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short-honey-badger · 1 year ago

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Peppermint Tea 12

Hey guys! Sorry it's been a bit since the last post! I ended up with a bad case of strept throat and I'm just now feeling up to do my stuff. Anyway. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings! None I don't think? Some drinking. Mihawk gets a little dark. A little gaslighty. It's all for your own good tho! Next part? It's finally Smut time!

I forgot to say! The song that they dance to HERE

Begin Again is HERE

Masterlist

Breakfast is already done by the time Dracule finally decides that he is done, not hiding per se, but procrastinating. You greet him with a blinding smile, and his thoughts flash back to the portrait of a younger you. He shoves the image away and brings you in for a quick kiss before he sidesteps you and an excited Hank for the stove. He plies his plate and joins you at the table.

“I brought you another gift, dear one,” Dracule begins and you roll your eyes at him. He huffs and sips his tea before continuing, “Don’t pout. I think you’ll enjoy this one.”

“I enjoy all of your gifts, Mihawk,” You point out gently and toss Hank a piece of grilled fish, “But I’ll need to start getting rid of some stuff if you keep bringing me such nice things.”

Dracule casts his eyes around your humble home. While there wasn’t anything wrong with the things you have drug up from the shore from shipwrecks, It was far less than what you deserved. Especially since he knew about your past.

“Not everything is meant to be kept forever, Darling,” Dracule says right back, and you sigh but nod. The older man does have a point. Out with the old and in with the new, and all that. You catch the smug twist of his lips at your concession and roll your eyes. He was such a priss.

“Finish your breakfast, and then I’ll bring it in,” Mihawk orders gently after a moment and stands to place a kiss on your brow. He leaves with a lingering look your way that has your cheeks pinking up.

Down at his ship, Mihawk hefts two large crates with ease and carries them back up the beach and to the cottage. One is filled with a variety of fruit and vegetables that you did not have, and Dracule hoped that the more exotic ones would take to the soil of your island. The other crate held the real gift to you, one that he was far more excited to share.

The dishes have been cleared by the time he makes it back to your home. Mihawk leaves the crate of seeds and sprouts outside for you to investigate later. Hank is lounging in the sun, and Mihawk rolls his eyes at the big lug as he trudges back inside. You have made them fresh cups of tea, and Dracule gladly takes his with a quiet thanks after setting the crate aside.

“You'll need a clear space for this one, Darling.” Mihawk points out, and you escape to the living room to clear off part of one of your many bookshelves that line the walls. He follows after you and sets the crate on the floor, then kneels to flip open the lid of the box. You peer inside, brow furrowing at whatever was inside.

“This is a gramophone. It's an older model, so you'll have to crank it here for it to power itself.” Dracule lifts the record player and sets it on the spot you've cleared for him. He dusts it off and then dives back down to retrieve a large metal horn that he attaches to the back of the box. While he is screwing the horn in, you crouch and look through the crate, carefully pulling out several very thin square objects with art on the front.

“What are these for?” You ask and hand them over to Mihawk when he reaches for them. He opens the square and pulls out a shiny black disk that he sits in the middle of the gramophone. You watch in growing fascination as the vinyl begins to spin and jump out of your skin when noise blurts out from the horn.

The static mellows out, and soon your cottage is filled with the delicate notes of classic music and the sound of a man and a woman singing in beautiful harmony. It's in a language that you don't know, but it isn't any less beautiful. You step closer to the machine, awe on your face. You've never heard something so beautiful before, and you close your eyes to better lose yourself in the changing notes.

Mihawk watches you, eyes softening as he takes you in. You sway side to side, your long hair dancing around your waist, completely entranced in the classical tune. He steps behind you, hands settling on your waist as he gently leads you away from the bookshelf and to the middle of the living room. He sways with you, keeping to the slow beat of the song.

One of Dracule's hands finds your own, and he twines your fingers together with a hum, bringing it up and around to wrap around his neck. His other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you flush against his front, “This is one of my favorite pieces. It's a recount of a young man and his affection for his first love.”

