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paingoes · 5 months ago

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Rubies - Trial II

hiiii. i have such a headache omg. help meeeee

(Content: living weapon whumpee, past child abuse, conditioning, dehumanization, electrocution, physical abuse, verbal abuse, bruises, broken bones, institutionalized child abuse, institutionalized slavery, (internalized) victim blaming, self hatred, retraumatization, whump aftermath)

He had still felt the chill of the ocean when they had first brought him back to base. They’d had to recast his arm for the final time. They’d spotted the broken ribs that had barely had time to heal, not helped at all with the impact he’d made into the water. The fever dreams crept all around the corners of his eyes.

After Levon had left, the nurses had made a request of him.

He did not have to stand for it, luckily. He sat up on the bed and let them undo the jacket, folding it back against his waist to reveal his bare torso.

He was so covered in bruises then that it almost looked natural on him.

The marks themselves were not the shape of anything in nature, though. Not unless you counted the handprints. Instead, they showed the imprints of rulers and rings. Whip marks. Chains.

They really tried to be respectful as they aimed the camera at him.

Two and a half months later, in the new and sterile room, all the bruises had faded. It was the longest he’d ever gone without them. There was still a tenderness in his ribs, but it felt more like a phantom pain than anything real. The cast had finally come off of his wrist — and he appreciated the new dexterity it afforded him.

He sat on the white floor and watched Kitty hesitate for a long while with her rook.

He was not allowed outside of his room, but he could have her inside of it. He’d had Apollo there too, but from what he understood, the medic had immediately been thrown back into clinical rotations. Kitty’s role in IT afforded her much more free time. She’d spent most of her absence working too, so there was no real change in their schedule.

She put the rook down indecisively, but seemed to tire of the game. She glanced back at the door, furrowing her eyebrows at the lock placed upon it. She folded her fingers up beneath her chin.

“This whole thing is a waste of time.”

The anger in her voice caught him off guard.

“I’m sorry,” he said, drawing his hand closer into his lap.

She looked up in surprise, a bit of guilt seeping into her expression.

“I’m not mad at you,” she clarified, “You didn’t do anything wrong. That’s the thing. Levon knows you’re innocent. You shouldn’t have to go through all this.”

He didn’t really feel like he had been through anything, but he didn’t argue with her. He processed the words slowly, trying to work around the irritation in them. It still made him antsy.

“Hey,” she spoke gently, trying to draw his attention back, “I’m not mad at you. You’re not in trouble.”

“Okay,” he conceded, “Sorry.”

He moved his bishop to put her in check. She sacrificed the knight in the king’s stead. Before he could capture it, a voice sounded through the buzzer, directly on the other side of the door.

“Maryam Pike. Can I come in?” It crackled through the static.

Kitty gave Delta a concerned look. He blinked, unsure what she was waiting for.

“Do you want her to? You don’t have to let her into your space,” Kitty said.

He shrugged. She was just doing her job. There was nothing he could really do to avoid questioning, anyway.

Kitty stood up from her spot on the floor, stalking over to the entryway. She opened it up.

“Does it have to be here?” She asked Maryam, “It’s his room.”

The older woman shrugged just the same.

“His choice. I have the office too, if you want to take the hike.” She glanced over Kitty’s shoulder, addressing Delta. “You want to get out for a little bit?”

He did, actually.

They were back around the table. Apollo was absent this time, but everyone from the council was still in attendance. Levon leaned against the back wall casually, sorting through the folder he’d been given. His expression was unreadable.

They knew how impossible it was to get Delta to speak in front of people. He had his gaze all the way down even as he sat at the table. It was too difficult to try and have him give testimony. They’d had to resort to other ways.

Maryam slid the cassette player into the center of the table. She looked at Delta, giving him a final chance to amend it. He had nothing to add.

He still cringed to hear his own voice play over the tape.

[

Q: What is your earliest memory?

A: …I was playing with a baby pool, filled up with all these little fish. The staff were asking me if I could move them around, but without using my hands. It took hours, but eventually I could focus enough to push them around just by thinking about it. I made them swim upside down.

Q: Where did this take place?

A: One of the lower levels of the Institute. It was one of their wet labs.

Q: What were your parents like?

A: I never knew my parents, ma’am.

Q: How did you feel about other children your age?

A: …Indifferent.

Q: What is the primary emotion you associate with your childhood?

A: …I don’t know, ma’am.

Q: What were the rules at the institute you grew up in?

A: No running. No fighting. No talking back. Be respectful when addressing a superior. Wait for explicit permission before using your powers. Take your medicine as prescribed.

Q: When you were a child, did you ever make any attempt to escape or to disobey your handlers?

A: Never to escape. And I never, um. Never intentionally disobeyed. But by accident sometimes, yeah.

Q: By accident? What did you do?

A: …I was getting fussy one day after drills. There are these kind of growing pains you get if you move up a new level — and I was getting them really badly that day, and I guess I was lashing out too much. I wasn’t really listening.

Q: And what happened?

A: Got some warning shocks. When that didn’t work, they. Um. Increased the voltage until I was ready to listen.

Q: To clarify, are you saying they electrocuted you?

A: Yes, ma’am.

Q: Did this happen with any frequency?

A: Not to me.

Q: Not to you? What does that mean?

A: Not to me, ma’am. It happened to the other students a lot more. I didn’t need as much correction, ma’am.

Q: And you witnessed this “correction” personally?

A: Yes, ma’am.

Q: How frequently did this happen?

A: In the first years, it was multiple times a day. It didn’t happen as often later on. A lot of the problem students had already been eliminated from the program at that point.

Q: I see. And you never once attempted escape?

A: No, ma’am.

Q: Why not?

Q: What was that?

A: I didn’t have anywhere else to go.

]

The tape clicked off. Delta folded his hands in his lap.

“We also have testimony from other alumni of the Beldam Institute,” Maryam declared, though Delta disagreed. You couldn’t be an alumnus if you didn’t actually graduate. She’d gotten testimony from the drop-outs. It’d been edited into a neat and digestible format, though to him it seemed a bit hokey.

Levon pulled it up onto the projector, his expression still unreadable.

The woman in the video was in her mid-20s, which meant she hadn’t been there from inception, and that she hadn’t stayed long. She said as much in the video. She was a kind of lightworker - lasers, burns, flash bombs. She’d been transferred to the Institute out of foster care.

“-would’ve been unethical to have adults working those hours. 16 hour days — and there were younger kids there than I was, ones that needed like ten hours of sleep, and they never got it. I don’t think I had a single moment of free time while I was there. The amount of-“

“-and of course they hit the kids. Where I went, at every house I’d been to, they hit the kids. That was nothing new to me. But they had the kids hurting each other. And these were untrained psychics who were still learning to use their powers, they didn’t know their own strength. And they were learning to use it on whoever was lower in the hierarchy than they were. Some of them would get messed up bad. One time-“

“-said pack your shit, get out. I didn’t have any more value to them anymore. I had been fucking gifted. And they just burnt me out like I was nothing. Glad they did, though. The only way kids ever left that school was burnt out or in a body bag. I still haven’t-“

There was no footage of the Institute. No cameras had been allowed inside except by licensed professionals. What they did have were the scans of the old photo books. Delta recognized the backgrounds so clearly, even though it’d been years since he had stepped inside. He felt only some dull recognition for the children in the photos — there’d been too many to keep track of. He’d never cared for them much anyway.

He felt the air in the room stiffen as the pictures got progressively gorier. Training accidents. Wrong dosages. The stripes they’d whipped into the backs of the worst kids. He wondered how much of his survival had been pure luck. He hadn’t known just how mismanaged it’d been at the time. Though he did have inklings.

“It’s clear the defendant was raised in an environment in which his every move was controlled under threat of severe physical punishment or death. His surroundings instilled a sense of learned helplessness within him. From an earlier age, he has been made to feel he has no option but to obey. Due to that conditioning, we can reasonably say that any exhibit of his powers has been under duress. It’s absurd that he should be held legally or morally responsible for his actions.” Maryam had a practiced cadence, especially on such short notice. She looked at nobody and nothing in particular when she did it. Levon watched her like a hawk.

She took a deep breath.

“There’s evidence this coercion continued beyond Beldam Institute.”

She switched between files on the computer. A new screen filled the projector.

“Hold,” Levon held a hand up, “Delta, you don’t have to be here for this. You can take recess.”

She couldn’t get him to talk about Paris. It’d been a no-go. His chest tightened up whenever he tried. The questions made him dizzy.

She had other ways, though. She was surprised she’d managed to dig them up. There’d been so few photos or videos of Paris anywhere. By now, the videos of his time on-the-run far outnumbered any from his reign. He couldn’t imagine how much effort it must have taken her to find this one.

He shook his head. He didn’t see any reason to, did not want any reputation for sensitivity. Keyglades didn’t even stand out as one of the bad ones, anyway.

“I’m okay, sir,” he said softly.

The video began to play.

It had sound.

Paris’s voice cut through the white noise. It was distant, grainy with analog. Still, Delta felt his ears perk up, immediately rapt. Unable to pry his attention away even if he had tried.

He could pick up on the irritation from the first syllable. The tape showed surveillance footage a hallway within Keyglades’ city hall. It led away from the main conference area and twisted up into the further reaches of the government building. Delta had been pretty sure at the time it was restricted territory, that they shouldn’t have even went that far.

Paris’s speech had risen to the rapid-fire pace it always took when he was pissed. Delta swore he worked himself up just for sport sometimes. Paris didn’t want a solution, he just wanted to be mad. He should’ve known better than to interrupt.

On the tape, Delta’s voice was low enough that the exact words were indistinct. But the sound of the ringed hand coming down hard against his face had been picked up in crisp resolution.

“You think I don’t fucking know that?!”

It had caught him off-guard. It seemed to catch the others in the room off-guard now, some of them visibly flinching at the abruptness. In the tape, he had reeled, though he did not have long to do so. Paris’s hand caught on the loose fabric of his shirt collar and slammed him into the wall. His grip moved upwards, onto his neck. Tight and uncomfortable, but not actually choking. Just meant to hold him there. Make sure he couldn’t avoid it.

“It’s not about the fucking tax, it’s about the principle. That’s all it ever is with these people. Can you stop acting like you know better than me? There’s a reason nobody fucking asks you. Who the fuck even gave you permission to speak?”

