. 

Had the spectre wanted you to see that image? Did she have control over your mind, did your attunement to the moss agate ring bind to you? Drawing your right hand up to your face, you rotated your thumb and index finger over your temples to rid yourself of the nightmare that seemed to persist each time you lay down to slumber. 

A light rap at your door had you jolting from your thoughts, snapping your head towards the wall and hastily making your way over to the interruption. 

“Governess!” A hushed feminine whisper called to you, “Governess, can I come in?” Perona continued her polite rapping, the drum of her knuckles gathering up rapidity against the wood in an anxious thump. You sighed, shaking your head and allowing a small smile to dance over your features. 

Collecting the iron handle beneath your hands, you open the door and immediately become overwhelmed by the embrace of your pink-haired pupil. She squealed into your ear, bouncing happily on the balls of her feet as she attempted to twirl you. 

“You are getting married to Mihawk today!” Her voice squeaked with high-pitched enthusiasm, “Have you tried on your dresses? Have you written your vows? Did you read his letter yet? Have you thought about your perfume? How are you doing your hair? Are you doing it in three different styles for the three different outfits?” 

The sheer rapidity of her questions had you unable to find an anchor to hold them. You fluttered your eyelashes shut, shaking your head hastily and attempting to wrap your mind around her flurry of words.

“Of course you haven’t read his letter yet, I still have it! I am scatterbrained today, my lady. I can barely contain all of the excitement!” She continued, breaking away her contact from you and thrusting a wax-sealed envelope into your hands. 

“Perona-?” You began, your voice halting as she danced past you into your chambers and staring at the two mannequins in the corner of your bedroom beside your changing shield. Her voice caught in her throat, all air relinquished from ballooning her lungs. You turned to face her, holding the envelope close to your chest as a warmer smile drew itself to your features. 

“O-Oh-... Oh m-my-...” Perona’s words found no harbour against her lips, all thoughts became silenced within her mind as she hovered over to the dresses. You allowed a warm giggle to rise within your throat at her fawning over the objects. 

“Do you like them?” You asked her, cocking your head over to the right hand side to find a better angle to read her face. 

“They are beautiful, my lady,” she whispered, reaching her hand towards the sleeve of Sir Crocodile’s creation and halting before her digits found purchase, “Can I touch them-?”

“-Don’t you dare, Perona,” A gruff, masculine voice called from the corner of the room. You snapped your face over to the doorway, noticing Zoro donned in lengthy tan sleeping trousers and a dark yukata hanging limply at the front. 

“Zoro!” You gasped, drawing your chemise closer to contain your form from his eyes, “It is one thing having Perona in my personal suite, but another to have a young gentleman while I’m clad in my nightdress.” Zoro shook his head, his wolfy grin taunting you beneath his down tilted head. 

“Would you change your tune if I said I have wine?” Zoro’s brow quirked up, revealing a green bottle from behind his back with a small, nonchalant shrug. You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head and removing your arms from concealing your chemise from vision. 

“Have you got a saber tucked somewhere on your person, Zoro?” You quirked your own brow up in question. Zoro laughed, turning away from his lean to reveal three swords clinging limply against his hip. 

“You can take your pick, my lady,” he shrugged, his hand lying on the hilt of his favoured blade. You opened your arms to him, gesturing for him to enter your suite with an elaborate flurry of motions. 

“Then by all means, my green-haired pupil,” you mixed your tone somewhere balanced between absolute sarcasm and unwithheld appreciation, “Welcome to my humble abode. Shall we begin by getting ourselves ready for the ceremony, or having a drink before breakfast?” 

Zoro answered wordlessly with a small smirk. Withdrawing the white blade from within its scabbard to claim the cork from the top of the wine bottle, and unlatching the wax by severing the rim with his sword. He reached towards your small dining table, upturning three of the four teacups from their place atop their saucers and pouring the amber liquid to the brim. 

“You gonna open your letter?” he asked, nodding to the envelope clutched within your hands and reminding you of its presence, “We’ll do a small cheers and give you a bit of privacy to read it.”

“I hope you are both planning on giving Mihawk a similar wake-up call,” you laughed, reaching forward and claiming a teacup from Zoro’s outstretched grasp. Zoro chuckled, shaking his head as he raised his own teacup to clash the rim with your own.

“Oh, he’s been up for hours,” Zoro confessed, Perona giggling as he handed her her own teacup, “He’s been brooding in the ceremony space: hovering over the decor and pacing, last time I checked.” Perona struck the corner of her teacup against Zoro’s before meeting the edge with your own. Your brows furrowed, glancing from the corner of your eye outside your bedroom window to seek out the elevation of the sun. 

“How many hours remain between now and the ceremony?” you asked Perona with a partial anxious quiver depicted within. Perona stepped forward, brushing her shoulder against yours in a small gesture of comfort. 

“You’ve got two hours, my lady,” she whispered, prompting your heart to nearly stop beating and your breath to halt in your lungs, “That’s why I thought to wake you-.”

“-And why I thought to bring you booze,” Zoro added, throwing back his teacup and downing the contents in one heaping gulp, “Just to take the edge off.” Your hands stuttered, taking a small sip of the wine within your cup before setting it back down. 

“I thank you both for your thoughtfulness, my dears,” you gave them a small downturned smile, your brows triangulating in the center of your forehead, “I have thoroughly enjoyed my time getting to know you as my pupils-.” 

“You’re going to be our lady now, my lady,” Perona added to your thoughts, “No longer just our governess, but something akin to an adoptive mother beside Mihawk as our apprehensive father.” Your breath caught in your throat, hitching at the thought of becoming unified not only to a spouse today, but upholding a promise to chaperone the two wards at a place of higher standing.

“Don’t think too hard about it, my lady,” Zoro reassured, his brow furrowing down. Placing his mug down on the table, he reached his hands up to clasp your shoulders beneath his heavy-handed grip, “You’ve already got so much goin’ on in your head, just know-,'' his breath caught in his throat as you looked up at him through your eyelashes. He was bewitched by the charm of your melancholy and apprehensive expression, your doubts begin to spiral behind your eyes. 

‘You are not good enough for this role. This is not your place. This is not a role you were born to play. This was a role that always belonged to someone of higher standing; someone of higher class-.’

“-Know we would be proud to have you as our lady, not just a governess hired to serve a role,” Zoro continued, collecting your chin beneath his fingertips to hold your gaze with his own. Perona stepped her body closer to you, weaving her arms around your waist and hastily drawing her cheek to press against your back. 

“I can hear her too, my lady,” Perona whispered into your back, prompting you to break your eyes away from Zoros to glance over your shoulder. Perona’s large, dark eyes looked up at you with sorrow and understanding held within her orbs, promises of empathy propelling her utterances, “And any words she brings onto you harbouring doubt, I will smother you in nothing but kindness and love to reassure you.”

Heart swelling at her utterances, your eyes began to pool over with gladness. The mist of your eyes clouded your vision as Perona continued to sing her praises into you. 

“I love you, my lady,” Perona hushed, her eyes beginning to dance with her own emotion. Her lip quivered, looking up into your eyes with true adoration and love at you, “We both do, don’t we Zoro?” At the sound of his name, Zoro’s breath caught itself within his mouth for the second time. 

You trailed your eyes back over to his, breaking away from your contact with Perona, and meeting his hazelnut orbs with your own once more. No whisper of a word, nor utterance fled his lips; all emotion depicted in the slight shudder of his eye and quirk up of his lips. Sighing out, you drew your arms around Zoro’s waist, turning your head to feel his heartbeat below his warm chest. Perona continued to nuzzle against your back as Zoro’s hands on your shoulders snaked over your back and pulled you both closer to him. 

“I am so glad to have met you both, dears,” you whispered, scrunching your eyes shut and deeply inhaling your insecurities, exhaling your worries into the air as they held you firmly. 

“Zoro, you need a bath. You stink, and I can smell you from here,” Perona called over your shoulder, “I pity your proximity, my lady. He’s probably spilling that musky smell onto you, meaning we’ll have to bath you too- My lady! We’re running out of time!” Perona immediately broke away from the embrace, tugging at your hips to break from Zoro’s grip and leading you to the changing shield.

“You: bath,” Perona ordered, pointing her finger at Zoro, “And you,” she snapped her eyes over to you, “Moon-dress first, right?” You sighed, nodding your dismissal of Zoro with a light smile. Zoro grunted a cough, adjusting his waistband around his yukata, and nodded in return before exiting your chambers. He halted at the table, collecting the half-drunk wine bottle by the neck, before heading through the door and latching it again with a small click.

“My lady, the moon first?” Perona asked once more, taking your attention from the door to gaze into her eyes. You nodded in confirmation, prompting her to shove you behind your changing screen to rid your body of its night chemise. You folded the chemise over the door of the screen, as the variety of items presented themselves to you in order from lesser to grander. 

“Perona, sweetheart,” you called to her, your voice holding an anxious laugh, “There is far too much material here for me to continue thrusting this onto my body.” Perona laughed in response, walking over to the screen and peeking over the top of the wooden frame. She inhaled deeply, a small squeak propelling her inhale. Her brows rose in excitement, her eyes upturning in glee at the first part of the assembly of the moon dress. 

The bodice of the dress clung to your breasts, an ovular shape wisping in layers of tulle and smoothed satin to draw over the midpoint of your shoulders. Trailing down from its seamless layers, your back was joined with an elaborate assortment of ridges and latches. Upon investigating it initially, you were unsure of why such items were joined in bands of silver, onyx and gold to its back until it hit you.

This was truly the moon. 

The silvery hue of the beams, the mystery of fluttered blues and pale whites cascading from end to end; all bound by circular divots of darkened onyx and quartz to resemble faces and craters atop the lunar surface. The many layers of skirts laid a train ending in the same ovular shape as the neckline atop your chest. 

“O-Oh, my g-goodness,” Perona’s voice managed to stutter out, her soul mirrored within her expression of youthful adoration and excitement, “You look so beautiful, my lady. As luminescent and radiant as the moon in peak of nightful.” You sighed with your smile, brows upturning and weight falling away from your shoulders. 

You gave Perona a small twirl, the material pooling and drifting as effortlessly as warm mercury over cool stone. She gave you a small applause and a small jittery cry of joy before ushering you over to sit at your vanity. Glancing up at your features, the illumination of the dress mixed perfectly with the tone of your skin and hair.The task had been executed flawlessly. 

“Now then, my lady,” she said, shaking her head and clapping her hands, “I am going to leave you to get yourself primed, painted and dressed with the jewellery-,” Her eyes widened, “-Jewellery, my lady! I have to get the jewellery!” She hastily turned back around and fled to the door, flinging it wide and immediately cowering away from a large, balled fist descending to where wood once was. 

You recognised the scent first, the smell of cigar tobacco and ashen smoke wafting into your chambers mixing with the expensive and earthy cologne of the hulking and boorish-.

“-Sir Crocodile,” you uttered as you began to rise from your vanity. Turning to face him, the intimidating aura of the hulking man hung behind the threshold of your door. 

“My lady,” he nodded his head in response, his head ducking below the frame to meet the purple hue of his eyes with your own, “May I enter your space?” Perona sucked in a breath, darting her eyes between the man at the door and you in your bridal dress in a small panic. Without turning his head, Sir Crocodile’s eyes met with Perona’s through the corner of his narrowed gaze.

“I harbour no ill intent with your mistress, little mouse,” Perona pouted at his words, prompting the twitch of his smirk to pull at the corner of his lips. He cleared his voice, removing the cigar from his lips and extinguishing the flame atop the stone wall beside the door frame; an action prompting your lips to curl in a small snarl. 

“As I were the means to provide you with such a dress,” his sinister smirk drew up to his cheeks, the huff of cigar smoke pooling from his lips, “I desired to be the first to see you in your radiancy. How are you enjoying your daw' alqamar-,” he shook his head in reprimand for his verbal linguistic slip, “-Your moonlight, my lady?” 

Several thoughts lingered in your mind: a reprimand for using your wall to douse the burnt end of his cigar, asking him to leave your space to continue dressing yourself for your wedding, thanking him for the skill that designed and crafted the garment over your body. Elevating to your feet and walking over to the door frame with precision and grace, you halted your movement and dipped into a low stooped curtsey.

“Sir Crocodile,” you spoke in a low and stern tone, “I would offer my praises and my gratitude to you presently,” your tone twitched in subtle agitation as you rose to your feet, “But I am a bride, and my groom is awaiting me.” Crocodile hummed through his nose, his smirk continuing to hold against his lips as he stared down at you. He took a moment to stare at your bodice, his brow twitching as he cocked his head.

After taking a moment's pause, his eyes softened to a point almost unavailable to an untrained eye. 

“You look beautiful, my lady,” he offered in a hushed whisper, “That dress was made for you by my means,” he stooped lower, remaining outside the threshold but hovering closer to you in proximity, “And you wear it as it you were born to don such a garment.”

At those final words, both Perona and Sir Crocodile left you in your solace to prepare yourself for your wedding ceremony. As you applied the final stroke of paint to dance atop your lips, from the corner of your eye; you spotted the parchment paper sealed with a wax stamp not dissimilar to the letter of summons from Mihawk those months ago. 

Placing down your lip-paint brush, you reached for the letter and unfolded the crease and snapping the small seal holding it closed. Immediately, your eyes widened at its contents:

“My Beloved Wife,

In light of harbouring no such secrets between us; I have written the vows I desired to forge with you, and present them to you before we meet for the first time as husband and wife.” 

You halted your reading, the swell of emotion elevating your heart to a risen drumbeat of both adoration and anticipation. Quickly reading through the customs he wished to claim over the ceremony, your smile broke your sorrow as you truly witnessed how much thought he placed into each declaration and decree. So many elements, so many customs you were learning held meaning for your husband to be; you found yourself awestruck.

“I have no such means for communication with you before we meet to truly know if you agree with the terms. 

But know this, 

I appreciated you for your skill as a governess to our wards, I found myself smiling at your playfulness as my Lost-Lady, and I am looking forward to the future that we will find ourselves forging; unified as one. 

My darling, I do

I will.

And I will always love you. 

Dracule Mihawk ~ Your Devoted Husband.”

A small drop soaked the page, swelling the signature lovingly scrolled ink into the bottom of the page, smudging its words. Shocked, you rose your hand to your cheek to find a damp trail of tears falling against your cheeks; completely unaware of when you had begun to cry. A small laugh flung from your lips, prompting you to sniff and shake your head before setting to the task of reapplying your paints and perfumes to the highest quality. 

The final step was placing the cascading veil atop your hair and covering your eyes, sheer in material appearing to illuminate pale blue under the lights. In your hand, you clutched your bouquet of lilies, roses, and baubles of babies’ breath. Nestled into the arrangement peered throughout were small wisps of blue forget-me-nots, a small nod to your prior filterless encounter with your Farm-Hand and you as his Lost-Lady. 

The halls were littered with similar flowers, illuminating the area with bulbs of roses, flurries of jasmines and hiding within the scattered arrangements: the same innocent and small forget-me-nots in clusters joined with twine. Although walking alone, you felt the presence of all guests loitering within the ceremonial space of Castle Kuraigana to propel you. 

Murmurs of hushed voices, small conversations resonated within the halls and beyond had your heart beating with irregular jumps in anticipation for what awaits you behind the large, closed doors. You sucked in a breath, the trail of your moonlight dress dancing along the lengthy hallway for each movement of your feet. 

‘You are truly going through with this, are you? Joining yourself to a role that you have no place in unifying with-.’

“-Sapsorrow,” your hushed voice rang into the air, the atmosphere cooling at the immediate utterance of her name. Whispers and hushed hums alerted you of her presence standing beside you in her spectral regality. 

“You dare speak my name, Governess?” the voice to your side answered you, your spine and follicles standing in tingles at her tone. You rolled your neck on your shoulders, twitching your hands by your side to rid it of your anxiety as you turned to face the spirit haunting you.

Her hollowed eyes framing her pupil-less gaze found your face, her sinister smile resting comfortably against her lips. Hair swiping in a wind not present as she moved, her dress pooling at her feet like a flag within water. She was a horror to behold, but there was a deep melancholy reflected in her eyes. 

“Queen Sapsorrow,” you stooped low, bowing yourself almost to the floor with your humility, “I express my gratitude to you.” You heard her spectral voice hitch in her unnatural throat, her animosity fleeing from her in the wake of curiosity. Before she opened her mouth to speak her taunts to you, you spoke once more as you rose to your feet. 

“I have no parents; no father, nor mother,” you confessed to her, your eyes depicting your honesty through each word spoken, “No family to call my own, until this very moment.” You stepped closer to her, reaching out your hand to bare your right palm to her. 

“I was alone in this world, drifting from place to place and finding purpose as a governess - an excellent governess,” you corrected yourself with a smile. Her uneasy and cautious expression unwavering for each parting moment you held her hostage with your words. 

“You are the reason I am here, and I will forever be grateful to the future you had bound to me,” She clicked her tongue at you, scrunching her nose to reveal her snarl at you. You hardened your resolve and continued, “Two wards: a man akin to a roguish son, alongside a beautiful and delightful daughter. In this unity: I have found a love that is truly mine,” you concluded, a warmer smile drawing up to reveal your teeth to her in a kind smile. 

Sapsorrow’s eyes widened, her unbeaten heart fluttering and reigniting within her chest at hearing her own words reflected from the lips of another.

“Would you care to join me as I take the walk?” you offered her, stepping closer to her and continuing to hold your hand elevated to the front of you.

“Excuse me?” Her spectral voice called, her tone somewhere between offended and bewildered at such an offering. 

“Would you care to join me as I take the walk, Sapsorrow?” you again offered, gesturing to her spectral hand with your forehead, “From what I know of your history in the tale once told to me, you deserve your own happy ending. Walk with me, and I will be glad to share mine.” 

“You think my curse ends with just you?” Her form faded from vision, her voice reverberating in the hall outside of the ceremony with you, “Oh, I have eight more curses to awaken, you arrogant woman-.” Her voice held source from all corners of the hallway, “-Nine if you account for the clause that stupid tall blonde placed upon the band lying around that inked doctor’s neck!” 

Her sinister cackle broke her sentence, unnerving you more than the words she was speaking,“I shall start with those who aided you in completing your conditions; the easiest of the three to ensnare will be the Crocodile, for I know where his ring lay-.” 

Your breath hitched at her confession, her own words halting as she attempted to stuff them back into her undead lips. A rough spectral sigh drifted within the walls, her face once again revealed to your eyes. She looked softer, almost human now. Her hair was less wild, her face less horrifying, and her eyes soft and baring pupils within them behind her thick and lengthy eyelashes. The was truly beautiful, her sorrow depicted alongside an unfamiliar warmth in her undeath. 

“I will allow your happiness to lie only with you, Lady of Kuraigana. You deserve peace today,” she confessed, a warm smile rising to her lips as she leant forward to take your hand, “Enjoy the time you have with your love.” She stepped forward, pressing her left hand against your offered right, a tingle dancing against your skin at the contact. 

“This is where I leave you,” she confessed, floating backwards slowly towards the high ceilings, “But I will be watching your future closely.”

“Thank you, Sapsorrow,” you offered your gratuity by slinking down to another low bow. Halting her final exit by the upper window, she turned once more and glanced at the corner of her eye at you and smirked through the left hand corner of her lips. 

“The Sun-Dress is my favourite, my lady,” her small laugh propelled one of your own to dance alongside hers, “If I had a heart, I would even show mercy on Red-Hair for such a fine craft. But alas,” her beauty once again faded into the horrifying spectre you had initially seen her as, “I do not.”

Her spectral body disappeared from the window, a swell in orchestral melody commencing as soon as she departed from the space. You were once again drawn to this single moment, your heart beating now in anxiety of what your future held for you. 

You were to become Lady of Kuraigana, bound to one of the former warlords of the seas. The World’s Greatest Swordsman as your beau, the Lord of this land you were now to call home. As you began to step towards the threshold of the door, the wooden barriers were pulled back by members of staff to reveal the attendees within. At the end of the ornately decorated row, your gaze immediately found linked with the honeyed hue of your beloved. 

