#platonic mihawk

[fanaticsnail]

i just wanted to say i really liked your garp fic and i was wondering if you were going to do a part 2?

Bonnie Lass (2/2)

Masterlist Here, Part 1 Here.

Word Count: 7,925

Synopsis: You finally meet with the handsome older gentleman at the other end of the den-den-mushi. He promises a night you will both not forget in a hurry - will it live up to that expectation?

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, 18+ You have been warned, smut, p in v sex, oral afab!receiving, bonnie lass - wee bonnie - lass - bonnie gendered terms used, afab! reader, "The Garpening", flirting, supportive boss Mihawk, den-den-mushi calls, both are shameless, age gap, unprotected, creampie.

Notes: This fic was brought to you by a bottle of wine, long chats with @carrotsunshine, @since-im-already-here, @sordidmusings, and @feral-artistry, my incessant need to write for older men, and an overbearing need to know exactly where Garp's appetite leads him.

Apprehensive and Apologetic Tag list: @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @cinnbar-bun @i-love-myself-xd @the-reas0n-is-y0u

The seabreeze whipped through your hair, the gullsong serenading you as Mihawk’s vessel made to dock at the Marine port. You squint your eyes up, staring at the bleached stone walls of the large building that held the promise of good food and pleasurable company. Hanging on the words Vice-Admiral Garp last spoke to you, your body immediately felt compelled to wander forward to exit the ship and gleefully skip towards the mighty doors.

But you knew better. 

The presence of your boss, Dracule Mihawk, fell beside you: his bicep brushing with the pointed tip of your shoulders as he physically began rumbling a low growl. He despised attending meetings held by the World Government, meaning he would likely require additional resources to get him through the week you were to remain docked at harbor. 

“My lord,” you addressed him, turning your body with a curt nod to him. He hummed in response, unbreaking his eyes away from the headquarters of the world government. With a small exhale of breath, you regained your composure and began relaying his itinerary for the day to him.

“An hour after we dock, your presence is required to partake in a meeting of the warlords of the sea,” you began, elevating your clipboard and scanning the paper pages for the next item on his agenda, “Afterwards, you have a brunch with Boa Hancock and Jinbei - to what end, I was made unaware. After that, you’ll be given your assignment to rid the outer ring of the ‘unruly plague of piracy’ the World Government deems important enough for your skill - likely to be completed over four days of battle, given the numbers,” Your brows furrowed, searching the pages for further information, “Then you are to meet with your tailor, just before your new headshots are to be confirmed by den-den-mushi.”

Mihawk clenched his fists, gritting his teeth as the marines roped his ship into port. The more you spoke, the more agitated he became. Not agitated at you, never agitated with you - he despised these meetings, and hoped that bringing you along would ensure a safe and swift encounter. He always struggled with managing his agendas and itineraries with these encounters, almost electing to bring you along simply for moral support if nothing else. 

“And then?” Mihawk spat through his clenched jaw, fists balling at his sides. 

“And then,” you confirmed, placing your clipboard under your arm and smiling up at your boss, “You have been booked into an onsen for a private spa, a massage and hot stone session in the hamam, and,” you stepped further towards Mihawk, adjusting his overcoat and soothing over his shoulders to rid the material of fray, “After that, I have sent a bottle of Rosso, and asked for for the next book in that romance series you have been indulging in to be awaiting you in your personal suite.” 

Mihawk exhaled a sigh of relief, clapping a hand over your shoulder in a gesture of appreciation. You smiled up at your boss, nodding at him to affirm your notion of providing his relief. You turned away, bringing your attention back up to the top of the building, and focussed your pointed gaze at the silhouette glaring over the balcony of the highest point. 

“And while I am distracted by a good book and a bottle of wine,” Mihawk’s taunting purr cracked into your ear, “Where will you be, my dear?” You drew a sheepish grin up to your lips, a faint flush igniting your cheeks 

Mihawk leant down into your ear, his breath tingling and hot against your flesh as he uttered his warning into your ear.

“Wined and dined by an old man?” he taunted down, his smirk visibly present in his tone, “Keeping me at bay while you enjoy a few stiff drinks, before being railed by something else stiff-.”

“Lord Dracule Mihawk!” you scolded him, turning to join your ignited gaze against his playful, honey-colored orbs, “I am first and foremost your assistant.” Mihawk’s lips twitched at the corners, indicating his amusement as close to a smile as he would ever publicly display. You huffed out your breath, shaking your head while adding, “I have never met him in person, and he is yet to extend a formal invitation to join him for dinner. I will be busy all day tending to your affairs, as I always am, Sir.” His amusement never lessened, only growing on his lips with another twitch.

“And after the day of your duties?” Mihawk’s brow twitched in interest, “What then?” 

“What then,” you shoved your index finger into his chest, scraping it up to tap the tip of his nose, “Is that I will be tucked safely within my bedsheets after a long bath and a hot meal. I am here to serve you, sir. I am your assistant, and I am a damn good one.” 

“That you are, dear,” he confirmed, placing his other hand on your shoulder, holding you in place, “Which is why, after today, I have given you three days paid shore leave.” Your stunned silence only propelled him on further to add, “Buy yourself a new pretty dress, and enjoy the sights,” he leant forward with a small wink, his darkened lashes kissing against the waterline to hide his brilliant amber eyes briefly, “And then, get the old man to roar your name in the thralls of joint ecstacy. By my orders, dear. You have earnt it.”

The warm rise of warmth held against the apples of your cheeks all day, constantly repeating Mihawk’s comments in a circular swirl within your mind. From the moment your temporary office was welcomed by a pink-haired cadet, to filling in a variety of paperwork, to taking various den-den-mushi calls, to clocking out for the day - the flushed heat held firm against your cheeks. 

No whisper of a word, nor scroll of a calligraphed note, graced your temporary office with its presence. You honestly thought you had been forgotten, neglected in the knowledge that you had journeyed long beside Dracule Mihawk to be within close proximity to the man who held your undivided attention every day for the past year. 

Just as you were packing away your desk for the day, the den-den-mushi began to roar to life on your wooden countertop. The reverberation of its guttural grunts and gurgles had you satiating its tone by answering the call. 

“Lord Dracule Mihawk’s den-den-mushi. State your intentions, and make it quick-,” you growled, your professional tone wavering in agitation due to the proximity of your shift ending. 

“-Oh, sweet bonnie lass. I dinnae mean t’keep ‘ye waitin’,” the soothing drawl of Vice-Admiral Garp purred through the transponder. You huffed out an exasperated breath, your brows furrowing further against your forehead as you navigated through your swelling mind. 

“Vice-Admiral,” your warning tone cut through the air, halting all further conversation with a concluding utterance of, “My office hours have concluded for the day. Should you desire to reach Dracule Mihawk for any need, you may try again at-.” Your words were stolen from you by Garp’s tone cutting through them like a knife through hot butter.

“-Please, lass,” his plea cracked through the den-den-mushi, holding you hostage to his words, “Please dannae brush me aside. I have been in meetin’s all day, and I have been trying to claw my way to you from the wee hours of the morn, to the quiet moments of the noon.” You rotated your neck, relieving tension found within the tight bands of your muscles. 

“Vice-Admiral,” you began, interrupted once again by his rumbling brogue growling through the mouthpiece of the den-den-mushi, “I have had a long journey at sea. My only welcome being more work at the bequest of my employer. I do not have time to entertain you over the transponder today. If you desire to speak further, you can try again tomorrow, Vice-Admiral-.”

“-Garp, lass. It’s Garp, please,” his breathy voice gasped through the speaker, “I’ll make it up to you, I swear. I should’ve been down by the docks waiting - up to my knees in sea water to reign your ship in with my bare hands.” You hummed at the thought: a high and mighty Vice-Admiral of the marines lowering himself to the duties of a simple cadet at the chance of meeting his eyes with your own in person. 

You took a moment's pause, contemplating his words and mulling the thought of him demonstrating his strength and stamina to you while shepherding Mihawk’s ship into port. Did he have old navy tattoos on his biceps? Did his advanced age hinder his ability to perform such a task? Gathering he was the one who suggested such a notion, and him being a man of high honor, you gathered he would be up to such a muscle burning task. 

“Alright, Garp,” you hummed into the transponder, leaning back into the transponder and purring through your vocal challenge, “Make it up to me.” 

A shuddered groan sparked through the mouthpiece, your own giddy joy elevating in your chest and igniting your body with soft tingles. If he had this much sway over you with just a small growl of his voice, you were unsure of where the next few moments were to bring you. 

“Meet me at the docks in two hours, Bonnie Lass,” his tone was hushed enough to draw you in closer, your ears pricking to catch every syllable granted to you, “And I’ll treat you to a night you willnae forget in a hurry.” Your broad grin split your face, a small squeak of joy threatening to escape your lips with a soft hum.

“And how should you like me, Garp?” you asked him, your taunting purr calling further into the receiver end, “Should I prepare my wardrobe for an outdoor activity,” you questioned, your foot tapping lightly within the air while hooking over your knee, “Or should I just throw a coat over some lingerie and call it a night?” 

Several cracking objects bent and broke, echoing throughout the den-den-mushi transponder; something akin to wood snapping and nails tearing through mahogany. You rewarded such a sound with a melodic giggle, only producing more creaking wood noises in consequence. 

“Wear something dainty for me,” a low rumbled growl purred at you, “What you choose to wear under it is your prerogative.” 

“Aye, Sir,” you confirmed with a curt nod, “Two hours, and I’ll be all yours.” 

“All mine,” his low drawl parroted back to you, the giddy chirp of his voice endearing in your ears. At the click of the receiver, you sprung immediately into action and hurried out of the office doors. 

You bid a cheery farewell to the cadets loitering in the hallway, thanking them for arranging your office, before leaving the washed-stone building of the World Government headquarters. Your smile never left your lips, the promise of meeting the man who held your romantic affections weighing heavily on your mind and fluttering harshly within the pit of your stomach. 

While bathing, cleansing your skin and hair, and ensuring every part of you was styled and scented with the sweet and sultry persona you had presented yourself to be, your thoughts turned to pondering unspoken questions. Will he enjoy the way you present yourself? Will he behave like the perfect gentleman? How should you act: the way you shamelessly speak over the den-den-mushi, or poised like a lady? Would he like this particular color on you, or on the floor beside you? 

You shook your head to rid them of the spiraling doubts, soothing over your tight dress and hooking your coat over your forearm while exiting the suite you had organized for yourself. Clicking and locking your door behind you, your eyes briefly met with Mihawks: a book tucked under his arm and wine bottle within his grasp, twirling the cork with his screw and filling his wine glass in the window. He shot you a knowing look, mouthing the words: “make him roar.”

Your cheeks flooded with the heat of scorched oil, flash point igniting in your eyes at the final utterance of support from your boss. Shaking your head, you made your way briskly to the docks. The dimly lit lamplight illuminated your path, the click of your heels tapping lightly on the solid sandstone pathway. The flap of gulls wings shepherded your final steps atop the docks, your eyes meeting with a truly unique sight you were not expecting in the least. 

In the middle of the pier stood a highly decorated marine, silver hair backlit by the radiance of the moon and standing with his wrists clenched behind his back. His beard was neatly cropped, his eyes fixed on your approach, his lips exhaling a shaky breath he prayed you didn’t notice. As your feet carried your body closer, you halted a few feet away from him, tilting your chin and pursing your lips playfully up at him. 

“Vice-Admiral,” you purred up at him seductively, your eyes wide and innocent to contradict your expression.

“Bonnie-Lass,” he gruffly commented in response, a smile painted brilliantly on his lips. A delightful shudder flew up your spine at his undistorted voice finally meeting with you. You flit your eyes hastily over him, examining his stature inquisitively - a gesture he returned with gusto, eyes hovering over your meticulously cared and styled hair and outfit. 

“May I invite ‘ye aboard, lass?” Garp’s softness in his tone pulled you in, his arms waving behind him to gesture towards his impressive ship, “I ‘kin understand if being on a ship again after so much time on the water might no’ agree with ‘ye-.”

“-I would love to see your ship, Captain,” you remarked gleefully, stepping past his arms and following his gesture to the broadwalk, “I adore sea travel, and enjoy the rocking of the waves. I find it comforting.” 

As you stepped past, your intoxicating radiance graced Garp with the aroma of your sweet perfume. The way your presence called him immediately to follow you, his feet falling in tow with your every step, was not something he ever accounted for. 

The moment your voice picked up the receiver of the den-den-mushi, Garp’s sour mood was immediately stifled under your comforting tone. The first time he called Castle Kuraigana to relay orders to the broody warlord of the sea, he was ill-prepared to be met with a tone so honey-sweet and kind. He was immediately smitten, often calling the castle with any excuse he could muster to hear more of your sweetness pouring onto him through the speaker of his den-den-mushi. 

But now you were here in person, Garp truly had no idea how to handle you. He did not know if you would allow him the luxury of holding you against himself in a warm and welcoming embrace. He did not desire to lean down and claim your lips with a kiss, only to be met with a turn of your cheek and an utterance of, “You’re too old for me,” falling from your lips. He truly did not know what to expect from you, and the unspoken anxiety was eating at his stomach and clouding his mind. 

“Garp?” you called over to him, halting your advance onto his ship and turning to face him, “Are you going to guide me along your vessel, or am I to find my own way without you?” Garp snapped his eyes to meet with yours, his winding thoughts pausing as he bore his intense gaze into you. 

“Although I do enjoy exploring new areas, I would prefer to be ushered in with the pleasure of your company,” you continued, a coy smile springing to your features, “After all the promises you made to me of the many months we’d been speaking,” you took a step back, falling closer to his larger body, “I would prefer you to keep your word.”

“And which word might that be, lass?” his gruff whisper crooned down at you, his eyes half-lidded and lips parted in desperation, “I had promised ‘ye an array of mischief, if ‘me old mind serves correct.”

“Considering I’ll be on, I’m assuming, this ship for the next few days while Mihawk completes his assignment,” you contemplated, darting your focus between his two eyes, “Would you show me to my quarters so I may send for my belongings to arrive on the morrow?” 

“All work an’ no play, lass?'' he huffed a small laugh down at you, “An’ here I thought you’d want something more playful the first time we met in person, or perhaps something a little more-...” His thoughts trailed off, his tone almost disappointed at your formal conversation. He took it as his first rejection from you, opting to not push his expectation and desires onto you should it make you uncomfortable. 

You exhaled through your nose, your smile not leaving your lips as you shook your head at him. As Garp allowed his spiraling thoughts to plague his mind, fully trapped within his misguided notion you had rejected his flirtatious advances, he didn’t feel the grip of your fingers around his teal tie until his body was thrust forward by the strength of your forearm. 

Drawing all of the power you could muster, alongside the courage you felt you needed to complete such a feat, you claimed the lips of the decorated Vice-Admiral of the marines beneath your own. You set a bruising pace, turning your head and standing yourself up on the tips of your toes to reach more of him. Your other hand found his broad chest, dropping your coat to the floor while fisting the material of his outer coat beneath your palm and cradling him closer to yourself. 

Stepping backwards onto the ship, you ushered his hulking body aboard while unbreaking from the passionate embrace. As your knees knocked with a hard benchtop behind you, you ushered the larger man to turn, forcing his body down to sit himself down on the bench. You opened your mouth, your tongue raking against his bottom lip. 

A groan fled from his lips, Garp’s needy hands grasping at your flesh over the material of your dress. Fistfulls of the material was claimed within Garp’s hands, the hemline of the material being shimmied up your thighs to grant more of your flesh to be exposed to him. He opened his mouth, allowing you to seek out his tongue to brush against your own with expert and practiced precision. 

As the material continued to ride up your body, you hooked your knees either side of his broad thighs and straddled his waist. The split side of your dress strained beneath the grasps of Garp’s hands, stretching the material harshly before your ears pricked at the harsh ‘rip’. You squeaked in Garps mouth, drawing your lips away from his with a frown.

“You tore my dress!” you exclaimed, your accusatory reprimand mixing with a hidden smile beneath your frown, “It was my favorite!” Garp paid your chastising tone no mind, peppering your neck with several, open-mouthed kisses.

“I’ll buy ‘ye twelve more,” he gasped, nipping and sucking at the exposed flesh of your neck, “All the colors you desire,” he raked his teeth against your jaw, “All the patterns in the world.” You keened a small moan into the air when he found a sensitive piece of flesh between your throat and your pulse. 

His hand dipped between the material of your dress, raking his fingertips over your thigh to hold your hip only to pause while held in complete shock. 

“You’re ‘nae wearing anythin’ beneath this dress, bonnie lass,” he growled against your jaw, his teeth catching on the bone and clamping over your soft skin.

“You said it was my prerogative,” you gasped, turning your head to seek out his lips with your own, “Why do you think I wanted you to show me to my quarters, Sir?” You pressed a long and heavy kiss against his lips before tearing yourself away once more. “But it seemed as if you couldn't handle the uncertainty for a moment longer,” you kissed his whiskered cheek, “So I am improvising.” 

Garp immediately responded by raking his broad hands beneath your bare ass, barely covered by the material of your dress, hoisting you into the air and marching you throughout the corridors with heavy and intentional steps. You giggled at him, weaving your hands over his shoulders and massaging his scalp with your fingertips, and nuzzling down into his neck. You inhaled deeply, committing his cologne to memory while nipping and sucking on his exposed flesh close to his collar.

“It’s against protocol to leave visible marks above my uniform,” Garp growled, leaning his head back and exposing more of his skin to you, “If you litter my skin with any bites, I’ll see to ‘ye punishment personally.” In response to your rough, peppered kisses along his neck and bearded jaw, Garp slapped his hand on your right ass cheek before kneading it within his fingers and palm. 

“I am no marine, Garp,” you confessed, wrapping your lips around his pulse and sucking at the skin with fervor, “And I’d like to see you try.”

“Y’ell do as ‘yer bloody told, lass,” he growled, leaning away from your lips. As his eyes met with yours, he squeezed the flesh of your ass with a warning pinch. You squeaked in delight, Garp’s hearty laughter pleasantly echoing within your ears. 

“I’ll do as I bloody please, Garp,” you taunted in return, biting a crescent shaped mark against his pulse, soothing over the mark with your lips and tongue. You sucked at the mark, hearing a hitch in his breath as he continued to lead you towards the guest suites. 

Tearing your lips away, you hummed at the heart-shaped mark you pressed into his skin. It was a medal of lust, visible to all who see it - and see it, they will. Garp’s pulse was elevated further, his passionate advances leading him on with heavy and intentional steps. His boot heel kicked in the door to cabin quarters, your anticipation only growing as Garp lowered you onto the freshly made bed. 

Your back hit the plush mattress, your hair sprawling out on the sheets as he lowered his head against your neck. He pressed a few intentional kisses against your exposed flesh, his hands desperately raking over your chest to knead your breasts slowly and sensually. You sucked in a soft groan, your brows furrowing up as his thumb and index finger rolled over your puckered nipples. At your small gasp, he took it as encouragement to continue stimulating your breasts with his left hand, as his right rose the hemline of your dress over your hip. 

Hastily, you shot your hands forward, fumbling over the buckle of his belt to rid it of its hold on his pants. Just as quickly, Vice-Admiral Garp surged forward: claiming both of your wrists within his circular grip to halt your advance. You furrowed your brows as he pinned your wrists beside your head, your wide eyes meeting with his mischievous grin. 

“What are you-,” you began, silenced by a heavy and open-mouthed kiss pressed against your lips, claiming you beneath him with rough bites and soothing caresses. He groaned against your lips, leading your hands with his to wrap around his shoulders and weave into his hair once more within your fingertips. 

“Let me taste ‘ye first, bonnie,” he growled against your sensitive skin, You gasped a sigh of affirmation, nodding against his smiling lips, “Let me make it up to ‘ye for ‘me surliness earlier. Please let me have ‘ye like this.” 

Trailing open mouthed kisses down your neck, halting briefly at your breasts before trailing down your stomach; Vice-Admiral Monkey D. Garp made his intentions incredibly clear to you as he shimmied the line of your dress higher over your body. 

“Let me show ‘ye how much I’ve been craving the sweet call of my name from those pretty lips o’ yours,” Hooking your knees over his shoulders, he scraped his bearded chin over the sensitive inner flesh of your thighs before grazing his lips over the top of your core, “I’ll have ‘ye cryin’ and whimperin’ for me before ‘ye even see my cock.” 

He tested your sensitive flesh: flicking the tip of his tongue out to brush against your swollen clit. Immediately, your back arched up and a soft cry flew from your lips before you could stop it. Garp chuckled, looking as your pulsating core was welcoming more of his touches, giving away your arousal with a pool of your sweet essence pouring from your contracting entrance. 

“You are so beautiful, bonnie lass,” he pressed a sweet kiss against the top of your groin, his smile felt against your flesh, “And ‘ye finally all mine.” After allowing another chuckle to fall from his lips, he advanced forwards and skillfully licked a clean and expert stripe along your glistening walls. 

Vice-Admiral Garp was known for many things: His brutality in war, his aggression while training cadets, his calculated advances on the battlefield, his impossible strength, and his insatiable appetite. This appetite was now displayed to you as he hungrily and desperately lapped at your core like a man on death row, consuming his last meal while awaiting execution. The balance between savoring the flavor while horking down like a man starving had your eyes rolling back and hands fisting at his cropped hair to hold on tightly. 

“O-Oh fuck,” you cried, your eyes now tightly clamped shut as you relished in his skilled ministrations. The roll of his tongue, the mouthing of his hungry lips, had you physically quaking against his face.

“Shakin’ like a leaf, lass,” he taunted, nuzzling into your aching core, “‘ye want ‘te see what else I ‘kin do?” Your toes curled as he prodded your entrance with his tongue, his nose circling your clit and spreading your arousal throughout your core. Skillfully thrusting his tongue in and out of your desperate and delicate slit, you felt as if you were going to explode in ecstasy the moment he began vibrating his tongue with a deep, rumbling groan. 

“G-Garp. I-I don’t know if I-I can-... hnnng-... I c-can’t last m-....mmmn-... m-much longer,” you cried, your thighs clenching on his neck and shoulders to hold him in place. Your body reacted against your will, arching your back off the mattress while desperately riding his face. You felt the band winding tighter in your abdomen, each area of your body desperately shooting sparks, teetering on the edge of unravel. 

Two firm hands clapped over your thighs: one holding down your stomach and pinning you against the bed, the other kneading over your thigh. Garp pulled his face away from your needy cunt, hovering his hot breath and breathing puffs of cool air over your hole. You whimpered in desperation, wriggling against his wide-spread fingers to get any stimulus to conclude your high. 

“W-Why-,” you cried, a slap on your bare ass halting your words and having you throw your head against the pillow. 

“-Because I warned ‘ye nae t’ leave a mark on ‘me body. It’s against protocol, lass,” he chuckled, his whiskered chin scraping over your thigh as his smiling lips pressed a kiss against the outer corner of your crotch. You growled, leaning up on your elbows, staring into his eyes with a dark agitation.