Delta frowned, looking down as if he was getting scolded in that same instant. It had the same effect. He tucked his legs further beneath the chair, shielding them. In the tape, Paris pushed him to the floor — not a hard thing to do — and stomped down on his wrist. It was too mild for him to really consider a beating, but some blood had dripped from his mouth while he was on the floor, which is probably why she’d chosen it.

Maryam cleared her throat.

“Would you say there was anything exceptional about this event?”

It took him too long to realize the question was directed at him. He knew they were all looking at him, but he couldn’t bring himself to look up from the floor.

“No, ma’am.” His hands balled up in his lap.

“And was this an atypical occurrence?”

“No, ma’am.”

“How often would you say you experienced this level of violence?”

That level, specifically? That much was hard to quantify. It depended on how quickly operations were moving, how much the plan was working, how badly he’d fucked up. He’d like to say he had a good track record when it came to his powers. He aimed to please. The worst of it came when he didn’t. He would have answered monthly if he’d been asked how frequently he was actually beaten. Those were the standout ones, the ones that left him sore for days afterward, the ones he most thought of as deserved. Well, justified. He deserved all of it.

But the tape hadn’t shown a severe beating. That kind of pettiness came much more frequently. Weekly, he guessed. Biweekly if things were going well. The other kind of biweekly if things were going poorly. If he counted the smaller things — the shoving, the hair-pulling, the grabbing — he would have said almost daily. But he didn’t count those.

“Weekly, ma’am.” He didn’t let his uncertainty show in his voice. He couldn’t pose it as a question; it wasn’t something they could answer. Weekly was a good enough approximation.

He saw Kitty’s eyes narrow dangerously. Her claws carved lines into the woods of the chair from gripping it so hard.

“This caused significant injury, as evidenced by the condition he was in when he first came to Galatea.”

The screen clicked abruptly to the photographs the nurse has taken just before she’d cast his arm. There were several of them, taken from different perspectives. The broken angle his wrist was held at. The thick, dark bruise against his ribs where they’d been kicked in. There was a whole litany of other bruises along his arms and neck. Handprints, implements. Nobody could argue they were obtained in combat. None of the photographs showed his face.

It was his first time seeing the full mosaic. He’d avoided the mirror whenever he could while it was happening. He remembered how badly he did not want Simon to see them, to have the proof of his failures be written out so clearly on his body. It felt a million times worse for Levon to see him like that. He wanted to apologize. He’d promise to do better, if he was allowed to. His lip bled from how hard he was biting into it.

The bruises were bad. Each of his separate ideologies burned in his brain, building and fighting each other. He’d failed. He’d earned it. Paris was fucking crazy. He’d never be able to please him. He’d deserved it. He was supposed to be better than this. He deserved worse.

Kitty’s hand brushed against his. He flinched, but forced himself not to withdraw it. Too well trained to pull away. She seemed to pick up on this as she drew her own hand back.

“Where are you?” she whispered. He couldn’t answer.

When he looked up again, Levon was staring straight at him, not at the bruises on the screen. As soon as they made eye contact, Levon looked inconspicuously to his watch.

“Think we’re gonna call it for today,” he announced.

He’d expected to return straight back to his room afterwards, but nobody escorted him. Kitty led him through the airy hallways instead. This section of the building was made mostly of glass and white tile.

“I swear this is their best kept secret,” she said as she pushed open the outer doors.

They entered into the bio-pond. The algae green ambiance contrasted sharply with the tidiness of Galatea’s interior. Despite her claim, a few other people drifted around the edges, absorbed in their own work. They didn’t pay the pair of them any mind.

It was the first time he had stepped outside all week. The damp air was suddenly much easier for him to breathe. She sat him down by the edge of the pond. A row of turtles sat on a log in the center of the water. The grass was soft, slightly damp. It felt cool against his palms.

Kitty leaned forward over the water, pointing out the fish that lived inside of it. He saw her claws poke out like she wanted to snatch them straight from the water, but she held herself back.

He didn’t speak. Subconsciously, he tried to shield his arms, covering up the bruises from her sight. Of course, they weren’t there anymore. And when they had been, she’d seen them already.

He didn’t know how long they stayed there, but he saw the sky slowly fading to purple by the end of it. The mosquitos were starting to bite.

“Why don’t you hit me?” He’d asked when he finally had to return to his room. She went in with him, just for a little while, until she had to go back to her own. His head had drooped a little when he asked in, in its exhausted state.

“Whyyy would I hit you?” She asked instead, hooking one finger around his. This time, he didn’t flinch, felt no urge to withdraw it.

Because he was difficult, more needy than he’d been in years. Because he was evil, because he deserved it. Because she could. Because everyone else always had.

He shrugged.

“Never,” she promised. She brought his hand up to her lips, kissing it gently.