Flowers lined the pews within the large room, candles alight with warm flames to illuminate the shadowy row. All eyes snapped to you, gasps fleeing from their lips as they took in your incredible beauty dressed in an arrangement as radiant as the moon. You could audibly hear the smirk from the hulking Sir Crocodile, as praises of your dress were flung into the air with their comments and sighs. 

The music swelled, a small smile drawing up to your face as you propelled yourself forward while clutching your bouquet close to your naval. You thanked your veil from shielding your nerves from prying eyes, a small blush dusting your cheeks as you shamelessly raked your eyes over the body of your intended.

His shirt was dipped into a deep ‘V’, tasteful frills decorating the hemline against his collarbone and neck. His overcoat lay open black in colour with the softest shade of mauve within the inner shield. Dark, leather pants were clasped by a golden buckle decorating his waist, the outer frame of his thighs supporting embellished embroidery in the similar mauve decorating his overcoat. Atop his head, his signature hat with his puffed, white feather dancing behind the broad brim and shielding his curled locks beneath it. 

In all your time spent with Dracule Mihawk, you could safely assume you had a grasp on how to read the subtle changes in his stoic face. His lips were barely parted, his eyes only slightly widened and his face only a single shade away from his regular hue with the dusting of the palest pink. Once again, the thought hit you like a puff of cautious wind: you were to wed Lord Dracule Mihawk, become his wife and he your husband. 

If his words to you were left unread and unwritten, you would have no doubt plaguing your mind at this very moment of one thing. Lord Dracule Mihawk was hopelessly, truly and deeply in love with you. 

As you approached the final steps towards him, you slowly turned to view Perona standing to the side of the aisle, noticing Zoro standing beside your intended: both holding similar expressions mirroring your own. You had all been awaiting this moment with the greatest anticipation: from the moment your accidental hands toyed with the moss agate ring, to the knowledge the curse bound you now by fate. 

Mihawk opened his mouth, watching as you slowly placed your bouquet he had affectionately crafted for you within Perona’s outstretched and awaiting hands. The officiant gave you a soft smile, turning to address the large number of attendees scattered amongst the pews in their most formal attire. 

“Valued and adored guests here gathered,” she began, her arms gesturing outwards in a warm embellished wave, “On behalf of the Lord and Lady to be of Kuraigana, I would bid thee welcome to witness the unification of two souls in matrimony.” Mihawk had yet to tear his eyes off you, paying attention to all words spoken by the woman in front of you, but hypnotised by your presence at his side. 

“There are a few elements to witness performed here. We are to leave no stone unturned nor phrase unuttered in their bonds forming,” she continued, turning away and gathering a larger twin candles within her hands and holding them to the side of her body, “Lord Dracule, you may reveal your wife from beneath her shroud, so we may witness her declarations departing from her lips.” 

Mihawk rose his hands to your collar bones, his fingertips pinching the sheer material within his thumb, index and tall finger and hastily withdrawing the shield from your face. He allowed himself the luxury of the backs of his hands brushing with your cheeks as he flung the sheer fabric over your hair, a shaken breath escaping your lips at his tender touch. 

As your eyes met without filter between you, his expression finally revealed more to you than a subtle tick and twitch. The air was sucked from his lungs, his eyes softening as he found his body drawing closer to you almost against his will. You smiled up at him, adoring this new and unrefined experience of adoration dancing over his face. 

“I present you with two candles,” the attendee informed you, placing them out in a gesture for you to take them from her hands, “I shall alight the wick of Lord Dracule's, and he will speak his actions and their meaning aloud.” She lit his wick, gesturing for you to turn to face one another with your candles extended in the middle of your bodies.

“With this flame,” Mihawk uttered in full clarity, “I vow to light your way through all darkness that plagues you.” He extended the flamed tip to ignite your candle in front of you. 

“Under its light,” you uttered with a small bow to him, “I trust you to guide me.” A small sniff from Perona, attempting as she would to halt her emotions from expressing themselves, had a similar experience rising in Zoro behind Mihawk. The two wards witnessing their Lord and Lady now unifying themselves in matrimony finally began to find harbour within their hearts in each passing moment and gesture. 

Taking the candles from you and placing them within their designated dishes on the table and elevating a silver goblet and accompanying decanter. She poured the crimson liquid within the spherical container, offering to place the cool stem within your fingertips. 

“Your cup may never empty,” you expressed, offering to your swordsman the container, rotating the object twice within your hands first and bowing your head low, “For I will be the wine that fills it.” His fingers brushed over yours, grasping them and taking them with him as he elevated the wine to his lips. He continued holding his hands over yours as he offered the goblet up to your own lips. 

“May I be the wine that fills your cup,” his smile twitched at the corner as he added, “And may you always be satisfied with the contents that replenishes you.” A small blush rose to your cheeks as your eyes never broke from Mihawks. He elevated the wine to your lips, allowing for a small sip to pass from your lips. The celebrant reclaimed the goblet from your hands and placed it beside the lit candles, rising now a tray with two cubes of sticky honeycomb atop the surface. 

“This may get a little messy, bear with us everyone,” the attendee expressed, drawing a small teetered chuckle and rise of giggle from your guests. Mihawk allowed the softness to be depicted in his face at the small giggle that fell from your lips, both claiming the sticky cubic piece of honeycomb into your fingers. 

“I shall serve you in all the ways you require,” you both spoke in unison, “And may the honeycomb taste sweeter coming from my hand.” You both placed the sticky cubes within each other’s awaiting mouths, both laughing at the mess atop your fingertips. Without hesitation, Mihawk clasped your wrist, holding your hand in place as his tongue danced around your fingertips to skillfully rid them from the honey. Your shocked expression was shrouded by the presence of Mihawk’s thumb within your own lips, prompting you to perform a similar action to suck the sticky substance to rid its presence from his digits. 

Small whistles and flirtatious commentary fell from the lips of the Red-Hair pirates, hooting and hollering in their support of such an unbridled expression of lust within the ceremony. Another rise of laughter occurred between you as you retracted your fingertips from each other’s mouths. The attendee placed the tray beside the goblet and returned with two thin sheets of material and offered them to Zoro and Perona. 

Perona reached forward and gathered the material within her hands, Zoro apprehensively doing the same with no frame of reference as to why he was doing so. 

“The two wards under the care of Dracule Mihawk will present the ties to bind you, solidifying their positions in upholding you within your commitment to one another as your chosen witnesses,” Mihawk turned away from you, as you did him, to gather the material within the hands of the wards behind you. 

“May our bond continue to grow all the years you choose to remain with us in unity, Perona,” you whispered to her, prompting her to smile through her tears that began to fall as soon as your vows commenced.

“I will stay as long as you’ll have me, my lady,” she confessed in a similar tone, offering the sash for you to take into your arms. 

Although you both were too wrapped to hear the conversation occurring behind you, Zoro and Mihawk had a similar moment parting between them.

“Although you are destined to earn my title as ‘World’s Greatest Swordsman’ in single combat, I am proud to call you a son under my familial name, Zoro,” He uttered with a small twitched smirk and narrowed eyes. 

“I will hold both such titles with honour, Lord Mihawk,” he reached forward, his arms containing the sash and prompting both Mihawk and you to return in facing one another. 

“May this knot you tie demonstrate to those present here the symbol of your unity,” the attendee uttered to you, prompting a skillful dance of fingertips brushing and hands clasping one another to tie the two sheets into a single knot in the centre. You and Mihawk both presented the unified material to the celebrant, who collected it from you by the knot in the centre. She placed the knot beside the dish containing the small syrupy honeycomb remnants, raising a box containing two bands of gold within. 

“My lady, you may raise your hand to place the ring atop your beau’s unity finger and relay your vows onto him,” she gestured for you to claim the larger band within the box, elevating it to his left hand and hovering it over his fingertip.

“My beloved,” you began, glancing from his hand to dart your focus between his two honey-coloured eyes, “These are the vows of promise I swear unto you, unifying us in marriage.” He awaited expectantly his breath hitching once more as you relayed your confession of love onto him.

“I will never possess you, for you belong to none but yourself,” you smiled at him, beginning the descent of his ring slowly over his finger, “I cannot command you, for you are free.” Shimmying the object over his first knuckle, you continued to relay your vows.

“I pledge to you that your name be the one I cry into the night,” your smile cracked at the corner of your face at a small stifled squeak from Perona, “And may mine be the smile that greets you the morning after.” You slid the ring over his final knuckle, securing it to the base of his finger before interweaving your fingertips with his. 

“May this ring be a symbol of my devotion to you, unifying us as one to all those who view it,” you concluded. Finally meeting his eyes once more, his glazed over eyes held such softness for you it felt too intimate for his public persona. He firmly squeezed your right hand within his left before unweaving his fingertips from yours and collecting your ring from the box presented by the attendant. 

“My beloved,” he began, clasping your left hand with his right, and elevating his left hand to hover the golden band above your left finger; his own new band catching your eyes as it danced in the light, “These are the promises I swear onto you through my vows of devotion.” He slid the ring slowly over your fingertip, his eyes never breaking away from your own as he presented his words.

“I will never command nor possess you,” he ushered the ring over your first knuckle, “For your will belongs to you alone.” Sliding the ring over your second knuckle, he continued to relay his vows slowly onto you. 

“I pledge your name to be cried from my lips in the night, and my smile-...” his right hand gently squeezed your fingertips as his smile drew up onto his face, “-be what greets you on the morrow beside you.” Perona stifled another squeal behind her unoccupied hand clapping over her lips, prompting a smile to break over your own lips. 

“May this band unify us in matrimony, and be a beacon of my promise to all who view it,” Mihawk concluded, immediately stooping his lips to press a chaste kiss atop your knuckles, much to the detest of the celebrant. She clicked her tongue to reprimand him, shaking her head with a smile of her own. 

“Given your lips can’t hold their restraint, my lord,” her warning tone playfully reprimanded him, “I will now allow for the lord and lady to solidify their unity in the sharing of their first kiss as husband and wife. You may both collect each other and seal your covenant with words left unspoken. You may now share your lips with one another.” 

Mihawk immediately began his descent, cradling your jaw beneath his left hand and shepherding you towards him with his lips parted in anticipation. You hastily drew your own left hand up to his right cheek, your right hand finding purchase on his waist and anchoring yourself to him as he finally pressed his lips onto your own. 

His lips were slow in movement, savouring the sweet taste of sugary honeycomb mixing with the bitter wine presented to each other earlier. He gasped into your mouth, opening it to deepen the unity between you by presenting a small flick of his tongue into you. His nose brushed with your own, his hand on your jaw fell immediately to your waist and clutched you firmly against his waist. Brows furrowed in unbridled passion, the world around you fled from memory at each press of his lips against your own. 

You slid your hand up to clasp his shoulder, a small squeak fleeing from your mouth into his as he turned your body in a low dip towards the guests in their seats in the pew. This action drew you away from your lustful hypnosis, the applause and cheers of your guests gleefully erupting into the air. He hastily drew your body back upwards with the flitter of your luxurious dress pooling behind you. 

“I am now delighted to pronounce, through this seal of unity,” the celebrant concluded her presentation, “The Lord and Lady Dracule of Kuraigana. Celebrate and uphold them, and may jovial celebrations continue into the night with merriment.” Mihawk clasped your hand and placed it into the crook of his left elbow, beginning his ushering of you to flee with him from the ceremony space to continue into your reception. 

Several of your guests greeted you both with their offerings of congratulations and affirmations, Red-Hair Shanks prying your husband away from your arms with his arm hooking over his shoulders and ushering him into a warm embrace. You made eye contact with the first mate of the Red-Hair pirates, who offered you a polite smile and the nod of his head; both of which you returned with actions mirroring his own. 

However, as soon as you became distracted by the embraces falling to your now husband, your elevated mood of joy was immediately halted as a floating and severed gloved hand clapped over your lips. You could not offer a hum of protest, nor a scream as your body was pried away from Mihawk’s and into the hallway outside of the ceremony space. 

“All part of the plan, Starlight,” a soft, nasally voice reaffirmed you in your ear. You turned your head to meet with the face of the flashy-fool himself, his face painted to the highest quality. His hand rejoined his forearm with a small suctioned ‘pop’.

“I’m gonna take my hand away from your face now, alright? You gotta be quiet and listen to what I’m ‘bout to tell you,” He nodded, his eyes serious with no room for joking. You nodded in return, prompting a smile to rise to his lips. 

“I’ve done some reading,” Buggy informed you, his tone apprehensive and nervous, “And there’s a custom in Kuraigana regarding weddings that sounds way too fun to be left out of ol’ Hawkie’s.” 

“And what may that be, sir Buggy D Clown?” Your frown deepened the longer Buggy kept you away from your new husband. He chuckled at your apprehension, a sly smile now developing further in elevation. 

“You are to be dressed in a new gown, no longer a bride but a wife under his name,” he confirmed with a nod, your understanding reflected in your own nod. “As your new dress is placed onto your body, you’re a new woman. And as a new woman,” his eyes twinkled with mischief, “Your groom has to woo you to win back your favor.” 

“What are you saying, sir?” you narrowed your eyes, and threw him an accusatory and pointed look. 

“What I’m saying, Starlight,” he continued, linking his arms with yours and beginning to shepherd you further away from your celebration, “Is that I’m going to kidnap you and dress you in your starlight gown,” he grimaced a small grin, “I may have had a couple of my crew break in and steal the mannequin earlier,” he quickly uttered before waving his hand in front of him to halt your protests, “And he has to humble himself and perform a skill worthy enough to win your favour.” 

Your bewilderment was pictured over your face, looking from his eyes and apprehensively allowing him to draw you to the peer. 

“What type of skill, Buggy?” you asked him, your curiosity peaked the longer the clown explained himself.

“Could be anything, Starlight,” he shrugged, his playful smirk pulling wider. His eyes twinkled, the paint falling within the crows feet beneath the blue and white hues, “He could dance, sing, recite poetry, he could even juggle. It truly doesn’t matter as long as you’re impressed and successfully wooed.”

You took the moment to study him. From his painted face, to his beautiful assortment of a red and yellow diamond patterned vest, to his tanned leather pants, and all the way back up to his hair braided and styled away from falling in front of his eyes. He threw his best grin at you, his lips curling in an apprehensive and crooked smile. You shook your head, stepping closer to him. 

“Does Mihawk know about this?” You uttered quietly, your dress shifting behind you in your haste. He sighed out a shuddered laugh of dark glee.

“Oh, I’m certain Red-Hair is filling him in right about-...” he trailed off, thinking long and hard about his answer. As soon as your feet found the wood of Buggy’s ship, the anchor rising and sails drawn down by his crew, he gestured to the doors of Castle Kuraigana in the distance.

“-Now.”

[fanaticsnail]

Me with Sapsorrow, as pointed out by @since-im-already-here 💀💀💀

Slowly chipping away.

[i-am-vita]

The Storyteller Club Masterlist

Welcome to my One Piece fanfic recommendation list, specifically the Storyteller Prompts Fic List started by the most talented @fanaticsnail!

Since I have a graphic design degree to abuse and fairy tale retellings are my absolute delight, I decided to make gifts to all the amazing writers who donate their time to take a prompt.

Writers may use the logos at their respective fanfics. Whoever wants to post them on their own blogs must give credit and tag me and the respective author.

Sapsorrow by @fanaticsnail MihawkxGovernessFemReader, AU with some canon

Sapsorrow Spinoffs Masterlist

The Luck Child by @gingernut1314 BuggyxWildMarineFemReader, Canon Divergence

A Coronary Tale (The Three Ravens) by @sordidmusings Chapters: 1 SanjixFeralFemReader (I have corrected the tree thing, why nobody told me ToT)

The Heartless Giant by @cinnbar-bun Chapters: 1 2 3 4 SirCrocodilexRoyalGNReader

[fanaticsnail]

Chapter 9

Masterlist Here, Moodboard Here

Sapsorrow Masterlist

Word Count: 9,000+

"Whom so ever fits the ring becomes wed to the warlord who owns it"

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.

Warning: MDNI, 18+, smut, making love, husband and wife, bondage, blindfolds, marriage, gendered terms, love, romance, supernatural themes.

Notes: Here it is, the beloved sun-dress chapter that I have been carving out over the past month while practicing in between. You can see how I had to take a short break as my favoritism for Benn Beckman shone through. I wrote him his chaptered fic just after I finished the first section of this one - completely unrelated to this plot and story. I hope you enjoy this chapter, one more to go before the story is completed and the spinoffs begin! Love you all. Art link.

Song Suggestion: 'Til the light goes out - Lindsay Stirling

Rough and calloused fingertips brushed against your upper arms, causing you to unconsciously flinch away from their touch. Your breath hitched, your vulnerability heightened by the addition of a blindfold securing your eyelids tightly shut. The coarse digits were warm against your rapidly cooling skin, the dynamic of the silken ropes only adding to your intrigue and anticipation as the woven fibers began clutching to your body. 

“Easy now, my Lady,” the rumbled voice of Shanks’ first mate reassured you, tapping your forearms as an attempt to sooth you, “I’ve got you, alright? No harm, nor an unwarranted touch will come to you by my hands.”

Benn Beckman, the first-mate to the ‘red haired rat’, you affectionately associated him with, was ever the gentleman towards you. As you undressed moments prior, the larger man turned his back and began laying out the materials over Mihawk’s bare desk that he was about to weave around your body and assembled them with practice and precision. 

Wordlessly, you thanked the clown for burning off the heavier materials of your starlit gown. The remaining fabric managed to fall away from your body with ease, the garment pooling in a soft pile at your feet. As you stood in naught but the body you were born into, you shrouded yourself with your arms to grant yourself further privacy from your old friend. 

“My lady?” the gruff call of Beckman behind you called to you, “Are you ready for us to begin?” The hum in his tone did little to comfort you as your skin pricked under the cool air of the night. A soft ruffling sound had you beer over his shoulder at the older gentleman.

His hand circled the back of his silvery hair, tying it behind his head by the elastic of a small piece of leather. Layers of his hair managed to escape the tie and fall into his eyes, prompting him to huff a curt growl at himself. As you continued to remain unresponsive verbally to him, he sighed out a deep breath before drawing up the torn cotton fabric to conceal his eyes. 

“Lady Dracule, my eyes are now covered,” he commented in a soft and even tone, “I assure you, you have my word, your honor will remain intact with me at the helm here.” His hands softly began searching for the variety of materials that lay before him over the desk, fingers first meeting with a sheer piece of transparent gold, “I would never betray your trust, especially after all our time together.”

Walking towards the older gentleman, he held up his left hand in a manner to halt your descent towards him. You stuttered in your step and froze in place, heeding to his direction. 

“Eye covering on now, my lady,” he warned you, a small smile was almost depicted in his tone, “Don’t wanna risk anything, alright? Let’s not give the witch any leeway.”

And now, as his hands drew themselves up over your body, you could only deduce what he was placing over your skin. The material felt almost warm, you likened the fact by how firmly your old friend was clutching it in his hands before he placed it over your body. 

Silks drew themselves over your shoulders beneath his hands, his digits not lingering for a moment past its required need to be present. The cologne and nicotine smoke fragrance washing over you from the man behind you did nothing to calm your nerves, especially considering his hands were now hovering over your breasts.

“This next step is going to be rather intimate, my lady,” he informed you, his tone steady and informative. You nodded, the brush of your hair indicating your readiness by its brush against Beckman’s cheek behind you. A small huff of air exhaled through Beckman’s nose, something almost akin to a laugh following. 

“You know, you can talk to me,” he chuckled, his hands maneuvering woven bars of metallic thread between the chasms of your breasts, “Might make it less awkward for the both of us?” Your eyes fluttered wide beneath the mask as you realized you were yet to speak a single word to the man so intimately placed behind you. 

“I’m sorry, Beckman,” you apologized to the gray-haired first mate as his hands clasped around your midsection, “It almost escaped my mind that this experience would be more awkward for you than it is for me.” 

A gruff chuckle rumbled behind your back, his right hand circling your right wrist as he wove himself around your body to collect more materials from the desk. A shift in fabric scraping against the writing desk had your ears prick up.