“And after all those promises of making it up to me?” you spat, your nose scrunching, lips pursing and brow furrowing. Garp rose from his low position against your exposed flesh, a foreign desperation depicted in his wide eyes. 

“Were they all empty words?” you uttered. You knew, for a fact, that Vice-Admiral Garp was mad for you, but that only made you want to taunt him more, “All an act to get me to open my legs, just to leave me disappointed like the rest of them?” A stuttered gasp flew from his lips as he crawled up the bed, weaving his clothed torso through your legs to meet at eye level once again. In turn, you shimmied your body away from him, turning your face away in an attempt to hide your smile.

You knew how desperately he wanted you. The moment your lips collided with his above deck, you felt just how much he absolutely adored you. Considering he held you on the edge of ecstasy, only to pull away from you as you were about to unravel , you decided it would be more entertaining to watch him grovel for you. 

“Perhaps you were only interested in leaving a sour taste, teasing me with your pretty brogue and taunting me with your dream-like promises,” you continued, lips pouting and brows triangulating up in the center of your forehead. Garp staggered in his movement, his hands reaching out in an attempt to grasp yours, only met with you pulling away. 

“L-Lass, I didnae mean t-,” he began, halted by your melancholy sigh in an attempt to stifle a rising giggle in your chest. 

“-You said I’d beg and plead for your hands and lips to be in a few key places, if I recall correctly,” you pouted, playing into your role, “How disappointing, only having me beg and writhe beneath you to pull away at the crescendo.” 

“P-Please, lass. I’m sorry. I am a cruel, cruel man,” he confessed, claiming your left hand within his right and peppering the flesh with a flurry of kisses, “What can I do t’make it up to ‘ye, ‘me bonnie lass. Tell me,” he trailed his kisses up higher, halting at the inner flesh of your elbow, “Order me, dictate me,” he continued spreading kisses up to your shoulder, soothing over your scorching flesh, “I beg ‘ye to reconsider your withdrawal. I am ‘ye humble servant, wee bonnie.” 

Your smile broke through your pouting expression, your head snapping over to meet with his. His eyes were wide and frantic, desperate to know he had not lost you by enacting his cruel punishment. 

“Off the bed,” you ordered him, a twinkle of mischief sparking to light in your surly expression, “And strip yourself, slowly.” 

“Aye, bonnie lass,” he stumbled over his words, immediately staggering backwards and falling to the side of the bed. He began unbuttoning his overcoat and shaking it from his shoulders hurriedly, prompting a giggle to break through your practiced character. 

“I said slowly, Garp,” you purred at him, sitting up and moving your left calf along your right, “I thought you would be good at following orders, considering your title as a marine.” He halted his hasty undress, opting to silently follow your orders by unhooking the clasps of his belt and unbuttoning his pants. As the hem lay limply on his hips, he slowly popped each button of his shirt and raked his index finger along his torso to separate the fabric. 

Shamelessly following each movement with a bite of your bottom lip, you reclined on your side and encouraged him to continue with your sultry and beckoning eyes. His heart fluttered, feeling so small beneath your predatory gaze. After speaking with you for so long over den-den-mushi, and desperately seeking your approval with his choice words, he was certain he knew what to expect when he met with you.

He had never been so pleased to be proven wrong in his life. 

As he released the final button of his shirt, you clicked your tongue at him and pointed your index finger at the teal sash decorating his neck.

“The tie stays on,” you spoke through narrowed eyes, testing his resolve to follow your orders. He huffed out a small laugh, shaking his head as he peeled his shirt away from his skin - leaving the teal tie around his neck. He shimmied off the fabric before hooking his thumbs through his belt hoops, slowly pulling the material over his hips and down his muscular thighs. 

Hungrily and awestruck, you followed each taut flex of his impressive muscles: his forearms, his biceps, his shoulders, his pectorals, his abs, his thighs - nothing was hidden from your eyes as he continued to slowly undress himself before you. His head-shot from the World Government truly did not do him justice - a man dignified and refined, muscular and carved from slated marble. He was a sight to behold, and was anxious to receive your approval at each passing moment. 

Stepping away from his pants, Vice-Admiral Garp was standing before you in naught but his teal tie and tight undershorts. The growing pole to tent the center of his trousers had your mouth watering beneath your stoic and sultry expression: keeping your hand close to your chest to not reveal your desperation for him. 

“Does this please you, lass?” he whispered below his breath, the corner of his mouth ticking with his melancholy expression, “An old man far from his prime, humbling himself before the delicate flower of Kuraigana. Is this all ‘ye dreamed of?” His small sigh caught your ear, prompting your brows to furrow in deep thought. His eyes were focussed on the floor, unable and unwilling to tear them away to meet with your exploratory eyes. 

Vice-Admiral Garp was self conscious. He found himself unworthy to be at the receiving end of your interest, a fact that had become clearer and clearer the more the night flew on. 

“Take off your undershorts, Garp,” you ordered him, slowly rising to your knees on the mattress, “And lie back on the bed.” You witnessed as his cock twitched beneath his pants, a growl purring in the chasms of his chest as he hooked his thumbs around the hemline of his undergarments. 

Slowly shimmying down the elastic, his impressive cock sprang above the surface, slapping his abdomen with his shining mushroom tip on his belly. The slit was dripping with precum, the veins throbbing with anticipation while he bashfully lay his back down on the mattress. His cock stood to attention, knob throbbing while his shaft was hoisted in the air. He was neatly cropped, every follicle of his happy trail meticulously maintained down his stomach. 

Without much warning, you eagerly straddled his waist with a giggle of joy. A gasp of shock fled from his lips, followed by a huff of laughter as you eagerly threw your dress off your body and looked down at his reclined form. There was a hidden uncertainty within his eyes, a hopeful sheen sucking you within his orbs each moment you gazed into them.

“Now what, lass?” he questioned you, eyes searching yours as he reached up his palm to cradle your cheek, “You’ve got me pinned and helpless beneath your thighs. Does this please you? D-Do I-...” his voice trailed off, remaining uncertain as his eyes sought out deeper, unspoken desires within your own, “...-Do I please you?” 

You sighed, flipping your hair over your shoulder and looking down at him through half-hooded eyelashes. Your soft smile drew up over your features, a secret and hidden kiss’ shadow rising within the right-hand corner of your mouth - a place that immediately held Garp rendered defeated under your beautiful features. 

What began as mild lust had blossomed and flourished into something more sacred. Garp was indeed smitten with you, desperately wanting to both treat and tease you, but now that he had you - he was clawing at being a worthy partner for you to couple with. He knew you were beautiful, he knew you were intelligent, he knew you were wise - but he did not expect, upon meeting you in person, to be rendered helpless upon seeking your approval. 

Wordlessly, you sought out the tip of his glistening cock with your needy hole, slowly circling the knob without welcoming him fully into your walls. He gasped at the contact, surging forward to grasp at your thighs over his waist. Your arousal coated his tip, painting it with your own lust and propelling his sinful desires on further. 

“You’ll please me by letting me ride your thick cock until you can’t take it anymore,” you purred down at him, angling your lips to almost brush against his own, “You’ll please me by splitting me open and filling me up with every inch you’re willing to give me. You’ll please me-...” you leaned your torso down, your breasts brushing with his pectorals, nipples circling his own in a sultry dance as you hovered over his cock, “...-By allowing me the luxury of cumming on your cock, my pussy milking you of your thick load and splashing back onto your cock once it meets with my cervix.” 

Garp held his breath, furrowing his brows as he felt you inch down to claim his shined knob within your entrance. He focussed on the hitch of your breath, the swell of your heart rate, and the small whimper in your voice. He focussed on the twitch of your closed eyes and your parted lips as you sank further along his shaft. 

Although his appetite was insatiable, he would never rush you in adjusting to his girth and length. He relished in every stretch your walls made to accommodate his impressive size, focussing on how your brows knit together and breath hitched at every small move. He tried to hold back the twitch of his desperate cock, trying not to lose himself within the feeling of your cunt fluttering to adjust for his cock to fully sheathe itself within you. 

As the hilt of your crotch met with his, his cock disappearing within your fluttering cunt up to the brim, he finally allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief at being sheathed completely within you. Grinding yourself down, you suppress a strangled moan within your throat as you feel your walls adjust and accommodate to his impressive size. Testing a small movement, you inched yourself upwards and slunk down against his shaft - a sigh mirrored within Garp’s lips as he restrained himself from fucking up into you. 

You began to slowly rake your walls up, before slamming your body back down against his groin: mutual cries of bliss falling from each other's lips as you focussed on riding his cock. You hastily drew up speed, setting a rhythm that had his hips rolling beneath your own. Your mewling cries of his name were rising into the air each time you felt his knob touch the edge of your cervix. 

His hands gripped firmly against your thighs, ushering you to bob, grind and gyrate against his cock to chase your own ecstasy. Your clit brushed with the small tuft of hair remaining at the base of his shaft, stimulating the small bud each time you drew yourself down to his crotch. 

He stared up in disbelief at the way your body responded to him. He was mesmerized at each whimper of your voice, each flutter of your eyelashes, and each slam of your aching cunt welcoming his throbbing cock within his walls. He couldn’t get enough: you were intoxicating and addictive with each writhe against him. 

Your rhythm began to get more stuttered, your body responding to the elevation of your ecstasy. Your walls began to thump against him, wringing his cock and clamping down on it as your approaching orgasm began to shudder against his shaft. His breath hitched, his own brow furrowing as he felt every pulse within your walls ushering him into his own bliss. 

As you continued to grind against him, Garp struggled to hold back against his own desires of flipping you over and stapling his hips against your own by railing your body into the plush mattress below. He did not want to destroy his good standing with you by completing such a lewd act, reacting in penance from drawing himself away from cumming into his awaiting lips, and simply chose to take each moment you gave him as a gift. 

The flutter of your cunt began squeezing his shaft, the sensitive spongy underside of your clit meeting with his knob propelling you further in the release of your incoming ecstasy. Your whimpers and cries of his name falling freely from your lips had both Garp’s cock and heart swell in pride that his body was granting you such bliss.

“G-Garp, I-I’m gonna-...” you called, clenching your eyes shut as you continued to gyrate and grind down against his cock. 

Garp’s iron will snapped, immediately hooking his arms around your waist and tackling you against the bedsheets. He caged you beneath him, plowing greedily into your shuddering walls with an eager snap of his hips. You shrieked in shock, your ecstasy being ushered in further by Garp stampeding you both towards your ends with a heavier and more controlled rhythm.

Each heavy rake of his cock within your cunt had his balls slapping against your puckered ass. At this new angle, you cried out, desperately clawing at his back and shoulders to draw him in closer to you. 

He hoisted your knee over his hip, latching his lips onto your neck and sucking a deep, angry, mark into your porcelain flesh. You cried for him, every ounce of your flesh ignited by the sparks of untamed ecstasy as you thrust your hips upwards to meet with every sharp snap of his rhythmic hips. 

“Cum for me,” he purred at you in a gruff growl, “Cry out my name.” His rhythm began to weigh heavier with each deep thrust, heavier and heavier with every staggered slam of his hips. “I want the entire base t’ know I’m makin’ ‘ye feel good. Want ‘ye fookin’ boss t’ know you’re becoming unraveled by my thick cock, ‘me bonnie lass.” 

At the mention of your boss: Mihawk’s verbal warning of having Garp cry your name in bliss echoed back to you. In a final ditch effort of having Garp cry out for you, you latched your lips onto the mark you created a few hours prior and teased the flesh with your teeth and tongue. Garp knit his brows, growling through yelping barks below his breath at how truly good you made him feel. 

“O-Ohh f-fuck, Garp. I-I’m-... ahh-... I’m c-cumming,,” you called, clawing and gnawing at his flesh like a lifeline anchoring you to the earth. He sucked in a breath feeling the twitch of his end spurting the first few moments of his orgasm within your walls. As much as he desired to pull away from your eager cunt to not risk his seed finding purchase within your walls - he simply could not help himself. He immediately began plowing harsher into you, his cock spurting his cum within you like a valve turning to release hisses of pent-up pressure. 

His voice became elevated with each staggered thrust, each subtle whimpered cry of his name coinciding with you grinding and writhing beneath him to chase your mutual highs. At one final bite of his flesh, and a particularly harsh snap of his hips, the two of you began experiencing the first realms of joint ecstasy.

“F-Fuck bonnie lass, I cannae pull out,” he roared your name, gyrating and pumping his seed deep within your cunt: splashing back spurts of his load within your needy, throbbing cunt. 

“D-Don’t you dare t-try,” you scolded him, eyes rolling back in bliss as he chased his orgasm within you. The walls of your pussy began contracting against his thick cock, shepherding him into releasing hot ropes of sticky cum within your eager walls. For every thump of your walls, you were granted by a spurt of his release within them - milking him of every fiber of his essence. 

As you both rode through your highs, the hums of your voices and gasps of your breath caught up with you. He snapped his hips forward, remaining sheathed within your glistening walls, as he raked his fingers through your hair. Your strands stuck against your forehead, your pupils blown with lust as you gulped back another cry of ecstasy as his cock throbbed within you. You sobbed, hiding your forehead against his chest as you attempted to come down from your high. 

Taking a moment to each gulp in oxygen to fill your lungs, Garp rolled from caging you beneath him, unsheathing his cock from within your pussy slowly. He looked down at your entrance, watching as it clenched to chase his retreat from your body with an eagerness he was yet to witness in some time. You were a masterpiece, a body unraveled and glistening within the realms of the afterglow in unbridled lust. He adored you. 

“You alrigh’, lass?” he asked you quietly, his lips grazing your temple as your lungs refilled with oxygen. You smiled up at him, eyes closing while your body chased his lips to feel his wired whiskers against your skin longer. You hummed at him, rolling over to your side and grazing his chest with your open hands. 

“Never better, Garp,” you cooed back at him, feeling your energy supply depleting the longer you remained comfortably within his arms. He cradled you against himself, feeling the soft song of slumber calling to him each moment you remained nestled against him. 

“And what of t’morrow?” Garp asked, his brow cocking up at the corner while he fought to keep his eyes open, “‘Ye got duties to attend, I’m sure.” 

“Dracule Mihawk has allowed me the luxury of a few days' shore leave,” you confessed, sleepily, “I don’t think I’ll be returning to my station any time soon, Vice-Admiral-.”

“-Garp, bonnie lass. It’s Garp, remember?” he cooed down at you, shimmying his body down to locate the plush duvet and nestling you both beneath it, “When you’re with me, it’s always Garp.”

“Alright, Garp,” you purred up at him, eyes hooded and feeling serenaded by sleep, “Will you stay by me tonight? Show me you still want me in the morning?” He huffed out a breath of disbelief, cradling you further against his chest and pressing a gentle kiss against your forehead.

“Rest assured, Bonnie Lass,” the rumbling drawl of his voice cooed down at you, his fingers brushing over your hair and smoothing over each strand, “I will still want you every morning.” 

Both of your warm smiles clung to your cheeks as you fell into the arms of sleep, feeling calm and at peace while clinging to one another. You had never been so pleased to be relieved of duty, your legs and body remaining blissfully numb by being plowed into by Garp’s throbbing cock. 

An apology for his rough actions came in the form of caging your hips against his face, his arms weaving over your thighs, and him welcoming you to ride his head until your voice grew hoarse from the sheer number of times he had you cry his name on his eager tongue. Enthusiastically lapping at your glistening cunt with the fervor of a man being granted the feast of a lifetime, he refused to part his lips from your glistening walls until you violently shook with a scream of his name.

When riding down your high and sobbing through your ecstasy, you looked down at his eager eyes: twinkling with mischief. Upon meeting his gaze, he kissed your thigh and cooed up at you: “Just one more? One last time before I let you go, ‘me wee bonnie lass?” for the fifth time that morning. After all, his appetite truly was insatiable.

[luffyvace]

HEYYYY!! how are you?? i hope you’re doing well ❤️❤️

i was wondering if you could do a headcanon/story where reader is like the daughter of Dracule Mihawk but like she(or gender neutral) never met her mom, so when she was growing up Boa Hancock was like their cool auntie that she learned how to be a woman (doing makeup,painting nails, finding her style ect.)

ONLY IF YOU ARE COMFORTABLE THO, BTW I LOVEE YOUR WRITING 💕💕

HIII IM DOING GOOD ANON!! You dear? :)

i do female reader dw!! I’ll be using she/her as well, for reference

Awhh dadhawk <33

AUNTBOAAUNTBOAAUNTBOAAA!! She’d be the BEST most SPOILING wine aunt EVER🍷💄

Of course it’s alright honey! Alsooo TYSM!! I’m so glad you enjoy 😭💓💓

Being mihawk’s daughter has a lot of perks and literally no down slides. actually I half way take that back. The only down slide is that there’s a target on your head for those who are crazy enough to come for you. But that’s like a mere 00.1% and even then just because they come for you doesn’t mean they’ll get to you 🤡

especially since your the NUMBER ONE swordsman’s daughter.

Also this is really random but you probably meet zoro eventually, perona as well, they obviously stay with you for some time so perona and you likely get close. I imagine you would introduce her to boa and the three of you become a trio. You and Perona are her adorable nieces and boa is your doting, beautiful and totally awesome auntie :3

don’t get me wrong mihawk is a awesome father. He seems like a very responsible man and that he would not leave you out in the cold at the cost of his own life. He spoils you just as equally as boa does and although he’s not the most trusting man on earth, he wouldn’t dare break the bond you two have when he can’t replace it with your actual mother. At this point not that you wanted to.

Never meeting your mom may have taken a toll on your mental health at first, but not to worry! Awesome aunt boa to the rescue!!

The chances of you meeting boa we’re actually very slim, whether you know it or not. As I said Mihawk doesn’t easily trust plus you probably met at a warlord meeting where he has to take you along for one reason or another.

You saw boa and naturally, thought she was very pretty. Mihawk is rather reserved too so you probably don’t see people often in general (til you get older). Therefore, seeing such a ethereal woman made you instantly admire her. You immediately wanted to get to know her—and, luckily for you, she took an interest in the girl who’s mihawk’s daughter!

now idk what you did but she started the conversation, and whatever you replied made her think you weren’t so bad! You two chatted some more and after figuring out you had no mother figure she took it upon herself to raise a cute girl such as yourself to be a good woman. She didn’t exactly want to be viewed as your mother..that would relate her too closely to mihawk, a man, for her liking. So! She’ll be the cool and classy wine aunt instead! 🍷💋

you love your dad, he does his best to raise you as a single father and pirate/warlord/worlds best swordsman. And you truly do appreciate him! But when Boa bashes him for being a man her insults are low key so funny you can’t help but laugh 🗿 (hc that Boa would be good at roasting people on the spot :3)

boa being the coolest aunt she is, she takes you to lavish places (that she rented so she wouldn’t have to bear being in the presence of those indisputable critters society calls men), gets you the most high quality makeup (that her tribe handcrafts—yes they make they’re own it’s a hc of mine), does monthly over the phone (in person when you can) mental check ins (because you love your dad but again, he’s a man, and there’s some things about women men won’t get—vice versa too of course <3)

womanly hour!~ well more like hours, you spend the whole day with boa whenever you can, she’s makes a magnificent aunt and literally never says no to you. She’s like to you how she is to luffy but less delusional platonic <3 you two go shopping and pick out clothes together, her tribe of course also gifts you all the cute clothes you could ever want (again, handcrafted) because boa adores you and they adore boa!—which means they adore you! 💕 You and the Kuja 100% get along and see eye to eye on how spectacular Hancock-Sama is~ 🥰

when your older you probably go over to visit her more often and maybe even on your own! Mihawk trusts that by then he’s trained you enough, plus i think he would have his certain set of rules but not be too strict of a dad.

teaching you how to be a proper woman with Boa 101 ;} only if you want to tho! She’ll ensure your not out here acting like some monkey—surely your not! (unless you are 🤷‍♀️) Still, she teaches you basic lady manners. :) More than anything she knows women is NOT the problem, so instead of going “keep your legs closed ☝️🤓” she says “If a man looks at you lower than your stomach, kick him in that area 😉😘” - Boa Hancock (the woman we trust💪)

AND you already know she’s gonna teach you how to kick as hard a she can 😤😮‍💨👌 which ngl by the time your older your sure to be a master in many Haki’s. You may even have conquer’s 🤷‍♀️ I wouldn’t doubt it you got Mihawk blood in you :P

Growing up Boa has constantly been warning you of men and they’re vile ways. When you become of age she’ll tell you what happened to her (that’s how much she trusts you 💗💗) and you’ll know what she means right away. She will always look out for you but gives you tips on things just in case, and if you ever feel unsafe, don’t hesitate to call her or take a trip to the island of women! The entirety of the Kuja tribe will lay down they’re lives in an instant for Hancock-sama’s lovable little niece <33

I’ve been mentioning this throughout but her taking you to the island of women definitely happens. You love it there and everyone loves you. You have so many Aunts and sisters there it’s not even funny. 😃 You adore each and everyone of them though, just as they do you. You get only the finest of treatment from them and you might as well be one of the Boa sisters. You get all you can eat premium food, the most elegant clothes tailored to your exact size and tastes, you even have your very OWN room in the Palace! Sandersonia and Marigold dote on you just as much as Hancock does the four of you very much do spend a lot of time together. 😊

The Boa sisters/the Kuja tribe teaches you the kuja tribe/survival skills personally. They start with bow and arrow and eventually moving on to haki and hand to hand combat. Now, Mihawk might have already covered this but they’re going over it again �� why? He might’ve missed something! He’s a man! (Btw the Kuja girls 100% ask you questions about men no holding back) Anywho, I’m sure you’d do it again even if you know it already because 1) practice 😋 and 2) who wouldn’t want to spend more time with the Kuja pirates?!

💖💖

These girls are seriously awesome 💓 (this low key became a Mihawk diss track written by Hancock but he’ll live- LOL 😂😂🗿)

[urinarythreatinfection]

All the child fics I see have the child as a little ray of sunshine that’s loved to pieces by everyone, but I think it would be a little funny if they found a kid that was rather awkward instead. If you have any suggestions on other awkward kid reader like scenarios or other characters go ahead and request.

Shanks, Buggy, and Smoker with an Awkward!Child Reader.

Shanks

“Oh! Hey, there’s some kids here.” Shanks crouches down and speaks to you, but you quickly shake your head. “Listen, I know you aren’t the best at socializing but just try it out. Just for a bit?” He’s a bit worried, you don’t get to be with other kids much being on the Red Force. Looking into his eyes you start to feel a bit guilty, eventually nodding your head. Shanks smiles brightly “Great! C’mon, I’ll make sure you’re safe, okay?” He picks you up and goes over to the kids playing. Once you’re both close enough he sets you down, but you just stand there. He gives you a little push and you stiffly walk to the kids. They spot you and you freeze.