His chest ached.

~~~

tags:

@catnykit @snakebites-and-ink @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump

@pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckass1000 @fuckcapitalismasshole @defire

@micechomper @writereleaserepeat @aloafofbreadwithanxiety @floral-comet-whump @littlebookworm69

@lordcatwich @human-123-person @paperprinxe @whomeidontknowthem @chiswhumpcorner

@bacillusinfection @dietofwormsofficial @ichortwine @whump-queen @lumpywhump

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delayedstrawberry · 4 months ago

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Mihawks' Echos Of Regret

Summary: 25 year old Dracule Mihawk and you broke up two months ago, and since then you’ve kept out of each other's way. That’s until Mihawk goes to a party and sees you cozying up with a man he doesn’t know, not that it would matter if he knew him or not. So to deal with the situation he drinks a little too much and lets his emotional possessive feelings take over, even though the breakup was his fault.

Fandom: One Piece

Relationships: Mihawk x Female Reader

Characters: Dracule Mihawk, Female Reader, Shanks, Trafalgar Law, Boa Hancock and Nico Robin

Chapters: 3/3

Warnings: Physical/verbal abuse, anxiety and heavy alcahol usage

Notes: Hello♡ Just to clarify things before you read, this AU is set 20 years in the past where everyone who’s old/older in the current One Piece is now younger. So Mihawk is 24, Crocodile is 26 and Doflamingo is 21 etc etc. Although there are a few characters I have changed entirely to fit the story, like Robin is 23 and Law is 25. I made Mihawk super possessive and angsty in this, so I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1:

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩Mihawks Possesive Grip˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

Dracule Mihawk had been dreadful for the last 6 months of your relationship, it felt like those 4 years together just went down the drain without any explanation. He had suddenly stopped giving you attention, there was no more communication, no kisses or hugs, he barely talked to you anymore, he frequently became angry for no real reason and cuddles were non-existent. The main problem was that he’d be out working longer and more often, so you’d end up spending hours upon hours at home alone, while he was out hunting marines. It was like a switch had flipped inside of him and you had no idea why. He used to be this sweet, caring and loving boyfriend, then he became this heartless jerk. For months you had begged Mihawk to tell you what’s wrong, cried for hours at his feet to at least hold your hand, but he’d always brush you off. So…one night when he had come home from work, you told him you’re leaving. All hell broke loose once you uttered those words. And for the next few hours there was yelling, screaming, tears and hateful insults thrown around like spit fire. You could see how angry he was through your own heavy tears and blurry vision, especially when he ended up demanding that you don’t leave. But it was too late, the damage was done, you had endured too much pain. As you left the house you once shared, he yelled at you at the top of his lungs, but you could barely hear him over your own grieving sobs. It was the ugliest and messiest breakup of your life, that’s for sure.

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

It’s a dark night in a town located within the Grand Line, the only things heard are the footsteps of Shanks, Mihawk and the party down the road. The moon casts a dim light on them as they walk towards the chaos, illuminating the damp pathway ahead of them. Shanks seems to be in a pretty chipper mood tonight, thinking about all the different women he’ll get to meet and “hangout” with. Mihawk on the other hand, is in quite the emotional state, his mind is occupied with one thing only…you. His footsteps are heavy and slow, a hint of distress hidden within his blank expression. He feels a lot of anger, but at this point he’s not sure who at.

“Lighten up Hawkeyes, it's gonna be fun!” Shanks swings his arm around Mihawk’s shoulder, squeezing his bicep. “You don’t have to be so grumpy.”

Mihawk just grunts quietly, not feeling in the mood for a party or Shanks’s enthusiasm. “I still fail to see why you insisted I join you.” He speaks in his usual dry annoyed tone.

Shanks grins, releasing Mihawk from his grip and stuffing his hands into his pockets. “You need to do something other than work, and you never know…maybe you’ll have a great time.”

“You just need a babysitter once you get too drunk, that’ll really be a great time.” Mihawk sighs, giving Shanks a sidelong glare.

“Aww come on, your pal Crocodile will be there.” Shanks muses, the sound of music and people laughing getting louder and louder the closer they get.

“I don’t like his presence.” Mihawk responds flatley, his eyes wandering to the house parties' front lawn, where some people have already passed out.

Shanks gives Mihawk a punch in the arm and laughs. “You’ll be fine, at least promise me to have a few drinks, for relaxation purposes.”

Mihawk grunts again. “Fine.”

Shanks pats him on the back with a lot of force, making Mihawk groan in annoyance. “That’s a good Hawky.”

As they finally reach the house, the boys start walking up the driveway towards the front entrance, passing by some people on the way up. Mihawk starts feeling a little paranoid, thinking everyones eyes are on him. It’s really freaking him out, since he’d rather not be on anyone's radar right now.

They start strolling up the polished steps to the door, Shanks practically skipping up them. On the other hand, Mihawk reluctantly walks up the stairs, taking one step at a time, trying to drag out this moment for as long as possible.

“Stop hitting me, it’s irritating. And don’t call me Hawky.” Mihawk grumbles, his hand massaging where Shanks had struck him.

Shanks just grins and eagerly pushes the door open. The first thing that hits is the sound of laughter, loud thumping music and talking all mixed together like some sort of hell, at least according to Mihawk. There have got to be at least hundreds of alcohol bottles scattered around the place, and the coloured lighting is so damn bright, it bounces off the walls like someone on crack. And as they step inside, the house seems to expand, revealing a labyrinth of different rooms filled with drunk young adults. Every room seems to have a purpose for the night, each with its own unique vibe. One room has people playing pool, another dedicated to dancing, a few spaces for chilling out and the backyard is lined with tables which harbor mountains of food. Shanks spots the host, this girl named Boa Hancock, and he casually brings up his hand to say hi.

After taking this all in, Mihawk takes a step back, this is all so overwhelming…too overwhelming. He knew he shouldn't have come, he hates parties, noise and mayhem being his worst nightmare. But before he knows it, Shanks is guiding him through the pool of people, heading towards the alcohol at the back of the room.

As they reach the alcohol table, Shanks picks up a bottle of Vodka to inspect, while Mihawk tries to keep calm as he looks around.

After a few moments, Shanks hands him half a cup of booze, a smirk on his face. “Here, drink.” Mihawk looks down at the cup and sighs, knowing he can’t turn back now, and downs the whole thing in one gulp.

Shanks chuckles, pouring himself some alcohol, filling it to the brim before chugging it all down and filling it up again.

Mihawk looks at him, his eyes narrowing. “Careful, Redhair.”

He grins, downing the liquid whilst looking at Mihawk with a smug look. After swallowing, he fills his cup once more. “You think too much.”

“You hold your liquor like a leaf holds water.” Mihawk sighs, putting his cup down on the table and crossing his arms.

Shanks laughs, bringing the cup up to his lips again. “I handle my liquor just fine!”

“Do you want me to remind you of last time?” Mihawk glares at him.

“No no, let’s not bring that up. My stomachs stronger now, I promise.” Shanks smiles, looking over his cup, while Mihawk just rolls his eyes.

As they stand there for a moment, taking in the electric atmosphere, a few girls at the other side of the room seem to be looking Shanks over. They’re giggling lightly between themselves and sharing looks. His face switches to more of a thoughtful expression as he notices them, his eyes wandering over their frames, a hum leaving his lips. “Alright, Hawky. I’ll talk to you later.” Then without another word, he pats Mihawk on the shoulder and starts to walk off towards the women.

Mihawk sighs, his attention going to the rest of the room, his mind wandering slightly. Why does Shanks have to think with his dick all the time? Can’t he relax for once, maybe hangout with the person he dragged along…Mihawk shakes his head, pushing the thought away. It’s worthless mulling this over, it’s Redhair, he’s a lost cause at this point.

Some time passes and Mihawk finds himself standing against the wall, his eyes fixed on the floor. He doesn’t particularly have anything else to do, or anyone else to talk to, especially since Shanks walked off a while ago. He doesn’t mind having no company. The vodka doesn’t seem to be affecting him much, his thoughts still clear and legs still steady. With no buzz to take the edge off, his mind fills with thoughts of self hatred and stress. His inside turmoil is a stark difference to the moods of everyone around him. The party goers are all carefree, laughing, dancing, the atmosphere a drunken mess. Even though none of their attention is on him, he still feels as if everyones watching him, judging him. He softly sighs as he takes his hat off and puts it in front of his face, running his slender fingers through his dark hair, trying not to have a panic attack or a mental breakdown…or maybe both at the same time.

“I just need to pull myself together, it’s fine, I’m fine…” He quietly mutters to himself, a lump forming in his throat which he swallows down. He inhales deeply, trying to keep his composure together, sensing he’s on the verge of falling apart. After a few moments of calming himself down, he takes one last deep shaky breath. Putting his hat down from his face, Mihawk looks around at the party. His eyes land on Shanks who’s in a corner of a different room, heavily making out with a blonde girl, his hands running up and down her body as he squeezes different parts of her. Mihawk feels a twinge of jealousy, which is a foreign feeling, especially when it comes to Redhair. Why can’t he have it that easy? Why can’t he just…not be himself sometimes. Life would be way easier if he could be more like Shanks, maybe he could even be happier, more content. Mihawk doesn’t even understand WHY he’s feeling this way. He feels a little desperation running through him the longer he thinks about it, his eyes darting to the vodka on the table. He groans internally, knowing it may not be the best idea, but he decides to go ahead anyway.

He makes his way back over to the drinks, picking up a large cup and filling it. And he thinks it over for a moment, but only for a moment, since the next thing he feels is the burn of alcohol running down his throat and settling in his stomach. He can’t help but close his eyes, the amount of alcohol in his body feeling foreign. After getting used to the feeling, he opens his eyes again, pouring more liquid into his cup.

When he’s finished, he puts the bottle down back on the table, his hand slightly shaking. Maybe he could pick up some girls tonight, forget about you. His eyes then flicker back to Shanks, the thought growing stronger. But no, he would miserably fail, and the thought of being with another woman makes him feel sick. So instead of going ahead with his plans he decides he’ll switch rooms, a room where he can’t see Redhair, feeling his jealousy rising higher the longer he can see them.

Keeping a hold of his cup, he starts walking through the large house, getting bumped into multiple times, a growl forming in his throat.

Mihawk decided to settle into one of the dance rooms, figuring he’ll be out of the way, and blend easily in with the background despite his height. His back rests against the wall, the cup still in hand as he lazily looks over the crowd, maybe this wall will be different from the last.

For the next few minutes Mihawk stands there slowly drinking his vodka, the people in front of him not seeming to notice he’s there, which feels like a relief. Thankfully the loud hum of people and music drowns out most of his anxious thoughts, for now. He honestly just wants to get out of here, but Shanks would be on his ass for the next few weeks if he goes home early, leaving him with no choice but to endure these torturous hours.

Mihawks’ mind grows a little bored as he finishes his drink, setting his cup down on the nearby table, finally feeling a bit tipsy. The people around him are still dancing, making out, drinking…So for now he’ll just stand here counting the amount of dust particles that fly past his face. But after a few moments of counting he fixates his vision on something, someone, in the crowd. You.