“We’ll keep it light, alright? Let’s think about the old days,” his body moved in front of yours, left hand reaching for your collarbone while more chains of metal found its way atop your sternum, “Remember the first time all of us met?” 

You giggled out a small laugh at the memory, a laugh reflected in the deep chuckle of Benn Beckman. His fingers grazed over your stomach, the soft shift in fabric over your hips and fastened itself at your midsection by the wrapping of ropes across your naval. 

“I think that was when Shanks just dropped his trousers in front of one of my blushing debutantes: belt pooling at his ankles,” your giggle rose alongside your smile, “Had to chase him out with a broom, from memory. I can still see the panic in his eyes and the stumble in his step.” 

“Thankfully he managed to get the pants over his hips and fastened before he got to the Red-Force,” he chuckled with you, weaving ropes once more between your breasts and down your back, “Otherwise he would not have heard the end of it from me, that I can assure you.”

“Oh, and where were you, Beckman?” you quipped back at him, your smile now toothy and warm, “If my memory serves correct, you were attempting to woo the handmaiden to the lady of the house!”

“Attempting, my lady?” Beckman taunted back, his warm hands clapping over your hips to steady you, “Succeeding, I think you mean.” 

“Rascal,” you teased him, hissing over the ‘S’ with a chittering laugh. 

“Reformed rascal,” he confessed to you, his hands moving over your thighs, “I am a changed man these days,” his hands dipped between your legs and began tying several complex knots between the parting of your bare legs. “Keeping Shanks out of trouble is all I have time for, if I’m being honest.”

“Oh?” you prompted him with a quirk of your shrouded brow, “He never seems to stop, does he? Something needs to tame him, settle him down so you can get some semblance of peace.”

“Oh, I’ve been awaiting the day, my lady,” he confessed with a small chuckle, “I do need a holiday.” His hands began slowing their movement to focus on more intentional knot-work over your hips.

“I hear the new lady of Kuraigana is kind,” you comment with a smirk in your tone, “She may offer you a holiday, should you desire it, Mister Benn.” 

“Will she be providing ‘captain-sittin’ duty too?” he huffed with a snicker in his tone, “And it’s ‘Mister Benn,’ now is it? What happened to ‘Beckman,’ hm?”

“I’m sure she could be persuaded to watch over the rodent for a day or two,” you continued your teasing rapport with him, “And of course it’s ‘Mister Benn’,” you blindly seek out his right hand with your left, offering a gentle squeeze once you found it, “You’re doing so much for me, you deserve more of a title than a simple ‘Mister’. I’d knight you, if I had the ability to do so.”

His right hand gave you a soft squeeze in return before releasing your digits from his grasp. He cleared his throat with a soft cough, his fingertips fastening a soft knot by your knee. 

“I appreciate the gesture of knighthood, my lady,” he confessed, reaching for your adjacent knee and began fastening several intricate strands over your legs, “You have always been so kind to me. To all of us, really.” His hands cup your knee, reaching behind your thigh to grasp at a strand of gold that slipped his fingers, “Your husband is lucky to find a wife in a woman like you.” 

“Thank you for saying so, Sir Beckman,” you chuckled in response, “Loyal guardian and fierce protector of the Red-Force crew, a knight and friend to the new Lady Dracule of Kuraigana.” His chuckle huffed through his nose at your declaration. 

“Alright, my lady. I’ll play the role of knight for you,” his hands tugged at two ends of the golden fabric firmly, “This next part may feel a little unusual coming from my hands. Only two more knots to go before I’m done: these two are probably the most involved of the lot of them.” 

“Beckman, all of this is feeling rather involved- oh!” You shrieked a strangled gasp as he tugged firmly on the golden strands between your legs, the material hoisting over your thighs to firmly secure at your pelvis. A blush rose to litter your cheeks with a warmth you were not anticipating, Beckman’s hands hastily pulling away from touching your body in reaction to your surprise. 

“Nearly done, my lady,” he reassured you with an even tone, “Then you’ll be in the safety of the hands of your husband, and I’ll be out of your personal space. Cross my heart, alright?” Your breath hitched as his hands began hastily concluding a flourish of gestures. 

As your body began to experience a new sensation between your legs, Beckman tightened several strands over your chest which caused your breath to hitch further. Your eyes tightly scrunched shut as the material began grinding over your erogenous zones, prompting you to bite your lip to halt further sounds exiting your body. 

“One more knot, then Mihawk will be here,” Beckman reassured you with a small, tightlipped smile you would not see, “I’ll be out of your way and drinking with the rest of them in no time, my lady. It’ll be all a distant memory soon enough.” You nodded, a notion that Beckman would not see but only guess due to the shift in fabric. 

“I trust you, Sir Beckman,” you whisper, feeling the intentional and hasty way his fingers coil the fabric around your body in a finite weave. 

“Thank you, Lady Dracule,” he whispers in return, his hands securing the final strands of fabric behind your back from his position standing in front of you, “Your dress, as radiant as the sun that ignites the day in the flood of its warm light, is now completed.”

You both released a sigh of relief before joining together in a fit of huffed laughter. Beckman’s right hand found your left as he began brushing his left hand alongside the furniture to lead you throughout the room. 

“It’s almost a shame I cannot see how hard you worked, Beckman,” your comment eased its way out of your throat as your knees knocked against the mattress of the bed.

“Aye, that it is, my lady,” he admitted, ushering you to recline against the backboard of the large bed, “But Mihawk can.” 

Your cheeks flooded with a darkened heat of blush, your body aware of every sensation it was experiencing beneath the depravity of your eye sight. You felt Beckman’s hands beside your head, tugging and rearranging several plush pillows to cradle your body securely atop them. Heart swelling at the further gesture of friendship, your smile floated once again over your lips.

“You’re always so caring and compassionate, Beckman,” you compliment him with a softened smile in your tone, “We both owe you more than a single favor.” 

A single hum of confirmation was all the sound that escaped him before bidding you a curt: “This is where I leave you. Good luck, my lady.”

Hearing the thud of heavy boots descend away from your side, and the small open and shut of the door. No sounds indicated anything aside from your solitude. Your breathing was heavy and fuelled by anxiety and anticipation of what is to come. 

-

As the door clicked behind Beckman, he rolled his head back on his shoulders and shook his body to rid itself of the prior strenuous art he tied onto your body. He reached up, his fingers brushing with the blindfold and began untying the material under the new safety of the door. As the woven fabric dropped down his face, a small cough appeared reclined against the door beside him.

Lord Dracule Mihawk was glaring his amber eyes beneath the shroud of his broad hat, arms crossed over his chest and lips pursed in a soft snarl. Beckman sighed, rolling the material of the blindfold over in a soft circle in the palm of his hand. 

“You been here the whole time, Hawk?” Beckman asked him with a soft smirk curling at the left hand corner of his lip, “Would’ve thought you’d enjoy a few more drinks by the fire with your company.”

“And leave my wife naked in a room on our wedding night with another man? Hardly a likely scenario,” he confessed with a dark laugh. 

“I would never do anything to place a mark to her name, Mihawk,” Beckman immediately retorted, glaring his silvery eyes at the broody lord of Kuraigana. Mihawk elevated his hands defensively, pushing himself away from the wall and extending a bottle of hard liquor from behind his back to Benn Beckman.

“I know you would do no such thing,” Mihawk smirked, narrowing his eyes briefly before offering the bottle to Beckman, “And, for what it’s worth to you,” he leant in closer, passing the bottle into the taller man’s hands with a nod of his head, “I agree with the lady of Kuraigana.”

“In what regard?” Beckman elevated his eyebrow alongside his question. Mihawk’s smirk morphed into a rare smile, a smile that was becoming less rare in the days as long as he had you by his side. 

“You deserve more than a simple holiday,” he nodded in confirmation, “And you deserve far more than any mere knighthood, if you’ve managed to complete this task to its entirety.” Mihawk turned his back, making his way to the door and halting as his fingertips brushed with the brass door handle.

“I appreciate the whiskey,” Beckman smiled, reaching into his breast pocket of his patterned shirt and elevated his cigarette to his lips, “And your compliments, Mihawk. You’re a lucky man to land one hell of a woman.”

“That we can also agree on,” Mihawk smirked, halting his opening of the door and waiting for Beckman to begin his walk away from the room before clicking his thumb over the door handle. ‘

-

A soft click, several intentional footsteps and a gasp of breath being sucked in through quivering lips were all the sounds that caused your ears to prick at the corners. Swatting at the mattress beside you, you began rising from your comfortable recline against the bed. 

“Mihawk?” you whispered your call for him, “Mihawk, is that you?” 

The lord of Kuraigana, the current title holder of the worlds greatest swordsman, and the man who had only hours prior been dancing in merriment with his new bride in her two dresses that captured his attention now found himself rendered speechless. A man who always had a quip and retort, a man who purred with the energy of a poised panther waiting to pounce on a meek prey, a man who always had the last word in every conversation was completely, and totally, speechless. 

“Mihawk?” you whispered once again, your panic becoming adamant in your tone, “My love, are you there? Please, if it’s you, let me know you’re-.”

“-I’m here, my beloved,” he whispered, his body immediately drawing itself closer to you. He sunk his body down atop the mattress beside you and his fingertips immediately began hovering over the intricate knots, divots and sheer fabric cascading down your body in its recline against the bed. 

He was a man lost, an adventurer found within uncharted territory with no map to guide him. A sailor with no north star to point him towards home. The more he dwelled on the thought of being lost to his emotions, the more he felt like you were the home awaiting his arrival. As his fingers began their hasty descent over your body, the scandalous material covering barely an inch of your revealed flesh, he halted their descent. 

“My darling?” his voice quivered, his hands stuttering over your chest as his eyes hovered over the mounds of your breasts, “My love, may I touch you?” His eyes were yet to draw themselves up to meet with your face, too enchanted in a trance by the scandalous ties and ribbons Beckman had tied over your body moments prior. Too busy with the artistry Beckman had woven into your skin to notice the broad smile that rose over your cheeks.

As you rose to sit up, hands extended and reaching for your husband, you suddenly realized the intricate knotwork being woven against your sensitive flesh. As you elevated your body to reach for Mihawk, you gasped as an intentional knot of rope ground itself against your lower abdomen, causing sensations to heighten at the crude grind against your bare flesh. 

Hands finally meeting with your husband’s cool digits, you felt the subtle tremor in his motions: anticipation at the next stage of the night commencing. A loud cheer from the crowd gathered outside broke you away from your thoughts as a smile drew up over your cheeks. His fingers interlaced with both of yours, his clothed body pressing itself against your own as you felt his breath tickle your lips. 

“It seems they have taken their role in this very seriously, husband,” you allowed a soft laugh to rise in your voice. You felt Mihawk’s breath shift, a sharp exhale through his nose indicating his smile had risen to his cheeks. You unlaced your hand from within his, reaching blindly to his face to press against his whiskered cheek. 

“I would expect nothing less of the crews of the Red-Force, Big-Top, and our wards, wife,” he leaned into your hand, pressing his lips against your palm. Although your eyes were shrouded, you could feel the expression atop Mihawk’s face. His smile, the soft flutter of his lengthy, black eyelashes, and the soft scrunch of his nose had your lips fall back to reveal your teeth in your own smile. 

He sighed, pressing his hand against the one clutching his cheek and closing his eyes as he took a deep inhale of your perfume. Lingering in the moment, he reopened his eyes to view the shroud covering yours from being able to see him. His annoyance wrote itself on his face, his expression change being tangibly felt beneath your hand.

“My love, is something the matter?” you asked him, unlacing your other hand from within his fingers and cradling his face to seek out more of his expression. He scoffed, raising his hand to cover yours and press your right hand against his neck, while your left remained cradling his cheek. 

“Is it so wrong of me to want to enjoy my wife’s eyes when I intend on making love to her?” he whispered, looking down at your body for a moment before focussing on your face once more, “You are so beautiful,” he complimented you, inching his body closer, “I wish you could bare witness to your radiance.” 

“You flatter me, my lord,” you smiled at him, elevating your body to draw closer to him, “I am glad this composition pleases you-.”

“-Why did you ask for such a piece?” Mihawk growled at you, pressing a chaste kiss against your hand before lifting it off his cheek to join the other on his neck, “You knew you would never see it, why ask for it?” You took a moment to think on it, cocking your head to the side and angling your face away from his. 

“I suppose,” you began, pursing your lips a little with your brows furrowed, “Not only did I want the task to be unachievable,” you inched yourself ever closer, “But, should this task be truly met, I wanted something for only you to enjoy, my husband.” His breath was taken from him, the revelation causing his heart to swell with pride. He tugged at your body, pulling you from your position sitting and coaxing you away from the bed.

“Would you indulge me further?” he asked, stepping up from the bed with you to have you rise to your feet, “If this was intended for me to see, I desire to see it in its entirety, my lady.” You shook your head, biting back your smile as you allowed him to usher you to your feet. Before you had an opportunity to chastise him for using that soft title, he spoke over you.

“I know what you would say,” he held your right hand to allow you a semblance of an inkling as to where he was in the room, “For me not to refer to you as ‘my lady’.” He dropped your hand, his hand caressing your forearm and raising it to your shoulder.

“You assume correct,” you scoffed, turning your head beneath your shroud to point your face towards him.

“Ah, but here is where you remain misguided,” he traced his fingertips over your shoulder towards your spine. “You are my lady,” he whispered, the tingle of his breath on your neck caused your body to ignite with gooseflesh, “And you will forever be my lady,” he pressed a small kiss against the tip of your spine, below your hair. “My lady,” he withdrew his lips from your body, admiring your form beneath the strands of gold fabric, “You are mine, as much as I am yours.”

“I am yours,” you whispered, giving in to the desire for him that began pooling at the pit of your stomach in anticipation, “And you are mine.” He circled your body, his hands finding yours in front of you and intertwining them within his. Stepping in closer, his body heat radiated from his open shirt and buzzed against your own exposed flesh. 

“May I kiss you, Lady Dracule?” he whispered, your body immediately responding to your new title by melting away your inhibitions and anchoring your chin up to search for him. Your body flooded with emotion, truly feeling this new title that he gave to you at this very moment. You were his wife, the lady of the high keep of Kuraigana, the bride of the Worlds Greatest Swordsman, and former warlord of the seas. You were truly his, beneath the shroud of his familial name and within this new role as woman of the house. 

“Lord Dracule,” you sighed, feeling his aura closing in on your face, “I want nothing more than to share this moment with you.” Mihawk was forever grateful that your eyes were shrouded from his expression. He was not one to ever experience weakness, always remaining hard in the eyes of his enemies. Although you were not an enemy to him, he took the shroud against your eyes to allow himself to express pure, unbridled, and unrefined emotions for the first time since childhood.

He was so, desperately, in love with you. This moment, seeing the willingness in your body and the love in your smile was more than enough to cause his own resolve to weaken with his knees. The love you gave, the expression so freely given to him, was something unlike anything he had experienced prior. He had had women in his past, surely, but this was something else.

The love he felt ignited in his chest, the passion he felt flooded within his veins, and the emotion he felt swell within his eyes was enough to cause him to step forward and slowly draw his face down to meet with yours. Your breath was stolen from you as you felt his whiskered lips brush with your own. The soft scratch of his silken beard tingled against your chin, the broad hat brushing with your hair now completely loosened and untamed. 

Mihawk’s hands unwove from yours, his lips unbreaking their contact from massaging and layering intentional motions against your flesh. A shudder against your skin, and a rustle of fabrics descending from his chest, had your smile draw itself further up your face. Your hands sought out Mihawk’s shoulders, your fingers meeting with bare skin where once his pale shirt was covering. 

A strong left hand met with your right cheek, tugging and caressing your skin as he deepened the kiss. A sigh escaped your lips as his tongue drew patterns of longing against your bottom lip, grinding against yours as you opened your lips to meet him. His left hand ventured over your shoulders, mapping the skin carefully wrapped in intricate loops of gold fabrics and fibers. 

“Mihawk,” you gasped as soon as his lips left yours, his face nuzzling against your cheek and neck. His lips grazed, kissed and lightly bit at your skin as his fingers dipped into the golden fibers. He murmured your name, his familial name before uttering it prompted your heart to swell and soar in your chest. 

“I missed you so much, my lady,” he confessed into your neck, his lips withdrawing from your neck and finding your cheek once again, “I know it has only been a few minutes since Benn stole you from me, but it has felt like an eternity since I held my beautiful governess like this.” His hands pluck and prod at the knots over your body, his growing frustration evident on the rough huffs of his breath for each moment you remain confined in the ropes. 

“Your wife, Mihawk,” you remind him, hands blindly reaching for his face. Once you found his cheeks, you hastily drew his face to meet with yours, “I am your wife.” Your desperation to welcome him into your affectionate embrace has you move from your place beneath his stooped body to climb over to him. He ushered you towards him, your mind choosing to let him play guide for you to move about willingly. 

“My wife,” he whispered back to you, his hand ghosting intimate caresses over your body to guide you closer onto him. Shin brushing with the bare flesh of his leg, your anticipation only grew as you straddled his lap; him now sitting against the plush bed of his quarters. Hands exploring his shoulders, down his torso, and over his arms and stomach: you blindly began studying him. Your fingertips read him like elevated embroidery over a broad canvas, committing the poetry he was born with, and was painted against him within the art of war. 

His hands cupped your thighs, head angled up to press kisses of longing against your lips. A gentle tug of your thighs prompted you to sit atop him, anchoring your full weight over his lap. As you began to sit on him, the ropes began to constrict and tighten around your abdomen. The tied knots brushed against your groin, a strangled whimper falling from your lips as you felt Mihawk’s erect and quivering cock brush against your naval. 

“I need to get this off of you,” Mihawk groaned against your lips, “Beckman did too good of a job. I can’t find any slip knots to release you.” He continued to trail your knots, ties and bonds trapping you within the fabric. Your mind momentarily ceased its recollection of such a plight, but now that Mihawk had begun initiating the next installment of your evening together, you had never wanted to witness something before your eyes more. You wanted to see your husband, and he wanted to see your eyes gazing at him.

“It is rather constricting,” you admit, your lips seeking out his neck as his hands wrap around your back. His hands begin tugging at the knots harshly, you whimper into his neck as this tug had the ropes grind over your lower body. He halted his tugging, his breath hitching and his staggered movements. 

The passion between you ignited further, his desperate kisses pressing lengthy and staggered motions against you. He ceased his attempts at withdrawing the material away from you, choosing to focus on the feeling of finally having his wife within his arms. You were perfect; everything about you was perfect to him. Where once was a uniform made for servitude, now lay a design so provocative and sensual that a goddess would even blush viewing it. Yet, here you were: wearing it as if it was made for you and only you. 

Mihawk was in love, some foreign emotion he never thought he would ever experience. As he looked up at your form, he took a moment to gawk at you. He had never seen a beauty of such radiance, a woman that so perfectly held his heart within their hands. 

His excitement was depicted by the rush of blood to swell his cock, and he wanted nothing more than to see your body in return. He didn’t only want to see your bare flesh unshrouded, but he wanted to see your eyes. The eyes he fell in love with. The stern eyes that held him hostage from the moment you first reprimanded Zoro at the doorway of his manor. 

“I am-...” Mihawk’s voice lost itself in his voice, his fingertips returning to you and tugging on the strands once more. The material ground itself higher in your abdomen, the material causing pleasure to seep against your clit. Your gasp was the greatest serenade he had ever graced his ears, his mind finally realizing how truly at his mercy you were in the knots, “...-I am going to cut the damn thing off you.” His confession had you swoon, sensing his desperation for you in his confession. 

A small shriek of shock flung from your parted lips as Mihawk all but threw you against the mattress beneath him. As he watched you writhe beneath him, he began to feel frustrated at not being able to see all of you at once. Teeth bit at your neck, lips sucked your pulse and his firm, covered cock ground against your body: a moan fleeing from his lips at this subtle touch. Caging you beneath him, he examined your body: focussing his gaze on each band of gold woven over your form. The sheer fabric did nothing to disguise each curve, the ties and knots accentuating your femininity in a manner so sinful: the moment his eyes met with your body, he was consumed with the flames of lust he had never encountered prior.