“Huh? Who are you?” They walk over to you and you go as still as possible. “Hello?” One of the kids waves a hand in front of your face but you just stand there like a statue. Shanks looks on, worried that you’ll get bullied. He shakes his head.

‘No, I should have faith in them as their father.’ He thinks to himself as the kids gather around the new strange child. They just kind of stare at you. One of the kids pokes you and you flinch.

“They move! How do you get all frozen like that, are you made of stone?” Your eyes slowly trail to your dad, nervous. He just gives you a thumbs up. Shanks gets approached by someone.

“Chief? Oh it’s you!” Shoot, he’s starting to get recognized, this damn hair. He has to entertain them a bit before they finally go away. Shanks quickly looks back to you, worried. The kids have.. started stacking things on you.

“Woahh…”The kids marvel at you. You have multiple blocks on your head, your stillness keeping them from falling. That’s… one way to socialize I guess. Your record is 10 blocks.

Mihawk

Mihawk holds you in his arms, he had taken you in a few months ago even before Cross Guild. To be honest, he was hesitant to bring you with him, but it was already known he had a child by this point. It’s safer to keep you where he can be with you, it’s one of the reasons he joined. Having a stable place to stay is best for you. Another worry he had is that the clown and Crocodile would be a bad influence on you, that you would turn into some sort of delinquent. Children can be unpredictable, and easily manipulated. However, that ended up not being the case. In fact, they seemed to be a good influence. Not because they were passing on good features, no, it was simply because you disliked them enough that you marked them as “bad examples”, he couldn’t be more relieved. It’s unfortunate you don’t make friends but this is better than becoming anything like Buggy or Crocodile. They had even attempted to appeal to you, trying to befriend you to have some sort of connection to Mihawk. Buggy so that Mihawk would be softer on him, Crocodile so that Mihawk would have incentive to be loyal. It didn’t work out. Crocodile realized very fast you were terrified of him, he isn’t the best with children either; and there’s too much risk trying to get close to you when your father hates when you’re scared. Buggy however…

“Hey, kid, here.” Buggy offers you candy, you stare at it then slowly back away, clearly uncomfortable. “Ah, uhhh.. What about this?” He starts to juggle, but you also look nervous, looking away. ‘This damn brat, aren’t kids supposed to like clowns?’ He curses in his head, but keeps a smile on his face. Finally, in one last effort, he pulls off his head and starts to do tricks with his limbs. “See? Cool isn’t i-” When he looks at the spot you were in you’re gone, like a mouse that skittered away. “God dammit, fucking kid.” Right as he says that he feels an intimidating presence behind him, hawk eyes digging into his back. He might be fucked.

Smoker

“Sea prism works on devil fruit users like Captain Smoker and this person. That’s why you don’t have to be scared, they can’t do anything to you.” Tashigi explains to you, holding the sea prism cuffs. She’s babysitting you for a bit while Smoker is taking care of business since you can’t exactly be left alone at your age. You had gotten startled by a prisoner being led to jail earlier, so she was explaining how they’re harmless with the cuffs on; even showing them to you. “You want to hold them?” You slowly nod and hold them in your little hands, they’re kind of heavy. While you’re looking at them Tashigi looks to the door, Smoker is back. “Ah Captain Smoker you’re ba-”

Click

…Oops. You put them on by accident. Immediately you start to panic, trying to get them off your wrist. “Ah, wait, I can just take them off for you. Stand still!” You’re panicking too much though, waving your arm around while Smoker sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. Before she can grab you though, you end up flinging the cuff off of your wrist. It was too big to fit you anyway, the key wasn’t needed. Unfortunately, you end up flinging them directly at your dad, hitting him on the head. He flinches and falls back, the sea prism making him weak. “Captain Smoker!” He falls to the ground and you freak out like a startled cat, running around the office while knocking things over. Tashigi, flustered, doesn’t know what to do first. The cuffs slide off of his body and he moves again, grabbing you by the back of your shirt like a kitten. “I’m so sorry, sir I didn’t think-” He raises a hand to stop her.

Your father looks at you, your face guilty, and sighs. “It’s fine.” The office is a mess now, it’s actually a bit impressive. At least he doesn’t have to worry about people catching you. “No more cuffs.” He’ll worry about the office later, you’re more important.

[alexa-fika]

Midnight Lessons (Mihawk x gn!child!reader)

A/N: Here we go, stoic dad time! Guys please drop by my ask box, wanna get to know my audience!

Dividers by @saradika

Night had fallen in Cross Guild’s headquarters, the members still busing around completing their chores. In the main office, quiet reigned between two of the founders, the only sound echoing in the office being of Crocodile’s exhaling his cigars in a thick mist, sitting at his desk and looking over the current paperwork, and the sound of Mihawk sharpening and polishing Yoru, on the office’s couch, his sharp gaze examines his black blade for any blemishes or imperfections.

A knock rings on the door to the office the two reside in

Crocodile’s eyes narrow slightly as he bellows smoke from his cigar and looks up. He sighed, remembering he had locked the door so he and his co-worker could have a meeting, so he stood up and opened the door, grunting when he saw who was at the door.

“Mihawk, it’s your brat,” he called out, staring at the child in front of him

Mihawk puts down his sword and walks over to the child. He squats down to the child’s level*

“Why are you awake at this hour?” Mihawk asked in a deep, quiet voice

The small child mutters something under their breath, sniffling.

Mihawk raises an eyebrow and nudges their arm with his finger, asking them to look at him instead of hiding their face.

“Do not mumble; speak up.” Mihawk’s voice is like a whisper, but his stare was piercing like a sharp blade

“Can I stay with you, Dad?” They cry out, voices still barely above a whisper

Seeing the child’s sad expression, Mihawk frowns and sighs quietly.

“Yes, you can stay. But not for long; you must return to your room soon. Mihawk’s voice was still quiet, but his tone had an unmistakable gentleness as he easily lifted the child carrying them back to the couch.

The small child hugged his dad tightly, trying to muffle their sobs so as to not bother their father at work.

Reader tightened their arms around their father; in response, Mihawk gently caressed their head and patted their back, silently reassuring the child.

“Why are you awake?” he repeats his previous question.

Crocodile glances at the pair once more before turning his attention back to a stack of paperwork on his desk.

“I had a nightmare,” they cry.

Mihawk’s brow furrows, and he looks down at the child.

“What was it about?”

“Y-you were gone.”

Mihawk’s expression tightens when he hears this. His eyebrows narrow, and his lips pull into a thin line. He stays silent for a moment.

“Do not worry about such things, I will not leave.”

Reader nods, comforted by their father’s short but meaningful words.

He pulls the child close to him until their head is lying on his chest, and their face is buried into his neck. The child can feel Mihawk’s heartbeat in their chest. He wraps an arm around the child, holding them close while they sniffle and sob.

Mihawk’s expression remains blank, and he does not say a word until the child’s crying stops.

Reader nuzzles closer to him as they are slowly lulled to sleep.

Mihawk’s arms enfold the child, gently caressing them and providing comfort. The child soon falls asleep, wrapped tightly in Mihawk’s warm embrace.

“Did they fall asleep?” Crocodile’s deep voice cuts in

Mihawk remains silent. He continues caressing the child, gently ruffling their hair. Then he softly turns his head to peer up at Crocodile, still sitting behind his desk.

“Yes.” Mihawk’s voice is still calm and tranquil despite his expression turning cold and serious

That soon changed, however, as the third founder slammed open the door as he came in, startling the child wide-awake, childish cries echoing through the office.

Mihawk tightened the grip around the child slightly.

Crocodile looks up from his desk, and his eyes narrow as he sees the third officer standing at the door.

“What are you doing, Clown?” he asks coldly.

Buggy’s eyes widen in surprise at his tone. He stumbled back, and then tried to compose himself*

“I…I was just-”

Before Buggy could finish, Mihawk’s gaze pierced through him. His eyes are dark and menacing, looking like he’s about to attack him at any moment. Mihawk’s hand tightened around the child again, and he was clearly agitated.

“Out!…” a low, deadly tone leaves Mihawk’s voice. Buggy’s eyes widened in shock, even he could not ignore the seriousness of Mihawk’s tone and expression. His eyes darted to the child, still sobbing and buried in Mihawk’s arms. Buggy gulped before quickly turning to leave the office. The whole place became silent again, with only the sound of the child’s soba as they cried into Mihawk’s chest.

“I’m going to pulverize him,” grunts Crocodile

Mihawk’s attention goes from the doorway towards the crying child in his chest.

Eventually, and with the help of Mihawk’s warmth and comfort, Reader’s cries recede. They are still snuggled close to Mihawk and can feel themselves surrounded by his warmth and presence. His fingers still brush through their hair while his other arm holds onto the child firmly.

Mihawk gently moves Reader from his chest to between his legs, grabbing his sword and continuing to sharpen it

Reader looks at his actions entranced, his attention captured by Mihawk’s strong but careful sword care.

Mihawk’s hands move gracefully over the blade, which shines brilliantly in the candlelit room. His motions are quick and efficient, and he works accurately and skillfully. His face remains calm and unconcerned as he continues sharpening his sword. From the corner of his eyes, he can see Reader staring at him with a mix of curiosity, fascination, and admiration. The unspoken question lingering in the air.

“No, you cannot work on this sword.”

Reader frowns at the rejection without the child having the chance to ask but makes no comment.

Mihawk notices the expression but does not say anything. He looks at the child and raises an eyebrow before turning his attention back to the sword. He runs his thumb caressingly along the blade but then stops abruptly.

“However, I can find a sword you can work on if you so desire, Blade Child.”

They smile and nod.

“I want to. Can you tell me how to do it?”

“Yes,” Mihawk replies in a low tone as he finishes sharpening his sword. Pulling Kogatana out from its sheath in his pendant and showing it to Reader.

“You may use this sword to practice on,” he says as he puts Kogatana down and hands Reader the sharpening stone, helping them grab it correctly and guiding their hands in the appropriate motion.

The child laughs gleefully, excited to be able to repeat the similar actions they saw their father do minutes prior

Mihawk relaxes slightly at the child’s enthusiasm; he watches as Reader sharpens Kogatana with gentle but firm guidance and hand placements. After a few minutes of instruction, Reader feels comfortable enough to sharpen the sword on their own. The light sound of the sharpening stone against the blade echoes through the office.

“I did it, Dad!” Reader exclaims, showing Mihawk the freshly sharpened Kogatana

Mihawk’s expression softens as he looks at the blade with the sharp edge.

Then he looks over at Reader proudly.

He nods his head.

“Yes, this is much sharper now. Not a bad job for your first time.”

Mihawk places the blade back on the sheath on his pendant.

The child laughs at the praise, knowing it is as strong a compliment as he could pull from their stoic father.

Not sure how to feel about this one; what do you guys think? Please send in requests for what you guys would like to see next!

[rollinouttahere-writes]

Currently thinking about like. Slow burn reluctant platonic yanderes. Like I'm thinking mihawk or crocodile with some scrappy kid that's always around, maybe doing little odd criminal jobs or they're just weird and find them cool and keep following them around. And for a while they're like "uuuughhhh someone get their kiddddd" but then before they know it they're like looking out for them and the day they're not trailing behind them it's all "??? Where is my child??? This is unacceptable" I just love grumpy man with accidentally adopted child so much best trope

Mihawk is an excellent candidate for this because, as proven with Perona, he'll just kinda accept random people's presence on his island. You say you live here now? He can't argue with that. Go put on some clean clothes and pick out a room. Mihawk is bored, so the arrival of some random, scrappy kid really doesn't bother him much. It's a welcome change of pace. He really isn't even all that reluctant. You won't be able to tell that he's become yandere for the kid unless they try to leave. Then he's calmly but firmly putting a stop to that because he doesn't believe they'll be able to survive on their own. They need him to teach and guide them, as well as protect them until they're properly trained. They aren't escaping him until they're strong enough to kill him.

Crocodile is much more reluctant to bond with some random child. He's annoyed when they first approach him and demand to work for him. He brushes them off, stating that a warlord obviously doesn't need a child's help. But the kid keeps coming back and inserting themselves into his daily life, eventually coming to a boiling point when they somehow manage to get rid of one of the housekeepers for his home and show up in their place. He's honestly a little impressed as to how some 10~ year old even pulled that off. He begrudgingly lets them stick around, assuming they must have a very shitty life if they're so desperate to get a foot in the door with someone like him. It reminds him of himself in his youth. Over time, he starts to become fond of them, sometimes even giving small pieces of advice for how to build yourself up. Crocodile himself doesn't even realize how attached he's gotten until the kid wants to strike out on their own. What the hell do you mean you want to leave? Is working for him suddenly not good enough for you? That's ridiculous. You're going to stay with him whether you like it or not. It's for your own good.

[thesharktanksdriver]

Determination! (Platonic)

Warning for this chapter: fisher tigers part is much more serious. It’s talks of slavery and while it isnt too graphic it does included a lot of mature themes. If that makes you uncomfortable please skip over it

You find that your dreams are very disjointed

Granted, you normally don’t dream at all

It’s typically just empty blackness as you fall into unconsciousness and then back into the waking world

But when you do have a dream every once in a blue moon

It’s…odd

Even for Dream standards you think their somewhat odd

The voices of those long past that you’d met cheering you on

Flashes of multicoloured sparks

The endless expanse of space as you stare at a star

It’s an old one, a dying one

Your not sure how you know that information yet you do

And you watch it die with sparkling eyes

It implodes on itself

Creating a massive explosion of light and energy that dispersed throughout the galaxy

Bright white light shattering into every colour imaginable into the void of space

The energy going in every corner of the universe

A supernova

Your not sure how you know that word but it comes into your mind

Perhaps it hasn’t even been invented yet because you know for a fact that knowledge on stars was vastly limited

Yet that doesn’t stop you from knowing knowledge you never knew before

You reach out towards the remnants of the dead star in a trance

The cheers of the dead yelling “stay determined!”

You open your mouth to eat the star shards

And then you wake up

How curious

Sun Pirates

In your time adrift at the endless sea you had come across many people of many races

Humans, odd winged people, mermaids, devil fruit users, marines and pirates

So it doesn’t come as a surprise when you come across a group of fishmen sailing the sea

They all look over deck at you with a mixture of expressions

Some worry, others pity and some with conflict

But as they all watch a Fishman with rose red skin, a tattoo of a sun on his chest and black hair tied back with a bandanna

He ushers them aside to look Down at you from what you assume to be his ship

“Hi! Do any of you know what part of the sea I’m in?. I think it’s the north blue? But I’m not sure. You’d think with the amount of time I’ve been afloat I’d be able to tell but-“

“Kid are you alone?!”

“Do you see anyone else on this ship?”

You don’t have much of a choice before your brought upon their ship

To their surprise though your not scared?

In fact you seem rather amused at the predicament your in

One that would usually leave normal people scared shitless

But it’s easy for the entire crew to tell your not a normal kid

Especially as you seem to find interest in what type of marine animals each member is

Even more so when you ask about how the capabilities/features of said marine animal

It’s…odd how knowledgeable you are despite your young age

And when they ask about it you just say “I know from experiences on the sea”

Like the fuck is that supposed to mean when your talking about the dangerous venom of the stonefish

They are worried

Like real worried

Some are still off put by the fact your a human but with how your talking the mixture of shock and concern overpower it

God they never thought they’d be fretting over a human but when you talk in visceral odd detail about how sharks occasionally eat people when desperate or confusing them for other prey

It’s a bit freaky

Doesn’t help that it’s oddly specific which makes it seem much more personal

And how you explain all these facts with a completely wide smile not noticing how their all horrified

Their captain Fisher tiger is especially worried when he questions you about how you ended up alone at sea in the first place

He keeps pressing you on the matter but always gets the same response of “I set out to sea and haven’t looked back” and “I’m not sure if my island exists anymore. It’s not like anyone would remember me, I’ve been gone for such a long time”

That implies so much and at the same time is very vague

This poor man is a few migraines away from bashing his head against a wall

But other than that and the worry he finds you to be an interesting kid

While watching you interact with his crew he notices that you treat them all as regular people

You don’t make snide comments nor do you go off of stereotypes to categorize them

Instead you see them as their own individual people

People who were owed respect no matter their race or appearance

And even when a few aren’t exactly the most friendly towards you your respect

Giving them space as you see their uncomfortable

For a kid your emotionally aware in a way that even most adults can’t compare

You can tell if someone has deep rooted trauma and don’t push the subject

Going out of your way not to bring up bad memories associated with humans if your presence did so

There were seemingly no bad feelings about it either

Just pure understanding in your eyes from possible personal experience

Even when he harbours hate for you it’s brushed off as seemingly nothing personal

When your not conversing your quietly helping around

Somehow knowing how to raise the sails and properly clean the deck

Never telling anyone of your deeds and just doing them to help out

It’s clear by how organic it is for you that your used to doing it

Yet your own …”ship” is something more akin to a poorly put together raft

Everything about you is odd

And for a long while he isn’t sure if that’s good or bad

Fisher is a man haunted by the actions inflicted upon him

A shared trauma among all his people from humans

He does not discriminate when rescuing slaves but he still has his own afflictions towards humans

The actions of them still on his skin and baring his soul

Yet he allows you on his ship despite it

Because he knows your a child

Someone who had not harmed him nor his people

Someone who’s innocent to the horrors of the world

To the harm done by your race

He grapples with his own hated for you because of something you cannot pick

He feels guilty and horrible for it

Yet the look in your eyes says that you understand him somehow

And that makes him feel worse

A child should not understand hatred from others

Let alone understand why he feels hatred towards them

And then also accept it with such empathy

it hurts

he's reminded of the guards who used to sneer at him for being who he was

you feel no sadness due to his gaze

only kindness as you do your best to avoid him

in some sense you understand why he gazes at you that way

you can't blame him, not when you yourself had been victim of the abuse of your own kind

looked down upon as dirt

seen as lesser

what hurts worse though is that you can't solely blame one group like he and some of his men can do

your human and your hurt by other humans

maybe it's worse in some aspects

it's why you give an understanding look in your eyes despite his occasional glare

Jinbe is perhaps the one you spend the most time with on the ship other than Hatchan

There is apprehension at first but what follows after a short period of time is kindness

Your just a kid

One not guilty for the crimes of others

He can’t blame someone’s actions on you

Especially when your nothing but respectful to them all despite their hesitation due to your race

He reminds you of a gentle giant which is fitting with what marine animal he’s acquainted to

Most times spent with him are ones where he listens to your words

Finding interest and intrigue in your stories and facts of the sea

It seems far fetched a child experienced all this but the look in your eyes says it’s true

The small mementos that hang on your form like hand woven bracelets, necklaces of shells and shark teeth, a coat befit for a captain hanging on your shoulders and bandana tied around your forehead to keep your hair tangled with pearls back

Their all signs that somehow your tales are true

As amazing and horrifying as they seem their true

And it leaves him feeling anxious

Your a good kid

Maybe one of the best he’s met so far and seeing the wear and tear on you hits him hard

You put up a smile and bare through whatever someone throws your way

Never once speaking back unless your standing up for someone besides yourself

It’s admirable but he sees how it has worn you down

Once upon a time he can imagine you smiling out of actual joy

And now it’s a mechanism for you to write off your pain

Your selfless to a fault

And on the sea people take advantage of that

But perhaps you already experienced that

And it leaves Jinbe’s stomach swirling with unease

He frets over you like a mother hen when you throw all regard for safety away and when you get something simple like a paper cut cause he knows either way you won’t care to tend to your own wounds

He honestly at the point wonders if this is what being a mother feels like

But he can’t contemplate that long cause Arlong is being a dick once again

Tension with him was high before but now Jinbe has half the mind to knock him square in the jaw if he kicks you again

And now he has half the mind to shake some sense into you when you walk it off

God he needs some sort of therapist cause he does not know how to help you beyond being protective and patching you up

It’s obvious that your hurt beyond repair on the inside

The times he’s found you just simply staring off towards the sea with a dead look in your eyes is a testament to that

A call of longing in long gone innocent eyes that still retain kindness despite it all

In those moments he just sits by your side and holds you

You grasp him like a lifeline

Something anchoring you down to reality as your mind makes you remember

He tells stories of fishmen island to distract you

He noticed though that when he tells of the promise to fishmen island from joyboy something in your eyes light up

Sparkles of light within them that dance but then fizzle away after a moment along with a shiver gliding down his back for some reason

He writes it off though

Just going back to his tales

It’s under yet another moon lit night you end up staring out at sea again

Memories of the past swirling in your mind like a hurricane

You can’t help it

Not after being reminded of one life you particularly didn’t like

You didn’t mean to overhear Fisher and Jinbe but it just happened

The captain of the crew talking about his time as a slave

The horror inflicted upon him at the hands of humans

You just keep staring out at the water

Burying yourself deeper into your subconscious trying to escape

But you can’t

Too distracted by the memories that you don’t even notice the two coming out the captains quarters to find you

Vacantly staring out at sea

Your staring out at the water

A deep empty stare

Darkness swirling in your irises

Occasionally you twitch, a jolt of imaginary pain burning your back once more

You sometimes still feel the pain of the brand that luckily now doesn’t haunt your skin

You hadn’t felt it in a long while until you realized after hearing him talk the tattoo of the sun on him was his brand covered up

It served as some sort of trigger

The memories came flooding back

The pain

The torture

The screams

The death

The rot

The overwhelming plea for death in a hell that became a limbo realm

Your hands trace the symbol on the wood lightly

Every couple of months (or maybe years? Your not sure) these thoughts and memories came up

It’s a normal cycle for you

Yet now they hit harder after seeing his tattoo

Cause it makes you think of them

Of the 3 sisters, the names of you never got as your mind makes the effort to forget what you experienced

Up until now you always had the worry of forgetting

You had been alive for a long time

so much so that your memories are inconsistent and blur together

Yet your time as a slave is something clear in your head that you wish erase

To wipe clean from your mind and bury

Yet you can’t will yourself to forget them

Because of those 3 girls you’d befriended over scraps of dry bread

Of the shared pain that was all understood from the four of you

Crying silently together while huddled in the dark

Cleaning one another’s bruises

The eldest girl of the bunch holding you one night when noticing your shivering form, the other two following in the action of huddling around you

A budding friendship formed from barely any words but silent understanding and conversations though looks

You can’t abandon their memory even if it’s attached to other ones you wished to bleach from your mind

It’s there staring into the darkened water you mutter 2 words that had been erased from your mind out of fear

“Celestial dragons”

The words are spat out like a curse yet your tone is full of emptiness

It’s something only someone affected by them could say in such a tone

Perhaps that’s why Fisher now looks at you with realization

“You…you were one too?”