His eyes widen, and it feels like the noise around him disappears. Your memories together come rushing back like a heavy wave…when you’d look at him like he was the only man on Earth, your giggles when he poked your stomach, the way your hair felt between his fingers. And you’re just as beautiful as he remembers. He feels like he’s gonna throw up, not just because of the alcohol he drank, but because you’re sitting and smiling on a couch with another man. Another man who isn’t him. He swallows, not knowing what to do as his hands bawl up into fists at his sides. He studies the man you’re talking to…black hair, tall and slim, tattoos, piercings and unfortunately very attractive. He doesn’t recognize him, at least not at first, not at this angle.

He feels anger running through his veins, how dare he talk to you, how dare he even share a smile with you! His heartbeat quickens as he keeps watching. He can see you’re comfortable with this man, your face lighting up when he whispers in your ear, playfully swatting each other's arms. Mihawk can’t look away, his face growing slightly hot from the sheer amount of possessiveness and jealousy. But after a few minutes of staring daggers into you and the man, he finally tears his gaze away. He begins to scan his surroundings, trying to find anything to distract himself with. He spots a half empty bottle of gin on an end table nearby, and without thinking he grabs it, drinking the rest. He takes a deep breath when he finishes swallowing, slamming the now empty bottle back onto the table. Mihawks’ eyes dart around the other surfaces, to see if there’s any more alcohol nearby. There isn’t. So he strides to the next room over, the kitchen, knowing that’s where he can get some more.

Mihawk finds himself frantically drinking 3 more bottles, not even taking note of what they are because he simply doesn’t care right now. The need to get the images out of his head is urgent, wanting to push his thoughts away as fast as he can. But after putting the 3rd bottle down, it just makes him feel worse. His mind begins spinning and he rests on the kitchen counter, mulling over the options he has right now.

After pondering for a while, he knows what he’ll do. There’s still a lot of full bottles around him, so he grabs a whiskey bottle and brings it with him as he walks back through the rooms.

Mihawks’ decided to keep an eye on you, hoping you won’t see him. When he gets back to the place he saw you last, you aren’t there anymore. His eyes frantically scan the other rooms, hoping you didn’t go upstairs with that dickhead. But he thankfully spots you leaning against the wall with the stranger. His blood boiling again, he moves to a spot where he can watch you. Sitting down at a table, he glares at the both of you. Mihawk doesn’t know what he’d do if you saw him right now, but he’s too drunk to really care about that.

Mihawk sits there watching you from a distance, the man's hand caressing your arm, leaning in to talk in your ear. You ignore the people dancing and drinking around as you listen. And for the life of him, he can’t figure out who that boy is! It’s driving him insane not knowing what's going on between you two, and the fact that you’re so close. It takes all of his self restraint to not get up and rip you away from him, or better yet, rip that boy to shreds.

Two blazing yellow hawkeyes are fixed on every move the two of you make, he can’t stand seeing you with someone else, but he can’t do anything about it. You’re broken up, but it’s killing him, his heart feels like it’s being passed through a blender over and over again. He takes a big gulp of whiskey, not even feeling the burn anymore.

Thankfully, right where he’s sitting, he’s got a better angle on what the boy looks like, feeling like he knows him, or knows OF him. Mihawk turns the question around in his head, looking over his features and inspecting his tattoos intently. And that’s when it clicks. He knows who you’re talking to. Trafalgar Law. There have been a few recent newspaper headings about Law, he’s this new hotshot running around the ocean, causing trouble and seemingly very talented. Mihawks’ vision goes red, tensing his jaw, he can’t believe you’re cozying up with some idiot! You’re not Laws, you’re HIS. No one should be touching you but HIM. No one should even LOOK at you! He takes a swig of the whiskey to try and calm down, and then another, and then another, and then another…until it’s all gone within a few short minutes. He growls deep within his throat when he realizes there’s no more alcohol, and the sight of Law and you together makes him angrier by the second. His mind starts going hazy from the amount of poison in his system.

Mihawk's attention is drawn to Shanks walking down the stairs, hand in hand with the blonde from earlier, making him more furious. He grunts under his breath, watching as Redhair and the girl walk into another room together, to presumably get something to drink.

But his attention doesn’t stay on them, instead his head snaps back to you and Law. Trained on every facial expression, movement, and straining his ears to try and hear what you’re saying. It’s no use, you’re too far away and the party’s too loud.

Just when he thought things couldn’t possibly get any worse, Law takes your waist and presses your bodies up against each other, a grin on his face as you giggle and begin swaying to the music together. This is the final straw for Mihawk, seeing your bodies against each other makes his jealousy turn into pure rage. He squeezes the empty whiskey bottle in his hand, the glass groaning and cracking slightly. The control he had earlier cracks along with the glass, shattering in every direction. The sight is driving him mad, Law shouldn’t have his hands anywhere near you in the first place. You’re his. HIS. Mihawks’ body tenses, he wants to pull you away from each other, but on the other hand he doesn’t want to cause a scene.

Law looks you in the eyes, and as Mihawk observes his rage only heightens. He knows what that sort of look means. And that’s it. He can’t take it anymore. The alcohol in his system is making him unpredictable and reckless.

He hastily rises up from his seat and begins walking through the crowd. As he makes his way to you, he pushes people out of the way to get to you faster, not wanting to waste anymore time.

Finally, he reaches you. “Y/n.” Mihawks’ voice comes out demanding and angry.

You jump slightly, your eyes widening as you see Mihawk standing beside you, Law raising his eyebrows. “Mihawk??” You stammer.

“We need to talk, now.” He glares at you, making you a little nervous. Law tightens his arm around you, feeling like something's off but overall very confused, and stays out of it.

“W-what??” You feel like your heart is going to combust right here, right now. You haven’t seen him since you’ve broken up, the pain of looking at his face and hearing his voice a little too much.

Mihawk gives out a low growl. “We need to talk, right now, ALONE.”

He leaves nothing for discussion, so you look up at Law apologetically before answering in a firm tone. “Fine.”

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

Before you can protest, Mihawk takes your wrist and drags you to the backyard, finding a spot behind some bushes where the two of you can’t be seen. The party is still present in the background but not as loud. You can tell he’s drunk, like you are too, his eyes look hazy and disoriented, but he was never a heavy drinker so you figure it’s not that bad.

He lets go of your wrist and faces you, a dark look in his eyes.

“What the hell is your-”

Mihawk cuts you off. “What were you doing with that guy??” He blurts out, staring daggers into you.

You feel slightly taken aback, not expecting his question. “That’s none of your business, can I go back now?”

“No. Not until we talk.” He crosses his arms, so you cross yours too.

“About what exactly?” You ask sternly, a little nervous.

Mihawk growls, making you tense up slightly. “About you…being so close with that guy! You think I’d just allow that to happen??”

“Wha…what the fuck??” You furrow your brow, feeling a little confused and annoyed.

“What do you mean ‘what the fuck’? You seriously thought I’d be okay with you doing that?” He raises his voice.

“Drac-” You stop yourself, nearly calling him by his first name. “Mihawk…we’re broken up. You don’t have a say in this.”

You can see Mihawk's brain short circuiting when his name nearly spills from your lips. “I don’t care if we’re broken up.”

“You’re deluded.” You bring your hand up to rub your temple, you can tell this is going to be a difficult conversation.

He scoffs. “I’m not deluded, he just shouldn’t touch you, simple.”

“For the last months of our relationship you didn’t put your hands on me once, so why do you suddenly care if Law does?” You say angrily, thinking that this conversation is useless.

Mihawk visibly stiffens when you say that. “God, you’re still hung up about that? Get over yourself! I had my reasons. And it doesn’t change anything, you can’t be cozying up with another man.”

“Yeah ‘I had my reasons’, that’s what you kept fucking telling me. You have no right to tell me what to do.” You spit back, feeling a dagger through your heart at his familiar harsh and dismissive words.

Mihawk steps closer, his eyes flashing angrily as he towers over you, his voice harsh. “The hell I don’t. You’re mine, y/n. Your body is mine, and so is your attention.”

You start feeling a bit panicked, but that quickly makes way for anger when it sinks in what he just said to you. “EXCUSE me? MY body is yours? MY attention is YOURS???”

“Yeah, you heard me. I put too much effort into you for some lanky nobody to take you away from me.” He responds firmly, furrowing his brows.

“But I’m not yours, Mihawk. I broke up with you and you know it. So stop pretending like I’m doing something I shouldn’t.” You start getting impatient.

This just makes him angrier. “You’ve been mine for years, some breakup isn’t gonna change that fact. I’ve claimed you.”

You’re speechless, looking at Mihawk in bewilderment.

“See, you can’t even deny it.” He glares down at you.

“Well-...what do you mean you’ve claimed me? What are you talking about??” You can’t help but want him to elaborate, but you have a feeling you won’t like the answer.

“Because I’ve fucked you.” Mihawk says firmly, his eyes not leaving yours.

Now you’re really speechless, this man has gone insane, and he looks serious about this too. It chills you, your fight or flight kicking in. You step back from him and try to walk away, but you gasp, feeling his hand wrapping around your wrist.

“No.” He says, causing a shiver to run down your spine. Mihawks’ eyes are dark and dangerous, leaving you no choice but to get pulled back to stand in front of him, the hold on your wrist unwavering.

You try to keep your composure, trying to come up with the most logical thing to say back to him, despite your mind being slightly hazy from alcohol. “Listen to me, I’m not yours, and fucking me doesn’t mean you’ve claimed me.”

“You ARE mine. No one, except for me, has the right to be so close to you.” He spits out.

“Well, maybe you should have thought of that before you pushed me away!” You respond angrily.

Mihawks’ grip on you tightens. “We’ve been through too much. I won’t allow anyone to take you away from me.”

“Too bad, this is YOUR fault. Now let me go, I want to enjoy the rest of the party in peace.” You keep your eyes firmly on his, not backing down.

“No. I…I can’t let you spend time with another man, especially not Law.” He responds, clearly not wanting to back down either.

“What’s wrong with Law, huh? Is it because he’s a better man than you’ll ever be?” You ask, the words feeling foreign and wrong.

“It’s because…he doesn’t deserve you. He’s a rookie and a fool!”

“You don’t know anything about him!” You yell in disbelief.

“I know enough.” He states firmly.

“Well…I’m not yours anymore, so get over it.” Your own words feel like a punch to the gut.

Mihawk clenches his jaw, not liking your words either. “No, y/n.”

You’re getting a little frustrated at his constant ‘no’ answers at this point. “Why can’t you just let me have a nice night with someone? It’s the least you could do.”

“Because you’re mine, y/n. I…I can’t handle the thought of you being with someone else, I saw enough while we were inside.” He responds a little quieter, but anger seeps through his words like daggers ready to strike you.

“Well that’s your damn issue!” You say angrily, getting sick of him.

Mihawks’ eyes flash with anger again, the grip on your wrist unrelenting. “My issue? Do you seriously think this is just MY issue?? I will never be okay with you running off with someone else when I’M the one who put in the work to keep you. I invested years of my life on you, I poured my heart and soul into your every damn breath!”

“Yeah, you did. But then you PUSHED ME AWAY!” As you say this your voice rises, and you try to pull away from him, but it’s no use.

“As I said, y/n. I have my reasons.”

“Uh huh, ‘I have my reasons, I have my reasons’. Blah blah blah, all I hear from you is bullshit because you’ve never GIVEN me any of these mysterious reasons!” You bark back at him, your blood boiling.