Although he had lain with other individuals in his lengthy crusade of piracy and swordsmanship, his mind was never as challenged as it was with you. His soul never felt the need to join with another in this way. He was perfectly content to remain in solitude, continuing to hold the title of ‘World's Greatest Swordsman’ and live alone until it was time for the next generation to claim that title from him. 

Then he met you. 

His confidant turned governess, his governess turned betrothed, his betrothed turned wife: his wife, lying beneath him enwrapped in bands of gold so scandalous and erotic - he was entranced by the lustful emotions plaguing him. 

“My darling, I want to gaze into your eyes when I make love to you,” he confessed in a breathy whisper, “You deserve far better than to be kept beneath the shroud of darkness for our first time joining our bodies together.” You smiled up at him, your chin angling to collect his lips within yours. The same desperation flooded your veins, the pleasure you anticipated to give and receive to and from your husband finally catching up to you. 

The carnal desire to have one another finally caused your mind and body to catch up at once. The confinements within the gold fabric had begun to illuminate, the metal feeling warm and pleasurable against your body. In one final attempt at reinforcing the fact that you wanted this, you collected his face beneath your hands and refocused his attention. 

“There will be other times,” you whisper, your hands traveling to his back as he continues to grind his hips against your thighs, “For now, I just need to feel you here with me.” At that confession, a primal urge swept through Mihawk’s body. His hands moved with a mind of his own. He fled from your embrace, your momentary confused sorrow at his departure was eclipsed by shock at Mihawk’s arms hooking beneath your thighs and prying apart your legs. 

“If you are certain this is what you want,” Mihawk’s panting breath managed to utter. His lips hovered over your skin, tracing the curvature of your cheeks and down your neck. “I want this to be good for you. I want you to experience this the way you truly deserve it,” he kissed your cheek to press in his desires, “I want this to be something you want.”

“I want you, my love,” you confessed in a breathy voice, dripping with desire, “I only want you.” He allowed a melancholy smile to rise to his cheeks, feeling his own desire truly catch up with him at this very moment. His eyes traveled down to your body: your breasts hugged beneath the fabric of the gold, the sinful knots and ties over your stomach - he took in every element before he truly gave in to his own desires. 

“So be it, my love,” were all the utterances he whispered at you before he dove his face between your legs. The knots, ties and woven fibers added an additional layer of friction to Mihawk’s needy tongue lapping at your aroused core. His hands held you firmly, completely exposed to his abrasive and hungry momentum. 

Tongue, lips and teeth greedily consumed your arousal like a beast awoken too early from hibernating slumber. Choking on your voice, your senses were working in overdrive to compensate for the shroud tied over your eyes. His tongue dipped into your entrance before licking a broad stripe up to your sensitive clit. 

Your arousal dripped past the fibers of gold and down against the sheets beneath you. His teeth bit at the knot hovering above your sensitive pearl, attempting to pry it away from you to no avail. He growled against your heat, the vibrations tingling your body as his frustration became more ferocious. “I want to see you,” he barked, his tongue lapping at your sensitive and exposed heat, “I want to see all of you.” His hands desperately clawed at your thighs to attempt to loosen the strands of gold. 

“Mihawk,” you mewled his name as his head began bobbing at your flesh. The intricate knots prompted the ministrations to become more intense at each passing swipe, “Mihawk, please.” The pit of your belly began to tingle with the simmering warmth of an impending eruption of curated bliss beneath Mihawk’s tongue. He continued swirling his tongue over your heat, your body becoming more ignited and propelled towards an awaiting explosion.

“Is it too much, my bride?” he asked you, his voice knit with concern for a moment while he halted his motions. You shook your head, reaching for him with your right hand. His left hand met with yours, giving your digits a gentle squeeze.

“You are perfect, my groom,” you praised him, squeezing his hand in response. The cloth over your eyes prompted you to begin to become agitated beneath its confining shroud. As his right hand pawed at your thigh, you pressed your head back against the mattress. Mihawk was transfixed, hypnotized at the rise and fall of your chest. 

“May I continue to please you this way?” he pressed a soft kiss against your thigh, his beard tickling your skin beneath your heightened senses. You give him a soft nod with your lips parting, letting out a soft cry when he doubled his efforts to bring you ever closer to reaching the point of ecstasy.

He was mesmerized at each soft tug on his hair, your hands lacing in his soft curls and rubbing soothing circles of encouragement against his skull. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze as he groaned against you, smiling as you reciprocated the soft squeeze. He softly groaned in frustration, desperately craving to see your eyes and feel your skin bare before him. 

“If I can not see you released from these bonds,” Mihawk groaned against your quivering heat, your walls beckoning him to chase your release by coating your entrance with glistening arousal, “I am going to lose what semblance that remains of my sanity.” 

“Mihawk-,” you attempt to cry your warning of your climax, your toes beginning to tingle and shake, as your belly fills with the overwhelming tightness of release as he dove back in against you. His tongue lapped eagerly, the grind the metal fibers brushing against your heat and causing your whole body to tingle. 

“-I know, my love,” he raised his hand, pressing down on your writhing stomach and holding you in place, “I can feel how close you are. I want you to lose yourself against my lips and tongue,” he focused his ministrations over your sensitive bud and skillfully chased your high with lips, “I want to feel your bliss, knowing it's crafted by my hands. I need to see this first, before I attempt to pry you from the bonds that contain you once more.” 

The woven coil snapped within you, your senses overwhelmed as you gushed over Mihawk’s tongue. His relentless attack never ceased, forcing you to experience the full ignition of your release. Your breath was stolen from you as you desperately called his name. Writhing beneath him, he continued to hold you firmly as you were chaperoned through your high. 

He withdrew from you once the world was once again within reach of your four senses, your eyes remaining shrouded with the lights of ecstasy beginning to dim behind the cloth. You felt Mihawk shift above you, his arms drawing over your body as he kissed his way up to your clavicle and neck. 

Your breath once again found you in a natural progression, your whimpers and moans becoming regulated by your steady breathing. Mihawk could not get enough of watching your lips parted and panting for him, your back arching and breathing returning to its regular syncopation. He so desperately desired to see your eyes, to see you lost in the bliss he crafted for you.

“Lady Dracule?” he apprehensively whispered to you, your face turning towards the source of his beckoning tone. “My love, are you quite alright? Was that okay? Did I-.”

“-Please rid me of these blasted knots, Mihawk,” you order him in return, your smile written in the warmth of your voice, “I need to see you. I miss you now more than ever before.” He called your name, a small waiver in his voice caused concern to knit over your brows, your hands meeting with his shoulders as you usher his face above yours.

You softly coax him up to your face, ushering him to position his body above your own. His lips descended on yours, his touch feeling less ravenous and more intentional than it was moments prior. His lips were soft, his actions truly depicting nothing but truth, love, and absolute honesty within his passionate kiss. His tongue traced the outline of your bottom lip, your own lips parting to shepherd him in to deepen the kiss. 

“I love you, my lady,” he whispered suddenly, his face pulling away from yours to look down at your face. Your soft smile rose to your face, your lips parting and chasing his withdrawal with them. He looked down at you, truly mesmerized by the beauty he had managed to claim beneath him. He meant every word uttered, down to the last syllable. You were his, and he was yours. 

“Show me,” you whispered to him, his breath hitching in his throat in response. Your final utterance had every part of him swelling with pride. “Make love to me.”

Mihawk immediately feels the twitch of his cock against his stomach, wanting nothing more than to claim his wife in this way by caging her beneath him. But as he met his eyes with the shroud that covered yours, he was met with a new challenge. 

“I want to see you, my darling,” he confessed in a breathy whisper, reaching up to your face and beginning to tug at the cloth covering your eyes. “I need to see you look at me as I make love to you for the first time.” He desperately begins to pry the material from your body.

At the pull and loosen of one strand, another would tighten in its place. He clawed at your stomach, intending to rid you of the coarse fibers only for it to constrict around your core that caused you to cry out at the overstimulation. He attempted to pry further, his arms clenching and shaking at how hard he gripped the material, but yet it still remained unbudging in its firm grip.

“M-Mihawk,” you whined, feeling him hoist up the material and grind your slit; your arousal pooling atop the bedsheets below you, He growled, attempting one final time to rid you of your confines before he gave in to his urge to finally claim you as his bride. 

“My love, I-...” he trailed off, feeling your hand reach down and cup his cheek. He was silent, still, allowing himself this small glimpse at the soft luxury he had not experienced before. He leant into your touch, placing his chin on your palm as you softly whispered to him.

“There will be other times,” you repeated your earlier sentiment, coaxing him towards your lips, “While I would love to see you as you are, I feel our other needs are of far greater importance.” Your teeth were revealed in your wolfy grin, hungry for your husband to finally claim you and brand you as his and his alone. As soon as Mihawk’s pointed gaze met with that smile, he was held captive beneath its majesty. He wanted nothing more than to please you, to dote on you, to claim you as his. 

“My beloved,” he whispered your name on his tongue, gently rolling it over with your formal title to him, “I want this to be special for you. This is a moment we cannot take back, a moment that joins us together officially as husband and wife. I will be yours, and you will be mine.” His confession had your heart soar, feeling tangibly how much this moment meant to him. 

“I am yours,” you whisper, drawing his chin up to your face, “Only yours.” Your confirmation rang in his ears, his heart beating in his chest, and his desire for you growing ever stronger. “If you are here, now, and in this moment,” you whisper to him, raising yourself up to sit before him, “I could want for nothing more.” 

Mihawk felt his desire overcome him, finally wanting to claim you as his. He needed you, to feel the way you felt wrapped around him. He wanted to bring you the greatest pleasure you had ever experienced, and was feeling the pressure to pursue such a performance. As your touch lingered on against his cheek, ushering him closer and reassuring him, all he wanted at that moment was you.

You.

His governess, his confidant, his friend, his wife.

His lost lady.

All of you. 

As you usher him closer, he leans over your body and cages you beneath his forearms. You smile, attempting to use your four other senses to get a read on how he is feeling above you right now. You listen to the pants in his breath, feel the heat in his skin, smell the wine on his tongue, and finally taste the arousal on his lips as they press themselves against yours. His kiss is intoxicating, filled with lust and consuming your very soul with the intensity of the oscillation. 

Moving your hands down to his shoulders, you draw him in closer; lying down on your back as you slot him in between your thighs. His lips grew bold, parting yours beneath his as his tongue darted out to brush with your own in a sultry tango. You reach down to his stomach, feeling all of the bare flesh beneath your fingertips and diving lower to his waistline. 

He smiles against your lips as you begin ridding himself of his pants. Struggling against the blinding shroud, you tap his skin to locate the buckle to release him of his marriage-clothes. He chuckles into your kiss, releasing himself from your lips and rising up to kneel on his calves. A bell jingles in your ear, his belt buckle ringing, as you hear shuffling material rid his pants from his hips and pool on the floor as he discarded them. 

Hands from the both of you desperately grasped and grabbed at one another, flesh meeting fingertips as your lips bound themselves against each other. You moaned against his lips as you felt his tip press against your slit beneath the bonds of gold imprisoning you against viewing your husband fully within the suite. 

“My heart,” he whispered to you, smoothing your hair over with his fingers, “My body,” he lined himself fully with your glistening core, prodding it with his swollen tip, “My soul,” he coaxed it within you, feeling the stretch of your body around him to compensate for his girth, “Is yours.” 

Pressing more of himself into you, you throw your head back against the pillows beneath you as you feel him finally begin to claim you as his wife physically. You hear his teeth grit as he paws at your thighs, holding them steady as he slowly sheathes himself deep within you. 

“Is this okay, my love?” he asks, his voice faltering at the end corner of it as he halts his movements. You wince a little, your body taking time to adjust to coaxing a lover within your body. You softly nod your head, prompting him to click his tongue in response, “Please answer me, my beloved. I need to know if it-...” he gasps, feeling the way your walls spasm around him to accommodate him, “...if it’s okay to move yet.” 

You gasp, feeling the remnants of arousal against your entrance accommodate Mihawk’s impressive girth deep within you. He had worked at your body so easily earlier, his frustration adamant in his need to claim an eruption from your body with his lips and tongue. He held himself stationary, using every fiber of his being to keep from ravishing you immediately before you had time to adjust to feeling him fill your body. 

“You can move, my love,” you whisper, your head desperately seeking him out beneath the blindfold with a soft smile on your face, “You have waited so patiently, and I am here for you to claim as your own.” You grin up at him, feeling his lips only a breath away from your own. 

Mihawk wastes no further time, immediately thrusting his cock deep within your body and sheathing it to the hilt. You cry out a little in shock, feeling full to the brim with his length buried deep within you, prompting him to pull back a little and test you with a gentle and slow thrust back into you. He softly whispered your name, groaning on the last syllable as his hips pressed against yours. 

Slow, deliberate, and fluid motions had your toes curling behind Mihawk’s hips; his right hand immediately finding your thigh and hooking it over his hip as he thrust into you. He groaned your name, feeling your hands collect his curls at the scruff of his neck as your body relaxed around him. Your back slid against the mattress, a knot in the middle of your shoulder blades beginning to loosen. Mihawk huffed his breath, his movements slotting himself within your walls becoming heavier and intentional.

The friction of the sheets grinding against your back had the slip-knot Benn Beckman placed in the middle of your shoulders finally beginning to unravel. Mihawk was too lost in the way your body felt finally wrapped around him, his eyes closing and finally giving in to the urges that began to claw and consume him. His heart, his body, his soul was yours in this moment, just as yours were his, as his hips staggered against you. 

“My wife,” he whispered, the pleasure building within the pit of his belly, his eyes scrunching shut as his girth and length quivered. He reached up, leaving your leg hooked behind him and hooked his thumbs beneath the blindfold, “I don’t care. I don’t care,” he began to move the shroud, your body beginning to loosen the strands of gold over your breasts and back, “I need to see you.”

“Mihawk,” you gasp, feeling him tug the material over your eyes. You flutter your eyelashes, adjusting to the hazy image of the World’s Greatest Swordsman, your swordsman, on top of you. His brow was furrowed, his lips parted, and his eyes were filled with nothing but absolute devotion and love. He was immediately lost within your eyes, a gasp fleeing his lips as he felt himself nearly come undone just at the soft gaze you gave to him.

He lost all his composure, picking up the pace as he gazed deep into your eyes. Huffing and panting, his pleasure nearly reached the peak. Waves of ecstasy began to wash over you, feeling your husband finally gaze so lovingly into your eyes as he chased your mutual eruptions of ecstasy. 

“Mine,” he chanted, leaning forward and staring at you like a beast consumed with lust, “Only mine.” You felt his motions stagger, becoming more frantic as he channeled you both towards release. You whimpered, taking your bottom lip between your teeth to stifle a soft mewl of bliss. 

“Don’t you dare,” Mihawk reached up, pressing his lips to yours to take your bottom lip away from your teeth, “I want to hear you. Let me hear you.” You listen to your husband, softly crying his name as the rapid approach of your bliss draws closer. Your body began to contract around his cock, his own groans adding to the symphony of ecstasy in the air as the crowd outside began to sing loudly and joyfully. 

“Mihawk,” you whined, gripping onto his shoulders as he felt you tighten around him. He cried your name, his cock twitching as he finally released himself deep within you. Your walls fluttered and contracted around him, wringing his cock of any final spurts of his spend and becoming one heart, one mind, one soul and one spirit at the join of your bodies. 

Thrusting languid rocks of his hips as you rode through your highs had neither of you realize the gold fibers had finally rid themselves of their hold on your flesh. You continued gazing into his face as he looked down, a soft smile drawing over his lips the moment he recognised the absence of the sun-dress. You were fully bare, both finally equal in your vulnerability and nudity. 

“There you are,” He sighed at you, bringing up his hand to caress your cheek, whispering in a voice so soft and intimate you could barely hear it, “My found-lady.” 

Overcome with emotions, your eyes began to prick with tears as your smile grew over your lips. The curse had ended, Mihawk’s tasks had been completed, you had bound yourself to him as his lover, his wife, and his confidant. You were his, and he was yours. 

Your tears began to spill over your lash line, prompting Mihawk to chuckle and draw you closer into his chest; sitting you upright and cradling you into his chest as he rocked back onto his knees. He smoothed over your hair, pressing soft kisses into your hairline and sighed as you circled your arms around him. 

“I love you,” he whispered into your ear, his confession feeling more deep, truthful and intimate than the experience you had falling apart in his arms, “More than you could ever know.” You buried your head in his chest, his chin resting atop your head as you felt the flicker of his heartbeat thud against your ear. 

He rose to his feet, hooking a hand beneath your knees and holding the other firmly behind your back, “I’m going to bathe you now, my love.” He whispered into your cheek, pressing a soft kiss against your skin, “And then I have a gift for you.” Walking over to the ensuite, he balanced you on his muscular thighs and leant over the bath and turned on the taps to fill the extraordinarily large bath full of hot water. He tested the temperature with his wrist before leaning back and kissing your temple. You pry yourself away from his chest, looking down at the water.

“This is going to take a while to fill, my love,” you smile, shaking your head at the slow rise of water flowing in the ceramic basin. Mihawk’s smirked down at you, his teeth bared in an uncharacteristic, wolfy grin.

“Oh no,” he mocked, brushing his nose playfully with your cheek and giving it a quick peck, “Whatever shall we do to pass the time?” You laughed at him, giving his chest a playful push before moving your arm up to his neck and drawing him into a lengthy kiss.

Tag List: @maybe-a-bi-witch @fuzzyfestcat @sordidmusings @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @since-im-already-here @feral-artistry @be-good-please @sukilovesyou @acehyacinth @andriannag @one17 @canthebest1 @khaleesihavilliard @hungrhay @sentieence @lebanese-afg-ya @captaincupio @szired @sexc-snail @alphaash99 @mfreedomstuff @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mrs-wolfwood @jaguarthecat @marsbars09 @vespidphoenix @cinnbar-bun @carrotsunshine

[fanaticsnail]

I'm gonna throw up (affectionate)

Governess Lady Dracule getting misty eyed realising she's now lady Dracule

Mihawk only being distracted for a second - not able to be distracted from her for longer - and instinctively blindly reaching his hand out for his wife - even when not looking at her he reaches for her, especailly when overwhelmed by things he dislikes like socializing with his guests, seeking her out for comfort. Noticing her absence immediately - unable to comprehend her not by his side, feeling her absence as unnaturally as a phantom limb - and drawing his sword on everyone, even his closest friend

“Y-You’ve,” Mihawk stumbled over his words, darting his frantic eyes between Shanks’, “You’ve kidnapped my bride?” <-- OOOH the desparation, the panic - I feel like that one scene in The Grinch "The Horror!" "The fury!" "The muscles."

Perona: Mihawk sings

Zoro: Mihawk sings?

Me, out loud: Mihawk sings?

Beckmann is so done with his dumbass captain I just know he's been chewing through 6 cigarettes a day throughout this whole ordeal

(Just wait hun, Shanks has his own coming for him)

"I'm almost jealous that I won't be the one wearing it." <--- the way I was gripped with the spirit of a salacious old man from 1950's New York. "Yew could wear it for me anytime, doll. Put on a show for daddy."

"You're not technically married" <--- Buggy. Darling, sweetie, baby. You've already made an enemy of Mihawk do not push your luck with Lady D

Lady D saying that she loves Mihawk out loud!!! Only realizing it a second later bc it was so instinctual!!!! Her being genuinely thankful to Buggy for helping make this day happen because she's thankful that the day did happen!!!

Perona and Zoro, ready to watch Mihawk woo their Governess:

Before he fell within your proximity, he halted and inhaled a shaken breath as he humbly knelt with both knees on the floor, his hands laced and placed within his lap. Your breath hitched, eyes darted between his honey-coloured eyes which then immediately snapped shut. 

Mihawk’s eyes opened, his breath hitching as he witnessed the longing gaze you were offering to him. Your eyes swelled with emotions, lips parting and drawing up in a melancholy smile. Mihawk offered you a small, bashful smile as he continued to sing to you. 

He rose his knee from his kneeling into a lunge, bowing his head down and removing his hat from his head. A final promise uttered lyrically from within his skilled melody, you holding onto each word. 