“Yeah, it…I think it was a couple years back, I’m not sure though. The passage of time is hard for me to notice anymore, it all blurs together. Hell I can barely remember my life before the sea, I know I had parents and then they died but…I can’t remember their faces. Anyways, I was captured and sold, ended up in some dungeon.” For a moment you pause going over your memories as you pinch your chin in thought, the way you speak about it is nonchalant yet holds a lot of untold weight “it’s a blur of pain, I remember it specifically on my back. I try to limit how clear it is cause I don’t specifically like remembering it. There were these 3 girls though, sisters who all ended up in the same cell as me. We found kinship in our situation, I gave them the scraps of food I got since they needed it more than me.”

“Do you know what happened to them?” At hearing this you turn to Jinbe, a solemn expression crossing your face as an answer

“Not sure. I…like to hope that their ok, that they found their way back home” your tone is anything but hopeful, cracking with gloom that’s evident in your eyes “but hoping is all I can do. I wished for death when I was there, hoping they’d just finish me off so I could move on. At some point though I began to hope, those 3 girls needed someone there for them and I hoped I could remain just for them”

“Why’d you escape then?”

“I didn’t have choice.”

“What do you mean? That doesn’t really make sense”

They watch as an odd look forms in your eyes

They sparkle with unknown mystery

Something old and sentimental

Something ancient despite the young face you have

“Can you keep a secret?”

They look at one another for a moment

A silent conversation between the two

Jinbe is the one who nods first, your gaze then shifting to Fisher who takes a moment to look at you

He never noticed it till now but your eyes have something about them that…seems inhuman

For a second he swears he even sees stars sparkle in them

Great big shining stars that light the night sky’s and allow sailors to navigate the treacherous seas they love and call home

Stars that when he looks at reminds him of his freedom

Of not staring at the ceiling of a cage

Stars he wished to grasp at back in the days he wore shackles

Stars that for some reason now seemed to shine brighter, as if mirroring your resolve

He nods, watching a moment of vulnerability shine through eyes that look blank for a child

Eyes that have seen horrors

Eyes that had lost their twinkle of innocence yet still retain childlike charm in viewing the world

Eyes that sparkle of something ancient and old, residing in the depths of your irises like a great deity in the void of the night sky

“Have you heard about a star that never dies?” And so you begin your tale

By the time your done your tale they both sit there in silence

A deafening and choking silence that grips at you like the old collar of rusting steel or ball and chain that used to be attached to your leg

A sign of having your freedom weighed down

Locked away

You had once tried to break that leg but the girls stopped you

The eldest of them crying for you to stop

So you did

You watch them both stay in silence

And then see the tears line their eyes

And then they crumble like a cracked heart

Jinbe falling first as he grips you

Strong and battle-worn hands now soft and gentle

Afraid that you’d fade away

Afraid what would happen if he let go

It’s what you expected from him

But then You look to Fisher and find him in a similar state much to your surprise, if not he might be even worse than how Jinbe is handling what you told

Pure grief in his eyes

Regret

Pain

Solidarity

Familiarity

And most of all empathy

It pours out from him like his tears

Like a waterfall with never ending raging water crashing down onto the rocks

it’s loud and passionate

Covers up the internal screams of the past latching back onto him, into the lingering scars

Stinging Pain sinking back into those same spots like the angry gnashing claws of a beast

He’s hurting

But so are you

Your hurting together through shared experiences and ones he could never wish to experience

Jinbe holds you for a long while

Time melts away as do the phantom pains of those long past days

You hold him back

The soft material of his yukata pulling you in even further

Warmth

Comfort

Understanding

And your unspoken words of ‘thank you’ to his of ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry’

You let time melt away a little more as they find themselves once more

“Why did you tell us this?” Fisher asks this with tears still falling down his face. Jinbe holds you close, webbed hand behind your head as he pulls you closer. You hear the waves lapping at the boat and the beats of his heart, it thumps like a drum. Rhythmically helping your equally torn apart emotions.

“I heard you talking about your experience. I thought it’s fair that I do the same” it’s said in such a simple manner that it makes the two fishmen reel back in shock for the third time in a night. It’s said in such sincerity and innocence, as if that was something normal “an equal exchange,If you will”

The crew watch on in confusion the next morning at the expression of thinking Fisher has on his face

Along with the clear signs of crying that Jinbe and him hold

People push but neither say a word

They say it isn’t their story to tell as their eyes trail back to you sitting with Hatchan

Playing a game innocently

Obliviously

Like a regular kid

Most don’t push after their captains grim expression

The look in his eyes

Some keep their curiosity to a low lit flame yet don’t get anywhere on the account they can’t get you to spill anything and Jinbe doesn’t exactly like them being nosey

So it eventually fizzles out

Things back back to normal

You tell your tales

Show them games they’d never played

You in turn learn more about fishman and mermaid society

But then you leave just as abruptly as you appeared

It’s weird to say but at a diner with them all as shanties are sung you just randomly say that soon you’ll be leaving

And despite how most of them hate to admit it

They didn’t want you to go

Hatchan is comically crying as a few others stubbornly argue against it

That it’s dangerous and you could get yourself killed

They look to Fisher and Jinbe who had been more observant of you as of late (if that’s even more humanly possible for Jinbe)

But their met with a reaction none had thought would happen

They object

They say it’s your choice and they can’t shackle you here

The sea was your home

And so the decision for your leave was cemented

In the days leading up to it you spend time with most the crew

But they all notice that at night you and their captain look out to the sky at night

Silence conversations happening through mere looks

pure understanding

Just pure solemn understanding

None make comments on it if they see it

Don’t mention it and forget it ever happened out of respect for both parties

And when the time comes to leave they all watch (some crying even) while waving goodbye

You promise them you’d meet again

“You’ll all be at sea right? Then that means you’ll definitely see me again someday! Wait and see! Grasp your freedom strong and tight, never take it forgranted”

Fisher watches and waves as you drift off into the distance, he holds a gentle smile

He hopes he’d meet you again

Hopes that perhaps you’d somehow end up on fishman island and talk to his people

As much as he thought Otohime’s talks of humans and fishmen working together in harmony were a naive and impossible dream

Perhaps if there were more humans like you it could work

And maybe

Just maybe

It would help both sides see that in the end neither were that different from one another

In your words on the silent night before you left “we both bleed, we feel and in the end we both have the same fates don’t we?. At heart no matter if your fishman, mermaid, human or anything else we experience the same gifts of life. We are all equal in the fact we are born on this earth and die here, and with that comes the desire for freedom and the pursuit of happiness”

He and his crew still have a lot to grapple with on the road to change

But you helped them start the first steps in overcoming the hate for your kind

A young immortal human child who had seen horrors upon horrors

Inflicted by their own kind that they will never stop loving with all their heart

Because you believe that inherently almost every sentient creature is born with kindness in them. It’s the world that corrupts it

When they are asked to take a former slave girl back to her hometown he does not have any hesitation to do so

He hopes that this is the next step in overcoming his hatred

Mihawk

Mihawk thought he was going to have a nice and relaxing day

His morning had been going great, a nice glass of red wine before he trained, a good breakfast

And then when he went outside of his castle there he finds is a young child looking around confused

….god damn it

So yeah, you died and just randomly appeared on the island that houses the greatest swordsman currently in the world

Not exactly your first choice but it wasn’t the worse

Well wasn’t bad instil the swordsman himself shows up looking as confused as you were

Yeah seems like you have some explaining to do

And dying or running away wouldn’t exactly help with the endeavour either since he seems intent on an answer

So here you are

In a gothic mansion lead by Mihawk into a room as he calmly sits down and asks you to explain

Now

And so you do

Well…you do the best you can to explain your entire situation as he sits there with a blank expression

By the end he just sighs

To be honest he’s not sure if he believes it or not but he takes it as an answer for now

And after that you two form an odd friendship and routine as you spend your time on his island

To his pleasure your polite and not loud

Silently watching him train or go about his day

Along with that conversations with you are actually quite pleasant

Mihawk is a man of very few words

Only shanks is able to get him talking with the help of finely aged booze

Yet talking with you comes naturally as breathing the air around him

It’s intriguing

Especially as it seems your story isn’t a bluff for how personally and detailed your recounts of events are 

Colour him impressed

you talk of Roger in a way that only Shanks could do

Describe the gods valley event with details only found in classified marine files

Not only that but your also a good storyteller

Telling such events in glorious ways that he can’t help but listen to the liquid gold that is your voice

The treasure trove of stories that flow out your mind

He must admit that he can’t help but sit on the edge of his seat

Wanting to hear more

In this time he comes to care for you

Your a child eternally

One in a cruel world that preys on the weak

While you may be strong mentally (god knows if you hadn’t then you would’ve gone insane) but physical your not

What doesn’t help is your total and utter lack of self awareness

God knows the amount of times he’d saved your ass from being killed by Humandrills

After awhile they seem to get the memo of leaving you alone but that still doesn’t stop you from almost dying in other ways

Almost walking off a cliff

Almost falling into a river

Almost getting hit by a piece of falling stone

He is now paranoid and trails you like a shadows or has you stick around him incase of yet another near death incident

God is this what being a dad feels like? Cause that’s how Mihawk feels at this point

He has half the mind to buy a child leash or something similar

Cause if you wander off one more time and almost die he’s gonna-

You make his stress levels go through the roof

Doesn’t help you completely brush of dying as no big deal

As if being eaten that one time isn’t traumatic as hell

He wonders if his position of warlord has some sort of health benefits cause he might look into therapy

Not that you think you need it though, you think your completely fine yet he begs to differ

You find it funny how stoic he is yet you can read him like a book

He shows his growing care through actions

Like making breakfast or decorating a spare room of his castle to something more suited to your taste

The unspoken offer of “if you need a place to stay your always welcome here” through these actions

A silent way of also prepping for you leaving

He knows that moment is coming

Especially as your small “boat” drifts ashore

He’s hardly call that a boat but nether the less it floats on water and you call it a boat

In your time preparing to leave he insists on at least teaching you the basics of using a sword

The proper positioning of your grip and stance

How to give a powerful slash

You pick up quickly, years of watching experienced swordsmen coming into play

He’s proud yet worry sows itself into his brow

Your a kind soul

One that has been put through untold hell and back

Even the strongest sword can bend and break if pressure is put on the perfect point

He doesn’t know what your breaking point will be but he’s worried

Cause inevitably it’s bound to happen

He at least has some peace of mind knowing he taught you how to fight

And when he sends you off he promises that when you next meet he’d have Sword fit for you

The castle feels more lonely without your small pitter patter of footsteps

The air is still when it should be filled with your stories of old

The garden takes more effort than he remembers when your not there to pull out the weeds

The Humandrills seem to miss your presence

It’s odd but you’d left such an impact in such a small amount of time

Mihawk wouldn’t have it any other way though

Hiriluk

Recently on the spring island you found yourself on there had been rumours of a thief going by

Normally this wouldn’t had caught your attention

But one day as you walk past an odd eccentric man with Snow White hair in a ridiculous manner with clearly stolen objects you can’t help but be intrigued

Especially as he shifts into an alleyway, leaning against the grimy wall with a hand over his heart

Coughs racking his entire form

Almost crumbling down as the subsequent spoils of his stealing fall as well

It’s then and there you become invested in this odd man

His story

So you decide to help him

For someone’s who’s a thief you’d thinks he’d be less enthusiastic about giving out his name

But your sorrily mistaken (in a good way) as the man introduces himself as Hiriluk

A master thief of the grand line

A plunderer of countless treasures and various tales

You nod along

Listening intently to his words as you help walk him to his hideout

The poor man is still shaken after his illness acting up again

Apparently as of late it’s been worse, so much so that he fears his days are now limited

But despite that he keeps a quite chipper attitude

Somehow finding enjoyment despite his circumstances

He’s…much like yourself in that sense

Finding joy even in the bleak conditions of your reality

It…is nice in some sense

To find someone a lot like yourself in mindset

Makes conversation much more interesting as you both talk of similar viewpoints

Much like you he is plagued with a curse that follows him everywhere he goes

From island to island

No matter the pace he canning escape his disease

A factor of his life that he must now deal with as he enjoys the time he has left

He’d given up on a cure by now

But…despite that you can’t help but research a bit to at least try

He appreciates the effort but solemnly admits that he’s tried everything

Hell, his island is known for their doctors and they couldn’t help him

He’s a lost cause like anyone with white lead disease

It’s a fact he accepts

And sadly you do so as well

Your stand only works for you

It’s entire purpose is for its user and not for anyone else

Not versatile or has any multiple uses

At least not that you knew of anyways

So on that factor you can’t do anything

So as you accept that fact you instead focus on spending time with the man

Listening to him get drunk and talk of someone named Kureha

An “old witch” with a stubborn edge and sharp tongue

But also has a kind heart

Someone who became a doctor for a reason, to help others as best she could even if she caused some chaos in the process

An odd one just like him (and you he adds with a smile) someone who didn’t fit in with the crowd

But maybe that was ok

Being different could very much be a curse for several reasons

Especially in a judgmental society that is maintained by the world government

But that otherness was also a blessing

Weirdness serving as a catalyst for so many wonderful things

For new ideas

For stubborn creativity that wouldn’t be snuffed out but instead burn bright

For brining together the people society looked down upon and giving them a chance to rise up

Your stay on the island is coming to a close but despite that Hiriluk doesn’t panic or seem depressed at the thought

Instead he finds happiness in the time still left

The conversations that have been spoken

The time he has left in this world being used for something truly nice

Not just stealing

Instead now truly engaging with life

The spring island your both on is now at its fullest bloom

The place was somewhat famous for how beautiful it was but neither of you had yet to see it

So the day before you go you asked if he’d like to go see it with you before you left

A last hurrah

One that would be spent watching the cherry blossoms in full bloom and have lunch

He agreed

The next morning is spent with him getting snacks of all kinds

Him packing them in a small basket as you lead him with the directions you got from locals

The two of you go up the hill overlooking the light pink trees in full bloom

His hand gripping yours as he goes still in shook

The sight is breath taking

Even the air from your lungs is seemingly sucked out at the sight of the trees in full bloom

The petals gently cascading down like snow around you

Getting stuck in your hair and pooling in his cupped hands

His eyes tear up and stare down at the pink petals

It’s breathtaking

And for the first time in a long while he feels ok

There was no blockage in his chest

Nor the looming grip of death on his shoulders

He felt cured

Like an average man that he always wanted to

The dream of his that died long ago in a doctors office when they said it was incurable

But now as he stares he feels hope

Something igniting in him in place of his Illness

These small fluttering petals had an impact on him just as you had

It cured him somehow

You showing him this magical sight cured him

And now he wanted to do that for others

He wanted to show the people of his bleak winter island this magnificent sight

To see pink instead of the white fluttering snow

To see trees not covered in snow that dampened their beauty

To feel the air escape their lungs

The lunch goes by quickly as does your leaving but both of you do so with a smile

He sets off with a new goal and you wish him luck

Telling him that you believe he’d somehow come up with a solution cause people like the two if you always did somehow

He smiles

When he returns back to his home island he sets out to be a doctor

To help cure others just as you had done with him

Some of The petals he collected that day kept in a small glass jar he kept as a souvenir and for testing

When Kureha calls him crazy he takes the words in pride

Recalling back on your time spent together

That odd little kid who had a spirit beyond their days

One who would humour his ramblings

Took him to that fateful place of blooming Sakura that would go on to change his life course forever

A parting gift in both an experience and in changing his life for the good

So he works on bringing that miracle to the winter island he lives on

Despite how impossible it seems he tries

And he tries and tries

And he keeps going despite how many times he is pushed down by yet another failure

You motivate him

The gift you gave him that he wants to share with others motivated him

His new student that in a lot of ways reminds him of you motivated him

Chopper sometimes still wonders why Hiriluk had taken him in

It lingers on the small reindeer’s mind

And it’s glaringly obvious what he’s thinking making the old “doctor” laugh

“Us weirdo’s have to stick together. I learned that from a friend of mine” as he says this the small blue nosed reindeer watches as the man pulls a framed photo off the wall. In it is him and a child with a large smile. “Hopefully one day you’ll meet them.”

“You…do you think they would accept me?”

Hiriluk let’s our a large laugh at that, clutching his sides as small tears line his eyes “if they hung around a old crazy coot like me then I’m sure they’d love you”

His young apprentice feels hope at his words

Sometimes silently staring at the picture with faint hope that one day he’d meet the doctor-….no his dad’s old friend

Perhaps in the future

But for now he had to help him find a cure

His sickness is getting worse and chopper doesn’t now if he could live with himself if he didn’t find a cure

His only lead as of now is some mushroom that can apparently cure anything

It’s a long shot but he has to try

He gazes as the photo once more

Hiriluk’s smiling face staring back along with your own

He’ll make sure Hiriluk will get to see you again

He promises it

With that the young reindeer sets off in the snow

Whenever you see the cascading petals of cherry blossoms you wonder how that odd doctor was doing

Brook

It was at reverse mountain that you had found yourself being picked up by a particular crew

The rumbar pirates had originated in the west blue

A musical band of jolly singing pirates with instruments of all kinds

All of which varied from different islands and cultures

Brough together in musical harmony

It’s amazing to you how music seems to come to them wordlessly

They play and magic is produced from their songs

So much so a baby whale follows them in their journey and is now waiting for them to return

A promise they intend to keep as the travel the sea like any good crew

Whilst the captain and crew are welcoming and friendly there’s one person in particular your drawn to

Brook is a fun and free soul

Constantly with a smile or chuckling out his odd but charming laugh

The musician teaches you piano as best he can

His hands guiding yours as the crew eagerly watch with bright smiles

Eventually as they sing and dance he has you play side by side with him

Placing his top hat in your head as they all call you “mini brook”

It’s fun

Especially as the giant of a man picks up his violin and lets you play alone

The two of you stringing together a melody that the others join in on

Dancing and singing with slurred speech and jumbled steps

Those nights feel like a haze in your mind

One with a rosy tinted filter overtop those memories

Of the songs sung

The dancing as the crew took turns showing you their groove

Taking your hands into their own and your feet atop theirs as they showed you to dance

But then the music began to die

Despite your many deaths you’d experienced and saw of pirates

This was one that was common yet still chilling

Illness

Honestly with how many ships you’d been on your surprised you’d never experienced a death like this

And it’s certainly one you’d never thought they’d have to suffer through

It starts off as one person

And then it spreads

Brook and the others keep you away from the sight

Telling you that they were just hungover

You don’t tell them you know hangovers don’t last several days

As others being to fall Brook keeps to at least trying to keep the facade of things are fine in front of you

Even as he has to take the place of their captain

He has a good facade

But you hear his sobs at night

For his fallen Crew and the fact it’s still spreading

And for you

By god is he worried for you

They’d all talked of the possibility of having you take your small shipped tied to their own and leave

But they all agree it’s too big of a risk

Their at the middle of the sea, it would be a death sentence if they let you go on your own

They can’t have that happen

Even if there’s still a chance here that you’ll die

There’s still the possibility that at least someone will spot their ship

That help can come and at least rescue you

So for now they have you stay

The symptoms come slowly

You feel more tired

Burning up

Laboured breath

Their all mortified as you one day pass out on deck

When you wake up your tucked into bed

Nearby someone sobs

You recognize his voice and blurred figure despite your senses being dulled

Small shaky hands reach for his

And he reciprocated the action repeating that he’s sorry

That he’s so sorry

That it’s his fault

That he was supposed to keep you safe

You say it isn’t his fault but it falls on deaf ears

He keeps crying even as he coughs

You keep saying it’s alright even as it feels harder to breath

Eventually even though everyone is dead or on the brink of dying they decide to do one last number

One last piece

Binks booze

You sit beside Brook having to lean against him for support as both his and your hands drift along the ivory keys

The songs plays full force

The few left playing the tune

Some cheerfully sing with smiles and dance withe one another

But they fall first

Dying with smiles despite it all

You sing in their place along with those who are left

The singing goes down by one as yet another falls down

Violin clattering to the floor

You sing louder in his place despite how your lungs burn and throat feels as if needles scrape against it

Another violinist goes down after this

Brook shakes beside you

He keeps up a smile

You do so as well but tears escape your eyes

A quartet

The cello goes down

A trio

His smile wavers and tears trail down his face now

He’s breaking

The final goes down now

It’s just you and Brook left, but you feel yourself getting weaker

The edges of your eyes have black dotes and every time you close them it’s harder to open them once more

A duet

You keep playing for his sake

He looks down at you sobbing silently as he continues to play

Their flag waves silently in the wind

“I’m not sure how longer I can play…do you think you can do a solo?”

Tearfully he nods

Playing as you sing

Continuing even after the lyrics stop flowing from your mouth and you slump down into his side

A solo

He cries

Eventually the piano comes to a close

Despite there being no skeleton of you to put with the rest of the memorial Brook doesn’t question it

The sight of Your body disappearing into golden light was just a trick of the mind all those years ago to help with the grief of him failing you

He knows he went insane a long time ago

He’s spent years alone at sea mulling over their deaths, of yours and the promise to Laboon

His mind is long gone as he wanders the old tattered ship that used to be filled with song

Despite it all he tries to put up a mask of being happy

But he never sings

Never plays music

He can’t deal with another solo

Can’t deal with that last performance

Sometimes he thinks of the songs they made

The one the crew made about you that surprisingly got popular

Based off the odd tales of stars you talked about

An undying one

He wonders if it still plays

You remember they made a song about you

It’s long forgotten to the many new sailors of the sea

But on occasion you hear it from old souls. Those who had traveled the seas for many years and had retained the songs and myths now forgotten to the new

The sound of it always makes you smile, but it is tinged with sadness as you do so

Whenever it is sung or Binks Booze you promised yourself you’d always join in

A promise to them, that kind musical crew all those years ago that suffered a horrible death from a bad stroke of luck

You carry their memory along with Laboon

Whenever you end up at reverse mountain you always sing the songs they once did to ease the whales heart ache

It can only do so much but Laboon at least stops jutting against the mountain momentarily

Wanting to one day reunite with those jolly sailors

You wish you could one day do the same

But for now you carry their memories

Their songs that house the remnants of their souls

Sometimes you swear you see their rotting ship

But you always wave it off as missing them

Of delusions of your mind as you stare out into the darkness of the sea

[auryborealis]

[ indiscernible joyful weeping ]

Thank you @lizzbian-himbo for this mega cute comm of the Goth Fam (+ Kita as Goth Mom). The babies. THE BABIESSS ASFDJKL 💖💜

[aceandurmom]

Harlequin Hearts: The Archivist's Swordsmaster Affair Chapter One

//////////THIS IS ONLY ON TUMBLR, UNDER ACEANDURMOM////////////

Buggy was now an Emperor of the Sea. 

Fuck.

Now how the hell were you supposed to do your job in peace!?

It was already hard enough to keep every one of his records, maps, diary entries, accounts, and logs in order. Now he was going to be up your ass about more shit that you didn’t get paid enough to do. Groaning, you threw your hands up in defeat. The news had been released only a few hours ago, but already the cheering and jarring from above you was sign enough everyone knew of the development. There was no way you could keep up with even more of his bizarre requests. 