The hold he has on your wrist gets stronger, making you quietly groan in pain. “You…you wouldn’t understand.” Mihawk responds in a rough and angry tone.

“You keep saying that…” You say in a defeated voice as you keep looking into his eyes, the man you once loved completely gone.

“I mean it, it’s just…complicated.” He says, frustration clear on his face.

“Whatever asshole, let go of me.” You can’t help insulting him, even though it feels like a knife through your chest.

“As I already said, I can’t let go. I won’t let you ‘have fun’ with someone who isn’t me. But you don’t listen, do you? Typical.”

“Don’t you dare tell me I never listen! You KNOW I do, I was the one person who always listened to you! Why do you have to be like this?” You say a little pleadingly, getting increasingly uncomfortable with the pain.

“You clearly aren’t listening to me, you are MINE.” He says in a dark tone.

This situation is internally freaking you out, he looks like he’ll snap you in half or throw you into his basement. The parties too loud for anyone to hear your fight, plus no one can see you, meaning you need to get out of this all by yourself.

“I’m not yours. We’re broken up! How many times do I have to repeat that? I feel like I’m going crazy. I can hangout with whoever I want, even Law.” You yell at him, feeling like his hand is gonna leave a mark.

“So, what is he to you then? A boyfriend? A lover?? I swear if he’s seen you without your clothes I’ll-”

“Okay, enough. I don’t have to answer that.”

“Yes you do, tell me. Now.” Mihawk leans his face a bit forward towards yours, so close you can smell the strong alcohol on his breath.

“He’s not my boyfriend, happy?” You say in a growl.

“No.” He glares at you, and you know exactly what question he wants answered.

“Fine…we aren’t lovers. Now let me go.” You say darkly as he leans back out from you.

“I’ll never let you go again, I’m not letting a man take what’s mine, I claimed you a long time ago.” His voice low, but there’s a hint of satisfaction after finding out you haven’t slept together.

Your voice comes out harsh and angry. “Don’t start with me again, you don’t ‘claim’ someone. Do you realize how deranged you sound?”

“I spent years caring for you, fucking you and giving you my heart. Nothing will ever change that, not even breaking up, no matter how much you protest or tell me otherwise. ” Mihawk ignores your question.

“All that doesn’t mean shit when you’re the one who poured it all down the drain like it was nothing.” You spit back, feeling like you’re gonna cry from the mention of it all.

“It doesn’t mean shit huh? Well, it does. You’re MY woman.” He says firmly.

“I am NOT your woman! And you know exactly what led to that fact. Now LET GO, and let me get back to the party.” Your voice raising again, desperate to get out of this, deep fear growing in your stomach.

“The only way you’re going back to the party is if you’re going with ME.”

Before you can respond, the intense feeling of his tightening grip grows, so you let out a whimper of pain. “I’m not going to the party with you. I’m here with my friends, people who actually care for me.”

“From now on, I won’t let you out of my sight for a moment. You’re staying by my side, and then we’re going back to our house where you belong.” Mihawks’ response is rough and final.

Dread washes over you, he looks and sounds really serious about that, which is horrifying.

“You’re delusional! Do you really think I’d spend the rest of my night with you, then go back to a house I don’t even live in anymore?” You shout erratically.

“You don’t have a choice, you’re coming home with me tonight. And I will NEVER let you go again.” He growls at you, getting in your face.

Tears sting your eyes from the pain, frustration and fright. You can’t help but speak to him in a frustrated tone. “To hell I’m going home with you! Last I heard you don’t even live there anymore either, you’re living with Shanks!”

“I still own the house. I just…didn’t want to stay there for a while. So stop fighting me, I’ll drag you there myself if I have to.”

“You’re insane!” You yell angrily, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

“Maybe I am insane, but I couldn’t care less. You belong to ME, y/n.” Mihawk jerks your arm forcefully making you fall forward into his chest. His hand unwavering as you try to free your arm to move away.

You feel a searing pain in your wrist from how hard he’s holding you, and you whimper out. “OW OW OW Mihawk you’re hurting me!”

He scoffs. “I don’t care if I’m hurting you.”

Those words feel like a stab to the heart.

“You’re mine and you’re coming home with me, end of discussion. You can struggle with your weak pathetic little arms of yours but there’s no use, you're not getting away from me.” Mihawks’ voice is cold, his insults breaking your heart into more pieces.

You feel an overwhelming sense of panic, pain and hurt, as you struggle to get your wrist out of his grasp. “You don’t care that you’re hurting me? You’re gonna leave a damn bruise!”

“I don’t care if I leave a bruise, that just means my mark will be on your skin, telling everyone who you belong to.” He responds darkly.

Tears begin rolling down your cheeks, the pain of your wrist growing, and the terror you feel overwhelming. “Just leave me the hell alone!” You whimper out desperately.

“Stop resisting me, you’re mine and you’re coming home with me. That’s FINAL” Mihawk barks out, his eyes glancing over your tears.

“No, no! It’s not final, please just let me go. Don’t you understand? I barely felt welcome in ‘our home’ when we WERE together!” More tears running down your cheeks, but your pleading only furthering his hold on you.

“Again, that doesn’t matter. I’ll die before I let you be with another man.” He yells at you harshly, you whimper again as your pleads land on deaf ears.

You begin crying a little harder, groaning louder, the pain so intense and constant.

“Stop resisting me. You can struggle and cry all you like, y/n, but you’re coming home with me and I’ll show you I’m the only man for you.” He says darkly, but his voice is laced with slight guilt as you cry harder. Mihawk never liked it when you cried.

“OW! Y-you’re not the one for me, you treated me like I was worthless!” You sob, your knees starting to feel a little weak.

“Oh, shut up. I didn’t treat you like that. I just had a lot going on, I never stopped loving you.” He yells harshly, his voice slightly desperate.

“Don’t tell me to shut up, you acted like you didn’t love me, you can’t just say you had a lot going on!” You plead.

Mihawk’s grip on your wrist is only growing fiercer, his eyes dark and wild as you plead and cry. “I do love you, I always have and I always will. You belong in our house where I can keep you safe.”

“Please let go…it hurts…it hurts so much…” Your sobs sounding weak.

“I can’t…I know I was a shitty boyfriend, but you still belong with me. Why can’t you see that?” This time his voice is laced with anguish and stress, the darkness in his eyes lessening ever so slightly.

“No, no…no…please let me go…it hurts so badly…” You plead through your sobs.

“I know I’m hurting you, but I can’t handle the thought of you being with another man. It’s MY job to make sure you’re safe and happy.” Mihawk mutters.

“No…you’re the one who made me UNHAPPY for MONTHS! So let me go.” You whimper in pain.

He doesn’t release you, instead his face twists in guilt. “I can’t…I promise I’ll make you happy, you just have to come home with me, that’s all you have to do. Please…calm down y/n.” His voice softens as he begs.

You sob even harder, knowing nothing would get resolved. “You won’t make me happy! I begged with you for months to tell me what’s wrong, and I tried everything to make you feel loved. But I got nothing in return! Even now, you won’t tell me what happened.”

Mihawks’ frustration rises again, speaking harshly, his voice ragged. “I’ll make up for it.”

“You’ll make up for it? Then what the hell is THIS? You truly don’t care about me, do you? If you cared for me you’d let me have a nice night, but instead you’re inflicting pain on me. Let go!” You sob.

“I can’t…don’t you understand? I’ll do anything to keep you…I promise I’ll take care of you. I’m sorry it hurts…” Mihawk responds roughly, searching your eyes.

You feel intense anger rising up again, but you still sob uncontrollably. “Don’t give me those lies! You won’t take care of me! Did you take care of me while I was crying beside you in bed? Did you take care of me when I was crying and pleading for you to tell me what’s wrong? Did you take care of me when I got really sick and you continued to ignore me? Did you take care of me when I had a rough day and I was crying on the couch? NO!!! I PRACTICALLY SPENT 6 MONTHS ALONE, DESPITE MY BOYFRIEND BEING IN THE HOUSE. BUT YOU ACTED LIKE I WASN’T THERE AND TREATED ME LIKE A CONSTANT NUISANCE!”

He tenses up. “I’m sorr-”

“DON’T! DON’T YOU DARE SAY SORRY YOU BASTARD!” You yell at him through heavy sobs.

“...but you belong with me.” He responds in a ragged whisper.

“I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOUR FACE EVER AGAIN.” You scream.

“Don’t say that…you don’t mean that.” He whispers, his face grief stricken.

“YOU’RE A COLD, STOIC AND HEARTLESS MONSTER!” You say at the top of your lungs, still crying.

“Please…I love you…” He breathes out raggedly, sounding sincere as he pleads, the grip on your wrist finally loosening slightly.

“No…you don’t! Let me go…please…it hurts…it hurts Mihawk please…” You sob and plead, at this point you’re beyond terrified.

“I don’t know how…” He whispers sadly.

“Then I have no choice…” You sob, while Mihawk furrows his brow in confusion.

You squeeze your eyes shut, swinging your leg back to get some force going, and kick him in the nuts.

He gasps in pain and immediately lets go of your wrist, his whole body doubling over as he sinks to his knees while clutching his groin.

You open your eyes, your hand on your very bruised wrist. The sight of him lying on the ground groaning in pain making your heart clench. You keep sobbing heavily as you force your legs to start moving, your muscles stinging in protest.

“Please don’t go…please…don’t go…” You can hear Mihawk whisper to himself as you leave, but you don’t turn back, and instead stumble into the crowd.

Your eyes try to scan your surroundings through your heavy tears, tripping over people's feet as you try to navigate the rooms, feeling like you’re going to have a panic attack if you stay here any longer. When you finally see who you’re looking for you whimper from relief, quickly going towards her.

“Robin…” You sob desperately.

Robin looks up from the conversation she’s having, her eyes immediately widening at the sight of you crying. “What happened? What’s wrong??”

You collapse into her arms, both of you sinking to the floor. “It was…Mihawk. Please take me home.”

Her eyes narrow at the mention of Mihawk, and she firmly holds you as she helps you stand back up. She swiftly leads you out of the house and onto the front lawn, the cold wind hitting your face, feeling a bit more at ease now that you’re out of the crowded noisy house.. “What did he do, honey?” She gently places her hands on your shoulders.

You can’t help but continue crying, so instead of saying anything you take your hand off of your wrist and show her the damage.

She gasps, immediately taking your wrist and assesses it. “That…fucker.” Is all she manages to say. “Come on, honey. I’ll take you home, you can take a shower and I’ll make you some tea.”

You nod, still sobbing uncontrollably. Robin puts her arm around your shoulders, and starts to lead you back to your house.

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

Mihawk remains slumped on the ground behind the bush, his hands still on his groin, desperately trying to soothe the pain, letting out soft groans. He’s so hazy from the alcohol he’s consumed tonight that thankfully the pain levels aren’t at the max, but it’s still excruciating. He can’t believe you actually kicked him.

The memories of your conversation consume his mind, but everything seems so unreal right now. He starts to silently cry to himself, his emotions too strong to keep bottled up.

He doesn’t know how long he stays on the ground for, but he definitely feels very sick and extremely exhausted. It probably wasn’t a good idea to mix all that alcohol, and so damn much of it.

Notes: I really enjoyed making him so possessive in this, I was giggling the entire time lol

Chapter 2:

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩The Aftermath˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

Notes: This chapter is a little shorter♡ I wanted to write about what happened after their huge fight! I’ll be getting into the more dramatic stuff in the next chapter, so stay tuned ;) Content warning though, there is a little area that is about throwing up, so if that’s not for you don’t read or skip Mihawks' part.