^No words, just needed us to draw attention to this and have a moment to appreciate it. Also the song?????? Beautiful. The lyrics perfectly reflecting both them and their future together

Hhhhhhhh the kiiiiiisssss. Her grabbing his face? Being the one to initiate after he poured his heart out to woo her and waited with baited breath to see if she would accept?? Reassuring him that she does love him and rewarding him for humbling himself??? Comforting him after his act of vulnerability????

Ugh, just all the small acts afterwards as well that show their care for each other beyond grand gestures. Mihawk kissing her forehead and not being able to bear pulling away so he keeps resting close to her. Only breaking away when she brings up the food but still wanting to be close he smooths out her hair, an act of tender care. Them being able to joke with each other. Him getting concerned and angry when hearing she hasn't eaten.

Zoro realizing that becoming the greatest swordsman by killing Mihawk means breaking up their beautiful union and especially upsetting his sweet Governess!!! Trying to think of other ways! A huge step considering how stubborn and determined he is that really shows how much he cares and particularly how much he's grown under the Governess' guidance.

Also I love the dress having both their birth constellations on

Mihawk not wanting to break from Governess' side after being without her, not even wanting to interact with his guests! Except he gives small smiles to each of her former students!!!! Because he values her work!!!!! And he knows she cares so he cares too!!!!!

He was yours to do with what you will, clay awaiting molding into the husband you desired him to be. <---- hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Okay seriously all the kiss descriptions in this are insane, were you plagued by voices or something you madwoman?

He didn't even read her resume he just knew he wanted heRRRAAAAAAAAAGGGHHH

"For as long as we both shall live, and for whatever comes next."

Her telling Zoro she won't stop him and doesn't want to extinguish his dream!! Him shocked and practically begging her to get mad at him or try and convince him otherwise even if he won't be convinced bc he can't grapple with the thought of taking their happiness from them!!

“And between us, I would rather it be you. You are someone we both trust," - "You trust me? You trust me to give him an honorable death?” <-- baby. A child. I am putting him in my pocket.

God, everything about Governess comforting Zoro and Zoro being so shocked and emotional that she doesn't hate him and in fact trusts and loves him, and them hugging.

Lmao, Governess getting tossed around the dancefloor by all the dressmakers.

Again, Governess genuinely thankful for this happening, even knowing Crocodile isn't as well-intentioned as Buggy or Shanks.

“An expert tamer of unruly individuals, I shall keep you in mind for when such a purpose arises.” <--- HMMMM, I WONDER WHEN HE COULD POSSIBLY MEET SUCH AN UNRULY INDIVIDUAL. GUESS WE'LL NEVER KNOW.

I do truly love Governess' relationship with the red-haired pirates. Getting to see her being less prim and proper and seeing the stern hand that she has to have in her life of work, knowing why she's the best at what she does. Her getting to have people that are dear to her at the union of her and her man to usher them into the future. Plus the nicknames are so fun

The cliffhanger is so cruel! Not just to us but to our dear Governess who, with Beckmann, will probably spend 20 minutes off-screen swearing and struggling to find the straps.

Mihawk: My Beloved, you are late, if you are perhaps nervous in the light of this tradition-

Governess: Mihawk, my heart, I just spent 15 minutes putting the lingerie on backwards and upsidedown.

Governess: And then another 5 minutes admiring the lift it gave my ass cheeks.

Snail. I love your chapter reviews. They are amazing and I appreciate each word you articulate in your analysis.

Lord and Lady Dracule are in love, both of them truly realising this in its entirety in this chapter. Her speaking it aloud, whereas he reaches for her to hold - a big favourite dynamic.

You joining in with Zoro and Perona's shock is way too funny. I hinted at him singing way back when he was Farm-Boy in the door, humming his little tune. Had to make him sing properly. Since then, I needed to hear his song.

Benn Beckman needs a break. A long one. Preferably with a vast assortment of individuals with the ability to provide him rest. Hopefully Shanks' bride will aid him in finding such solitude and respite when she takes over his care. Cheeky captain.

Buggy is doing his best. He is a softie, and needs a partner to appreciate that softer side of him. All that care in costume designing for his crew really shone through in this chapter - the deep thought he put into the elements to encapsulate the burning ball of flame a star is, alongside incorporating the consultations of their birth was a favourite. Sea-faring folk know the stars, and buggy learnt from the best.

Considering their first kiss was Mihawk grabbing her, she needed to show him how much she truly desired him too. He's hers, body and soul until Zoro claims both from him with his blade. Zoro loves his governess. Perhaps he will find an alternative to killing Mihawk to claim his title for all their sakes. Zoro definately needed that cuddle after such unbridled affirmations. He would adore living in your pocket.

Me and kisses.

Truthfully, I am a madwoman. I adore writing kisses. I need to know the touch, the emotions and feelings, the tension, the taste, the smell, the music swelling - I need to know everything. Which is going to come in handy for the next chapter when it's more than just a kiss 😏.

Crocodile's Sapsorrow is coming. So close, I can taste it. He will definitely need the Governess in a few key areas.

The Governess and Red-Hairs were so much fun to write for. The Vile Exterminator and their Vermin, kept in line by the broody bloodhound Benn Beckman when she isn't there to aid in his blight.

More of Beckman's Blight being in the arrangement of the Sun-Dress at the careful directions notated by the inebriated Captain. Coarse fingertips, hums of soothing affirmation, apologetic whispers, soft gasps, sea-travelling curses - Mihawk is going to either kill Benn Beckman or kiss him when he gets a glimpse of his bride.

Considering our governess is also blindfolded: how is she going to know where the marriage bed is? Will she be blindfolded for the whole intimate encounter, or simply Beckman's? Will she actually get to see the dress, or simply experiencing it being expertly tied and untied with brushing fingers, grasping hands, soothing touches, and lustful ravishing. Surely she should be allowed to see her groom, not just feel his wandering fingertips and warmth radiating from his body.

The butt-lift comment has me laughing. Yes to that. It is going to be a wild ride. Of course I needed to end it on a cliffhanger! It was over 10,700+ words and I wanted to have a chapter alone on the intimacies of romancing the flesh. More to come soon!!

As always, I love and appreciate you Snail. It's a highlight getting asks from you 🖤🖤.

[fanaticsnail]

YES TO THISSSSS. Thank you @therosietoesy 🖤🖤🖤

I am but a lowly snail, but:

I can't wait for the @writingmysanity, @cinnbar-bun, @sordidmusings and @gingernut1314 fics to all be out together!!!

My gooooodness.

I have to make a start on a couple more jotted thoughts.

I'm leaving Usopp's for last 😏😏😏

Love you all!!!

Y'all need to read @fanaticsnail and @gingernut1314 stories, especially Sapsorrow & The Luck child. The writing is so beautifully done and transports into the world of the story.

[fanaticsnail]

Chapter 8

Masterlist Here, Moodboard Here

Sapsorrow Masterlist

Word Count: 10,700+

"Whom so ever fits the ring becomes wed to the warlord who owns it" 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.

Starlight

(Image Source: https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/462322717990096069/)

Tag List: @maybe-a-bi-witch @fuzzyfestcat @sordidmusings @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @since-im-already-here @feral-artistry @be-good-please @little-bunnybabe @sukilovesyou @acehyacinth @andriannag @one17 @canthebest1 @khaleesihavilliard @hungrhay @sentieence @lebanese-afg-ya @captaincupio @szired @sexc-snail @alphaash99 @mfreedomstuff @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mrs-wolfwood @jaguarthecat @marsbars09 @vespidphoenix @cinnbar-bun

Notes: Thank you to @i-am-vita for her banner! Oh, boy. This is a big chapter. Next chapter will be MDNI, 18+. Thank you for your patience with me working at this. Two more chapters to go!

Song Suggestions: Young and Beautiful - Je suis Parte & Por Una Cabeza - Carlos Gardel

The ship swayed over the cloudy swell of darkened waves, shepherding the vessel away from the Kuraigana port and to a location your captain deemed appropriate for a newlywed bride to be hidden away from her husband. 

Captain Buggy D Clown was not one to shy away from anything, especially not when something as interesting as causing drama and theatrics at the expense of Lord Dracule Mihawk was present. He was eager to present this challenge, whether you or Mihawk were also eager was a completely different tale entirely. 

Within the Captain’s quarters aboard the Big-Top, you struggled with the back of your dress: uncinching the rigging your ward managed to tie for you to keep your body contained within its material. A huffed and agitated smile awoke on your face, picturing this struggle in comparison to the one to come after your starlight ensemble. If the moon was as difficult to rid from your body, you could not imagine how taxing the sun would be over your skin and concealing you from your husband.

Husband. You have a husband now. A husband that would be more than agitated to know you were now out to open seas and venturing to unknown horizons, away from the celebration he carefully curated for you. 

“-Everything alright in here, Starlight?” the nasally crack of Buggy’s voice cut through the wooden door, “‘Ya need help?” You chuckled darkly, attempting to pry the material from you to no avail. 

“Actually, Captain,” your voice held a frantic wave within its tone, “I think I do. The back is snagged, and I can’t get the damn thing off of me.” The door slowly creaked open, after a gentle rap alerted you he was to do so. You turned yourself away to conceal your exasperation from him, the stutter in your hands giving away your agitation as you continued to fumble over the ribbons at the rear of your dress.

“Do you trust me, Doll?” you heard his voice alarmingly close to your body, enough to cause a hitch in your throat. You glanced over your shoulder, witnessing Buggy’s teal eyes glancing up through his eyelashes and lips parting in concern. 

“Considering you have robbed me of my wedding night with my beau,” your warning tone cut through the air as swift as a guillotine, “Spirited me away from the unity celebrations, and-,” you huffed, turning back around and glaring out of the bay window, “Confined me to spend this time alone and isolated from all those I hold most dear: I hardly deem you worthy of my trust presently, Captain.” 

Buggy’s gasp was melodical and pitched up two octaves higher than his usual cadence. You could feel the waves of anxiety rising within his shoulders and expressed through several strangled breaths. 

“I-I’m sorry, Lady Dracule. I didn’t think of it from your perspective and how my actions would-.” Whatever else Captain Buggy D Clown spoke after the first four words meant very little to you. Your mind looped them repetitively, the call and roll of the words felt both surreal and magical, you could hardly think about anything else. 

“-Would’ve rather stayed on shore, it would be less flashy and make the chase all the less desperate. We could turn back if-,” Buggy’s words halted as he glanced back into your eyes, noticing the distant expression with a melancholy sorrow eclipsing your painted features. “...-Are you alright, my Lady Dracule?” he asked you.

“Lady Dracule,” you repeated, your brows forming a pillar at the center of your forehead and causing a small swell to mist your eyes, “I’m Lady Dracule, now.” Buggy took a moment to glance over your features, noticing this shift of emotion permeating through your stance. 

Apprehensively, he reached his hand forward and gently caressed your shoulder. The gentle squeeze broke you out of your circulating mind, looking down and meeting the eyes of the cerulean-haired captain. 

“Can I help you out of this dress and into the assortment I crafted for you, my lady?” Buggy asked softly, watching as you nodded in affirmation for his fingers to set to work. 

“I’ll get this off in just a minute,” he whispered, his index fingers hooking through the loops in your back and slowly releasing the garment’s hold over your body, “And then we can think about your hair, and retouch your makeup. I’ll get Cabaji to bring us a bottle of the wine we swiped from the reception, too.” 

You allowed a soft giggle to fall from your parted lips, the relief from being rid of the tightness of your dress while knowing you were in capable hands. As Buggy’s fingers aided you in being free from your garment, while respectfully aiding you into the new dress, your mind wandered to your husband and what he was doing in this moment. Did he notice your departure, or was he enjoying your joint celebrations in solitude? 

-

“Where,” Mihawk’s yellow eyes glared accusingly around the guests through narrowed lenses, “Is,” he advanced, Yoru drawn with the pointed tip threatening the jugular of the Captain of the Red-Force, “My wife.” 

Lord Dracule Mihawk, distracted momentarily by his guests and acquaintances upon exiting the ceremony space, sought out your hand to claim within his. He blindly reached beside him, outstretching his desperate hands to shepherd you to his side, his fingers brushing nothing but air in its wake. 

He noticed your absence immediately.  

“Easy now, mate,” Shanks raised his arms, noticing several members of his crew withdrew their concealed weaponry and aimed it at the enraged former warlord, “Easy, easy. She’s safe, I swear this to you.” 

“Where is she?” Mihawk spat, his feet sliding into an assaulting stance, interweaving his body to draw closer to the red-head’s teasing face, “What have you done with her?” 

“She’s with Buggy- Oi, relax,” Mihawk’s pupils narrowed, his eyes wide and wild at the knowledge departing from Shanks’ lips, “She’s safe, it’s all a part of appeasing the tradition.” Shanks attempted to soothe over the growing temper Mihawk was steadily elevating, gesturing for his crew to holster their weaponry. 

“What tradition?” Mihawk barked, pressing the sharpened tip of Yoru deeper into Shanks’ neck, not quite puncturing the skin. 

“We just wanted it to be perfect, Hawk-Eyes,” Shanks’ hazelnut eyes bore with no utterance of mistruth within his orbs, “And you’re a native to Kuraigana, born and raised here. This is us following your traditions to the absolute letter: crossed ‘t’s and dotted ‘i’s, mate.” 

“Y-You’ve,” Mihawk stumbled over his words, darting his frantic eyes between Shanks’, “You’ve kidnapped my bride?” 

“You want the map to her, Lord Mihawk?” the rational voice of Shanks’ first mate rumbled through the tense air, “I had the clown make one up, for all our sakes.” Mihawk snapped his eyes away from Shanks’ to bear into the soul of Benn Beckman. As their eyes met, Beckman fished out the tanned envelope and offered it out gruffly towards the broody and aggravated newlywed groom. 

“And, are you all to just sit here and wait until I bring back my bride?” He barked at the Red-Hair crew, “Or are you coming to witness me suffer through this act of degrading humiliation?” Mihawk growled, eagerly searching through the crowd to see any contenders to refute his beckoning challenge. 

“You should take your wards,” Shanks suggested, weaving his body away from the steely tip of Yoru’s point, “Your two witnesses to view your wooing.”

Zoro leant down into Perona’s ear, his brow knit with puzzlement and concern. 

“I don’t follow, what is going on? Where’s our governess now?” Zoro quietly grunted into Perona’s ear, a giggle arising with her retort.

“Are you truly not following, or are you just saying that to be an imbecile?” Perona smirked, glancing up into Zoro’s serious eyes, “O-Oh, you’re serious? Okay!” Zoro patiently awaited his promised explanation, Perona thinking of the simplified version of this complex tradition to relay to him.

“In Kuraigana culture, the bride is either stolen or whisked away at a point in the evening - generally after the reception feast so the food doesn’t get cold. It looks like it’ll be a while yet before we get something to eat-,” Perona’s train of thought was broken with a growl from the green-haired apprentice.

“-Get on with it, Perona,” Zoro’s voice cut through the air gruffly, his eyes darting the surroundings for a clue of his governess’ whereabouts.��

“Oh, alright. Sorry, Zoro,” Perona giggled, shaking her head and preparing her words to present once again, “The bride is then hunted by the groom and they share a moment where he must perform a task or a demonstration of artistic skill to woo and entertain his new bride. Considering she is no longer under the shroud of her own family name, but a whole new person in this case: Lady Dracule, he must win her heart under this new banner and usher her into her new life with him.” 

“So, what? Is he gonna dance or something?” Zoro asked, puzzled and taken aback by the absurdity of the tradition, “Or is he gonna challenge her to a sword fight? What can he do that would woo her?” 

“Zoro-...” Perona again giggled, shaking her head with a warm smile drawing her cheeks up beneath its radiance, “...-Mihawk sings.” 

“Mihawk sings?” Zoro snapped his eyes over to Dracule Mihawk, watching as the lord of Kuraigana’s lips curled into a sinister snarl and brows furrowed deeper into rage. 

“Two witnesses, no more,” Mihawk growled, placing the mighty blade upon his back and rolling his neck, “And we shall return within the hour.” 

“Only if she’ll have you, mate,” Shanks’ grin playfully split his face, “You have to woo her. Humble yourself before her. This is your opportunity to actively pursue her,” the redhead stepped forward, clapping his right hand over Mihawk’s left shoulder. 

“You never got the chance. Use this time to show her how much you want her, and then,” Shanks’ grin turned sly, glancing at Beckman who shook his head and fished out a cigarette from his breast pocket, “That’s when we can show you how radiant she is, all wrapped in sunlight.”

Mihawk’s rumbled growl cut through the air, turning on his boot heels and gesturing to Perona and Zoro with his index finger, “You two, with me. Let us depart and reclaim my bride.” 

“Aye, sir,” Perona and Zoro spoke in unison, immediately springing into action and readying themselves for a short journey to find, woo and claim you with your title as Lady Dracule. 

Mihawk’s fuming rage catapulted him into a near frenzy, working with haste to unroll the sails and weigh anchor, using the tide to carry his small ship and snarling at the crudely crafted map.

“This better be accurate for your sake, clown,” Dracule Mihawk spat, scrunching the map and thrusting it into his shirt pocket with his left hand. Upon withdrawing his hand from his pocket, he hovered it above his face, staring at how delicately the band of unity was glimmering under the light of dusk.

It felt balanced, as if this broad band was awaiting the day he would finally wield it atop his finger. As if his life was waiting for this moment to start, for this new role and purpose for his life to fulfill. He hardened his resolve, throwing off his outer coat and withdrawing his sleeves to his elbows. He will find you, and find you quickly. 

And when he does, he will woo you. 

-

If the moon-dress was the prelude to a masterpiece in composition, this dress would be a symphony to stand the test of time. Material as pastel as the celestial rocks littering the night sky sporadically danced across the midnight material depicting the sky at nightfall. In the dim light within the cave Buggy had chaperoned you into, the dress almost looked as if it was producing its own light. 

“This is the most extravagant thing I have ever done with my life,” Buggy huffed a chuckle through his comment, “And that’s truly saying something, my lady. I’ve never done anything like this, and I’m almost jealous that I won’t be the one wearing it.”

“You’re more than welcome to borrow it for a performance, Captain,” you giggled, looking down at your arms that had been ornately decorated with chained droplets of beaded glass, “It is simply breathtaking.”

Glancing over at yourself in the reflective walls of the cave you had found yourself in, your hair was now softly falling in waterfalls against your back and your makeup retouched by the clown and his enthusiastic crew. You could hardly recognise the woman gazing back at you. 

“As breathtaking as you are, my lady,” Buggy whispered while adjusting your hair over your shoulders, “And hopefully enough to get me back into your good graces?” He shifted his eyebrow upwards, glancing hopefully over your shoulder with widened eyes and fluttering eyelashes. 

“You’re not out of the thick of it yet, dear captain,” you playfully taunted him, nose scrunched and smile growing, “It’s not only I you need to appease.” 

As if on queue, a small commotion was occurring outside the cave. Elevated voices, a shuffling of feet and the clang of harsh metal meeting rock reverberated within the cave mouth: silence following such an abrasive sound. 

“Okay, okay, okay,” Buggy repeated hurriedly, excitement and anxiety dancing in a dangerous fight for dominion over his cadence, “You take a seat on your throne and look all pretty,” he gestured with his hands flailing outwards, “I’ll finish lighting the candles,and then I’m gonna flee as fast my legs can carry me to give you two some privacy.” 

You laughed at his excitement, turning and drawing up your heavy skirts to fan out atop the velvet-covered throne Buggy had placed down for you. Frantic clicks of flint and steel, a string of nasally curses, and a shifting of boot-heels tripping over themselves as Buggy set the final elements of his role in the ruse awaiting your spouse. 

“Okay, I’m gonna-... woah,” Buggy’s words halted as he turned to view you on your throne, sitting with the elegance and radiancy that you had drilled into your many students over your career as a governess.

“‘Woah’, what, Captain Buggy?” you huffed out a small laugh, watching his eyes shifting over each element of your ensemble. 

“Y-You know,” he stuttered, shifting his feet as if under the spell of hypnosis, “You’re not technically married if you haven’t consummated your union. You can always run away with me if you want to-.”