Though you may complain and grumble about the man frequently, Captain Buggy was a wonder. He was kind, saving the freaks from whatever failed them in their past life, giving them a new place to thrive after doing so. He had saved you from an ass of a boss, constantly on you about whatever you had failed to do in his eyes. 

Buggy had gone through your work, all the organization and records you kept tidy. He had been impressed, thrilled even while watching you work. 

After freeing you from your dick of a boss, he had opened his arms wide. And who were you to refuse such a grand gesture?

–

It had been weeks since the reveal, and it was just now starting to return to normal on the Big Top. 

You had gone up to the Captain’s office, needing to ask a question. Knocking softly, you announced your presence. 

“Captain Buggy? I have a quick question, sir.”

Leaning in to try to hear a response, you heard none. Figuring he wasn’t in at the moment, you had stepped away. 

Only to hear soft curses echo from the other side. Fearing that something had gone wrong as you had never heard your captain in such low spirits, you had rushed to the door. Fumbling around in your pockets, you tried to scavenge for the master key the Captain had provided for you. He had trusted you as one of the more responsible on the ship, so if you ever needed to ask or do something, he had given you access to every room available on the ship. Finding the small thing, you deftly unlocked the door and bursted in the room. 

In front of your wide eyes, there was a beast of a man looming over top of your boss. 

Buggy was in tears, bleeding from all the scrapes and cuts littering his skin. His left eye was busted, already darkening in a rather large bruise. His detached head was held firmly in the larger man’s hand. 

Face turning to see his identity, you stiffened before snarling. 

Sir Crocodile, former Warlord that had only just recently escaped from Impel Down. Turning his head, he saw your face. 

“And what are you doing with a face like that, little one.”

He was angry, eyebrows furrowed and annoyed at the interruption. 

You were not faring much better, rage building up in your chest. 

“And what the fuck do you think your doing to my Captain, sir?”

Teeth bared, you moved so that your back not once faced him. You went to your captain’s side, cradling his body there. 

“Surely you know better than to simply attack a newly named Emperor of the Sea, I thought you smarter than that.”

“Your mouth will get you in trouble.”

Buggy laughed, elbowing you hard in the side. Grunting, you just ignored the warning.

“And so will your arrogance, Sir.”

“Clown, get your little whore in line before I put their mouth to use myself.”

Buggy’s eyes flashed. It was fine if others attacked and mocked him, but not the crew he cared for so much. The ones he thought of as family and cared for as such. 

“Watch what you say, Croccy, that’s my Archivist you're speaking to. They are not some measly whore.”

Eyebrow raised in thought, the large man dropped Buggy’s head. Confused, the clown swiftly reattached it before watching in horror as he directed his sights on you. 

His hook pointed at your chest, pushing you lightly. 

“So you're the one in charge of the clown’s accounts?”

Nodding, you confirmed the fact. Eyes narrowed, the reptile leaned in further. 

“Then you're the reason the clown is in trouble now.”

“I beg your pardon? I have every loan, purchase, payment logged in that room up there-”

Pointing up, you continued.

“There is nothing that I have missed. It is literally impossible for me to miss any tidbit of information or unpaid debt. My eyes are enhanced by my Devil Fruit, the Read-Read Frit, and you will do well to remember that.”

Hatred colored your voice, not at all phased by the mounting rage in his eyes. Nor were you aware of a sweating Buggy lingering behind you.

“I, uh…”

Both heads whipped to the stuttering clown, Crocodile annoyed and you just as much. Here you were trying to save his ass and he was stuttering in front of a rival. You tried to shut him up, but despite the fearful facade, he was determined to do right by you. 

“I hide the records of my loan from Croccy.”

Mouth dropping, you tried to see if the man was lying. Silent, you rose to your feet and turned your whole body to the man.

“You mean to tell me.”

Pausing, you tried to calm yourself by taking a deep breath. Pointing to yourself, you reiterated the importance of you being here. 

“You hid one of the records concerning a large amount of money you owed a former warlord and just…..DIDN’T TELL ME!?”

Growling, you launched yourself at your beloved captain. Hands covering his neck, you tried to choke the ever loving shit of him. 

Crocodile pinched the bridge of his nose, not at all pleased with what he was hearing. 

“Not only that, dear Archivist, but this crew of yours has someone named him the Chairman of the Cross Guild. The Guild including Buggy, Mihawk, and I that is going to be used to palace bounties on Marines.”

Freezing, you glanced back at the imposing figure lingering behind you. Cocking a brow you leaned in further to the blue haired one under you.

“First you were named an Emperor, now you're the Chairman of an organization that will inevitably bring the entirety of the Navy down upon us?”

Deflating, you released the Captain. Leaning back on your hands, you stared at the ceiling, trying to comprehend the situation you found yourself in. Hand laying over your eyes, you spoke to the man you adored like a brother. 

“When were you going to inform me of this, Captain? I would have loved to help you or assist if you allowed me to do so.”

Shifting, the clown had the decency to look flustered. 

“I didn’t think it would get this unruly, Star, apologies.”

“Apology accepted.”

Standing, you brushed off your knees and faced the other man in the room who had waited so patiently. 

“Apologies. I’m the Archivist of the Buggy Pirates and I will extend my services to both you and Mihawk as I know you two have none. Leave a list of tasks for me to accomplish once we land on Karai Bari and I will have them done in ample time.”

Crocodile looked at you strangely for a moment before huffing. Reaching into his breast pocket, he plucked a cigar and tucked it into his mouth. Breathing in, he retrieved his lighter and lit it. Puffing slightly, he withdrew the stick from his mouth before offering you a puff. Seeing no reason to deny, you accepted. Huffing a few times, you gave him back his cigar. Holding in the smoke for a minute, you tried to steady your thinking before releasing the breath. 

Reaching a hand out, you offered to shake his hand.

An offer he accepted. 

“It’ll be a pleasure to work with you, Archivist.”

Nodding, you reciprocated.

“And you, Sir.”

Smug, the reptile smirked at Buggy before dissipating into sand and leaving the office. 

Still, you tried to make sense of what had just happened. Buggy approached from behind, hand gently holding your shoulder before he laid his head on your other. 

“I truly hoped not to get you involved, Star. I know how easily you get stressed, I’m sure this was the last thing you wanted to happen.”

He was so quiet, voice bordering on silence as he whispered his sincere apology to you. You deflated, any ounce of anger or irritation leaving. You only nodded, leaning your head on top of his, seeking his comfort even if only for a second. 

“I trust you, Captain. I will follow you until the end of the GrandLine.”

He smiled, soft. 

“I know.”

–

There was once a time where you would have been appalled at the situation you now found yourself in. 

Posture perfect, outfit coordinating with your captain, you stood proud beside him as the rest of the crew scrambled to anchor down the Big Top. The two of you were elbow to elbow, seeking out the other’s presence to ground each other. As the ship was finally bound to the Island, the two of you watched as the Strongest Swordsman appeared with Crocodile on the shore. Nodding to the other two men, Buggy took your arm and assisted you down and onto solid land.

Turning, you bowed to the two and introduced yourself, Crocodile was going to have to sit through it again even if he didn’t want to, you wanted to make a good impression on the raven haired man in front of you. 

“Greetings, I am the Big Top’s Archivist. I am offering the two of you my services seeing as neither of you have archivists of your own. My work is done perfectly as I have the Read Read Fruit. Nothing escapes me and it takes me nearly no time at all to read through documents. If you wish for my assistance, simply ask or hand a list off to my Captain. He will ensure it reaches me.”

Crocodile nodded, already hearing the spiel once before. Granted, you had been pissed at the time. Now, you were calm and collected, already knowing what you were to say in front of them. 

The reptile chuckled quietly. 

“Odd to have you so cool, the last time I heard that you were trying to rip my head off with your eyes.”

Coughing, you blushed.

“Yes, that was a poor choice on my part. I sincerely apologize for that entire situation. Had I known the truth I assure you I would not have reacted as such.”

He waved you off, answering swiftly. 

“Nonsense. It was refreshing to see someone stand up for their captain, regardless of who was in the wrong. Your loyalty was proven to me, and I intend on keeping you to that standard.”

Nodding, you tried to ignore the praise freely given by the man. You thanked him before returning to the Swordsman. Raising a brow, you wondered what he would say to you, if he would even need an archivist at his disposal. 

The stoic man locked eyes on your own. Stifling a shiver, you tried to ignore being undressed by the man’s intense gaze. You wanted to bare everything to him, no secret left unsaid or rock unturned. 

“I accept your proposal. I have a few logs I need organized.”

It was simple, straight to the point. 

God, was he attractive. 

Clearing his throat, Buggy stepped in front of you, trying to hide you away from the opposing men. 

Posturing proudly, the clown announced his presence and reveled in the attention he received. Glancing back at you, he was glad to find that you relaxed even a little bit, now no longer the intense eyes of either man. 

Walking along the path, Buggy attached himself to your side, leading the three of you down to the main tent he had established years ago. 

“Welcome to Karai Bari, boys! This is the home island of yours truly! I will have your tents erected in a few days max, if you would like anything specifically feel free to request away, my workers are the best this side of the GrandLine!”

You had been to the island a few times in the past. Buggy was fond of the place, taking the freaks he had saved here when they did not desire to become pirates. They established themselves here, safe from prying eyes and other pirate crews. No one really bothered with the place, not aware that they were under the protection of a, now, Emperor of the Sea. 

Buggy provided for them in any way he could, assisting them with their livelihood whenever asked. It was another one of the reasons you respected him so much. 

The former Warlords simply observed the sight around them, taking note of everything occurring. They had walked through the markets, everyone in a stall and street stopping to wave or greet the clown enthusiastically. The blue haired man smiled back, not once refusing a hug or handshake from any of the villagers. 

“It seems you are well liked here, Clown.”

Hawkeye observed casually. 

“Captain himself takes care of those who live here under his protection. He knows everyone here and what they do on the island, their role in society. Their names, parents, and children, or even pets are known to him. He is a kind man.”

You responded, not once shying away from their prying eyes. You wanted to prove that Buggy was a good man, a reliable one. If all it took was hyping him up with genuine compliments, then you would do so gladly. 

“How long have you sailed with him, Archiver?”

The reptile asked this time, though it looked as if the Swordsman was curious as well. 

“Hmm.”

Humming, you thought on your answer. 

“I have sailed with Captain since I was 16, he saved me from a former Boss of mine.”

“How old are you now then?”

You raised a finger to your lips, winking at the duo.

“I’ll keep that a secret for now. It is not wise to divulge too much information about myself, now is it?”

Crocodile looked to want to pry, but a look from Buggy had him keeping quiet. Normally, it would not deter him, but…

To be fair, you were his Archivist first. You had only offered your services to the two of them in response to your captain’s poor decisions. 

Crocodile was curious of you, of how a man such as the Clown could acquire such a level headed person on his crew. Let alone one that wanted to work on his crew and stand proudly by his side. 

Dracule Mihawk was puzzled by you. Someone so put together was willingly standing beside Buggy the Clown without a hint of regret or unease radiating off of you. Not to mention you were a sight for sore eyes, not that he would admit it, of course.

!End of Teaser!

The trio of important men stood around awkwardly in Buggy’s quarters. None of them willing to back down from the schlong measuring competition.

You decided to be the bigger person. 

Clearing your throat, you addressed the room. 

“Right. Now, what is it that you all wish to accomplish together as the Cross Guild. Surely there are predetermined goals you three have agreed on, yes?”

Circling around them, you made it to the desk under the window. Slipping into the chair, you rummaged through the desk drawers. Finding a slightly yellowed notepad, you reached for the fountain pen in your breast pocket. Uncapping the tool, you went to start writing down their thoughts. Hearing no words enter the space, you looked up over your reading glasses at the trio. Hands gesturing to them, you waved them on. Making eye contact with the reptile, you sighed. 

“No??? Nothing? “

Exasperated, you leaned back in the rolling chair. 

“So you mean to tell me you set up this little club so that three grown men with powerful status such as yourselves are together for playdates, then?” 

Buggy laughed, quickly stifling it once the other two shot glares at him. Crocodile huffed, glaring at the clown before turning back to you. 

“We discussed this earlier-”

“Yes, yes, I know of putting bounties on the Navy, but are there any other goals you wish to achieve? Anything specific?”

Hawkeye watched as you grew more and more frustrated at their lack of response. He had to admit, he knew where you were coming from. From what he had observed, you were a pen on paper kind of person, one who desired even the minor details. Having written down or any other explicit goal was doing more than annoy you. Having come kind of mercy, the Swordsman went to open his mouth before the clown stepped in. The Clown was glaring at him from the corner of his eye, feeling very much territorial over his Archivist. 

Arms thrown in a reassuring gesture, the Clown approached you with a kind smile. 

“Of course I have a plan for all of us, my Star! I wouldn’t join this little crew without a proper plan in place!”

Skeptical, the other two men watched as he tried to calm your ever burning rage. Lifting yourself so that you were bent over the desk, you reached a hand out and grasped the man’s ruffled collar. Getting in his face, you stared into his eyes, trying to detect any hint of a lie. 

“Then spill it, Captain. And it better not be some impromptu bullshit that you spout to try to get yourself out of the mess you created and dragged me into.”

Pointer finger straight up, the man corrected you.

“Technically, you joined of your own free will-”

Jerking him closer to you, you pressed your nose into his own. 

“You say that as if any Nakama of yours wouldn’t die, kill, or endure hell on earth for you, idiot. If you get involved in something, the rest of us are going down with you, jackass.”

Releasing him, you lightly pushed him away before taking up the pen once again. 

“Alright then, go on.”

Sweating and crossing his fingers behind his back, the Clown shook away the nervousness. Shooting a look to the other two men, the man smiled, trying to encourage them to go along with whatever he was about to pull out of his ass. 

“I have a plan.”

“Yes, we’ve established this.”

“To take Red Haired Shanks out of the race for the One Piece.”

Silence took over the room, a shock taking over everyone involved. 

Sputtering, you tried to understand what was being said to you. 

You knew that your Captain adored the man. The two had been Cabin Boys under Gol D. Roger before. They were lovers, ever since they were children. To this day Buggy regularly contacted the ginger man, uttering praise and endearment. To hear him say such a thing….

Unless he knew something the other two didn’t. 

Like if the man never planned to pursue the treasure in the first place. 

Finally clicking in place, you looked back up to the man you saw as a brother. Nodding, you offered a look of understanding. 

“Okay.”

Uttering the acknowledgement, you let the pen write out the goal, effortlessly gliding across the paper. The ink took hold, permanently marking the tarnished paper underneath. 

“With this, I attest that the Cross Guild, made up of Former Warlord and King of Alabasta Sir Crocodile-”

Pointing to the man, you continued before gesturing to the other. 

“Dracule Mihawk, the Strongest Swordsman in the World and Former Warlord-”

And then to your beloved Captain. 

“And Chairman Buggy D. Star Clown, one of the Four Emperors of the Sea, will bring down the Navy and remove Chief Akagami Shanks, another of the Emperors of the Sea, from the race to the One Piece. This, I do declare a witness of the Sea.”

A shudder swept through the room, a stillness taking over even the Ocean outside. 

Buggy nodded, already knowing what you had planned from the start.

Mihawk was confused, what exactly just happened?

The reptile seemed to have the same question, going to approach you and ask you personally, he was stopped by a disembodied hand. 

“I recommend you don’t take another step. They’re still in the process of solidifying a few details of the contract.”

“What contract, Clown?”

Mihawk had asked, but his tone had not matched Crocodile’s. While Crocodile said ‘clown’ as a kind of insult, Mihawk said the word as his title. It was what he called Buggy, not with his nose upturned, but simply as his name. It endeared you to him, more so than whatever you felt to the failed Conqueror. 

“To put it simply, they are writing up a contract with the Ocean itself. Whatever they write with that pen, it is law, not just a promise or a goal. You know of the Read Read Fruit, but there are other abilities that the Fruit allows them to possess.”

“It will do you well to explain them while you’re ahead, clown.”

Buggy paused, trying to think about a good way to explain his Archivist to his new allies.

“You, see, the Read Read Fruit isn’t just about reading through logs or records incredibly fast and being able to process it. It also allows them to write an oath into existence, one that must be met by all parties mentioned. If not, then there are consequences for not doing so. Of course, there are a few other things my little Star can do, but that would be giving away all our tricks too early.”

A wicked grin split across the captain’s face, a knowing glint hidden in his light blue eyes. 

This duo was already starting to prove to be more than either Warlord expected. 

“So this Devil Fruit they ate, how long have they had it?”

Crocodile questioned, enamored by the seemingly endless possibilities this Fruit seemed to have. Who knows what all they could swear to the Sea-

A knowing glare made its way to the Clown, already he was starting to see how this cold blooded fool failed to conquer Alabasta. He was cunning, yes, but he made himself too obvious. Anyone within a 50 mile radius knew what he was wanting to do. 

“Nice try, Croc, but you aren’t making my Archivist do anything they don’t want to do. Not under my watch.”

“Need I remind you who I am-”

Turning to face him, Buggy’s eyes hardened, resolve never burning away. 

“It will do you well to remember that I am no mere pirate captain from the East Blue. I am a former member of the Roger Pirates, Emperor of the Sea, and control one of the largest networks across the GrandLine.”

Not stopping there, the clown slowly stepped into the man’s area.

“It will do you well not to forget it, Lizard.”

Spite clear in his tone, Crocodile was taken aback by the sudden change. 

Throwing one last glare to the taller man, Buggy swiveled back to his dear sibling. 

Clapping his hands, Buggy threw back on his charming smile.

“Star! Are you about done?”

It took a few more moments, but you finished. 

Capping the pen, you threw one last glance over the document before you dipped your head to Captain.

“Aye, sir, it’s done. Bound by my blood and the Sea itself.”

Grimacing a little, Buggy forgot how the contract was to be officialized.

Mihawk perked up, not at all expecting words from your mouth. Curious, he surveyed your hands that were currently placing the pen back to its place in your pocket. Your hands were smaller than his, not that that was what caught him off guard, instead it was the gaping wound in the center of your palm. Without thinking, the hawk approached soundlessly. Grasping your hand in his, he rolled your wrist to get a better look at it. From the looks of it, you had stabbed about half the pen’s length into your hand, intrigued, he continued to observe. 

“Do tell me, how exactly does this binding contract of yours work?”

Letting your hand lay where it was, cradled in between his own, you tried to explain. 

“It is my blood that solidifies the contract, it is what the pen writes in. Without it, the paper is just that- a paper. There is nothing tying you to the words written on it otherwise.”

“That is how your Fruit works in this regard, then?”

“Yes.”

“I see.”

Finally realizing he had been holding your hand for so long, Mihawk relieved you of his presence. A little glum, you accepted the motion.

Seeing the interaction, Buggy pouted.

“STaArrRRRar, let me help you wrap it uuuppppp, your pretty skin needs to be cared for!!!”

Beaming at the childish behavior, you couldn’t help but chuckle at the man child. 

“Of course. Let me-”

“Allow me.”

Mihawk cut in, hand grasping your own and twirling you into his embrace. Flustered, you had floundered a bit before finding your feet. Placing a hand over your waist, Dracule steadied you. Holding out his arm, the man spoke.

“If I may?”

Peering into his eyes, you attempted to discern his intentions. Only to find nothing but pure honesty there. 

“If that is your desire.”

Buggy whined louder than before. If that was even possible. Hand chopping at the base of his wrist, he tugged you towards him. Unknowingly dragging Mihawk behind you as well. When the two of you crashed into the Clown, he had flailed before falling on his ass. 

Dracule, ever the gentleman, reached out and clutched at your hand. Only for it to be the one you injured just minutes past. Eyes widened a fraction, the man apologized before switching his hand. 

“My apologies, I did not mean to further harm you.”

“Nonsense, it was not you intention.”

Crocodile watched the whole thing with a grimace, cringing from the entire situation. 

This was his life now. 

–

Buggy had managed to pull you away from the other two in record time, insting you accompany him to his room so that he may bandage your palm. 

He had sat you down on his bed, leaving momentarily to grab the first aid kit under his bathroom counter. Popping the box open, he kneeled down in front of you. Reaching out, he offered his open hand for you to place yours. 

Accepting his request, you laid your hand over his own. 

Tentatively, he plucked a pair of tweezers up and held your hand steady. Selecting a cotton ball, he dowsed it in the bedside whiskey he always had readily available. Delicately, he tapped the soaked cloth onto your wound. Hissing, you softly cursed at the man. He smiled at you, too happy to help to scold you at this very second.

“I wish you didn’t go so deep.”

“It is not as if I have not done worse.”

You had caught him off guard. Trying not to laugh at the dark humor, he had stifle the grin. 

“I still wish you the same. No matter if you have had worse or no, you do not deserve it.”

“If it gets Hawkeyes to hold my hand like that then I will continue to do so.”

You playfully retorted. 

Stiffening, Buggy ignored the comment. Lightly, you kicked his stomach.

In response, the Captain pressed harder with the alcohol. 

“Oh, fuck! Fuck you!”

Finally losing it, you watched as your brother started to cackle wildly. 

Dear Nika, you loved the idiot. 

“Oh shut up, don’t act as if I forgot the little stunt you pulled today. Shanks will be furious with you.”

Sobering from his earlier fit, Buggy eyed you from under his Captain’s hat. 

“I’ll tell you a little secret.”

Leaning in, Buggy made to whisper in your ear. As soon as he turned to you, he clenched your hand tightly, causing you to yelp, before wrapping it rather efficiently with a bandage.

“Shanks never intended to go after the One Piece, Star.”

Trying to whisper as lowly as him, as you knew he did not want anyone else to know, you responded.

“I assumed so. You felt rather confident earlier.”

“I can say with 100% certainty that his plans will not change once I inform him of such.”

“I hope you’re right about this, Captain. People change after all.”

“He has been by my side since day one, not once has he left me by myself or out of the loop. He has never not told me about what he was thinking or planning. Star, please, trust me on this.”

Peeling away from each other, you peered down at your Captain. Your brother in all but blood. 

“Alright.”

Brightening, he grinned, teeth bared.

“Thank you, Star.”

“Under one condition.”

Deflating, he groaned.

“I knew it. It was too easy.”

“Oh stop your bitching, sir. I only had a quick ask.”

Eyebrows shooting up, he leaned into you. 

“Of course, ask away! You never ask for anything! Tell me, tell me, tell me!!!”

Now embarrassed, you wondered if it was wise to ask such a thing from him. Surely he was going to make it a bigger deal than needed. 

“I…now I’m embarrassed!”

Hands covering your face, you tried to peel the captain away from your knees. Whining, he only clutched at you tighter.

“Nooooooo, you have to tell me now!”