You slowly come back to reality from your deep slumber. Your bedsheets feel smooth, your heart rate slow, the air you breathe crisp. The sounds of people merrily talking and walking on the street start to hit your ears, letting you know the world has begun moving again. The birds singing melodic songs as they chat amongst themselves, and the ocean crashing onto the shore creates a sense of peace. You start to smell the candles that were lit last night, and the unmistakable smell of waffles drifting through the air. The sunlight from your windows shine past your closed eyelids, kindly telling you it’s morning, gently coaxing you to get out of bed.

But your mind isn’t fully awake yet, so you lay there for a few moments to get used to being half conscious again. Everything's so calm, as if you’re on a cloud, not even knowing who you are or where you are. Unfortunately, when you wake up, the memories of the night before return to you.

As your haziness starts to fade, your focus is shifted to your aching wrist…and your eyes suddenly snap open, the light making you wince. The recollection of what happened comes slamming into you like a train.

The party, dancing and laughing with Law, Mihawks’ angry and possessive demeanor, the loud and heated argument, the strong hold on your wrist, and the kick to his groin. Your heart starts beating faster, and the once calm morning sounds begin to have a bitter edge to them.

You spend no more time laying in your bed, the adrenaline kicking you into high gear. Your body aches in protest as you sit up, and you run your hands over your face.

“Dammit…” You curse under your breath, your head buried in your hands.

Lifting your head back up, you take a deep breath, this is gonna be one hell of a long day. Despite your reluctance, you swing your legs over the side of the bed, standing up, and walking over to the chair where you left your clothes.

As you lazily get dressed, the pain in your wrist reminds you of everything that happened, and you feel a pang of hurt in your heart. You had been enjoying your night, Law was sweet and charming, you were looking forward to spending more time with him. Mihawk just had to intrude, and you were hoping to push him out of your mind for once…

You let out a weary sigh, nothing makes sense anymore. A growling noise from your stomach brings your hunger to attention and reminding you of the comforting smell of waffles. For the time being, you’ll try to push aside the memories so you can focus on breakfast. You open the door and leave your room, starting to walk down the hallway.

There’s music from the radio emitting through the air as you walk down the stairs, and you can hear Robin humming to herself in your kitchen.

Robin gives you a kind smile when she sees you, waving away some of the waffle smoke from her face. “Good morning y/n, how did you sleep?”

You lethargically walk over to the window and open it up, letting the smoke out. “I slept alright I guess…” You appreciate her warm welcome as you walk into the dining room.

“That’s good, honey. I’m nearly done with the waffles, it’s a miracle you have all the ingredients in your kitchen.” Robin says softly as she puts on another waffle.

“Yeah, I haven’t gone shopping for a while.” You reply tiredly, sitting down at the table and resting your chin on your palm. Your eyes look over your bruised wrist, which is resting on the table.

As the waffles keep cooking and Robin continues to hum to the music, your mind keeps going back to Mihawk. You feel overwhelming emotions starting to bubble over, now that you’re more awake. A lump forms in your throat and you put your hands over your face, taking a deep breath in hopes that it’ll just go away. It doesn’t go away, and tears that had been accumulating in the corner of your eyes spill onto your cheeks.

A few minutes go by and you hear the clink of a plate hitting the table top. You remove your hands slightly and you see Robin laying out the waffles, plates, cups and cutlery. You sniff and wipe away your tears, doing your best to compose yourself as she finishes setting the table.

Robin sits beside you and gently caresses your back. “Eat some food, maybe you’ll-…uhh never mind.” She smiles and retracts her hand, putting some waffles on her plate.

You smile faintly as you also grab a waffle. “Thank you…” Your voice slightly hoarse.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, the music from the radio filling the room.

As you pick up the cutlery, you can’t help wondering why Robin cut herself off, but you shrug it off. You take your first bite, the flavors hit your tongue like an explosion on your tastebuds. They're buttery, not too sugary and the texture is so soft. “Damn, these are really good.” You murmur as you take another bite.

Robin smiles to herself, and the two of you continue to eat.

The taste of food helps take your mind off things a little, but you don’t begin to feel any better. Your minds still clouded, the tears threatening to fall down your cheeks again.

The two of you finish eating and Robin begins cleaning up, assuring you that it’s fine she does it herself as she doesn’t want you to exert yourself.

While Robin finishes cleaning, you retreat to the living room and plop down onto the couch. Your tears take no time to escape your eyes, and you sigh softly, leaning forward and burying your face in your hands.

You pay no mind to the sounds going on in the background, your mind faded into a pit of sadness and distress. The overwhelming feeling of everything crushing you into the ground.

“Let me have a look at your wrist, y/n.” Robin says as you feel her sit down next to you and reassuringly puts her hand on your back. You groan and move your hands, putting your hurt wrist onto her lap, revealing the red marks and bruises.

She looks at you worriedly, gently removing your tears with her thumb. You can see Robins’ got some bandages and ointment bottles on her lap. “…how’s the pain today?” She says softly.

“Mmm…pretty bad.” You wipe some of your tears away, your body shudders as you remember the reason behind the bruises.

“Aww, honey. That’s not good. I’ll get it fixed as best as I can, okay?” Robin says soothingly as she gently takes your wrist to inspect it.

You wince as she touches you, clenching your skirt with your other hand. “Okay. T-thank you.” You choke out.

She sighs as she looks you over, opening one of the ointments and lathers some on her hand. Robin begins to gently rub the cold liquid on your dark purple skin, being light with her fingers.

As her soft care washes over you, you feel the overwhelming tenderness of the injury. The physical, and mental. “Why-...why did he have to do that?”

“He just seems like an angry and sad person, but that doesn’t excuse his actions.” Robin responds, her eyes darkening slightly at the mention of Mihawk.

“It was just so intense…I just-...I just wanted to have a night without conflicts or drama.” You mutter sadly, tears streaming down your face.

She continues to apply the ointment, speaking softer now. “I know, I know. It wasn’t fair on you, he should’ve kept to himself.”

Tears fall down your face faster. “It really wasn’t fair, and I can’t believe he hurt me. When we were together…he promised to never lay a hand on me.”

Robin shakes her head in disbelief. “Any man who hurts a woman deserves to go to hell.”

“What do I do? He said he’s still in love with me, and then threatened to take me to ‘our house’ whether I want to or not. He was so scary, Robin…” You look at her with distraught eyes.

She thinks to herself for a moment, finishing off rubbing the ointment in. “y/n…that’s not how someone in love should act, even if they’re drunk. He was acting extremely possessive and controlling, which is a huge red flag. Don’t go anywhere near him, okay?”

You nod your head, taking a shuddering breath.

Robin starts to put a bandage on your wrist, thinking for a moment before responding. “Do you still…love him?”

Silence falls over the two of you and you avert your eyes, hesitating. Despite everything, you still missed Mihawk. “I…I love the guy he used to be…” You murmur sadly.

“That makes sense. It’s okay, I’ll help you through this, I promise. Just remember who he is now, an aggressive and dangerous person.” She says tenderly.

“O-okay…” You say quietly.

She finishes putting the bandage around your wrist and puts everything to the side. “There, that should help the healing process. Let me know if it gets worse.” Robin says as she puts her arms around you, bringing you closer to her.

You put your arms around her waist and rest your head on her shoulder, softly crying onto her shirt as she rubs your back.

Robin runs her fingers through your hair, trying to soothe you to the best of her abilities. It feels comforting to be in her arms, feeling her kind warmth. The room feeling more pleasant in her embrace.

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

Mihawk wakes up from his restless slumber and immediately groans in pain, his head pounding. The injury he acquired last night shooting through his body, his heart rate spiking. The bed sheets feel rough on his skin, serving as an unwelcome reality check. Sounds of two boys arguing on the street and shuffling of feet are heard through the closed window, letting him know the world is the same as ever. And the birds seem to be silent, or just not around. There’s also an unmistakable suffocating smell of musk, puke, sweat and the heat is close to clammy. The room is dark and unwelcoming, the curtains filtering out the light from outside. Not even a flicker of sunlight touching his pale skin.

He reaches his hands down and clutches his groin, groaning into his pillow and curling into a ball. Mihawk memories from last night wash over him like a cold bucket of water. Anger, self hatred, disappointment and shame fill him all at once. His memories reminding him of how stupid he was last night.

He remembers the god awful party, his unease, seeing you with Law, his extreme anger, drinking who knows how much, dragging you off somewhere, yelling at you, the constant harsh and possessive words, the hold on your wrist that left a dark bruise, you kicking his groin and leaving him there on the ground. Mihawk also remembers the aftermath.

He groans again as he remembers throwing up into the bush for a while on his hands and knees, the pain or the alcohol spurring it on, who knows. Shanks found him a while later, drunk as a skunk, and dragged Mihawk back to his house. For the rest of the night until the early hours, Mihawk spent them throwing up in the bathroom until his throat was sore and his body weak. He doesn’t know when he managed to fall asleep, just that he hasn’t been asleep for that long.

Mihawk whimpers to himself as he tries to keep his bearings, his mind still slightly hazy from just gaining consciousness again. He remembers the look on your face when he grabbed your wrist-...There’s a loud slam of a door opening down the hall, and he can hear Shanks running to the bathroom, hurling into the toilet.

He winces and puts the duvet over his head, wanting to drown everything out, one hand still on his groin and the other rubbing his temple to try and lessen the headache. Mihawk can’t help but feel overwhelming guilt, shame and disgust. He can’t believe he let his feelings blow up like that last night, and towards you of all people. Nothing in that moment mattered when he saw you with that prick, so he unleashed everything on you, all his claims and threats. He hurt you. He ruined everything, more than it already was.

However, anger still lingers under the surface of his skin, even though he’s woken up with a lot of regrets. He still doesn’t like that you were with that dumbass, touching you and making you laugh. A part of him can’t help but be glad he got you away from Law, but at what cost?

A wave of dread washes over him when he suddenly remembers how he talked to you, Mihawks’ possessive side flared up in the worst possible way. He remembers when you liked his possessiveness, but you aren’t together anymore. But in his drunken state he didn’t care, he just wanted you back. He softly whimpers again, shutting his eyes tightly, he hates himself. Hates how he treated you, hurt you and scared you. Everything he did was wrong and idiotic, he was a complete prick.

After a few minutes he decides he needs to check his wound, so he opens his eyes and takes the duvet off his head, opening the curtains beside him. The sun barely makes it into the room, a large tree blocking the sunlight. Mihawk takes a deep breath and sits up, his stomach searing with pain, his head hammering and his nausea still present. He takes a deep breath to try and collect himself for what he’s about to see, before he pulls the duvet off of his legs. Mihawk slips his finger under his boxers, he gently lifts them just enough to see the damage. His eyes widen slightly. His nuts are completely inflamed, bruised and red, they’ve never looked…this…bad before. Despite the sight, Mihawk can’t hold back the half smile at the sight, Miss y/n can really pack a kick.

Mihawk decides to just remove his boxers, tossing them aside. The mere feel of them on his inflamed skin is too much to handle. He takes a deep breath after removing them, the tenderness feeling slightly more calm. But a moment later the heat and discomfort set in again.