You shiver when he speaks, his tone sinful and dripping with intent. You wonder if he is trying to tell you something in his usual, difficult, roundabout way. Did he love you? You were pretty sure that you loved him.

Mihawk holds you close, and as you close your eyes, it is him you hear, humming quietly in your ear. You cock your head up and bring his head down, kissing him as best you can in the odd angle. He twists you around not a second later, untangling his hand from yours so that Dracule can slip it into your hair and hold you just the way he wants as he kisses you senseless. The song comes to an end just as he is pulling you away, leaving you staring up at Mihawk like he was your everything.

Dracule gently untangled his hand from your hair to smooth his knuckles across your cheek, then shifted down to rub his thumb along your bottom lip.

“Would you like to listen to more?” Mihawk asks softly and breaks whatever tension that had built around the two of you.

You nod, an eager smile breaking across your lips, “Yes, please. I didn't understand what they said, but it was beautiful.”

“Not many would, Latin is a dead language to many,” Dracule informs you helpfully and then crouches to investigate the rest of the records inside the crate, “I made sure to bring you a variety of genres.”

You thank his kindness with a kiss on his cheek and giggle when the stoic man looks inordinately proud of himself. He flicks your forehead when you go in for another, “You've made your point.”

You pout at him briefly before you become distracted by the records again. You choose one at random and hand it to Mihawk, and then rise so that you can watch how he changes the disks.

For the next two days, the two of you went through the music that Dracule had brought for you. While you enjoyed the classical music that the warlord favored, you found that the more upbeat jazz genre was more your style. Dracule would smile to himself whenever he caught you humming one of your favorites and pat himself on the back for doing such a good job on his gift.

On the third day, the weather turned for the worse, casting your usual tropical and nice weather under dark clouds and raging winds. Rain pelted the island while you and Mihawk took shelter inside, Hank lay in front of the fireplace, drying his wet fur from his run inside. You sat curled up in the corner of the couch, a small glass of wine held in your hand. Mihawk had assured you that just a small bit would not hurt and would help to warm you up.

Dracule sat in the armchair across from you, feet kicked up as he sipped from his own glass and paged through one of your waterlogged books. Vera Keys crooned in the back, a song about starting all over to begin again. You hum along to the sad song, frowning a bit at the words.

Could you ever do that? Let go of your life here? Begin again somewhere else? The thought sent fear shooting down your spine, a voice echoing in the back of your mind that you could never leave this island.

Dracule glances over to see you frowning and can tell that you have delved into your thoughts. He wonders how much of your past that you recall, but he doesn't dare ask, would hate himself for bringing you any unnecessary pain. There was no need for you to know right now, not when it kept you safe.

“Something wrong, Angel?” Dracule rumbles and sets his book away to focus on you. He stands and steps over Hank to sit beside you on the couch.

Your lips screw up even more, and you debate on telling Dracule your thoughts. You'd already spilled enough on him the other morning about your dreams.

“I just…wish that I could leave sometimes,” you admit quietly and sit your glass aside. Your hands pick at themselves, a nervous habit over the years, “But everything I think about it, there is this voice telling me how I shouldn't. How it isn't safe.”

Dracule is silent beside you. Panic had shot through him for half a second when you mentioned wanting to leave. He could understand why. You've been trapped here all your life, but the thought of Big Mom somehow finding out about you? That was unacceptable. You needed to be kept safe, and Dracule would be the one to take up that role.

“While I understand your desire to leave, to explore the world,” Mihawk begins softly and draws you close to him, manhandling you a little so that you sit on his lap, legs on either side of his own, “I would listen to that voice. The world is vast, and there are people out there that would destroy everything that makes you, you.”

You find yourself nodding along. Dracule sounds so serious, and you wish he would tell you what had wronged him in the world for him to feel this way. For him to want you to stay here.

“What kind of people?” You ask, and Dracule frowns harshly, looming far more frightening than you have seen him since the first time he stepped foot on your island. You aren't sure if his answer brings you comfort or not.

“People like me, Darling. Pirates who take what they want when they want. I'm where I am for a reason, and I want to keep you away from anyone else who might wish you harm.”

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