“Buggy,” you scolded him, your laughter now falling unwithheld from your lips, “For one: I am not cut out for a path of traveling piracy,” your smile continued to decorate your lips with its radiancy, “And two: I am in love with Dracule Mihawk, my husband.” That final confession shocked you, not admitting those words aloud to yourself or another before this very moment. 

“Right, right, of course,” he laughed at himself, studying his handiwork as your skirts pooled over your feet and down the slight elevation over the rocks. The voices within the mouth of the cave continued to draw ever nearer, the agitation and anger almost tangibly felt the closer they came. 

“This is where I take my leave, my lady,” he nervously chuckled, looking to the cave mouth with his lips split into a straight wincing line, “If I stay, the broody asshole will likely attempt to take my head and throw me into the sea.”

“In that case,” you smiled, bowing your head low to the clown, “This is where I thank you for the part you played in ensuring this day was a possibility.” Buggy gasped at your bow, taking a final moment to study you as you rose from your seated curtsey.

“You are so beautiful, my lady,” he whispered, bowing to you before turning on his heels and uttering a final sentence before picking up his sprint, “Congratulations on your successful ceremony. Save me a dance at your reception.”

Chuckling at his fleeing form, you were left in only a butterfly’s wing of solitude before three figures almost stampeded within the decorated hollow of the cave. Each of them halted, eyes wide and jaws slack as they took in their surroundings. 

The ground was littered with candelabras, all lengthy wicks lit. Lighting a pathway towards the throne, tealights scattered the floor beside a long stretch of the softest white carpet. Upon the edge of the carpet, the material of your skirts pooled and the unnatural light of several stones attached to the hem illuminated the floor. Dark material shifts into soft lights at each subtle movement from your body, the stones on your arms providing a small ringing melody as you offer them a small, coy wave.  

Perona’s smile rose on her cheeks, recovering the fastest of the three as she offered you a similar wave in return for your own. Zoro snapped his lips shut, smirking as he glanced between you and your beau who continued to be stupefied beneath this new radiant presentation. 

“I have found you,” Mihawk whispered after taking a small moment to recover, “My bride, my beloved.” You smiled wider, taking a moment to study your husband as he began taking small and intentional steps towards you. 

Perona hastily and quietly ushered Zoro over to the side, taking a seat on a large boulder and tapping the surface beside her in a gesture for Zoro to sit beside her. Without removing his eyes from the scene unfolding before him, he quickly sat on the stone and awaited Mihawk’s every chosen moment. 

Electing to remain silent, you watched and hung onto every movement, utterance and breath produced as he continued on towards you. Before he fell within your proximity, he halted and inhaled a shaken breath as he humbly knelt with both knees on the floor, his hands laced and placed within his lap. Your breath hitched, eyes darted between his honey-coloured eyes which then immediately snapped shut. 

He deeply inhaled a breath, his eyes remaining closed as he focussed on his movements. He lilted a rumbled hum, a tune unfamiliar to you produced from his nose and serenading you with its melody. Mihawk was singing, and he was singing for you. 

“Never I’ve known love like this,

As vibrant as the seas.

I’ll sheathe my blade, and disarm my shield,

For a chance just to please.”

His eyes remained shut, lips almost cautiously relaying the lyrics as he produced them. After the small verse produced, his words waved more confidently through his lips and enunciated each spoken lyric. 

Perona attempted to silence her elation by slapping her hand over her lips, her other hand finding Zoro’s knee and giving it a firm squeeze to express her excitement physically. Zoro was not faring much better, his own shock written on his face he could barely notice Perona’s hand on his knee as he gripped his thighs to stifle his surprise at Mihawk’s skillful melody. 

“The way your lips summon me,

The way your eyes hold promise,

May your bed never be empty,

Should dawn be upon us.”

Mihawk’s eyes opened, his breath hitching as he witnessed the longing gaze you were offering to him. Your eyes swelled with emotions, lips parting and drawing up in a melancholy smile. Mihawk offered you a small, bashful smile as he continued to sing to you. 

Your eyes never left Mihawk for a minute, watching as he knit his brows together and continued to utter promises through melody towards you.

“I will share my days with you,

For this to you I swear.

Nightfall I be by your side,

For it’s not yours alone to bear.”

He rose his knee from his kneeling into a lunge, bowing his head down and removing his hat from his head. A final promise uttered lyrically from within his skilled melody, you holding onto each word. 

“The seas and sword were my first love,

The training alone be vast.

Although you were not my first to love,

May we both be each's last.”

Mihawk sucked in a baited breath, awaiting a small reprimand or disciplinary comment regarding his abilities. He was no singer nor composer, the lyrics produced alongside the melody were spur of the moment. His skills were of the sword, not of poetry and lyricism. 

“Do my words and melody please you?” Mihawk whispered, his eyes holding firm to the floor as his dark curls bobbed to a lower bow, “Will you allow me the luxury of my heart, my body and my soul joining with yours, Lady Dracule?”

He elevated his head, his eyes softening and rapidly blinking to stifle the rising beat of his heart as he remained in his humility. A man such as he was not accustomed to humbling himself before anyone, doing precisely as he pleased and when he pleased to do it. With you, this was uncharted and untested waters. He was in love, and would spend the rest of his days romancing you should you ask it of him. 

Truthfully, he was prepared to offer his adoration, praises and romance to you at all hours whether you asked it of him or not. 

“You may have me, I am yours,” you answered him after several moments of pregnant pause, rising to your feet and offering him your right hand to take with his left, “Just as you are mine.” Mihawk released a breath he did not know he was withholding from his chest, the weight rolling off his shoulders and having him relax beneath your admission. 

He took this moment to study your carefully painted lashes, noticing the subtle hints in tints and hues decorating your skin at the hands of the genius jester. The stars were reflected in your eyes, the pigments complimenting the change in darkened material pooling over your dress. 

“C-Can I,” he fell over his words, closing his eyes and mentally scolding himself for his stumble, “Can I kiss you, my lady?” A small squeak from the corner of the room had you both break from your illusion that this corner of reality was not yours alone to share. You also had two witnesses. 

Mihawk snapped his eyes over to the two words sitting happily on the boulder beside the decorated floor, scolding them with a single pointed look. At his momentary shift of focus, you used the opportunity to rise from your sitting position on the throne Buggy sourced for you and stooped down to collect Mihawk’s chin between your index finger and thumb. 

You shifted his face back, witnessing the momentary shock as he gazed into your eyes. With a soft smile, you lowered your face and collected his lips with your own. Although he was kneeling, Mihawk was a tall individual. This position did not have your neck aching at its stoop, but was comfortable as you slowly pressed more of yourself against the former warlord. 

Mihawk wrapped his arms around your waist, bunching the fabric within his hands and holding you firmly pressed against him. He parted his lips, his tongue darting out to dampen your bottom lip as he squeezed your hips within his wide fingers. You hummed against his lips, your fingers raking over his beard to entangle within his curled locks. He smiled into the kiss, rising from the floor and fully bracing himself against you with his forearms circling your waist. 

The ruffles of the skirts below you illuminated several of the rocks littering the material, a gasp fleeing from Perona the longer she stared at the balled objects adoring the fabric.

“The rocks light up when they move!” she hushed her whisper to Zoro who waved his hand to silence her as he witnessed the loving embrace between his lord and lady. Although Zoro would never admit it aloud, he was enjoying every minute of witnessing such joy between two people he held most dear. 

Breaking from the kiss, your eyes half lidded as they gazed up at your husband. His expression mirrored your own, gazing lovingly down at you with a soft smile gently creasing the corners of his eyes. 

“Let’s go home,” Mihawk whispered, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead and hovering his lips over your skin as he cradled your head against his chest, “I hope Shanks and his crew have left as some wine.”

“I’m more concerned about the food,” you giggled, prompting Mihawk to break away from your forehead and smooth his hands over your hair, “All I’ve had to eat and drink today is that single piece of honeycomb, a glass of wine for breakfast, that small sip of unity wine shared with you, and a glass of wine with the clown when he prepared me in this ensemble.” His eyes widened, looking into your smiling face in shock. You laughed up at him, raising your hand up to caress his cheek.

“You’ve only had wine and honeycomb for the whole day, my beloved?” his tone held a small air of caution within.

“Yes, my heart,” you huffed out a small sigh of laughter at witnessing his agitation. Although his anger never left, the small twitch of his lip and hitch in his breath indicated his pleasure of receiving such a high honor of that title. 

“Well that will simply not do,” he growled, shifting you in his grip to slip his arm around your waist and usher you through the cave mouth, “I have some sourdough and salted butter on the ship. We’ll break into that before we partake in the reception feast.” You smiled up at your husband, watching as he wordlessly gestured for your two wards to follow behind you. 

Where Perona could not stop staring at your dress, the only thing within Zoro’s focus was how you looked up at Mihawk, and how Mihawk looked down at you. The love you held for each other within that expression alone had a pang sound within his heart, and caused soft doubts to shift his perspective. 

Whether spoken aloud to you or not, Zoro’s quest in becoming the world's greatest swordsman would one day rip this fresh union apart. He would kill Mihawk to claim that title, and that would surely mean the destruction of your happiness.

As you made your way through the sandy coast and onto Mihawk’s vessel, Zoro continued to seek out different ways to achieve his goals and leave you both to thrive in your happiness. 

-

From the peaceful drift into the Kuraigana port, to the reunification with your guests, Mihawk would not allow you a moment to break away from him. Hollars and cheers at your arrival were quickly silenced as they took in the next aspect of your ensemble. 

Now exposed under the light of the moon, at each small movement of your legs beneath the dark skirt, the illumination of bioluminescent rocks shook and roared to life. The fanning material danced at your feet, the weight of the many layers of broad skirts heavy upon each footstep. You truly appreciated Mihawk’s presence at your side to enable you to lean against him for support each time the gown pulled at your waist and hips.

Your bodice was encrusted with similar trails of glassy stones, the overlaying chains from your neck to your waist forming the unity of constellations between both yours and Mihawk’s birth signs. Buggy had put an excessive amount of thought into such a piece, pooling all his knowledge to provide you the best reiteration of starlight he could truly muster. 

The outdoor reception space was littered with soft strings of light, a circular wooden floor elevated a step up as a makeshift dance area. Several clusters of seats were available off to the sides of the wooden floor they were standing on, where a small quartet of musicians lay off to the side of the area and softly painting the air with their melodical portraiture. 

Mihawk paid his guests little mind, other than a curt nod or a subtle smile to your former students. The many staff continued to present platters of bite-sized ensembles, each small taste of food attuned to both yours and Mihawk’s refined palates. Each time a tray was presented to you, you would break your conversation away from your guests and thank the staff with a warm smile on your face.

As he showcased you to his guests, he watched as the fatigue of the day was slowly catching up with you. The little stumble of your feet under the weight of the dress, the small waver in your smile when you assumed none were watching, the way you clung to his side: he was observant of your every moment and there at your side to catch you should you fall. He was yours to do with what you will, clay awaiting molding into the husband you desired him to be. 

Music began to play at a more elevated volume, the guests encouraging you with a soft cheer to get you to open the dance floor together. Mihawk looked subtly off to you, noticing you were struggling beneath the layers of your skirts. No matter how vast your training in becoming a debutant yourself, nothing could have prepared you to carry the amount of weight from rocks of various shapes and sizes. 

“Beloved, are you-,” Mihawk began, his short question being stolen from him by the nasally interruption of Captain Buggy D Clown. 

“-If I may, my lady Dracule,” Buggy’s broad, painted smile laid brilliantly over his lips, “I have a small surprise for you.” 

“Oh?” you asked, brows elevating up your forehead in curiosity. 

“Your resume presented to the world government several years back indicated you were an excellent dancer, trained the best of them attending here today, in fact,” he complimented you bowing in a low and crouched stoop.

“I am a competent dancer, yes,” you admitted, eyeing him curiously as he picked at your hem with his gloveless fingers, “And I do enjoy the movement when the moment is called upon.” 

“Then it would be such a shame should the moment be taken from you under the weight of this dress, my lady,” Buggy smirked up at you, a silver object playfully juggling between his fingertips. Before you realized what the object was, Buggy precautioned both you and Mihawk, “Bird-Boy, stand back. My lady, close your eyes and hold your breath.” 

Immediately doing what you were told, you heard the ignition of a flint-lighter and the warm flash of open flame illuminating your eyelids to a deep crimson color. Gasps and screams from your guests informed you of all you needed to comprehend at this moment.

Captain Buggy D Clown had lit your dress on fire. 

A wild rush of heat expanded over the base of your skirt, the tongues of blaze lapping at your skin and immediately cooled with bursts of icey air. As you felt the rising warmth begin to die down, you opened your eyes to witness the small, illuminant rocks burst and break to soothe over the licks of flame. Upon each burst of impact, the color of your dress would change to a crisp white, to a warm blue, down to a dark hue of red, all the way to a dim purple. 

At the last burst of rock sparking and spurting over the gown, the arrangement that remained was a softer, pale dress that halted just below your knees. The slit from the hem on your left side tastefully elevated to just below the angle your thigh met at the curvature of your hips. The dress fanned out, dipping in at your waist and cinching in your bust. There were no remaining rocks nor combustive fabric on your body, much to your delight. 

After you adjusted to your new weight distribution, feeling lighter and more energetic already, the picture you were left with standing before you was Buggy’s throat being impaled on the smaller blade formerly hung around your husband’s neck. Your eyes widened and your body moved faster than your mind did to halt the scene unfolding before you. 

“First you kidnap my wife, now you light her on fire?” Mihawk barked, slashing at his throat while Buggy stuttered over his words, “It seems as if you are trying so desperately to get me to kill you, Clown. I should have you flogged and cast into the seas for your idiocy-.”

“-My heart, I am unharmed,” your voice broke him away from his heavy threats, his hands immediately withdrawing from the clown to cradle your cheeks within his palms. You kept your face calm, reassuring him with your expression alone that you remained unaltered and unharmed. 

He floated his eyes between yours, briefly dipping to your lips before withdrawing back up to your eyes. You nodded within his hands in an act to reassure him further, your smile never faltering. After a hushed moment’s pause, Mihawk could no longer contain himself.

Hastily, he dipped his face down, lips colliding with yours and drawing several cheers from your guests. He hungrily consumed your lips, molding and shaping them beneath his with the desperation you were yet to see its equal. He swooped his hands behind your head, collecting the soft waves Buggy had created for you in fistfuls as he desperately joined his lips with yours. You slowly raked your hands over his waist, holding him close and reassuring him with soft circles against his body with your thumbs. 

Squeaking against his lips at a small tug of your hair, Mihawk immediately loosened his aggressive grasping of your against you, and softly traced his fingertips over your jaw and set to cradle the scruff of your neck. The world faded from existence the longer Mihawk held you against his lips, folding himself against you and holding you in momentary blissful stasis. 

Withdrawing his lips from yours, he gazed into your eyes while briefly panting to catch his breath. Shock eclipsed your features the exact moment you broke away, the cheers from your guests ignited the silence within the ringing of your ears. 

“That was a good ‘en, Hawkie!” Shanks swayed in his speech as he slurred in his stupor, “Do it again!” 

“Quiet down, Captain,” Beckman grunted, gently clapping Shanks on the shoulder, “That’s our exterminator you’re talking about. She deserves a little more respect than you’re offering the both of them presently.” 

“Right, right. I’ll switch to water for a bit, Becks,” Shanks nodded, looking over at his crew and gesturing to the water barrels with his tankard. Mihawk never strayed his eyes from your features, constantly ensuring you were unharmed from the prior blaze. 

“May I dance with you, my beloved?” Mihawk quietly offered, removing his hand from your neck and apprehensively outstretching his hands to you. You smiled at his soft gesture, immediately placing your right hand within his left and allowed him to chaperone you onto the dance floor. 

At the swell of music, you hastily pressed your right hand against Mihawk’s left shoulder while he elevated your right hand to extend to the side. His left hand found the middle of your waist and pulled you against himself. 

You carefully extended your left knee over Mihawk’s leg, the slit withdrawing itself tastefully to reveal your thigh to your guests. At that gesture, Mihawk immediately readjusted his stance: shifting to claim the base of your thigh within his hands as he awaited the appropriate rhythm to dictate his momentum.

“The Clown read your resume,” Mihawk smirked down at you, beginning to shift and maneuver you effortlessly within his arms, “But alas, I have not.” He nudged you with his left hand, following his lead by twirling your body within his arms and releasing his hold over you. 

Both legs now firmly on the ground, you shifted your hips and began to rhythmically follow the melody rising with your feet. Holding your arms perpendicular to the ground, Mihawk collected your left hand and pressed a small kiss atop your wrist before raking his digits over your forearm. 

“You never read my resume before you hired me?” You called over your shoulder, as he raised your left hand to cradle his neck behind you. 

“Never,” Mihawk smiled, placing his right hand over your right and his left over your stomach. He began ushering you both with a rapid sway of his steps, a maneuver you flawlessly followed with each stride. He twirled you away, holding contact with your right arm before reclaiming it in his left hand. 

“Then,” your puzzled expression remained atop your features as you once again faced Mihawk, “Why was I hired here? What drew you to me?” Your beau’s smile elevated, his eyes cracking at the corners as his nose scrunched upwards.

“Truthfully, my beloved,” he confessed, leaning forwards to indicate for you to fall backwards in your steps, “I am not certain what drew me to you. A feeling, I suppose.”

“A feeling?” you elevated your eyebrow and smirked up at him, “Something as simple as a feeling?” 

Mihawk chuckled, twirling you away from him and catching your forearms within his grip, ushering your back to meet his chest. You huffed out a small exasperated breath, shaking your head and swaying with him to the rhythm.

“A feeling,” you repeated in a whisper, attempting to not allow your disdain from presenting too prominently against your features. Mihawk released your right arm, leaning forward and collecting your chin between his thumb and index finger. 

“Allow me the luxury of rephrasing, my beloved,” Mihawk whispered, drawing your forehead to press against his while he moved his body from behind yours to face you once more. 

Drawing up his left hand, he collected your right and his right hand found your back once more. His smile continued to highlight his face, a smile you had come to adore painted on his face beneath his mustache. 

“From the moment I met you all those years ago, I adored you as a skilled governess,” he confessed, stepping backwards while you followed with your forward step, “The way you managed a variety of individuals: debutants, gentlemen and all those in between. Even the witless marines-.”

“-Mihawk,” your warning tone was broken with a small laugh, your smirking reprimand forming a smile over your lips, “Be kind.”

“Apologies, my beloved,” he snickered out a small chuckle, ushering for you to step outwards before hooking you back into his arms, “I never assumed you would accept a job at such short notice in the first place.”

“I had a lull in my waiting list,” you shrugged, turning to face him with a broader smile on your face, “And the stuttering scribbles were intriguing.” Mihawk laughed at your reference to his original summons for you to begin your tutelage of the two wards under his care. 

As the melody swelled, he sighed out a breath, once again placing your forehead against his own and furrowing his brows. In a low whisper, he relayed his final confession to you. There was no room for humor, nor was there a place for the utterance of a lie within his breath. 

“Before there was a possibility of joining with you in matrimony, I simply thought: ‘that was that. Time to live my life as an unmarried swordsman until the next generation rises up to claim that title from me’,” he smiled, halting his movement as the music ended its swell,  “I never thought I would be training that aforementioned generation to take my life, nor did I imagine this twist of circumstances leading you to be within my arms now.” 

You smiled a melancholy smile, only half elevated on your face at his confession. Trailing your hand over his shoulder, you extended it up to collect his whiskered cheek within your palm, soothing over his bottom lip with your thumb. 

“And is this the life you wanted for yourself, Mihawk?” you whispered up at your beloved, searching his eyes for more truth within, “To live in momentary matrimonial peace before Zoro claims your title alongside your life?” 

“This is the life that I have forged for myself,” he whispered against your thumb, pressing a kiss against the padded tip, “And I will hold onto it with every breath I still use to sustain my lungs. I love you, my wife. I am yours, and you are mine, for as long as we both shall live,” he withdrew your hand from his lips and circled it over his neck, “And for whatever comes next.” 