He takes a few moments to gather any strength before he slowly pushes himself up off of the bed as carefully he can, his stomach and balls flaring up again. Mihawk slowly shuffles over to the wardrobe to fetch some loose fitting pants, the pain searing the whole way. He slowly opens the wardrobe and looks through it. He hopes it won’t irritate his sensitive nuts and stomach too much, already feeling like they’re being ripped apart.

Thankfully he finds some good pants, but even as they settle on him, the fabric still rubs him in all the wrong areas. But he has no choice but to endure it for now.

Mihawk walks across his room, wincing as he goes, opening the door to step into the hallway. He takes a deep breath and starts making his way down it, going to the bathroom where Shanks is still puking his guts out.

“You alright?” Mihawk says roughly, reaching Shanks who’s hunched over the toilet. His stomach churns more than it already is, watching as he throws up again.

“Yeah…I’m fine. Just…really hungover.” Shanks responds breathlessly, sweat dripping down his nose and back.

Mihawk silently assesses his state, before speaking again. “I’m sure you are, I told you to be careful last night, redhair. Do you have some Aspirin or something?”

Shanks grunts weakly, not appreciating his comment. “Yeah…it’s on the counter behind me.”

“Alright then, try not to puke again while I grab it.” Mihawk says, going to the counter and picking up some aspirin, his stomach doing another flip. He doesn’t wait to get any water and just immediately swallows it.

Shanks murmurs weakly. “So…what happened to you last night?”

Mihawk freezes slightly. “Nothing.”

A heavy silence falls over them, Mihawk can tell Shanks feels disappointed he won’t open up…again. Guilt starts to creep in but he pushes it aside.

Mihawk moves to the door frame and gives one last look at Shanks before leaving, he can see the hurt in his expression and Mihawks’ heart clenches. But he doesn’t say anything, instead he goes to the kitchen, intending to get some food.

He practically limps there, the pain excruciating. Mihawk knows the only option for food is bread, as Shanks doesn’t exactly take care of household needs. So he walks to the container and brings out a piece, unfortunately it’s a little stale, but it’ll have to do. Mihawk then starts his search through the cupboards to find any sort of spread, but to no avail. He groans to himself, running his hand down his face, he knew he should have gone shopping yesterday.

Mihawk cuts his losses and leans against the counter, not daring to sit on a hard surface right now. He takes a bite of the stale bread, the flavors dull on his tongue.

As he eats, Mihawk is accompanied by the sounds of Shanks’ retching echoing through the house, so it isn’t completely silent.

The longer he stands there, the more emotional he becomes. It’s just all so shit. He can’t help but let tears roll down his cheeks as he chews and swallows, dissociating as he looks down at the dirty floor. Mihawks’ mind goes to you. Your fearful, hurt and confused expression plagues his thoughts and he knows it’s all his fault. But also a little anger, not being able to erase the image of Law holding your waist.

He can’t manage to consume any more food, so he puts the half eaten slice down onto the counter, despite still being hungry. He just feels like the worst person in the world. Mihawk slowly walks to the freezer and opens it up. He searches through it, knowing what he needs has to be in here somewhere.

After a few moments he lets out a sigh of relief when his eyes spot it, small bags of ice. Mihawk eagerly grabs one of the bags. He can almost feel the pain and discomfort easing as he holds it.

He retreats with a limp back off to the guest room, shutting the door behind him and immediately removing his pants. Getting into bed and with his back leaning against the headboard.

A deep breath escapes him as he looks at his groin, knowing what he’s about to do isn’t going to feel too good. He slowly lowers the ice onto his nuts and groans, the cold feels good but the contact is still difficult to bear. He keeps one hand on his groin to hold the ice in place, and his other hand gently resting on his stomach. Mihawk leans his head against the headboard and looks at the roof, last night swirling around and haunting his mind.

What in the world is he meant to do? He doubts you’d ever want to speak to him again, or see him again…and honestly, he wouldn’t blame you. It was stupid to make all of those decisions, he made all of his issues into your issues…maybe leaving the party would have been the better move. But on the other hand, he still doesn’t want you with someone else…but he knows he went way too far.

He could leave this town and never look back, forget about you, Shanks and everyone else. Mihawk could live a life of extreme solitude, find a home on some abandoned island, living the rest of his days in isolation.

He sighs, knowing it won’t really fix anything, since he’d just be running away from his problems. And he would probably go insane, since he’d only be talking to himself. He knows he can’t forget about you, no matter how hard he tries. But it’s a tempting idea, maybe he’ll feel less alone and hur-

Mihawk suddenly loses his breath. He’s thinking of avoiding his issues again…just like he did with you. But maybe this time…it could help him feel better for a brief moment.

He breathes out. Maybe he could talk to you, if you let him, and then-…

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know anything, he’s stuck and doesn’t have any control. Mihawk can’t even bring himself to tell Shanks either, so how is he supposed to navigate this? It’s all such a mess, a big ugly mess. It’s hopeless.

He feels his head drop and he puts one hand in front of his eyes, his emotions getting the better of him. Mihawk begins to softly cry into his palm, his tears heavy and thick, his sobs deep and painful. The pain gets worse in his nuts but he can’t control it right now.

It feels suffocating in this empty space, feeling the harsh loneliness. The room feels more unbearable as the only embrace is the darkness that surrounds him.

Notes: This chapter was so fun to make! I LOVED making the parallels between the two, and poor Mihawk is really going through it.

Chapter 3:

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩Turning the Page˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

Notes: This chapter answers a lot of questions so get ready! I’m sad this fanfics come to an end since I’ve LOVED making Mihawk into the messiest young adult, but I’m really happy with how I made the drama unfold and I hope you are too♡

It’s been around 4 days since the party and the altercation, 4 days of aching and misery for Mihawk. He’s barely slept, his swollen throbbing nuts are also a constant reminder of his drunken behavior and your kick. He’s irritable, exhausted and his stern expression is darker than normal. Shanks has tried to talk to him multiple times but he won’t open up, so he’s settled for fussing over Mihawk like a mother. Which Mihawk really does appreciate, even if he doesn’t show it very well. It’s not like Redhair to be so distressed. Mihawk suspects Shanks’ worry was more due to the situation and not his injury, and the guilt he must have felt for leaving Mihawk alone that night.

Since Mihawk hasn’t been able to do much, he’s been laying or sitting around, or crying in his room. He’s guessing he could have filled at least a large bucket with his tears by now, maybe even more. His mind involuntarily trails to his relationship with you, the good parts. He reminisces about all the mornings when he was too tired to function, so you shaved his facial hair for him. Helping to get your shoes off while you’re holding a million shopping bags that you insisted you could ‘handle’. But he tries to keep these memories at bay, he doesn’t want to get too consumed by them. Especially since he doubts anything can get fixed now, considering the hell he’s put you through.

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

Mihawk sits at the edge of Shanks’ porch, his feet in the grass, an ice pack at his groin, under the shade of the house. Occasionally wincing from the pain. The trees sway in the wind as a light breeze runs through, the smell of flowers surrounding the garden and frogs jumping into the pond to escape the other wildlife. But instead of really looking at the serene world around him, his mind focuses on all the mistakes he’s made. It’s his default now…thinking about everything that happened.

He sighs, he finally made a decision this morning. It took a few days and some mental back and forth to get to it. Whether this decision is good or bad, he doesn’t entirely know. But he’s come to his own conclusion on what he has to do next.

He’s gonna try and talk to you, to apologize.

Mihawk figured there would be no point in running away again, nothing would be settled and he’d regret it. Even if you don’t accept his apology, which he’s already prepared himself for, it’ll be a sort of closure…he’s hoping.

But he doesn’t know what’s going to happen when he shows up at your apartment, he’ll probably get kicked to the curb. But he has to try…right?

“Mmm, you should take that stick out for a date since you like it so much.” Shanks chuckles, startling Mihawk slightly. In his zoned out state he didn’t realize he was staring at a stick that lay in front of him, and he definitely didn’t realize Redhair was behind him.

“Sh-shut it. I was just concentrating.” Mihawk grumbles, avoiding Shanks’ gaze.

Shanks chuckles again, sitting down beside Mihawk.

“What are you thinking about? And for the love of god don’t say ‘nothing’.”

Mihawk opens his mouth to tell him ‘it’s nothing’ again. But before he can respond, Shanks cuts him off.

“Please, Dracule. I’m anxious about you, okay? Just give me something.”

Mihawk sighs deeply. The troubled and pleading look in Shanks’ eyes makes him feel guilty. “It’s complicated…” He starts, fiddling with his jacket.

Shanks keeps his eyes trained on Mihawk, holding his breath in hopes he’ll keep going.

“I’m going to apologize to y/n, happy now?” Mihawk says slowly and carefully.

“That’s a start, but you still haven’t told me about what you did.” Redhair responds softly.

“You’ll judge me…” Mihawk says quietly.

“I won’t judge you, you should know that by now…when are you going to apologize to her?”

“Tonight…” Mihawk mutters, still not looking at Redhair.

Shanks sighs, putting his hand on Mihawks’ shoulder, not saying anything more.

Mihawk appreciates the calm silence. He feels like the last few hours before he goes to your house are going to be the quiet before the storm.

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

The cold air hits Mihawks’ cheeks, making them slightly red as he walks through the urban area. His palms are clammy and there’s an underlying feeling of dread. His footsteps are the only thing heard in the dark empty avenue, everyone seems to be relaxing after dinnertime. Mihawks’ still walking with a slight limp, the pain and discomfort from his injury still very much present.

His breathing starts getting a little more uneven the closer he gets to your home, he wants to turn back but he forces his legs to keep moving. Mihawk can’t help but think over all the possible scenarios, each one being worse than the last.

After a few more minutes of walking, he reaches your street. He takes out the piece of paper with your address on it with a shaky hand. Mihawk looks it over quickly just to make sure, before putting it back.

“Fuck…” He mutters to himself, feeling his heartbeat quicken when he sees your house. This is really happening.

Finally reaching your doorstep, Mihawk swallows thickly, his body shaking uncontrollably, his heart thumping loudly in his ears. He tries taking a few deep breaths but it doesn’t work, he’s too on edge. Mihawk groans to himself, running his hands down his face in distress and overwhelm.

Before he’s tempted to leave, Mihawk quickly reaches his hand up and knocks on the door before he can wimp out. He’s got no choice but to go forward with it now.

A few moments pass and he hears someone walking on the other side, making him tremble even more, feeling like he’ll throw up. Which really wouldn’t make a good impression.

The door opens, but instead of you standing there, it’s Robin. She immediately furrows her brow and glares at Mihawk, and starts to swing the door shut.

But before it closes, he jams his foot in the way. “Please…I need to talk to y/n.” Mihawk quietly pleads through the crack of the door.

“Get out of here, bastard. She doesn’t want to see you, and I don’t want you near her.” Robin speaks in a hushed angry tone.

“P-please…I’ll keep my distance, just let me talk to her.” Mihawk pleads again, his voice shaking.

Robin huffs to herself, looking him over suspiciously. “I’ll go ask her, stay here.”

Before he can thank her, she kicks his foot hard so that she can close the door, slamming it in his face. Mihawk takes a deep shaky breath, hoping you’ll say yes, and biting his lip from the pain.

A couple of minutes later the door opens again and Robin looks at him with her piercing eyes. He feels dizzy from the anxiety of anticipation.

“She’ll talk to you. But before you come inside, are you drunk?” Robin says sternly.

“N-no, I haven’t drunk since…” Mihawk trails off, unable to meet Robins’ eyes.