“Fine…give me a second…”

Respecting your wishes, Buggy only hugged your knees to his chest. Eyes closed, he waited fro you to respond.

You murmured out the ask.

Squinting, Buggy responded.

“Huh? Speak up, dumbass.”

Huffing, you crossed your arms.

“I asked if I could call you my brother, asshat. Now I don’t-”

Unsuspecting, you reeled back at the dramatic gasp and cry of the man next to you. Launching himself up and on top of you, he only held you tight against his chest. Ugly sobbing, the man snotted all over your nice ass shirt.

“O-O-O-OF COURSEE!!!”

Continuing his sobbing, you lay dealing with the consequences of your actions. Exhaling, you pat his back, comforting him in his obvious time of need.

“There, there, Captain.”

“DO YOU REALLY THINK OF ME AS A BROTHER!?”

Playfully knocking him aside the head, you giggled at the foolish man. 

“Yes, Captain, I have for a while now.”

Cradling his head, you hugged him dearly.

“You have been the reason I get up in the mornings for years now. I cannot thank you enough for being my rock.”

Sniffing wetly, the clown nodded fervently. 

“Brother! Call me brother, idiot! I will not allow you to call me anything else, no more captain or sir!”

“...that’s a little much. I can’t not call you sir, sir. It’s instilled in me.”

“Only in front of others, then!”

“I’ll work on it.”

“Good! Now.”

Questiongly, you looked down at the man.

Hand coming up, but still hugging you, the Clown removed his hat, letting loose the absolute mane of hair underneath. Eyes sparkling, you couldn’t help but comb through it with your fingers.

“Your hair is gorgeous, sir.”

“Brother. But, I know….I can help you with yours if you wish?”

Blinking, you tried to comprehend the offer. 

Only to accept, shouting excitedly at the prospect. 

Buggy watched you. 

Happy. 

His little Star was happy now. Genuine happiness and not that pretend shit you used to do in front of everyone. 

He was so proud of you. 

His Archivist. 

His Star.

–

The morning sun offended you, dearly so. Practically screaming at you, the sun roused you from your sleep. Blearily blinking open your eyes, you tried to take in your unfamiliar surroundings. 

Only to look down and see Buggy’s face pressed against your side, still asleep. 

The night before flashed in your mind, heat raising and taking its place along your cheeks. 

It had been a while since you had been so embarrassed. But, it was nice being vulnerable for once. 

Finding yourself enjoying your position, you were incredibly reluctant to get up and go do actual work. 

At least, until your mind flickered to the two former Warlords more than likely already up and about creating mass chaos. 

Smoothing down the clown’s hair, you slowly detached yourself from the man before climbing out of bed. 

God, you worked too hard sometimes.

@animefreak818

[thefanciestdressedotter]

OP as parents: Mihawk

TW: none, pure fluff

[Disclaimer: This one will be OOC because I am a firm believer in goth family, sorry not sorry, fight me about it. Also this headcanon is happening during goth family hours during the timeskip bc of course it is]

Similar to Smoker, not great at showing emotions, but his actions speak louder than his words

Like if you are feeling down expect to randomly find a food/ snack you like in your room on Kuraigana at some point

Also if you weren't goth before arriving on Kuraigana (whether that was during your childhood or later on in life), you are now, no exceptions, Mihawk already had to accept having a himbo jock son, he can't have anyone else in his family not knowing how to dress

If you have long hair, Perona will regularly force you to sit down so she can play with it, if you don't, she will put a wig on you, regardless of gender or gender expression, Perona wants to doll up at least 1 person since y'alls dad and brother are stubborn

COOKING *clap* NIGHTS *clap* since Mihawk expects help in the garden, he also expects help in the kitchen, which turns into Perona and Zoro yelling at each other for doing things wrong an you being the only one actually helping your long suffering dad

Sometimes at midnight the whole goth family will go out to a balcony under the moonlight and just relax in each other's presence as everyone does their own thing (bc yes I think goth family has a form of parallel play, look at them and tell me I am wrong)

Nights spent in front of the fire are the best nights, bc typically you are Mihawk will talk about a book you are buddy reading while Perona has thrown herself dramatically on either a couch or one of you and Zoro is chilling in a corner

Sometimes Shanks randomly drops in to bully Mihawk about becoming a dad without his own consent, at first it was shocking but now you are just used to one of the Emperors of the Sea coming to your house unannounced

No, this does not stop you and your siblings from trying to attack Shanks every time he visits (idea from the amazing icaberries on ao3 and their work Meet the Kids, check it out and give it love!)

The manor is most definitely haunted, even without Perona's shades lingering around, so sometimes your bookshelf will get rearranged in a way you know no one else would rearrange it or you will hear a ghost moaning in the kitchen that let's you know something's gone rotten (also inspired by a fic I read that I am unable to find at the moment, but when I do I will link it)

Overall, wholesome goth hours

[invye]

So my friend has me watching One Piece again which means I am back on my Mihawk brainrot--

Therefore let me introduce you to the list of hobbies I headcannon Mihawk to practice when he's sailing from A to B or taking a bit of time off in his goth castle:

cooking

reading

gardening

embroidery

wood carving

soap making

Extensive and rambly collection of thoughts on all of these under the cut:

Cooking

Reading

My man lives alone, of course he can cook. And he enjoys it. He is the type who technically can eat anything and everything no matter the taste as long as it gives him the nutrition he needs, but ever since he started cooking more regularly he's caught himself getting more picky about the quality and taste of his food. This becomes a problem when his unbidden guests (read: Perona dragging Zoro along) decide to help with the cooking duties... Mihawk has to go through a unexpectedly difficult phase of adapting to liking food that he hasn't made himself exactly fitting to his own taste again.

(Also Zoro on vegetable cutting duty leaves a Mess™. Mihawk makes him scrub the entire kitchen back to his standards after the first time, and while Zoro at first only marginally improves on the not making a mess part, he significantly improves on the cleaning the mess part. [Mihawk's standards for a clean kitchen are exactly as high as Sanji's, a fact which serves Zoro well after his return.])

Gardening

Mihawk enjoys his books. Nothing like a nice evening of quiet reading with a good glass of wine. He reads while travelling too, because lets be honest, there is only so much wistful staring at the horizon he can do and only so many naps he can take while he sails Hitsugibune from one end of the world to the other. At this point he has worked his way halfway through the library of his castle. Which does not stop him from buying new books. He's surprised that it still isn't a commonly known fact about him, with how often he has caused near heart attacks in poor bookshop owners when they are faced with the World's Greatest Swordsman having appeared in their shop to buy a book?? But he supposes it's one of these "no one will ever believe you" kind of situations.

Mihawk also has a lady two islands over from Kuraigana who supplies him with romance novels. She wisely knows not to comment, but he will never forget her wild grin the first time she saw him reaching for a queer novel. The woman seems to pride herself in always having a new queer story available whenever he stops by, and Mihawk has stubbornly decided to pokerface his way through their interactions forever and ever.

The library has significantly grown since Mihawk moved in. It's sorted by genre now. He'll never let Shanks in there so he doesn't have to admit just how much and what kind of romance he's reading.

Embroidery

Roses. Mihawk has an aesthetic and he commits to it 100%. He keeps the most immaculate rose garden Shanks has ever seen, and Shanks has seen plenty of pretty places. At least half the different species of rose bushes are actually gifts from Shanks after he's seen the beginnings of the garden the first time he visited (read: dropped by unannounced) Kuraigana after it became known Mihawk had claimed the island. So now, years later, Mihawk has probably the most extensive collection of rose species in all colours, shapes and sizes in all the seas.

To Zoro's chagrin, the garden is set up like a maze. It's not a big maze. Even the rose bushes Mihawk has allowed to grow tall during his absences barely even reach higher than Mihawk's shoulders. No reasonable person could ever get lost in it. It quickly becomes apparent that Zoro is not a reasonable person.

'Hidden' within the rose 'maze' there are some dedicated patches of ground making up a kitchen garden. Mihawk got tired of doing supply runs every couple weeks, so he grows his own vegetables and herbs (healing purposes included) and even started to grow the spices he prefers.

(To his own annoyance that garden is not able to support feeding three mouths instead of just one, so the supply runs are back to their old frequency until he makes Zoro and Perona spend a week helping him extend the garden. By year two Kuraigana is mostly self-sufficient again. [By year three Mihawk doesn't know what to do with his extra produce anymore so he decides to actually host Shanks' crew for once instead of just Shanks on his lonesome. They are surprisingly respectful of his space, he might even get the utterly insane idea to do this again.])

Wood carving

You have seen his clothes. Everyone has seen his clothes. You know the chances of finding a good, waterproof coat that not just fits perfectly but also exactly reflects your style? They're abysmal. And even if you found the perfect piece of clothing for you, it needs to be properly washed and maintained if you want it to last longer than a storm or two. Also, professional hand embroidery costs a ton of money. So yes, Mihawk made all the little embroidered details himself. At this point he doubts anyone even remembers how his coat looked back when he bought it and before he had time to put a needle to it. Well, anyone who isn't Shanks. Because Mihawk distinctly remembers Shanks staring when he first showed up to a duel with his brand new coat and then staring again after Mihawk was done with it.

Embroidery is more of a winter hobby, when the garden doesn't need him, and he feels the urge to keep his hands moving. For a while he considered teaching Zoro to give him more of a feeling for fine control, but he quickly discarded the idea in favour of helping Perona with her clothes making adventures.

Mihawk never thought or intended for wood carving to become an actual hobby at all. It started out with him finding himself having sailed into a middle of a rather big reef in an attempt to evade social interaction with Vice Admiral Garp after he spotted his ship on the horizon in the early days of Mihawk's Warlord-ship. The reef had plenty rock and coral formations just closely hiding beneath the water surface, interseeded with sand banks that shifted with the tides, which any ship that lays even slightly deeper in the water than Hitsugibune would not be able to navigate. Mihawk relied on his Haki and superior eye-sight to spot all the obstacles and even with all that it was difficult to sail Hitsugibune safely. Then the winds turned on him rather suddenly when he crossed a climate barrier, bringing along heavy cloud cover and fog, and Mihawk decided he needed to make note of the rock formations somehow to not run into them after all as visibility pretty much approached zero. Being not at all talented in map drawing, Mihawk used Kogatana to carve the map into a random scrap of plank instead. It served him well (he sucessfully avoided Garp and there was not a single new scratch on Hitsugibune) and it kind of just became a thing he did. He now has a small collection of carved maps of mostly reefs and other dangerous waters he uses for hiding and evading purposes. And if he carves the occasional bird or other animal when he's bored out at sea, no one needs to know.

Soap making

It's another hobby Mihawk stumbled upon mostly by coincidence. One day during a supply run he got annoyed by how expensive soap is. The next day he had everything he needed to make it for much less money. A week later he had a year's worth supply of soap sorted out. Shanks asks how Mihawk manages to always smell of roses, even when he has been gone from Kuraigana for weeks. Mihawk says nothing while Shanks' crew mercilessly teases their captain for always getting up and close into Hawkeyes' personal space to even know that. They are smart enough to know not to comment on Mihawk allowing Shanks this close in the first place.

[fanaticsnail]

Grand Line Playgroup

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,200+

Synopsis: Adoptive parents have all taken the initiative to join together with their children to form: Grand Line Playgroup. This is the way it usually goes at playgroup: filled with shenanigans, support, and most importantly love for their children. 

Themes: the adoptive parents of one piece, all children are all relatively aged 3 to 7, but Robin is 10, au they all live, modern au, platonic, not an “x reader” fic, parenting drabble, fluff, nonsense. 

Parents: Mihawk, Rosinante (Corazon), Bellemere, Dadan, Zeff, Uncle Beckman, Shanks, Garp, and Smoker.

Children: Perona, Zoro, Law(rence), Nojiko, Nami, Uta, Ace, Sabo, Luffy, Sanji, Uta, Koby, Helmeppo, Robin, and Tashigi.

Notes: A small drabble about what it would be like if the one-piece characters were adoptive parents to an assortment of their toddler counterparts. This silly brain-worm was brought to you by several conversations with @feral-artistry & @writingmysanity, and the bestest aunties @since-im-already-here & @sordidmusings. This worm got to me and I needed to get it out. Links: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Tag List: @mfreedomstuff, @gingernut1314, @vespidphoenix, @i-am-vita

Dracule Mihawk arrives at Grand Line Playgroup ten minutes early every single Tuesday. He has a personalized gothic embroidered bag for both of his children filled with snacks, changes of clothes, water bottles, first aid kits, and a book for him to read while his two children play.

He wears matching nail polish with his daughter, Perona: today, she chose pink with black accents. He has parenting down to a fine art, everything always perfectly planned for any circumstances. Zoro takes out a collection of sporting equipment and begins kicking around a soccer ball as he waits for his friends to join him. 

The next to arrive is Donquixote Rosinante. He always attempts to get there early: set up his variety of bags to ensure his son, Lawrence, has everything he needs to enjoy his time at playgroup. His hair is a blonde, fluffy mess of mopped curls, his clothes disheveled and askew, but his smile is always cheerful despite his constant exhausted exasperated state. 

Law is a quiet child, not really engaging with Perona as she sets up a mock tea-party, nor Zoro as he kicks the ball against the wall. He, instead, opts to sit quietly alone and read a picture book in comfortable silence. 

Mihawk offers Rosinante a moist towelette, gesturing wordlessly to his lips, cheeks and right eye where Law graffitied art with permanent marker on his face as he slept. Rosinante gives him a gratuitous smile, huffing his laughter as he scrubs at his face with the towelette. 

The next to arrive is Rosinante’s old work colleague, Bellemere, with her two daughters in tow. Nami and Nojiko were walking arm in arm before rushing off to join Perona in her tea party. Bellemere gives Rosinante a clap on his shoulder, nodding her acknowledgement to Mihawk before taking her elected seat. 

As the clock ticks over to 10am: a small bundle of nervous, chaotic energy bounces inside the door and over the walls. This flash of black hair was followed immediately by a small blonde child that stares, unblinkingly, at Law. Dadan is exasperated as she carries an older and asleep Ace in her arms, attempting to catch up with Luffy to rein him in and set up. 

Rosinante springs into action, offering to ferry Luffy towards his regular playmate, Zoro. As Luffy nearly joins Zoro, he is instead drawn to the sticker book Law is holding containing bugs, beetles and arachnids. Luffy becomes entranced by the stickers: and he and Law begin cataloging them by shape, size and type over pages of lined paper. 

Dadan sighs, already exhausted although her day has barely begun. Rosinante smiles and fawns over the two dark-haired boys before resuming his seat beside Bellemere, talking about the latest gossip at his old workplace and the shenanigans his colleagues' love lives.

As if on queue, Ace wakes up and immediately springs out of Dadan’s arms, hurrying over to Zoro and joining him by kicking the ball against the wall. Sabo backs into the corner of the room and glares with his pale, blue eyes at Perona’s tea-party with intrigue. 

After Dadan, in comes Benn Beckman with his niece, Uta. Uta bounces on her heels as she runs over to Sabo, doing all in her power to make the small blonde smile instead of glare. She has a cheery disposition, guaranteed to always get a smile out of the quiet boy the longer she sings and pulls faces at him.

Zeff is the next, his young son, Sanji, sprinting towards the soccer ball and easily stealing it away from Zoro. They immediately get into a heated fistfight: legs and limbs flying as they butt heads as to who's turn it is to kick the ball next. Mihawk sighs, immediately rising to his feet to play referee to the match as Beckman places Uta's bag beside Perona's. 

Arriving late, and with his two adoptive sons Koby and Helmeppo, strolls Garp. Dadan glares at him, up turning her lip in a snarl as Garp shepherds his boys into the room. The tension is thick between these two due to Garp's history of dropping off children at Dadan's and not returning to raise them himself. She refuses to help with the latest two additions to his family, although she cares for them greatly. Sabo nods at Koby, Helmeppo scoffs at Uta. 

Another late arrival is a larger gentleman with his quiet and older daughter, Robin. Sir Crocodile is dripping in luxury brands, gold rings and smells of expensive colognes. Robin immediately humors Perona, Nami and Nojiko by playing mother in their tea party adventure. 

“Mihawk,” the larger man gruffy nods in acknowledgement. 

“Crocodile,” Mihawk mirrors his tone, gesturing with his chin to take a seat beside him. Sir Crocodile takes his seat before unrolling the newspaper tucked beneath his arm and beginning to read. 

As the children interact together, the more talkative parents swap parenting advice amongst one another. 

Rosinante asks for support with Law's current food aversion. How does he get this child to eat grained carbohydrates without him gagging about the fact it's bread? Dadan is a seasoned expert in parenting at this stage, still ignoring Garp as Garp speaks to Mihawk about his blonde son’s latest interest in kendo. 

Bellemere joins in the conversation, Mihawk leaving as the topic changes to work and joining beside Beckman who is silently brooding on the chair beside Crocodile. 

“No Shanks today?” Mihawk quips at the larger man. 

“No Shanks today,” Beckman parrotted in return with a disgruntled and gruff growl. 

As if the mere mention of his name summoned his presence, in comes the red-haired Shanks in a lazy and cheerful stupor. His socks are raised to his knees, tucked into some comfortable sandals on his feet. His cargo shorts are tied loosely on his hips by a brown belt, and his patterned shirt is open to expose his bare chest. 

Glasses are lying lazily on his head as he extends an enthusiastic smile at the children before acknowledging the adults. An enthusiastic chorus of “Uncle Shanks!” echoes throughout the playspace, a flash of small bodies immediately moving to tackle and engulf the redhead in a warm embrace. 

Shanks falls on his ass, holding high his coffee cup as he laughs at Luffy, Uta, Ace and Sabo as they enthusiastically clutch at him with grabby hands. Their faces all shine with the utmost adoration at the redhead, who shoots Beckman and Dadan a wink while mouthing: “I'm still the favorite.”

Beckman sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as Dadan rolls her eyes at him. 

The adults are finally all gathered for their children’s weekly playgroup, the kids settle into playing amongst themselves once again. Shanks offers Beckman a smile before offering him the half-drunk coffee cup. The taller man takes a sip, choking on the liquid as the surprising burn of warmed alcohol scorches his throat so early in the morning. 

As their meeting draws to a soft close, a knock at the door interrupts their close knit conversation. 

“I heard there was a playgroup in here?” a gruff voice rumbled at the door. White hair and the scent of tobacco immediately sprung through the hallway. In arrived a large gentleman, another common associate of Garp, Bellemere and Rosinante who immediately sprung up to greet him. 

Smoker presented ushered a quiet child into the room, her uncertainty was one the children knew well. Immediately, Luffy sprang up from his arachnid archiving with Law and went to introduce himself to the girl. Smoker smiled at the interaction, nodding to Tashigi as an indicator for her to go ahead and play, before joining Bellemere and Rosinante. 

“Finally decided to foster, Smoker?” Bellemere smiled, embracing him into her warm and welcoming arms. Smoker returns her gesture, tapping her on the shoulder and releasing her from the embrace. 

“Foster? Not a chance,” he smirked, pulling away and smiling at the purple-haired woman, “Adopting.”

[ijwrsmff]

My Dear Daughter-Yandere! Father-Figure Mihawk & Daughter-Figure Reader

A commission for anonymous! This is a longer one, and I'm grateful they gave me the chance to write for this prompt <3 Platonic Yanderes need love too!

Summary: Reader is a stowaway on a pirate ship, and after getting injured you find yourself a savior in the man who destroyed the ship with but a single blow. You're terrified to speak up, but he's done nothing but spoil you. It's not enough though. You want to go home. Mihawk however, now seeing you as a daughter, is doing anything to prevent it from happening.

Word Count: 5,127

Everything was going well…too well. You should have expected everything to go awry, but you had hoped it wouldn’t. The crew had found you. You were trying to hide in the storage room, escaping the dull life of your home island. But people had been reluctant to take a 17 year old to another island, claiming you’d only weigh them down. Even aside from that, the next island was a total of nine days away. So your solution? Hide on a ship when there weren’t many people tending to it. 

Little did you know, it was a pirate ship. It was a lapse of judgment, and you regretted it only when they found you. Luck wasn’t on your side today, it seems. They had dragged you out, and tossed you down on the main deck. You could already feel the bruises forming, but it was nothing in comparison to the fear you felt being surrounded by all these pirates. They were looking at you in a way that you know meant you were in for a world of hurt. 

One drunk was holding a sword, and made a “fake” jab towards you, but he clearly intended to slice your leg, which he did. But you refused to make a sound, even though it was severe. Your blood started to seep through to the wooden deck, and you glared at the pirates as they laughed. After that, there were several more little cuts and bruises. 

Why did you have to try and leave? If you’d stayed at home, it wouldn’t have been exciting by any means…but you wouldn’t have been hurting, surrounded by who knows how many pirates. They were vile, spewing promises on the pain to come. You were probably only there a couple minutes, but it felt like years. You only hoped they reached the island soon. If they didn’t…you’d have another eight days of torture. You didn’t know if you could bear that. 

Within minutes of this realization, you heard shouting coming from the crow’s nest above you. He sounded confused, but announced it to the crew and his captain. It made you curious, as his words…didn’t really make sense. 

“Captain! There’s a man floating on a small raft in the water! What do you want me to do?” He leaned over and looked down at the group, his eyes lingering on you momentarily before returning to his place in the crow’s nest. 

“Raft? What’s on it?” The captain called back to him, not sounding too concerned. If anything, he seemed to smirk in place and call back, “Someone shoot him down.” He turned back to you and grabbed your shirt collar, pulling you close to his face with a look that could only be described as sinister. “Hey little girl…you wanna see what happens to people who bother pirates? If you don’t listen, it’ll be you next.” 

His breath reeked of alcohol, and it made you flinch back. When he mentioned shooting down the man, your eyes widened. Was he about to kill the man? If he was on a raft, he might even need help! “W-Wait! Don’t kill him! If he’s just on a raft he doesn’t have anything valuable, what could you possibly get from kill-” But the words were cut off when the captain yelled in your face.

“WHY? WHY am I doing this?” He cackled, and the crew joined in. “Because we’re pirates. Why SHOULDN’T we send a message? It’s a message for you, don’t you feel special?” He turned to a couple crew members and nodded to the cannons with his head. “Don’t miss. There’s no warning shots this time.” He grabbed you by the back of the neck and dragged you to the side of the ship, so you could see the spectacle about to happen. 

As the crew loaded the cannons and got ready to fire, the captain tilted his head slightly. “Wait…” the gears in his head were turning, and as the small raft got closer he began to shake in fear. “WAIT! MEN DON’T SHOOT-” He sounded frantic, and continued, “WE HAVE TO GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!” He let go of you, clearly not concerned with you right now. Whoever that man was, even this group of pirates were terrified of him. 