“For whatever comes next,” you mirrored back with closed eyes and lips parted, “Sounds like an awfully exciting adventure, my heart.” Reopening your eyes, you witnessed the smile once again return to Mihawk’s lips. 

At the music’s end, he swooped down to claim another kiss from you. Applause rang through the air, prompting you to part from the oscillation as hastily as you had it begin. The Red-Hair pirate crew and the Buggy-Pirates had begun offering each other their outstretched hands to lead them onto the dance floor. 

You felt a small tap on your shoulder at the exact moment a soft, pale hand with pink-polished fingernails brushed with Mihawk’s own shoulder. You shook your head, confused as you were ushered into the awaiting arms and broad shoulders of Roronoa Zoro. 

His smile was shallow, his mind plagued behind it with the smog of heavy thoughts. Extending out his hand, you took it and curtseyed as he bowed with you. Ushering you to circle the floor with a practiced waltz, Zoro continued to twirl you in silence. 

“You have gotten much better, Zoro,” you complimented him, met with only a single hum in acknowledgement. You furrowed your brows, glancing between his bourbon-hued orbs while he refused to draw his gaze up to meet yours. 

“Did you enjoy the drinks? I have yet to sample the wine presented at the reception-,” you were cut off as Zoro’s thoughts spoke atop your own.

“-I am going to claim his life from him, do you understand?” he gruffly commented, glaring over at Perona and Mihawk as he spun her within his arms with a broad grin and her unwithheld smile mirroring in return, “I intend to kill lord Dracule Mihawk.” You almost stumbled in your dance, recovering quickly as he continued to twirl you. 

After taking a moment to collect your rapidly lashing thoughts, you inhaled a large gulp of breath and extended your exhale slowly through your lips.

“If that is what your destiny is leading you to fulfill,” you reached up your hand and collected his cheek, turning him to meet your eyes, “It is not for me to understand, nor is it my desire to halt you from achieving your goal.” He gasped at your words, stumbling over his feet and barely recovering.

“You won’t ask me not to?” Zoro’s breath hitched on his exhale, searching your eyes for any cause for further stumble, “You won’t plead for me to find a new goal? To settle for being second best and remain that way until we’re all cracked and graying?” 

Giggling at his comment, you extended your arm out and circled it over his head: twirling the conflicted man within your arms.

“I married the ‘World’s Greatest Swordsman’, Dear,” you noted, your smile never wavering as you rejoined him within your arms, “It is an occupational hazard.” 

Zoro’s surprise lingered on his features, his eyes misting over with the swell of emotions he did not prepare himself to express this night. 

“And between us-,” you leant up to his ear, using this opportunity to draw him into a warm and encumbering embrace, “-I would rather it be you. You are someone we both trust,” you withdrew him from your arms and smiled whimsically up at him, “Someone who will grant him the luxury of a swift and merciful departure from this life, should you both be ready to take that step.” 

Where you assumed he would grunt out a gruff groan, you were shocked when he leant further into your arms and circled his forearms around your waist. He nuzzled into your neck, his shoulders beginning to sink against the weight of his confliction. 

“You trust me?” he choked within his soft whisper, “You trust me to give him an honorable death?” His shoulders shuddered within your arms, you immediately drew your hands up to caress his moss-coloured locks. 

“Of course I trust you, Zoro. Just, if you were to grant me one simple favor,” he withdrew from your embrace, continuing to hold your waist as he stared down and awaited further instruction, “Please don’t kill him tonight?” Zoro’s laughter cut through the air, drawing many eyes over to your location as you joined him in his unbridled laughter. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it, my lady,” he chuckled, briefly joining his forehead against your own and scrunching his nose with his smile. 

“Good boy,” you complimented him with a single tap on his shoulder, “And your dancing really has improved.” You nodded to his feet, noticing how effortlessly he was shepherding you throughout the movements.

“I learnt from the best, my lady,” he winked down at you, his golden drooped earrings glinting within the refraction of the lights. 

As the melody crescendoed from one song into the next, you twirled from within Zoro’s arms and immediately met your right hand against a cool piece of metal, curving beneath your fingertips. 

“If I may, my lady,” the cool rumble of Sir Crocodile reverberated within your chest and shot a tingle up your spine. Although no malice was withheld in his tone, the danger was always present with a man such as he. 

“Sir Crocodile,” you nodded, focussing your body on allowing him to lead you throughout the floor, “I would like to take the opportunity to thank you for your beautiful dress you crafted for me.” 

“I do plan on collecting that debt from the both of you, my lady,” he smirked down at you with a broad grin. His eyes held a bored malice within his purple orbs, hunching down to claim your body within his arms. The impressive height he towered over you had you feeling smaller within his grasp, an advantage you planned on gaining back from him with your wit. 

“And what would you ask of me, Sir?” you smiled up at him, twirling within his arms and circling your body around his back. You drew your fingers over his flesh, watching the visible shudder arising beneath the movement, “I am a simple governess-.”

“-You are Lady Dracule, now,” he retorted, gazing down at you through the corner of his eyes, “A lady who has sway and leverage over a lord. A lady who holds the heart of such a man as he, the ‘World’s Greatest Swordsman’. A lady who-.” You hastily pressed your fingers atop the golden hook, your eyes baring dangerously into his own.

“-Who was and forever will be-,” your low tone had Crocodile taken aback at your statement, “-A simple governess.” 

“And what would a simple governess be able to offer me?” his amused grin parted his lips and elevated his brows. The silvery mark over his cheeks and nose had the purple hues holding more danger within their orbs, “Music and dance lessons, I have hardly a use for.” 

“A governess who has done all a governess could do here,” you smiled up at him, leading him into a twirl, your spin prompting almost a laugh to fall from his lips, “Tamed and trained two unruly youths, along with having one of the world’s most powerful men fall to their knees and beg to claim me as their own.” 

The smirk of Sir Crocodile rose on his lips, his words beginning to form behind his teeth only to be halted by a final word of warning from you.

“Whenever you desire such a woman to perform such an impossible and improbable task as this,” you silenced him with your words, “You know where I will be.” 

At that, you bowed a low curtsey to him and attempted to flee from his arms, only for the hook to catch the crook of your elbow and tug you back into his arms for his final words.

“An expert tamer of unruly individuals,” he whispered in your ear, the ghost of his last cigar lingering on his lips as his breath met with the shell of your ear, “I shall keep you in mind for when such a purpose arises.” Unclasping your arm from within his hook, Sir Crocodile took his leave of you with a final bow. 

You shook off his words, the next partner finding themselves within your arms whipped their cerulean hair against your cheek as they spun you on your toes three times in a circle. 

“I truly am sorry about the kidnapping, my lady,” Buggy uttered with a warm smile, “And I am only partly apologetic for the glorious blaze.” Although you had met both Buggy and Sir Crocodile at the same time, you felt much more comfortable being wielded within his arms than the experience prior.

Buggy released you, clapped his hands three times and stomped his feet rhythmically to the music. You laughed, mirroring his posture and his rhythm back at him. His eyes widened, heart swelling at you matching his exaggerated movements and prompting him to produce some far more elaborate motions. 

He was a joy to dance with, his own starlight shining within his teal eyes and reflecting back onto his various assortment of formal attire. Although no longer wearing a frill-neck collar, his cravat had just as many ruffles fluffing at his jaw. 

“I am not sorry in the slightest for either,” you admitted, your own nod and spin on your toes keeping Buggy mirroring your movements first before stepping in again to claim you in his arms. 

“Not even the kidnapping?” he winced out a small apprehensive grin.

“No, it was an enjoyable experience,” you confessed, laughing in his arms as he assumed the waltz position and stepped in time to the swell of music, “I especially enjoyed the wine.”

“Then you have found the perfect match in Mihawk,” he nodded, scrunching up his nose at the thought, “Personally, I don’t know how you both drink that vinegary piss. I prefer the sweets to compliment and mask my saltiness. Rum is best.” 

“I thank you for your compliments, captain,” you smiled at him.

“About the vinegary piss?” his brows furrowed in confusion, his smile scrunching into a soft pout. You laughed at his comment, shaking your head at him.

“About the perfect match,” you confessed, feeling the end of the music calling to you. Buggy chuckled, offering you a small bow before dismissively waving his hand at you and uncharacteristically turning on his heel. 

You were puzzled at that final gesture, not understanding where such an expression was necessary before you felt a hand clasp around your waist.

“‘S not you, love,” the voice of a red-haired captain uttered beside you, “He still is hung up on our old childhood rivalry.” 

“Ah,” you gasped in understanding with a curt nod, turning in his arm to face him. Dancing with Shanks was an occurrence you were privy to experiencing from time to time aboard the Red-Force with his crew. His attitude was always playful and light with you, always a gentleman. 

“You truly look spectacular tonight, Vile Exterminator,” he complimented you, shifting his dancing position to usher you with his right hand in light of his missing left hand. Joining now both of your right hands, you both stepped in and out before twirling under his arm. 

“Thank you, Red-Haired Rat,” you smirked at him, feeling a pair of eyes watching you dance within Shanks’ arms. 

“I think the big man wants a word,” Shanks confirmed your suspicions, nodding over to his steel-haired first mate, extinguishing his cigarette with his boot heel against the gravel road beside the dancefloor. Shanks twirled you twice more before you were flung from his arm and into the awaiting and ill-practiced hands of Benn Beckman.

“Sorry, my lady,” he uttered, his legs awkwardly swaying him from side to side with you within his arms, “I’m no good at this formal dancin’. I don’t do this.” 

“I know, Benn,” you smiled at him with a soft, close-lipped grin, “But I do appreciate the effort.” He hummed with a curt cough in response, truly feeling out of place with this genre of dance. 

“About what’s to come,” he gruffly coughed, attempting to spin you on the dancefloor as easily as he could ask his body to perform such a skill, “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” You sighed out a small huff of breath, shaking your head at him as he continued to explain to you.

“There’s a lot of knots,” he confessed with a winced, grimacing smile, “I mean, a lot of knots.” 

“I trust you,” you shrugged, feeling his tension rising in his shoulders and stance. You halted the elaborate dance, ushering him off to the side of the dancefloor and opting to sway with him to the beat while he aired his concerns.

“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable with the experience,” he confessed, the gray tint of his eyes holding you firmly within his vision, “Some of the knots are in-... -a few key places.” 

Your rapid and unwavering blink told Beckman all he needed to know regarding his apprehension. 

“It was my own fault for asking this in the first place, Benn,” you confessed again with a shrug, “And, I reiterate: I trust you. We’ve known each other for years, and of all those aboard the Red-Force,” you feigned a small hum of deep thought, before smiling up at the burly first-mate, “I do trust you the most.” 

“I hope your trust isn’t misguided, my lady,” he grunted, your left hand being claimed by a presence at your side. The small, almost invisible smile, from Beckman informed you that the Rat was once again at your side. 

“And, she’s mine again,” Shank’s playful tone cut in, peeling you away from Beckman and onto the dancefloor once more. He ushered you into a skilled twirl, your smile once again returning to your face as the swell of music reached the peak and began its crescendo towards the final. 

As Shanks made to draw you into another embrace at his chest, you felt the tug of your waist pull you back within familiar and comfortable arms. A warm smile and a flush rose to your cheeks, humming as you lent into his chest.

“Missed me, beloved?” the man behind you held an air of confidence, turning you within his arms as you looked up at him through half-hooded eyes.

“Always, my heart,” you retorted, elevating your arms to seek out the nape of his neck. He hummed at your confession, mirroring your adoration down at you, “Shall we have a rest? Enjoy some mead and begin the fire?”

“A fire?” the elated voice of the cerulean-haired clown-captain called out in joy, “We’re having a fire like the good old days?” Shanks hesitantly walked beside Buggy, offering him a small smile and confirming with him.

“Just like the old days,” Shanks nodded, looking between Buggy and Mihawk, “Back when Roger made us collect the wood, but wouldn’t let us near the flint and steel.” 

“And look who’s got the spark now, boys!” Buggy’s crackled cackle and his powerful stance prompted laughs to rise among the guests. Beckman shook his head, wordlessly directing the Red-Hair crew to begin building a fire for you and your husband to enjoy. 

You nuzzled into the warm and exposed chest of your husband, feeling the weight shift from you against him as he slightly elevated you off your feet. 

“I think sitting down is a good idea,” you confessed, looking down at your worn shoes and rapidly swelling feet from the elaborate dancing and carrying the weighty dress.

“Then that is what we will do, my beloved,” Mihawk smiled softly down at you, pressing his forehead against your own as he enjoyed the feeling of holding you in his arms once again.

-

Sitting within the arms of your husband, the crackle of the fire illuminated the guests that remained behind at the castle, some setting up bedrolls and pitching tents within the surroundings. 

Mihawk hooked his arm around your shoulder, drawing you against himself and pressing soft kisses against your temple while whispering sweet phrases and poetry within your ear. His beard tickled at each short utterance, prompting a giggle to fall from not only the words, but the feeling of his beard against your skin.

Shanks was the first to notice the small lull in atmosphere, a fiendish grin finding purchase against his lips as he refilled his tankard from the barrel of mead. 

“Alright, you lot. According to the customs of Kuraigana,” Shank’s stumbling and partially inebriated voice slurred, “We all know what comes next for you two. We’ve ‘gotta follow all of the traditions of the land. You know, so the ghostly hag is happy.”

“What are you implying, Red-Hair,” Mihawk’s prior warm tone cracked under its now icey exterior, “Surely you don’t mean-.”

“-Why the ‘Bedding Ceremony’ of course!” Shanks attempted to rise to his feet, stumbling backwards and momentarily sitting upon the lap of his first mate, who apprehensively caught him. “Thanks big man,” he mumbled, rising successfully to his feet and thrusting out his tankard, “You go up there with your Sunshine bride, and we wait out here and make as much noise as we can while you perform your husbandly duties.” 

A warm flush rose to your cheeks, littering your face with the warmth of blood swelling to the tips of your ears. You could feel the rapid pulse beating in your eardrums, your heart stampeding your racing mind of all thoughts of what was yet to come. 

“Then you come and rejoin us as one flesh,” Shanks concluded, saluting Mihawk with his broad tankard, “And we drink to the happy couple, and carry off our celebrations into the wee hours of the morn.”

“Is this truly a custom of this land, my heart?” you uttered quietly to the broody bearded man at your side, his attention snapping over towards you. His eyes softened as his heart swelled, lips parting while drawing up his right hand to caress your cheek.

“Unfortunately it is, my beloved,” he whispered with a half-smile, “And a custom we need not adhere to should you find discomfort in such a feat.” 

You allowed a small giggle to fall from your lips, leaning into Mihawk’s gentle caress and pressing a soft kiss on the heel of his palm.

“It could be worse,” you allowed the giggle to rise in volume as your smile broadened, “In Germa-Kingdom, the guests watch the act while they throw sugar-coated almonds at the newlyweds in the hopes it will aid in producing male offspring.” You placed your hand over Mihawk’s, his still holding your cheek as his smile mirrored your own. 

“I suppose this custom is not so bad, then,” Mihawk chuckled, rising to his feet and offering you out his hand, “Shall we, my beloved?”

“I suppose it is time,” you smiled in return, placing your hand within his and allowing him to hoist you up from your position on the log. Mihawk’s brows creased, mild agitation forming at the center of his forehead. Before you could ask him what was bothering him, he turned his head to Beckman: who was already rising to stand. 

The blush returned as your eyes widened, almost forgetting what you had requested of the cursed moss-agate ring on your unity finger. 

“Beckman,” Mihawk’s agitation growing in depth as the hoarse growl rumbled in his throat, “In light of the fact this is part of the covenant pact forged with the ring-.”

“-I would not lay a single finger unnecessarily on your wife, lord Mihawk,” Beckman’s whiskey voice hummed as he inhaled his cigarette to the filter end, “Would you prefer it be Shanks in his current stupor using his right hand and teeth?”

“Absolutely not,” Mihawk barked at the suggestion.

“Then I will make it quick and precise,” Beckman reassured him with a curt nod, “Follow up in twenty minutes, and your bride will be awaiting you to unwrap her within your marriage bed.” 

Beckman outstretched the crook of his elbow, a satchel containing what you presumed to be your sun-dress shrugged over his shoulder. You apprehensively withdrew your hand from Mihawk’s, giving him one more longing look before you allowed yourself to be ushered into the halls of Castle Kuraigana. 

You both walked in silence, unsure of what words needed to be spoken between you before you engaged in this next aspect of your night together. The silence was peaceful, the soft tranquility you had not experienced since beginning this venture of matrimony. You were almost thankful this moment was granted to you to share with one of your most respected acquaintances in your time as a governess. 

He chaperoned you into the halls, finding the door that led into the suite allocated to both you and Mihawk as the lord and lady of Kuraigana. In the wake of the soft tranquility, anxiety at the anticipation of what’s to come awoke within your chest. Your heart elevated its rhythmic thundering, your mind beginning to swirl and race as the anticipation only grew.

“Take a moment, my lady,” Beckman’s soothing voice hummed at you, “All the time you need, alright? It’s a lot of changes to adjust to, and I would never dream of rushing you.” 

“Thank you, Benn,” you exhaled, rolling your neck and attempting to stifle the rise in your anxious thoughts. After a few small breaths, you reopened your eyes and smiled to yourself as you felt finally ‘ready’ to begin this new chapter of your life. 

The door shut behind the first-mate of the Red-Hair pirates, you made your way behind the dressing screen. You silently thanked Buggy for ensuring this garment was easier for you to remove than the one prior, but anticipation rose in your chest as Beckman revealed a satchel to you. 

“This is going to be extremely difficult to do whilst blindfolded, my lady,” he gruffly chuckled, retrieving several golden strands of linked chains from within the canvas bag, “Are you certain this is adhering to the covenant you made with the aetherial pest?” 

“To quote my own words, Benn,” you shook your head and straightened your shoulders, “‘Sunlight: 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 purpose. A dress so scantily designed that you will find none to ever match its equal in both color and provocative appearance’.” Your voice mocked your own recollection, prompting Beckman to chuckle at your tone.

“Well then, there may be a small hiccup in our plan,” he shrugged, taking out a strip of lengthy material and beginning to fold it in half. Upon measuring the half-width, Beckman used his canine teeth to puncture the fabric and tear it into two, thick strips. 

“What do you mean, Benn?” your eyes followed his movements with both intrigue and curiosity.

“For his eyes alone,” he quoted back at you, chuckling as he handed you one of the strips, “Looks like I won’t be the only one experiencing sensory deprivation in this little encounter, my lady.” Taking the fabric from his outstretched hands, your brows knit together before the realization hit you. 

“You’ll have to wear a blindfold too.” 

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I binged read the Sapsorrow series

HOLY SHIT IS IT SO GOOD!!!

Soft pining Mihawk will always be my favorite. I'm super excited for the next two parts!

Thank you so much. There are only two more chapters to go before it's all done, which is making me feel so sad I'll be leaving this little 'au' world so soon. I am a sucker for an "I hate everyone but you" trope.

In saying that, I can't wait to carve out the final two before the spinoffs begin.

So far on the list:

Sir Crocodile x princess!reader: "Sands of Time"

Tropes: husband!croc X wife!reader, age-gap, enemies to lovers, kidnapping, forced promimity, he fell first, idiots in love, gift giving

Buggy D Clown x thief!reader: "Don't Touch What's Not Yours"

Tropes: one night stand, break your heart before you break mine, lovers to enemies to lovers, a chase

Red-Hair Shanks x upper-class-doctor!reader: "Where is my bride?"

Tropes: panic, peril, dread, desperation, crave for adventure, love at first sight

Trafalgar D Water-Law x crew!reader: "History Repeating"

Tropes: idiots in love, refusing to love, angst, heartbreak, unconditional love, wrath & vengeance, punishment.

Donquixote Rosinante x reader x Donquixote Doflamingo "Forged in Gold"

Tropes: angst, no happy ending, bittersweet, crying, begging, star-crossed lovers, steal your girl, mentions of death.

Eustass Kid x dutchess!reader "Take my hand"

Tropes: grumpy!kid x sunshine!reader, unworthy, self-esteem issues (kid), loss of limb, reader is extremely beautiful - kid is kid, crave for adventure, she fell first, he fell harder.