You leaned towards the ledge, and considered jumping over and begging the man on the raft to get YOU out of here. Staying with these pirates was dangerous, maybe he was with the marines? Why else would these pirates be so terrified? It wasn’t a great option, but neither was staying with these pirates. But you didn’t have much time to debate. 

The man stood on the small raft, and pulled up a sword bigger than any you’d ever seen. It was shaped like a cross, and it hit you. This was Dracule Mihawk. One of the seven warlords of the sea. Meaning he was a pirate, just like them. But what if he thought you were one of them, he surely wouldn’t kill someone innocent when working for the government…right? 

You waved your arms at him, hoping he’d get the message. But he had already swung his sword. Within half a second, the boat was split in half. You stumbled, and tried to gain your bearings, but with your injuries it proved to be a more difficult task than you imagined. Falling several meters into the ocean as it churned was terrifying, and you struggled to swim back to the surface. But with all the debris falling…you knew. You were going to drown here. 

You were near passing out, and you couldn’t hold your breath anymore…until a hand reached down and pulled you up. As you coughed, placed on a solid surface you looked up and saw the gaze of Mihawk. His eyes were piercing, and it was as if he was looking straight through you. It took everything in you to not cower under that look. He was much taller than you, and his sword was resting behind the makeshift seat. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, though his eyes were glancing over your body, taking in the injuries you had. You had no idea what he was thinking, his face was completely blank, and his voice monotone. “Allow me.” He said and reached down to help you up. 

You swayed, and all but fell into his arms. The raft didn’t rock much, but you could still feel the movement of the waves under your feet. He placed a firm hand on your upper arm and kept you steady. “What…are you doing? Why did you save me?” Was all you could get out. You tried to scour his face for any traces of emotion, but found none. Aside from a brief second of softness in his eyes, though it was gone as quickly as it came. 

“You needed help. I’m providing that.” He carefully moved you to set you on the only seat on the small raft. He knelt down and looked at you. Even when you were sitting on the small chair, he was bigger than you as he rested on one knee. His tone was ‘matter-of-fact’ and you were reeling your mind trying to think of what he was thinking. 

“Uh…okay…” You couldn’t find any other words. Help was needed, and if he was willing to provide that…it shouldn’t be too bad? You were bleeding more and more by the second, and the sea salt in those wounds were only aggravating them. It honestly made you feel as if you’d pass out. Your eyes continued to flutter shut, but the fear of being alone in the vast sea with a warlord kept you fighting. 

“Don’t worry…you’ll be able to rest soon.” He tore off small strips of his clothing and wrapped it around the larger wounds, and opened the water bottle he had in an attempt to clean those wounds. He moved swiftly but carefully, as the raft floated further and further from the remains of the shipwreck. 

Once he was finished, you were practically asleep. He took the moment to look you over in curiosity. There was a small tug at his heartstrings, it was small…but still there. He could bring you to the nearest island, but a large part of him wanted to continue to check on you. Make sure you’re recovering well. It was a brief moment of hesitation, before he started moving the raft to his island. Once you were healed completely, he would bring you back to your island or one of your choosing. That’s what he told himself at least. 

Once you were asleep, he gently lifted you, and sat down on the seat. He cradled you to him, with one arm under your back and the other your knees. Your fears and worries of the events must have scared you terribly, he concluded. You softly cried in your sleep, as you unknowingly nuzzled your face into his neck. All Mihawk could do was hold you closer, as he whispered “You’re safe, now.” Over and over again until the tears stopped. 

You ended up stirring awake not long later. Your eyes opened before you moved anything, and you instantly shot up, only to be held down with arms much stronger than yours. The first thing you wanted to see after passing out, traumatized for life, was…well not this. Mihawk’s practically glowing yellow eyes staring down at you. You were in his lap, being held like a damn princess. He had no shame, either. When you caught him staring he had the audacity to maintain that eye contact. 

“Uh…I can get up now?” You wished you were shaking less, but you were being coddled by a warlord. “You can drop me off at the nearest island, so you should…do that.” It came out a lot less assertive than you meant for it to, but you didn’t want to walk on eggshells. If he wanted, he could throw you into the ocean never to be seen again. Or even worse, cut you down, himself. If he can slice an entire ship in half without even trying…you didn’t want to think about what he could do to you. 

“No.” It was so matter-of-fact that it caught you completely off guard. He continued to look at you, analyzing everything on your face. “Your wounds need to heal, my island is closest.” It was a lie, but you had no way of knowing that. He wasn’t even entirely sure why he lied. He gave you what was supposed to be a reassuring squeeze, but it came across as a warning. 

“Okay…?” You were beyond confused at this point, and his short responses weren’t helping that. It just made it so much worse. But you were terrified, despite trying to appear as if you weren’t. So you settled as much as you could, and tried to put as much distance as possible while still being secured in his lap. Whatever his plan here was, he sure wasn’t going to talk about it. You tried to take the initiative, and said a small “Thank you for saving me.” 

It was all he needed to hear, and he looked a bit surprised. It wasn’t much, just a slight twitch in his eyebrows at most, and his eyes got just slightly wider. But he did his best to try and give a small. He wasn’t used to it, but he could see how scared you were. The smile was forced, but his eyes continued to not reveal anything. Maybe a small trace of contentment? You didn’t know him enough to be able to tell. 

Arriving at the island took at least another hour past that, but being out in the middle of the ocean made it hard to tell exactly what time it was. As the raft hit the shore line, you went to stand up and get off him, but he effortlessly kept you in place. “What? I can walk, you know!” Another attempt to get out of his grasp, was futile at best. You looked up at him with the best glare you could manage but it looked as shaky as you felt. 

“Not safely.” He shifted you a bit, carrying you with a single arm as he poked your ankle. It made you hiss, and he lifted an eyebrow in a ‘see?’ display. “You’re injured, I’m simply helping you.” He then shifted you a bit more to try and get you comfortable but it jostled you enough you quickly wrapped your arms around his neck with a small noise of protest. Your face was buried in his neck as you tried not to fall. 

If you could have seen his face, it would have been the biggest reaction you’d seen of him yet. His eyes were wide, and he paused for a moment, before giving a much more genuine smile. You reminded him of a child. He wasn’t sure exactly how old you were, but he would get to know. He cradled you with both arms, trying to return his facial expression to neutral. “Shh…it’s okay. I’d never drop you. You’re safe.” Even the tone had a twinge on sincerity. 

You gulped, and did everything you could to not fight against his grasp. It was difficult, you weren’t used to this kind of treatment anymore. It had been a long time since someone carried you like this…maybe you could indulge just this once. Besides, he made a point. Your ankle wasn’t in the best condition. You shuddered thinking about how bad it could be. If it hurt that bad from just a poke, what if you needed a real doctor? What if it got infected?

Though Mihawk wasn’t great at empathizing, he could tell you were panicking. He shushed you softly, and carefully brought you to a spare room in his home. It was fully furnished, with anything you’d reasonably need. Even some things you didn’t NEED but could want. He spoke to you softly, and it was giving you whiplash. The warlord who can end a person’s life with just a glance was treating you with kindness and even being accommodating. It was confusing you beyond measure. 

“Your house is huge…” Was the first thing you mumbled back at him as he eased the door closed with his foot. He walked over to the bed, and rested you on it. You weren’t going to make a big deal out of it, but when you were resting on the bed you couldn’t help it. “This is the most comfortable bed I’ve ever laid on in my life!” You let out a small giggle and got comfortable as you could with your injuries. “Is it…really okay if I stay here? I don’t wanna cause any trouble! The second I’m feeling better I promise I’ll get out of your hair!” You had realized you’d been a little too giddy, and didn’t want him to feel as if you were milking your injury. 

But he did give a rather large smile. Large smile for him at least. In response to your giggling, he let out a low chuckle. Hearing it was somewhat soothing, and the look in his eyes was something close to adoration. You think. It was so hard to tell with him…but regardless, he replied. “You can stay here as long as you’d like. As for the bed, it’s yours if you’d like it. I can always get you a new and better one. Money is no issue.” He pulled the chair from the desk over to where you laid on the bed, and took a glance at the small amounts of blood seeping through the makeshift bandage he’d given. 

He hummed, and walked to the bathroom, only to return with a first aid kit. “I’ll check them over, and then I can give you a better estimate on when you’ll be safe to walk again.” He slowly unwrapped each of the bandages, and worked slowly and carefully so as to not hurt you. He hummed a couple times, and you’d look between him and the injury. 

“What? ‘Hm’ what?” You got anxious, he was staring so intently at the bleeding. “Is it bad? What does ‘hm’ mean!?” It was getting hard to stay still, and when you tried to pull your leg away, he grabbed an uninjured part of it and kept it secured in place. 

“Be careful…a couple of these are going to need stitches. Which means no walking for around four weeks or so I’d say.” He looked at you a bit sympathetically, and pulled out the needle prepared to give you the stitches needed. “I apologize…it will hurt a bit, but I’ll make it as painless as possible. I promise.” The look in his eyes held some deeper meaning, but you couldn’t tell what it was. 

“Four whole weeks…of not walking…? Shit…I’m not going to burden or bother you or anything, right? I mean, not even just you but also. Wait, how many people live here?” You shifted a bit, and winced at the movement from your ankle. “And I’m bleeding on your bed sheets! I’m sorry! Just a few stitches and then I can go to a different island, I can see a doctor, It’ll-” He cut you off promptly with a look and short phrase. 

“You’re staying. I can help you, here. If you need to go anywhere in the mansion, I can carry you until you’re better enough to walk with me as a crutch.” His tone wasn’t quite harsh, but assertive. He addressed your question next, “As for how many live here. Just…two.” It seemed like he came to a conclusion of some kind, and smiled a bit to himself before smiling at you. “It’s safe here. No one should dare harm you under my care.” 

Rather it be for better or for worse, he had decided. You’d be staying with him indefinitely. You would come to realize that in time, but for the moment you were clueless. Simply settled on bed rest for a few weeks, you fell back asleep immediately following getting stitches. It really was a comfy bed, it’d be easier to have bed rest in this kind of comfort. If Mihawk seemed sure no one would hurt you…maybe it wouldn’t be so bad? He was a warlord afterall, so you doubted many would even do so much as attempt to harm you. 

You thought it would be easy, you really did. But he hardly ever left you alone! It was somewhat expected the first day or two, but a three and a half weeks? Of just laying in bed without being able to even stand up and walk? It was suffocating! He had asked a million questions, about everything to do with you. He didn’t even ask about your family, your friends, did he not care? He seemed content to have you talk about yourself though. Your responses were getting shorter, and he definitely noticed, but didn’t say much of anything about it. Simply continued with the small talk and questions. 

“Do you have a favorite restaurant back on your home island?” He’d ask. 

“Not really.”

“Did you have any childhood pets?”

“A couple.” 

“Is there a dream job you have?”

“Haven’t decided.” 

“What island have you heard of that you want to visit?”

You reached your breaking point. So many questions, and even when you slept! He’d be in that chair in the corner most of the time. You didn’t know what his endgame here was, but you were sick of being grilled about anything and everything. “WOULD YOU JUST STOP WITH THE QUESTIONS?” A glare was sent his way from you, but it faltered significantly when it was met with a glare right back at you. It wasn’t much, but it was the most anger you’d seen from him. 

“I’ll give you some space.” His expression was neutral once more, and he stood to leave, only to stop in the doorway. He seemed to hesitate there, and he turned back to partially face you. “I expect an apology for your tone. Screaming at me gets you nowhere.” He turned back but ended up deciding to say one more thing before fully leaving. It was a softer tone, as he said “I don’t wish for you to scream at me, I despise it so.” Before leaving the room entirely. 

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. Did you…really just scream at a warlord? He took you into his home, cared for you, tended to you, and even carried you to the dining table for three meals a day! You watched him cook for you numerous times, but you still yelled at him? It’s not like he did anything wrong…he just wanted to get to know you. That’s all…right? You flopped over in the bed, and pulled the covers over your head. Beating yourself up won’t solve anything, but maybe some sleep would. 

You woke up not long after, extremely confused. The injury on your ankle…it wasn’t hurting. A little bit maybe, but not bad at all. What made you notice it, was your other foot had found a spot on top of the injured one in your sleep. It made you giddy beyond reason, thinking maybe it was almost completely better, and you could finally walk around! Maybe then you could go back to your home island, you missed everyone…and you were sure they were worried. You had been talking about running off to another island, so it might not be surprising you disappeared for a while, but you hadn’t even been able to write to them. 

Placing your good foot on the ground gently, you took a few deep breaths and placed the other one on the ground. You were bracing yourself, getting ready to stand up. It had been a whole week and a half, but if you bursted the stitches open it would be so much worse. Mihawk might get pissed at you…and you valued your life. He’s been kind for the most part, overly kind in fact, but he seemed focused on your progress in getting better. Putting a set back on that might make him explode and you didn’t want that. At all. 

You swayed between all the options, before taking one more deep breath and putting weight slowly on your ankles, being sure to favor the good one the most first. When that was fine, you put a little more on the other foot. After a bit, you were able to stand evenly on them both. You wanted to jump in joy, but you weren’t about to push the boundaries. After the little snap at Mihawk, you decided the best course of action would be to leave and head back to your island while he was gone. You’d overstayed your welcome, and now that you could somewhat walk again, it was time to go. 

It took a bit of practice to walk around the room, but you figured you’d rather start off with some small pacing, before making the long trek from the mansion to the shore. It wasn’t long into your pacing when you heard a knock at your door. Shit…so leaving without a trace wasn’t an option. But you were excited, you’d get to see everyone again. Maybe he’d show you where the rafts and boats were!

“Darling? Are you alright?” He called, his tone laced with worry. “May I come in? We need to have a discussion.” Those words made you hesitate a bit, it sounded serious. Maybe he knew you were feeling better, and decided to talk to you about returning home? It was all you could hope for. There were certainly much worse possibilities running through your mind. 

“Sure…” You were curious, but ended up continuing to pace even as he entered the room. “Look! I’m feeling so much better!” You made a demonstration of walking around the room. When you looked back at him, he looked conflicted. Like he also had many possibilities running through his head. It stopped you in your tracks, and you wanted to walk closer, but hesitated. 

“That’s wonderful, I’m glad you’re recovering well.” He turned to the side and came in with a tray. It had a few different kinds of food on it. “You never specified your favorite restaurant, so I attempted a few different types of food.” He walked to your bedside table and set it down. “Come eat. We can discuss a few things.” He said as he sat on the foot of the bed, before patting your spot to signal you to sit again. 

“I actually…wanted to ask you something.” You said hesitantly, and followed the instructions to sit by the bedside table. When you didn’t touch the food, he knew something was wrong. “Would I be able to have a small boat? Or a raft even! I could make my way back home, I’ve been here for so long now at this point…It’s time for me to go home. But thank you! For everything. You didn’t have to save me but you did and I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” You fidgeted with your hands, and avoided looking directly at him. While he’d been soft and kind to you, his power and authority still caused anxieties of what could happen. 

“Darling…” He scooted a bit closer and urged you to look at him. “You ARE home. You’re to live here, with me. I’ve given you anything you’ve wanted, why would you want to leave?” The word ‘me’ hangs in the air at the end of the sentence as he hesitated before saying the next sentence. “Have I done something wrong? Whatever it may be, I can do my best to fix it.” 

“No! There’s nothing you’ve done wrong, but I can’t just live here with you! I have friends I need to see, and my mom and dad-” That word shouldn’t have made him react that way…but it did. It made your sentence cut off on its own. His eyes were glowing more than usual, and his face was contorted with anger. He looked away and seemed to struggle with his own words as they came out. 

“I’m your father. It doesn’t matter if I haven’t known you since your birth, I care for you greatly. All of our conversations, I know I can be a better father to you than whatever the ‘man’ before me ever was.” He was getting closer now, and you were trying to retreat but he wasn’t having it. He looked over your face, and still saw fear. “Don’t worry, I know it must be confusing for you.” He chuckled a bit, but it was far from comforting as it was the first you’d heard it. 

“You don’t have to be ready to call me your father right now, but we’ll get there. As for your friends, I can find new ones for you. I will make sure they’re safe people.” He waved a hand in the air dismissively. “I would give you anything, darling…so I do hope you’ll be able to forgive me for keeping you here. You mean too much to me for me to let you go. If I were to do so, you could get hurt. Emotionally, mentally…and even physically. Those pirates deserved a fate much worse than I gave them.” 

“You’ll give me anything? THEN GIVE ME A BOAT TO GET OUT OF HERE! DON’T JUST ACT LIKE YOU CAN REPLACE EVERYTHING I HAD!” You were pissed, but this time you wouldn’t back down. Your anxieties and fears wanted you to, but Mihawk was saying you’d never get to see them again! As if people were replaceable! You leaned forward as you yelled and got closer to him, you flung the blankets off and tried to walk towards the door. “IF YOU WON’T GIVE ME THAT THEN I’LL FIGURE OUT HOW TO LEAVE, MYSELF!” 

You heard a sigh behind you, and as you went to open the door he was already next to it, shutting it and preventing you from leaving. His speed was much faster than yours, and you already knew well that his strength was too. You took a step back, and became fearful of his expression. It wasn’t angry, in fact it was back to the blank and neutral expression he had when you first met him. He’d put up the walls he’d slowly been taking down. 

He reached forward, and you flinched but he also wasn’t giving in this time. He placed a finger under your chin and tilted it so you looked at him directly. “Look at me, please?” He held your head there until your eyes met his. “There she is…my dear daughter.” He sighed, and when you opened your mouth to yell at him again, he sighed once more. “Please stop screaming at me, love. You know I hate it.” He grabbed your arms and moved you carefully, but firmly back to the bed. 

“YOU CAN’T-” But his neutral expression was scaring you more, and you found yourself unable to finish the sentence. There was so much you wanted to scream at him, the overflowing emotion was building up so much that tears started to fall down your face. “I’m not your daughter…” Was all you could spat at him angrily as he forced you further into the room. No matter how much you thrashed, you couldn’t hurt him. And he knew that. You both did. But you had to try…

“You are. I know you are. I knew the moment I saw you. Take your time, love. You can call for me when you need me, but for now I think you need to learn a lesson.” He spoke softly at first, before his tone became much more firm. You really…really didn’t want to know what he meant. But it became clear in the seconds following. 

He placed a kiss to the top of your head, before the door seemed to open and close instantly. He was gone. You should have known it’d be locked, but what you didn’t expect was just how sturdy the door was. When you banged on it, screaming for him to let you out, it didn’t budge in the slightest. Not even a small tremor from the strengths of your blow. That bastard must have planned this…was this his plan all along?

Only time would tell, but no matter how many times you had to do it…you’d try to escape. He can’t keep you here forever. He can’t…and he won’t. You’re resolved, knowing you’d go to further and further lengths to get out of here. You would return home…to your real home…no matter the cost. 

[urinarythreatinfection]

Boredom and Jokes

Mihawk x reader/Buggy x reader. Can be read platonically or romantic but platonic in mind. Reader is younger than both of them. 421 wordcount

“bbb… bbbppt… bbbptt” You make noises with your mouth, hanging out with Mihawk. It was just you and Buggy at first but you wanted to visit Mihawk and dragged a reluctant Buggy along. So you and Buggy lay there, him sitting on the chair while you lay on the ground starfish style. As you continue to make noises with your mouth, Mihawk finally looks up from his book.

“Do you need something?” He asks, eyes narrowed in annoyance.

“No, I’m alright thanks.” You say dismissively and he’s about to go back to reading when you start to make noises again. Buggy finds it funny, but the anger coming off of Mihawk is making him too anxious to actually show it. The swordsman doesn’t even know if he should say anything or not, if giving you attention will only cause you to do more. You make the choice for him in the form of a question. “How old are you guys?”.

“43.” Mihawk answers first.

“39.” Buggy responds, he’s about to make a joke when your eyes widen.

“YOU’RE OLDER THAN BUGGY!?” You yell in shock while sitting up, surprising both men.

“Hey what is that supposed to mea-” Buggy’s interrupted as you stand up and use his face to push yourself to Mihawk. He looks up at you, his expression back to a calm one.

“I am.” He says and you stare at him.

“There’s no way! Buggy looks way older than you. I figured you were probably old since you’re the world’s greatest swordsman, sure, but older than him!?”

“HEY! I LOOK GOOD FOR MY AGE!” Buggy yells from behind you, rubbing his face.

“The clown does indeed look older than he is.” Mihawk agrees and Buggy starts to argue. Your brain goes blank and you space out, Buggy’s voice fading. You come to, your own voice snapping you out of it.

“World’s oldest swordsman.” The words exit your mouth and you immediately burst out laughing. Buggy’s eyes widen, then he grins.

“Haha I gue-” Yoru is pressed to his neck. “I WASN’T EVEN THE ONE WHO SAID IT!” He yelps as you fall to your knees and onto your side.

“W-Worl- HAHAHAHA” Your stomach hurts, and you’re starting to get lightheaded. “World oldest swordsm-AN!” Your voice cracks, laughing too hard to even notice Buggy’s pleas for you to shut up, blade getting closer to his neck with every second you laugh. Mihawk can handle being made fun of, but he will not tolerate it from Buggy of all people.

[milfhawks]

mihawk: [is sad over shanks but trying not to show it]

boa hancock, being a supportive bff:

[funsize-cenobites]

Mihawk-Brain-Eating-Syndrome has seized me.

The post that started this whole train of thought came from @manofbeskar who's Mihawk thoughts, Mishanks heartwrenchers, and absolutely gorgeous art are so inspiring I feel chewing-on-the-doorframe feral every time I check their blog.

Mihawk has a complicated relationship with vivre cards. Yet despite all efforts at keeping the world and everyone in it at Yoru length he still manages to keep collecting bits of them.

Not many nowadays, its a rather intimate affair after all; to have someone give you a literal piece of their life so that you may always find them no matter where in the wide seas you may be. Assuring that you'll be the first to know should they leave that world entirely.

Far too intimate. It feels too obvious, too heavy handed, too much like handing him your heart and asking him to carry it. Such a thing is heavier than any blade and all the bloody deeds he can never truly wipe from the steel.

Its gentle and vulnerable and human. All the things Mihawk is convinced he could play at but never truly be again. But... I imagine at the start of his journey, maybe he was a touch more open. Perhaps accepting his first from a mentor as a parting of ways though he didn't yet have one of his own to offer in return.

Strange how a simple piece of card in his palm could feel like an open door. Always there, inviting him home. Always there, until it wasn't.

Mihawk will never forget the first time he felt one burning away into nothing in his hands. It went up so quick.. He had no idea it could take less than a minute to burn a home.

Then perhaps he found a crew, a more tangible place to nest and he suddenly had more vivre cards than he could tuck away on his person in a timely manner. Perhaps it became a ritual of sorts each morning, a part of his routine to tuck each one away. The captain, vice captain, and the rest of the specialists lining the inner band of his hat while the rest of the crew were individually squirreled away. A meditation, grounding and quiet. He would use it to remind himself of his role as the crew's swordsman, as their protector.

How could he forget the sharp sear of each individual card burning away, stuck close to his skin by waterlogged clothing as he dragged himself ashore gasping and choking on sea and blood and smoke. Having been left by marines that assumed he would drown because- perhaps pointed out by one that had deceived him, made Mihawk believe they were his friend to be led back to his family:

"No freak like that could exist without having eaten the devil's fruit."

How could he forget the embers escaping, dancing in the evening gloam like fireflies swarming around him? There were so many.. now there are none and gods he's been so empty since. How could such a small piece of paper take so much of him? To kill a man with a blade, even butchering him inelegantly, would be a greater mercy so long as he was dead.

Nowadays Mihawk knows better. Knows better than to trust or be trusted. That blades might chip and tarnish but they dont burn, never completely.

Yoru hums and sings in his hands as he wields her and she does not feel like home.. but she feels solid and eternal and cold. She will never burn. Her weight is bearable.

Impersonal.

Professional.

Yoru makes death an art in his hands. She is the brush not the paper, spattering fireflies over a night sky.

. . .

For years after, he kept far from others. Deciding to never get so close to anyone ever again. Safe in the knowledge he would never feel the burning sting of loss nor the cold cut of betrayal so acutely. Trust was a double edged blade, perhaps the only one he truly couldn't handle.

He was no protector.. so he wouldn't try to be.

Instead Mihawk would hunt. Chasing the marines mercilessly. Cutting a bloody path through their ranks and burning their fucking fortresses to the ground. At first they spoke of him as an insane lone swordsman, then a one man army, then a monster, a demon. The relentless yellow eyed freak that stalked the seas and nightmares of future vice admirals.

He systematically killed all those that harmed him. A shadow over the shore, a rogue wave swallowing their ships, a curse of vengeance come to reap. He destroyed all the records of his crew that he could get his hands on. If he must be cursed to slowly forget them over time, then the world government didnt deserve their memory either.

And so on it went for a time. Long enough for the hunt to lose its luster. Slaughtering sheep by the herd in search of a rare wolf.

Mihawk had almost forcibly forgotten about Vivre cards as a concept. His own remained untouched, never moving from where he hid it. He had no friends, no family, no nakama. Only a dwindling list of worthy foes to test himself against.

Until the day the king of pirates died. Until their golden age truly began.

Until he met Shanks, who held out a hand and asked him to step out of the monochrome past and into a thousand possible vibrant futures. Ones of lush reds and glittering golds, of polished onyx black and the purest, deepest blue.

.

"Here," Shanks said suddenly one night, holding out a small scrap of paper. The both of them were perched atop the ruins of a high sea wall on some remote island, enjoying the cold breeze from the north after a hard fought duel.

Mihawk, for all his composure, blanched. "What is that?" He knew and he did not take it.

"What do you think it is? Its a piece of my card." He said it so simply. Like it barely occured to him how precious such a thing was. Shanks didn't drop his arm, even as the silence stretched out between them.

"No."

"Come on, Takanome- Dont be like that! We're nak--"

"Rivals." He cut the younger man off abruptly. His chest felt too hot and too tight, burning and burning and, "We are rivals, Akagami."

Shanks must've been pouting, he could hear it in his voice, "Even more reason for you to take it. We could duel every day if you could always find me~ Come on.. Please? I want you to have it."

"...."

Hawkeyes glanced at his best friend rival and immediately regretted it. Shank's face was always full of so much hope, so much faith in... something.. It made Mihawk's heart catch in his throat every time to see those big earnest eyes staring at him almost as if, for a moment, it was faith in him.

"I don't know if I can give you mine.." He murmured. Shanks smiled soft, a little sad, and infuriatingly understanding without needing to know anything.

"I dont need it. I know you'll always find me." He pressed his heart, his home the scrap into Mihawk's palm and closed the swordsman's fingers over it. "And if I need to find you.. I'll just ask the wind."

[thesharktanksdriver]

Star covered hug booth (platonic)

Not canon but just some plane what if fun based on an ask from awhile back. Also sorry I’ve been inactive I’ve had some burnout as of late alongside starting second year university lol

Send me asks for characters you’d like to see hug Determination! Y/n

Masterlist for determination!

In life Nami had many things she has come to love.

For one she loved her mom Bellemere and sister Nojiko (as well as Genzo, a man who was the only father-figure she had in her life despite how she butted heads with him). Nami loved them wholeheartedly, loved them so deeply she sacrificed her childhood to ensure Bellemere’s sacrifice was not in vain.

She loved Cocoyashi. Loved the quaint island village she called home, the old beaten paths she’d chart on her first mock maps. Loved its people that despite having their pockets nicked by her small nimble hands still cared for her (only years later did she learn that many would let her get away with taking their wallets and would give Bellemere discounts for things she needed).

She loved tangerines and oranges. The smell of them lingered on her and in her dreams as the soft memories of that home on a cliffside played in her mind. The sweet taste that stuck to her tongue, the white blossoms in the spring and the color that matched the sunsets that she would peer out at through windows.

She loved money, she felt more secure with it after the years of barely scraping by and being extorted. Liked being able to provide for herself things that seemed more like a childish dream rather than a reality. Nami liked buying clothes, jewels, supplies and things for everyone on board even if they had not noticed. She also used it as a way to tie people to her, by having a “debt” it meant that they would not leave her (even if in her mind she knows they won’t).

And most of all Nami loved her crew.

Nami loved the idiot she called a captain. Dressed in flip flops and his raggedy straw hat sitting like a crown atop messy raven hair along with a stretched out smile across his face.

loved the moss haired swordsman without a sense of direction. How loyalty ran through his blood and his unwavering spirit in spite of the situations they ended up in.

Loved the blond haired cook who went out of his way to feed the crew with a grin. A cigarette hung limply on his lips whilst he handed off Hand made drinks specially catered to individual tastes.

Loved the long nosed cowardly sniper who she leant on for support as one of the only sane ones left on this crew. Their shared dry remarks on ridiculous situations before laughter replaced it.

Loved the blue nosed little doctor that plastered wounds with bandaids with their Jolly Roger. His bursts of bashfulness at being told he did a good job and his love of all things pink and sweet.

Loved the calm and cool historian who never failed to make her feel appreciated. The woman who never asks about the nightmares (nor does Nami ask about her own) but instead silently comfort each other.

Loved the shipwright with flashy chains and a steel hard smile. The man who puts love into their vassal with each nail and board while making unconventional machines that make everyone else smile.

Loved the joke making skeleton with annoying questions but with the soul of a true musician. Ivory bones drifting along similarly ivory keys whilst the crew listened to his songs of old.

Loved the reserved yet hearty presence of the helmsman that helps her through her trauma of fish and scales. The way he uses graceful movements of his karate that’s used to water her tangerines before he splashes a nearby Luffy.

And finally Nami loved the starry-eyed storyteller of the crew. The cherub face of an old soul that has seen too much of the world and has yet to change. A child stuck to watch the world around them change, telling the stories lost to time and later their own mind.

Nami loved her crew.

Maybe that was a bit of an understatement, but the point still stands.

…..but god did she sometimes loath their spending habits which leads her to this situation now.

As the only person on this damn boat with any Handle on money (besides Sanji when he’s not head over heels) she can’t help but want to bash her head in. Because along with being the navigator she handles the money, but evidently that didn’t matter to her stupid (affectionate) crew mates.

No Luffy you can’t buy 5 tons of meat just because your hungry.

No Zoro you can’t buy an oceans worth of booze because you feel like it.

No Sanji you can’t just buy every woman in a crowd a necklace because their “angels sent by heaven”.

No Ussop you can’t just buy a bunch of random supplies for your bombs half that stuff doesn’t make sense.

No chopper you can’t stalk up on cotton candy…the medical supplies is allowed though knowing this crew.

No Robin you can’t have another library on board when our room is already stacked from top to bottom in books.

No Franky for the love of god please stop buying supplies for robots we already have enough of them.

No Brook you don’t need a glass piano we already have 3 different pianos on the sunny.

No jimbe…actually no Jimbe your good because you're actually an responsible adult…wait why do you have so many Hawaii shirts-

And finally you. The only person on this crew who sticks to the budget but never actually buys anything for themself. Honestly she’d be happy if you went over budget and got yourself something, but she knows that’ll happen when Luffy becomes a vegetarian.

Nami loves her crew but god does that seem to screw her over.

They barely had enough to afford supplies at the next port, and though stealing wasn’t off the table laying low would be nice. Especially since her idiot of a captain just had to make a ruckus recently and have a good portion of the marines on their tail.

She’d really like to avoid another jailbreak.

So with that in mind she needed cash quickly.

And with that formed various schemes and ideas.

Form a mlm? Nah too much time to invest in.

Rob a bank? Too much attention.

Form a big distraction and then rob people blind? Shed and most of the crew would avoid doing that to civilians if possible.

And with all those x’d out ideas in mind she finally came to one that seemed plausible.

Somehow you had gained the friendship of many people over your many years of living. From almost all the warlords to Yonko’s and even admirals.

And knowing this Nami’s mind started a scheme. One that left her conflicted.

Because as much as their finances needed it, she wasn’t alright if it made you uncomfortable.

===

It’s partially halfway to their next destination that Nami sits herself next to you whilst you watch the waves. They lapped over one another, folding into the endless blue complimented by bubbling white foam. The sight never seemed to grow old to your eyes, even after so many years of watching the same sight once more as the day continued in its mellowness.

Normally someone of the crew would come to join you so it’s not too surprising when Nami joins.

But what is surprising is when she speaks up instead of continuing in sweet silence.

“We’re low on funds and I had an idea” she starts slowly, she picks beneath her nails, a nervous habit of hers. You noticed it quite easily, for as much as Nami wanted to look like she’s calm and in control you’d alway noticed the cracks in her resolve. It’s what you respected about her. The way she always tried to act like a pillar for others to lean on even when she was as brittle and scared as everyone else.

“Sure thing” you say, still looking out towards the waves.

“But you didn’t-“

“Nami I trust you.”

You think that for a moment that breaks her, shattering her heart into thousands of tiny pieces. Though that should hardly be surprising to her, because of course you trusted her. She was your navigator, your friend. You had every reason to, yet still it resonates within her deeply.

“You didn’t even hear what it was” her tone is slightly chiding, yet lingering fear still makes itself known despite your previous comment. “I had the idea for a hug booth…you know so many people who’d go to the end of the earth for you” she seems slightly uncomfortable saying this, as if slightly upset at herself.

“Yeah sure thing.” You say once more.

Instead of silence though you're met by her ocher brown eyes.

Nami places her hands gently on your shoulders, getting down on a knee to look you in the eye on your level. She looks for apprehension, yet finds none.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” She asks this with a tone that indicates how serious she is “if you're not that’s fine and I can think of something else. But I need to know if you're ok with this.”.

She watches a smile cross your face, small hands that were soft yet should be weathered over the years and years you’d been alive gently cupping her cheeks. You’d done this before to ground her, those nights filled with nightmares of Arlong that left her crying and grasping for anything to hold. The ones where she’d desperately want to curl up and disappear into herself, the ones where she'd look to her shoulder and still see the tattoo beneath the cover up.

It was a gesture of sincerity.

“I’m alright with it, Nami.”

Your eyes sparkle.

“I would’ve said I wasn’t if I was. Besides, I’m looking forward to seeing who shows up! Plus it’ll be nice to see some old friends again”

At that Nami nods, a shaky breath leaving her as she stands back up. She swallows down the last bit of fear and anxiety about pushing you to do something that would make you uncomfortable.

And then her game face quickly takes over.

Her head snaps towards Usopp and Franky’s direction.

“Get to work on advertisements and a booth pronto. You’ll get a bigger cut in the budget I’ve set”

===

On the grand line there was a small island that was considered an odd outlier to that of many other islands.

The island of “plote devi’cee” was one that served as a neutral ground for both marines and pirates alike. It started decades ago due to a legend, a daughter of a marine falling in love with a pirate. The meeting of the boyfriend and dad didn’t go well as expected, the boyfriend ended up dead as did the dad which left the girl heartbroken and supposedly cursing the island.

So long as pirates or marines stepped foot on its soil no fights could happen.

Lest they suffer like the poor fools all those years ago who had their ships decimated via sea kings and such bad weather that the ship capsized.

This is important due to the fact that it was the perfect place to set up shop.

You’d been to this place a few times before, so when mentioning it to Nami for this money making scheme it seemed like the only logical place it could work.

With the pamphlets handed out via news birds and your crows they’d inevitably end up at Marineford. So better to be on neutral territory for both marine and pirates without having the operation busted.

So with that in mind and the sunny docked Nami took quickly to setting up shop.

The small booth Franky constructed stood proud and strong atop a small hill just outside the village of the island. Just far enough out of the way as to not disturb their peaceful lives as you sat in your booth waiting. Drapes of cloth created a small doorway and privacy for you and the future customers. Mostly since you’d known this would likely get emotional for more than a few people (perhaps even yourself). Now thinking about it though, it seemed more like a tent and booth but “y/n’s hug booth” was definitely more of a zinger.

Just outside holding a large set of jars were Sanji and Zoro, your “guards” and debt collectors for Nami. Behind your stand was Robin sitting in a small sun chair. An ear inside the booth to listen for the secret sign of you being uncomfortable, 3 taps on the wood and then it would be the signal for zoro and Sanji to drag off whoever was inside.

It wasn’t fully fool proof but it was enough for you to be comfortable enough.

And so you wait.

But it seems not for long as you hear the exasperated murmur of Nami not far away from the booth.

“That’s a lot of ships”.

Seems like the hugging shall begin.

Boa Hancock

Before even seeing the curtain open, you hear Sanji’s commotion of “my eyes have been blessed by a goddess-“ before a subsequent thwack sound resonating in the air. You're not sure who hit Sanj whether From Zoro, Nami or Boa herself but the curtain opens and there enters the empress of the Amazon Lily herself.

The proclaimed most beautiful woman in the world and snake princess warlord.

She sits down, posed and perfect on the small stool. Long legs crossed as you watch the apathy from her face fade at now being in private with you.

It’s odd for you to see her public persona of uncaring, cruel and selfish. Not when you know at heart she’s a girl who’s been victim to the most vicious of cruelties. A woman who longs to be kind yet cannot face being hurt once more, someone who’d rather push those closest away if it ensured their safety.

It’s why you smile when a soft expression covers her face.

“Sorry if Sanji gave you trouble, he’s a massive flirt…and a simp. He means well though, just takes a bit far sometimes” you say a little exasperated as you rub the back of your neck. She gives a small chuckle, the sound of it is soft and pretty like wind chimes and birdsong.

“He’s a man, I’ve dealt with plenty worse.” It comes off as slightly mocking towards the blond, though you’d let it slide knowing her experience with men…plus as much as you loved Sanji he was a bit over the top “besides, I came here to see you.”.

“I must be lucky then. Having been graced with the presence of an empress” the tone is accented by a slight giggle. One that she mirrors with a true smile, one not marred by fakeness or lies, just genuine.

“It’s…it’s good to see you again”

“It’s good to see you too Hancock”

You open your arms, and she reaches forwards to warp you in her own.

Her hug is stiff at first, as if she had not felt the comfort of arms holding her in a very long time and still trying to uphold her mask of stone cold empress. But much like her mask, it cracks and breaks.

What once was stiff arms much like when she petrified people circled around you soon melts.

She pulls you closer, resting her head atop your shoulder as she just holds you and you hold her.

The floral scent of the Amazon lily creates a pleasant smell that wafts within the tent. Roses, peonies, lilacs and of course Lillie’s tickle your nose. It’s much different from your scent of sea salt and dust covered books.

It takes a moment but you quickly begin to hear soft sobs leave her. Tears trailing down and making your shoulder dampen.

You don’t mind.

You just pat her head as gently as you can.

Once more Boa Hancock does not feel like a heartless warlord nor a scared little girl huddled in a cell.

Boa was just Boa.

She was more than the beauty, the power or the brand on her back.

She was more than just her body.

And that’s more priceless than anything she could ever imagine.

“Thank you” her voice is quiet and gentle, something few people would ever have the luxury of hearing.

“No need to thank me Boa.”

To her, your hug signifies a genuine love. One not of romance that clouds the eyes of her fanatic nor of lust that clouds the eyes of men. Your love was Just the love of a friend.

The love of the person behind her facade.

You see her gentle heart and hold it with equal gentle hands.

“You can always turn to me if you need it, can always use my shoulder to cry on. It doesn’t make you weak, it only makes you stronger”

Mihawk Dracule

His appearance at the booth is as cryptic and abrupt just as his appearance of his boat on the sea is.

It’s abrupt.

Expected.

And to everyone but you (and maybe Zoro) it’s an unpleasant surprise.

One that should be bound for bloodshed yet creates a certain tinge of happiness as he closes the curtains behind him and sits down on the small chair facing you.

Yoru being leant against the chair.

A small and subtle sign that he feels at ease with you.

…or at least didn’t see you as a threat. (It was hard to tell with him)

“It’s good to see you again Mihawk, how has the traveling been?” You say this while leaning against your palm that rested on the stand.

Golden ringed eyes stare at you, for a moment you can distinguish a crinkle of affection.

“They’ve been monotonous as usual. Overzealous fools who think they can challenge me”

“An, so like zoro?”

He chuckles at that, distantly outside the tent you hear a distinct “Oi!” Before the sounds of Sanji kicking him. Their bickering fades into the background as Nami presumably dragged them away.

Mihawk leans over, and suddenly you're enveloped in his arms. It’s perhaps a bit unexpected, though with Mihawk things were always a gamble. You half anticipated for him to leave without a hug, but seeing that he hadn’t made you all the more happier.

Mihawk's hug feels secure and protective, as if he were a shield to the rest of the world and its hardships.

Hands that have seen endless fighting and held the hilt of blood a rusted sword hold you.

His hold is not gentle but it is perhaps the softest Mihawk could ever be.

And that’s ok.

Because in his hold it feels as if you're safe.

That he would take on the world to ensure that even when you’d left his arms you’d never have to worry.

And while that’s a far off dream, knowing Mihawk he’d try.

And that’s perhaps the most comforting thought behind it all.

Mihawk would try for you if you’d ask.

If you’d ask, you could have stayed at his abode.

If you’d asked he would do all that he could to ensure you’d never have to die and reappear again.

But he’d only do that if you’d ask.

He didn’t make that decision for you.

Didn’t decide that his judgment was better than yours and impede on your ability to make decisions.

He might have disagreed with some of your decisions but he respected you to make them.

And even more so, he respected you even if he was wrong.

He would never admit to it, but in those few moments you’d proven him wrong a certain pride shone in eagle eyes.

A certain uplift of the corner of his mouth.

“The humandrills miss you…I have a room open if you’d ever require it” it’s said quietly, like a secret exchanged beneath candlelight. It’s a valuable moment, it reminds you of that thing that zoro had said.

“A wound on the back is a swordsman’s shame”

Vulnerability was not something easily handed out by swordsmen, especially not one like Mihawk. A weakness, a so-called wound on his back or in this case his heart. It’s not something to be taken lightly. But luckily you know this well.

“I’d like that”

His mouth twitches, sloping upwards ever so slightly.

To him the hug you give is a moment where he can momentarily be at ease and feel as if he had a goal to accomplish.

Throughout aimless travel he tries to find his match yet all that come to him are disappointments. Battle after battle of people not being able to even land a single blow on him. It’s a constant that leaves him bitter and resigned as he’d toll away in his castle alone.

But with you in arms that carry the burden of being the best he finds himself with a mission that seems ever so slightly more achievable.

He could protect you as best he could.

Though that is an equally daunting task considering your penchant for death, it feels more feasible so long as you remain in his hold.

Small arms that are wrapped around his neck mean no harm.

He has no use in being on edge, not when you’d barely had the will to ever pick up a blade. Even when your life depended on it.

For a short moment the bloodthirsty marine hunter feels at ease.

You do not see him smile but you can feel the warmth he exudes when his hand cards through your hair.

Marco

The cries of “cheater!” And “we agreed that everyone else would get a head start!” Ring out from the very familiar voices of whitebeard’s division commanders outside the tent as an even more familiar voice yells out to them “early bird gets the worm” with an amused chuckle.

And it’s there that the small tent is lit up by flames of cyan blue and brilliant gold. Still in his partial zoan form his clawed feet press against the ground as tail feathers of gold trail behind him like a burning chain.

Flames flicker in a calm heat, letting small pops of sparks almost as if they were mini-fireworks.

A lazy smile is across his face as he sits leisurely across from you.

“Long time no see Marco, how’s the family?”

He chuckles, pointing his thumb to the now closed curtain door as the slightly muffled sounds of complaints just outside answer the question. “Licking their wounds but for the most part good.” There’s an audible “hey!” Once more behind the curtain which makes you chuckle in turn. But eventually the chuckles settle down into silence.

And for a moment besides the murmurs outside there’s a warm silence punctuated by the soft crackles of flame.

Warm blue and soft gold.

Flames that are simultaneously soft as feathers as they wrap around you. Cocooning you in their warm nest of a grasp, like a mother bird swaddling an egg. You could go on and on with the bird analogies, but none could ever describe the sense of comforting warmth that covers your heart in its inferno.

“We’ve all missed you”

The fire burns like a campfire on your heart. The soft oozy scent and taste of s’mores as the muffled laughs of friends and family. The sweetness of chocolate, slightly charred marshmallow and crumbly graham-cracker seem to appear like phantoms on your tongue.

“Pops checks the bounties for you”

A father’s warm hand places itself on your shoulder as the two of you sit by the fireplace. The fireplace sets the blaze on your heart to that of a warmer intensity. Frost presses against the nearby window and nearby boots, hats and mittens let snow melt into them. The chill of winter easing away at the warmth of home and the presence of a man who swore to love and protect you.

“Izou has been arranging for some old spare kimonos of his to be given to you”

A mothers warm hands cup your cheeks as a tender kiss is placed atop your forehead, red phantom lipstick staining your flesh as its kindness traveled to your burning heart. A light giggle echoes from rose lips, a giggle escaping your own as tears pinch at the edges of your eyes at her goodbye.

“Ace, Thatch, and I have been keeping track of your guys’s adventures”

The hearth of your heart feels the burn of the sun clench around it like a firm hug. Beneath a sun hat you pick at a freshly tended garden, soil pooling beneath your hands as you pat it down firmly. Roots tangle beneath the ground, red strawberries hanging low and ripe for the picking as they are placed in a wicker basket. brother places a glass on the ground beside you, cool lemonade fresh on your patched tongue and the bittersweet of it lingering as his blurred face is obscured by the shadow of his own hat.

Love burns you to the core. It’s heat scorching a heart that should be dead and reigniting its will to keep moving.

You melt into the cool flames of blue and gold.

Your tears don’t put it out but instead makes it wrap more securely around you.