There's enough room for 9 spinoffs, each will be a minimum of at least 3 chapters each. Still open for the other 3 rings, but I was toying with the idea of the reader being the one cursed.

So far, the suggested readers are f!readers (plot specific for some), but it might be fun to play with a m!reader or gn!reader also.

These will all be in the same 'Sapsorrow Storyteller Au', which means we will likely be hearing from the Governess and Mihawk in the other spinoffs.

Thank you for reading and leaving your ask. I have thoroughly enjoying weaving this world and it will be a shame to see it end.

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Pertaining to Sapsorrow, will we ever get to see the sun dress *ahem* in action?

The moon must rise before the sun shines above the horizon.

The next chapter of Sapsorrow is the dance of courtship between Mihawk and his governess, courtesy of the Clown adhering to the traditions of Kuraigana. Mihawk never got the opportunity to woo his bride, and now he must in order to win her favour. Thanks, Clown.

The following chapter will be the tying and untying of the sensual sundress: tied by a blindfolded Benn Beckman, and hopefully untied by Mihawk - if there's no complications that has him losing all composure and cut the damn thing off.

But rest assured, dear anon. More is to come for this tale.

(I have been swamped a little in my personal life, and I want to make sure it's perfect before posting! It is coming, I promise 🖤)

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Snail Snail!!! A Sapsorrow headcanon had just pop up in my mind right now!!!

Perona has her own collection of bodice-ripper romance novels and Governess find it! What would be her reaction??? 👀

Perona would absolutely have a collection of Bodice Rippers.

Bodice Rippers

Little silly drabble below the cut

Word count: 100+

Of all of the novels hidden within the small bookshelf in the corner of Perona's personal suite, there was one that caught your eye. The pages bent the spine with the sheer amount of time you assumed the cover had opened to have the saucy words spring up and rot your Ward's mind with their influence.

Dancing your fingertips over the spine, you retrieved it and immediately halted a small laugh from springing from your lips. Opening the title page, a small scribe of swirled calligraphy danced on its page.

"Dearest Perona,

In the light of our recent unity as my Ward, I present you this novel to add to your literature.

Happy reading, Dracule Mihawk"

"My lady?" Perona called, glancing over towards you with her eyes wide, "Did you want to read with me?" You smiled, looking up from the pages and shutting the novel in your hands.

"I would love to, Perona," you confirmed, prompting an immediate sinister and mischievous smile to pull at her lips.

"I've got something to go with that one," she confessed, reaching into her nightstand. Pulling out a small booklet of tanned parchment paper, she thrust it into your hands.

"What is this, Dear?" You asked, brows furrowing in confusion. Her smile only grew, prompting a nervousness in your heart to rise. She giggled, her eyes glancing at the pages and slyly returning her gaze to you.

"Mihawk's annotations."

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If you're still doing the WIP game, I neeeeeeed to know about the next chapter of Sapsorrow!!

Chapter 9: Benn Beckman and Lady Dracule have a very, very awkward conversation while both blindfolded. Coarse and calloused hands brush and wander over areas neither of them had ever thought they would ever touch. Reminiscing old times together on the Red-Force, discussing Shanks' old conquests, she confesses her anticipation for what she is to expect to come at the hands of her husband.

Beckman leaves, shuts the door and removes his blindfold: gives a curt nod to Mihawk - who hands him a drink for his hard efforts.

Mihawk sees his wife in her gold dress: as radiant as the dawn of light that graces the day with its warmth. He has an internal struggle: should he remove the dress from his bride so she, too, can see - or is the urge to take her too strong, just claiming her as she is. Passionate, needy, lustful - all those raw emotions now presented in the arms of his bride. Most importantly, love. He loves her so, so much.

Notes: I have the whole chapter planned out step by step, but I have unintentionally put it off and allowed other plots and fics to run away with me. I can't wait to pump it out when I dedicate a full day to write more than bullet point play-by-plays!

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I watched the Storyteller version of Sapsorrow and knew it sounded familiar! I read "The Magic Fish" by Trung Le Nguyen. It's a graphic novel about a young Vietnamese boy struggling to come out to his friends and parents, particularly because they're immigrants and he feels they might not understand. His mother and him bond over fairy tales and there are three main tales in the novel that are used thematically, the first is Tattercoats (i.e; Sapsorrow), the second is a Vietnamese story Tâm Cám, and the third is the little mermaid. The Tattercoats story is a little different than the Sapsorrow Storyteller version or your version, but the art is beautiful I seriously recommend the book from the art alone (and if not the art, the Vietnamese fairy tale is kind of like Cinderella at the beginning but so interesting and full of plot twists).

I have to thank you for introducing me to Storyteller though, I'm gonna have fun looking at all their other retellings.

Oh my goodness, I know The Magic Fish! I haven't read that one in years!! Thank you for reminding me it exists, sweet snail. I adore it.

Of the Storyteller Series (1988), I have littered some of the plot points in several others.

Remember Me: (Shanks x Bride!Reader), I had "the true bride" in mind. Particularly her apprehension at having her hair touched. In the story in that case, it was a promise to not let another person kiss their cheek - in mine it was a sweep of the hair.

Drawing inspiration from things that impact your heart is so much fun. Makes it all the more real, in my humble opinion.

There are only nine episodes: (All are linked to YouTube for ease)

The Soldier and Death

Fearnot

The Luck Child

A Story Short

Hans My Hedgehog

The Three Ravens

Sapsorrow

The Heartless Giant

The True Bride

I would honestly love to write an OP fic for each of these.

Soldier and Death - Zoro He traps death, now unable to die. He has lived his life to the fullest, but death is the only thing that truly fears him. Reader is the reaper, ordered by Death to not claim him. Fearnot - Luffy He's just a sunshine boy who has never been frightened a day in his life. He wants to experience fear. Just once. The Luck Child - Buggy He is a failing forward king, as the usual. Circumstances demand his death, he continues to thrive. A Story Short - Usopp He has to perform a series of storytelling adventures and present them towards the court for a hundred days. On the hundredth day, he has come up with nothing. What will he do? Hans My Hedgehog - Corazon He will only reveal himself to his wife at night, cursed as a monster within the hours of daylight. She wants to break him of this curse, but has no knowledge to help him. The Three Ravens - Sanji Just imagine Sanji desperately crying out for his love to grace him with the sound of her voice, begging her to say something to aid in her defence - bound to the stake and threatened with death if she does not speak. Ahhhhh. Screaming. Sapsorrow - The one I'm actively working on with Mihawk The Heartless Giant - Doflamingo Speaks for itself, truly. He just is. I could also do this for Sir Crocodile, if I wasn't too busy shipping him with @empressofmankind's Shivs. The True Bride - Already partially did for Shanks. I would love to visit this trope again for him though. Have him be the one with amnesia trope.

Honestly, I would love to do this as a massive moot fairytale collaborative au.

@since-im-already-here - what say you, sis? You reckon I've got the characters and the prompts down for each series?

@gingernut1314, do you know this jim henson series? You want to take a crack at one of them?

@writingmysanity - go on. I know you want to do the Corazon. You so, so want to do the Corazon.

@sordidmusings 👀 c'mon now. Romance, pining. Angst. All that good stuff, dear.

@feral-artistry, you've even already drawn some puppets. You know you want to....

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LOVE seeing the mood board for the sun dress, do you have more reference photos for the others ones? I’m dying to see 💖

I did not have any mood-boards for the others...

...until now.

This is the direction I am teasing out for the next chapter of Sapsorrow: "Wooing of the stars."

I love making mood boards. It's a love language of mine, and I often volunteer this version of my love to other creators on this platform -- or for my OCs that I'll likely never publish for, simply because I prefer having you participate in the storytelling journey.

Thank you for the ask, Anon. It's getting the cogs turning for the next chapter 🥹

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Holy fuck, hOLY FUCK-

I'm losing my mind with how amazingly you write!! I just read chapter seven of Sapsorrow and it is easily one of the most DELICIOUS fics I've ever read, like ma'am?? Who gave you permission to write a fic so yummy? Cause I'd like to shake their hand, oml. Like, the way you wrote the vows with the wine and the honey?? PERFECTIONNN

The way you wrote the kiss?? AMAZING

Anyways, as you can see, I like your Sapsorrow fic a normal amount, and I'm soooo excited to see what happens in the next chapter!!!

Thank you for your beautiful words and compliments!

I've only really been fic writing for under a year -- before then, it was all uni essays and assignments for my horticulture & teaching degrees (instrumental music-major for teaching, viticulture & winemaking for horticulture).

I adore writing kisses, as you could probably tell by now. My first fic was "You Kissed the Clown?" - first time writing a kiss (how they physically feel, the emotional turmoil, the movements, the expressions), and I've been hooked ever since.

I'm so glad you're enjoying my Sapsorrow au for Mihawk x Governess!Reader. I have enjoyed writing it so much! I can't wait for some sneaky spinoffs.

I've got 9 to do, but on the list so far:

Sir Crocodile

Buggy D Clown

Red-Hair Shanks

Trafalgar D Water-Law (& beautiful Donquixote Rosinante "Corazon")

Donquixote Doflamingo

There's another 4 slots for this forced-proximity, arranged-marriage trope -- for a variety of readers for me to make them fall in love.

I'm absolutely open to suggestions for the other 4. I could have Smoker in there, maybe even Garp 💀.

Who knows? Could be Boa or Alvida 👀

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AAAAAAAAA!!!! SAPSORROW LORE!!!!!

Her story is so sad I can understand why she felt so anguished and took drastic measures out of anger. It makes so much sense in a way that doesn't try to justify the pain she's caused and continues to try to cause and it's all the more beautiful for it. Of course she's a victim who's choices are stripped from her but so too are her victims.

I support women's rights, but more importantly I support women's wrongs.

Also the fake out where for a moment I thought our Governess was talking to a princess?? The parallels? The way Mihawk's agate stone is left waiting for it's final command, the true desires of Sapsorrow beyond her need for revenge.

“And any words she brings onto you harbouring doubt, I will smother you in nothing but kindness and love to reassure you.” 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 I love Governess and Peronas and Zoros relationship so much

(insert Irish "Back off ye spooky bitch!" Here)

"I love you, my lady. We both do, don't we Zoro?" And the hug????? Are you trying to kill me, snail???

The letterrrrrrrr....... Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

They're so Romance, I love them

Governess addressing Sapsorrow and offering her to walk down the aisle with her so she might share a happy ending is so sweet and brave to show such kindness knowing it might anger her more and be met with scorn. Sapsorrow admitting she's going after Croc next!!! Her hinting to Rosinante and Law!!!!

Her allowing herself to feel some warmth and conceding to the Governess that she might move forward in her story of her own volition, not compelled or controlled by anyone else the way Sapsorrow was. Her allowing her her choice when her own was taken from her unfairly, letting her try for a happy ending even though she didn't get one, AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASAAA.

“The Sun-Dress is my favourite, my lady,” oh stawp it you're going to make me blush!

“If I had a heart, I would even show mercy on Red-Hair for such a fine craft. But alas, I do not.” AHAHA I found this absolutely hilarious despite knowing it only spells trouble for Shanks. But it's okay, I will laugh at his pain.

THE LONGING GAZES!!!! THE LOVE LOST EXPRESSIONS!!!! THE AFFECTION!!!!!

Corpse bride reference????? Thematically appropriate, actually.

Not Zoro getting teary eyed!!! I'm right there with you, babe, don't you worry

Without hesitation, Mihawk clasped your wrist, holding your hand in place as his tongue danced around your fingertips to skillfully rid them from the honey. Your shocked expression was shrouded by the presence of Mihawk’s thumb within your own lips, prompting you to perform a similar action to suck the sticky substance to rid its presence from his digits. -- SIR. SIR. SIR. THERE ARE PEOPLE WATCHING. THERE IS A PRIEST PRESENT. SIR PLEASE. GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF! ONE OF US HAS TO BE UNDER CONTROL HERE!!

Good God. Let me just take a moment for the word smithing of our talented writer who has a way with describing kisses.

Okay, I can't wait any longer.

The inclusion of the tradition is such a creative addition!! The drama!! The fun!! I know that Buggy's rapscallion behaviour is only a vessel for your mischief Snail, you can't fool me. But he is very rascally and himself, you write him so well.

I can't wait for Mihawk to officially fulfill his destined role as Mr "Where is my wife?"

"Hell hath no fury like a woman cursed by the law to marry her own father" - FanaticSnail

Sapsorrow: The Storyteller

I cannot marry my father // I cannot ignore the law // I cannot shame the king // But the ring-- is the ring-- is the ring--//

Her heart bares such great sadness, so she must bare into others the same curse of sadness; in hopes their outcomes be changed to a more desirable outcome.

I'm so glad you noticed the parallels! As the Princess' governess attempted to console her in her sorrow, she, as spectral queen, was comforted by a new governess now bound to Mihawk - a love she truly would have wanted for herself.

But also, yes: "Back off 'ya spooky betch"

I love how you've enjoyed her relationships and interactions with Perona and Zoro. I've thoroughly enjoyed writing their development. Little glazed eyes Zoro, squeaky Perona - they love their adoptive parents (their "mother" young enough to be their sister or favourite aunt, rather than biological).

Also, yes to Mihawk doing these displayed of unbridled lust in public. And who could blame him? He's in love!

Buggy kidnapping her to uphold a Kuraigana tradition will never not be funny to me. Gotta give the new husband a sense of panic as his bride is now lost to him.

I wonder what he will do to win back her adoration......

He's yet to hold a physical conversation with his wife aside for his vows to her, and now he has to hunt for her and woo her officially.

I hope the hunt doesn't take too long, the food is starting to get cold.

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Mihawk kissing Governess' hand and her allowing herself a slip in her exterior armour to kiss his cheek and his reaction, oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god

"Reaching upwards, you placed your left hand on Mihawk’s cheek and shepherded him into yourself, placing your lips gently against his left cheek as you cradled him against your palm. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth and froze his shoulders in place." <- tattooing this passage on my brain, thanks

I'm sorry but this whole passage had me giggling and flinging myself about in bed as I read it like a school girl, and it is so funny to me that they did All That in front of an audience of not only four powerful men but also a soiree of guests. It's like when you see regency era period pieces of a couple breathing heavily with barely contained lust after one dance bc they're Repressed Virgins, and remembering that there is a whole ballroom of other people there.

"He doesn't love you." <- NO! BAD! (spritz with water). My immediate thoughts is Sapsorrow or some other force is interfering.

"“I just thought I saw-...” Perona began, cocking her head sharply to the side and holding firm her gaze, “Something watching.”" <- screaming and wildly swinging a baseball bat. I'm so emotionally attached to these characters and invested in this story that I know that there's no way it ends on so soon all happy so there's got to still be conflict before the wedding in order for a resolution and I'm excited but at the same time I Refuse.

“The symbolism behind it is you, yourself, are the sun. The gold is what encases you beneath it," <- well goddamnit snail that is poetry.

The description of Beckman and Governess' relationship!!!! I love them so much!!! "He treated you with the utmost respect and found himself hanging onto your every command as a loyal knight taking instructions from his queen. From then on, you were the friend he confided in and trusted to handle the troop easily when ushering you throughout the seas on the red-force. Of all aboard, you trusted Beckman the most to treat you well." AAAAAAAAAA

“It won’t be enough. It will never be enough.” BACK! BACK I SAY

“You watched as he began to scramble, at first attempting to askew the floral arrangement behind his back from view before holding it at heart-level.

“Lost-Lady,” his voice called to you, disguising what you thought to be a small stumble in his footing as he began to clamber towards you from his prior position gardening. His boots met with the sludge, sliding the earth from beneath his footstep and successfully dropping him down to his knees. You sucked your lips into your mouth, witnessing a man full of dignity and grace be brought down to his knees while cradling flowers against his chest." Oh my gawd. She's literally making him fumble over himself. Just the thought of such a serious figure doing all this to strip himself of his dignity just for his beloveds comfort so that she might have a confidant in a new place where she is alone and so that he might be able to partake in her unadulterated company, and the idea that he loses all his composure around her and fumbles, is so sweet. The way you write it manages to work with his personality and not feel out of character, and it's so romantic I Love it.

"I am uninjured, my darling," MY DARLING??? What happened to keeping up the facade, Governess?

"“I believe the world of your abilities, sir. Now, allow me to aid in your rise to your feet once more,” you smiled down at him, his eyes meeting your own with an almost overwhelming amount of adoration. You hoisted him up to his feet, uncaring at the passing of grime onto your clothes from his." Governess stand up, get off your knees, put away the ring, you're already engaged to him!! My girl is swooning

I do love how the Governess recognized the voice as being external and even noticed it having a physical presence, and not letting it overtake her by assessing her thoughts rationally. It shows her strength and smarts in being beyond just a Damsel In Distress but still believably in distress if that makes sense? It kind of makes me excited that now that she actually knows she wants the marriage and future with Mihawk I feel like she'll be beyond angry when she finds out something/someone has been trying to take it from her, and I really can't wait.

"He yearned for this deceit to flee from his form. No longer desiring to adorn this shield and to be the man beneath this amassment of muck for you; he wanted so desperately to cast aside titles and just truly be yours." A man that loves his wife! What a lovely gift for me! Chewing on him as we speak <3

"“Step away from my governess, Hag!” Her voice held several tones within the single vocal strand, the air sucked from its delight of the morning rays." I FUCKING KNEW IT!!!

"Zoro immediately was drawn to his feet, unsheathing his sword from beside him and brandishing it with flourish. Mihawk also rose to his feet, nodding to Zoro briefly, before he closed and reopened his amber eyes; now a ruby iris surrounding its glow. Zoro did the same, his iris crackling under the new color within his orbs." Get her! Go boys! Sick 'em!

Fr loving the protectiveness of the Governess' new family

"“How long has she been here, Mihawk?” Perona asked at your other side, her eyes fixed on a pinned point in the roof and remaining unblinking, “She seemed so sad.”" (visibly vibrating) I Am Being So Completely Normal About This Lore.

I love Perona so much, I (and the Governess) am so proud of her, she was brave, and kind and observant enough to notice when things were going wrong with someone she cared about, and she stood up for her friend, she's obviously always been an awesome person but I feel like her time with the Governess has allowed her to direct herself more and therefore do more and it's really cool to see the good influence on her daughter ward.

“What was it you told the clown? We are more than the titles that make us?” hhhhhhhh he values her thoughts so much he memories all her words and conversations even those that don't involve him

“I had always thought of you as a woman who commanded every space she found herself within. Even as a man far more advanced in his years,” he continued, reopening his eyes to look lovingly into your face, “I had always seen you as a woman who could have the mighty fall to their knees- much as you had me do this morning.” <- if anyone needs me I'll be drowning in a river

Forehead touches forehead touches foreheadtouchesforeheadtouches

“If you so desire for your Farm-Hand to bring his Lost-Lady your daily gift of flowers, I will gladly become him once more for you. However,” Mihawk drew his eyes back to yours, an almost playfulness dancing behind his honeyed gaze, “I expect my Lost-Lady to be in naught but her nightdress in return.” AAAAAAAAAAA (pt. II)

The EPILOGUE!!!! the teaser/reference for Shanks' Sapsorrow ring, the hinting to the law!!! You truly know how to feed us

“That’s what you want, isn’t it? To see others have what was taken from you? To see them happy and thriving with each other?” AAAAAAAAA (pt. III)

SNAIL!! BACK AT IT AGAIN WITH THE CHAPTER 6 REVIEW!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

I'm so glad you freak out about this story as much as I do. Makes it feel more alive to know how it moves you. Thank you for taking the time to go through it bit by bit to notice the little bits I add for Mihawk's humanity and adoration for him and his governess.

Openly flirting with his bride in front of Perona and Zoro, without them saying anything about it, was one of my favourite parts. He loves her so much, finally admitting it both to himself and to her without saying the three little words we want him so desperately to say.

I have drafted their vows and began working on chapter 7 to be out soon!

"If anyone needs me I'll be drowning in a river" <- I would not say such things if I were you. Our little ghost has some fight yet remaining.