She scoffs under her breath, clearly not happy with the current situation.

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

You walk down the stairs, your hand gripping the railing from unease. Agreeing to talk to Mihawk maybe isn’t for the best, but you’re hoping to get something out of it.

As you step onto the floor and go towards the front door, you see Mihawk standing there beside Robin. He looks like a fucking wreck.

He’s got dark circles under his eyes, his body visibly trembling and his clothing is anything but neat. You take a breath and look away from him, not wanting to look at him longer than you have to.

“What do you want?” You manage to say, your voice a forced murmur.

He takes a deep breath. “I need to…apologize to you. If you’ll let me.”

You look up at Robin, who’s got her arms crossed and shaking her head in disbelief.

“Well then…go ahead.” You mutter.

“No I-...I want to do it properly, to sit down with you. Please?” He says pleadingly.

You sigh. “And you won’t come near me?”

Mihawk furiously shakes his head. “I won’t come near you, I promise, y/n.”

“Fine…Robin I can deal with this, I’ll let you know if I need you.” You say quietly.

Robin seems skeptical but accepts that you need time alone to talk. She comes over to you and whispers.

“If he does ANYTHING, I’ll be at my house.” She squeezes your arm and you nod.

As Robin leaves she can’t help but glare at Mihawk again, a shiver running down his spine from her silent threat. Once she’s gone he shuts the door and turns to you, his eyes lowered.

You groan to yourself and start walking to the living room, Mihawk silently following after you.

Two couches are up against neighboring walls so you don’t have to sit beside Mihawk. You both sit down, taking a seat furthest from him.

Heavy silence falls over the house, Mihawk's unsteady breathing and his rapid heartbeat being the only indication that people are here.

He finally looks up at you, his face contorted with shame. You look at him for a moment before looking away again, you can’t bring yourself to keep eye contact just yet.

Mihawk clears his throat, speaking shakily. “I’m really, really sorry, y/n. I w-was a prick, an asshole, an idiot and I was completely out of line. I-”

He swallows, the silence looming over the two of you again.

“I made horrible decisions that I really regret. I’m…god, I’m so sorry…I never should have hurt you, and I never should have…taken it so far.” He manages to finish, his voice filled with regret.

You listen to him quietly, taking in his words. He sounds sincere, for the first time in a long while.

“Just because you apologize, doesn’t make it all okay.” You say shakily.

“I-I know, I know that. But you…you deserve an apology.” He responds.

“What happened that night.” You say firmly as you get to the point, leaving no room for him to lie or get out of it. You know it’s a sudden shift to the discussion, but you need answers.

“I lost my mind.” He shamefully whispers.

“Take me through it, all the details.” You say slightly shakily, your body tensing in preparation for what you’re about to hear.

Mihawk quivers slightly, looking at his hands. “Well…it started when I saw you dancing with that assh-I mean uhh…Law. I saw how close you two were, like you were flirting or something. I just…couldn’t handle it, I lost it. And it didn’t help that I was already on edge, I was dealing with anxiety just by being at the party, especially when Shanks left me alone. So to try and deal with it all, I drank…a lot. I had…5…maybe 6 bottles…I don’t know. I was just so angry, overwhelmed and jealous, more than I ever have been in my entire life.”

You had suspected he drank a lot, but not that much. And you’ve never seen or heard Mihawk this broken before, he’s usually calm, keeping his emotions and speech in check. Instead he’s fumbling over his words like a moron.

He continues. “So then after I drank, I sat down to..watch you…” He whispers the last part, his cheeks flushing.

“You watched me and Law?” You ask with a hint of disbelief.

“Y-yeah…I’m sorry for that too. But after a while I had enough, so I went to confront you and then…you know the rest.” Mihawk says, taking another deep and shaky breath.

While you keep silent his eyes flicker down to your wrist, that’s still bandaged, another wave of guilt etched on his face. “I’m sorry for hurting you, I can’t believe I did that…”

“I…” You begin. “This is a lot to take in, I wasn’t expecting you to apologize.”

He nods. “Yeah, I honestly thought that I’d…”

Another silence falls over the house. You glance over at Mihawk who’s white as a sheet.

“Seeing you with that guy, it was like the breakup was set in stone.” He says quietly, his voice laced with despair. “Like I could never get you back.”

You look away from him. “You should have gone home.”

He visibly flinches, taking another breath. “Look, I’m not going to sit here and lie to you. I don’t regret taking you away from him. I regret how I did it, I regret drinking so much, I regret how I hurt you and yelled at you. I should have calmly talked to you, but I was too out of my mind for anything like that.”

“I wouldn’t have listened to you either way.” You mutter, pain clutching at your chest.

“But it would have been better than what I ended up doing.” He sighs.

“I looked into your eyes and you weren’t there. You were so…scary. ” You say quietly.

He leans forward and puts his head in his hands, tears rolling down his cheeks. “I know I was. I wasn’t the man you used to care for, I don’t even recognise myself. Never in my life did I want to be seen as scary to you, seeing the look on your face…I’ll never forget it. I always swore to protect you, not hurt you. I hate myself for it.”

A few tears roll down your cheeks as well, the pain in your chest only increasing. “Why didn’t you let me go? I was crying…”

Mihawk shudders, the reminder of the incident taking over. “I regret holding onto you so tightly. I just couldn’t let go. I didn’t know how to…I don’t know how to let you go. You’re the love of my life. I can’t even begin to explain the irrational fear and possession I felt that night.

“You said you didn’t care that you were hurting me.” You mutter chokingly.

“I wish I could tell you I didn’t mean it, but I did. I didn’t care about anything else, I needed you to be mine again. Even if that meant I was hurting you. Although, after a while I came to my senses a bit more…that’s when you kicked me.”

You nod, remembering that a few minutes before you kicked him that he had panicked a bit, his guilt seeping through his anger. “Yeah, I remember that.”

“Served me right, I threw up into the bushes a few minutes later. Then when Shanks took me to his, I spent the rest of the night puking my guts out which I deserved as well.” He states, wiping away some tears.

Despite everything that’s happened, you can’t help but feel worried over his health. “Really? All night?”

“Mhmm, I couldn’t stop, everything I drank just got hurled out of me for hours. I couldn’t get a decent sleep either…” Mihawk cringes to himself as he trails off, the memory clearly being unpleasant.

“Oh…” You would say more, tell him you’re glad he’s okay, but you shouldn’t.

“And the next day…god. I was disgusted with myself. Remembering what I’d done to you…the things I said to you.” He mutters.

“Yeah it was pretty brutal…” You whisper.

“It was, I was. I-I hate how I treated you, it was physically and emotionally damaging. You really didn’t deserve that.” His voice raw.

“Yeah…”

He looks at you, jealousy thick in his voice. “I didn’t…ruin your relationship with Law, did I?”

“I don’t have a relationship with him, we met that night and we were just having fun. I told you that.” You look back at him.

Mihawk takes a sigh of relief. “O-okay, I know you told me that. I would apologize for stopping the ‘fun’ but I don’t think I can bring myself to do that. I’m sorry.”

“I honestly didn’t expect you to apologize for that thing in particular, it’s fine.” You say quietly.

He nods slowly.

You add on. “And umm, if I saw you with another girl I don’t know what I’d do with myself. I wouldn’t go to the lengths that you did, though.”

“Yeah, you’re strong and I’m…a complete mess.” He sighs, running his hand down his face.

You look at him, feeling a bit of empathy, but you push it aside.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. I’m sorry…I’m sorry for yelling at you, I’m sorry for making a good night into a bad one, I’m sorry for the words I said to you, I’m sorry for acting insane and unhinged, I’m sorry for harming you…and I’m also sorry for how I treated you in our relationship, I really am sorry…could you ever…forgive me?” He pleads, searching your eyes for anything he can grasp onto.

“How do you expect me to forgive you when you haven’t even explained half of it.” You sigh, leaning back into the couch and looking up at the ceiling.

He goes deathly silent, and you can practically feel the cogs turning in his head.

Eventually, he sighs. “Shit…”

“Look…I don’t think I-” He begins, but you interrupt him.

“Don’t.”

Mihawk shuts his mouth immediately and looks away from you, and you feel a pang of disappointment.

“You don’t understand…I can’t tell you, you wouldn’t understand, no one would.” He says quietly.

You groan. “Then MAKE ME understand! I need to know why you distanced yourself from me, then the other night you…you said you still loved me. Nothing makes any sense.”

He hesitates. “I know I don’t make any sense…I’m sorry…”

Frustration starts to bubble up to the surface. “Please, I deserve to know. You owe me an explanation.”

Mihawk fidgets, opening his mouth to say something but nothing comes out.

Tears form in your eyes, you feel like you’re getting nowhere. Even if he’s apologized, at this point it just isn’t enough.

You hunch over and put a hand over your eyes, the tears trickling down.

He immediately notices your crying, and becomes slightly frantic but not moving from his seat. “N-no! I’m sorry, y/n! Please don’t cry, I’m sorry okay?”

“Just tell me what happened, did I do something wrong??” You softly sob as you finally look up at him again.

His face turns from frantic to mortified and breathes out. “W-what?? No! Of course not!”

“You barely even looked at me, all you did was focus on being a marine hunter and ignoring me.” You choke out.

Mihawk looks distressed as he watches you, and you can tell he wants to comfort you but he keeps his distance as promised. “I-I know…I shouldn’t have…been like that, I’m sorry.”

“Please…tell me why.” You say pleadingly.

He’s silent for a moment, before saying quietly. “Everyone will judge me…you’ll judge me…especially you…”

“Please, tell me. I won’t judge you, I promise…” You plead once more.

Mihawk goes silent again, looking at the floor. You feel desperation take over as he shuts down, breaking you down even more.

“Please! Dracule…” You sob heavily. His body reacting slightly at the sound of his given name from your lips.

“I thought…pushing you away would fix all my issues…” He confesses in a hoarse whisper, closing his eyes.

“What do you mean?” You sob.

He starts getting overwhelmed, his demeanor shifting. He suddenly stands up from the couch. “It’s too much…I came here to apologize a-and that’s what I did.”

Your eyes widen as he starts walking out of the living room, so you quickly get up and grab his arm. He stiffens at the contact, but obliges as you turn him around to face you.

“Please…” You look into his uncertain eyes, heavy tears covering your face.

“I should go back to Shanks’ house, I’m sorry I turned up.” He says quietly.

“No..please! I won’t judge you, just tell me what happened. Please…don’t go, don’t shut me out again.” You whisper desperately.

Mihawk stands in silence for a few minutes. Your hand still gripped onto his arm as he looks at the floor.

He finally looks back at you, shame and guilt written all over his features. “Okay…okay.”

Your heartbeat speeds up, gripping his arm a little tighter.

Mihawk lowers his eyes again, taking a deep breath. “It all started because…I had a rough childhood.”

You feel slightly taken aback. He’s opened up about his childhood briefly before, but never in detail. And what has that got to do with anything?

“My parents abandoned me when I was a kid. They just…left me. Ever since then I’ve been scared that…t-the people I love will eventually leave me as well.” He whispers sadly.

You slightly loosen your grip on his arm, his confession sinking in.

“I guess I’ve never really gotten over that. I was worried you were going to leave me like…like my parents did. ” He takes a deep shaky breath before continuing. “I decided to distance myself from you. I was paranoid that you were going to break up with me, I thought it wouldn’t hurt as much when it happened if I’d already pushed you away. It just consumed me fully. But..when it did happen…when you…I couldn’t handle it.”

The air seems to leave your lungs.

Mihawk gets overwhelmed again, taking another deep breath. “You have to understand y/n, I thought it would be easier. I was so scared you’d leave me! I-I didn’t want to be hurt again. I thought if I put my walls up, and you left, I wouldn’t get hurt. But I was wrong…so insanely wrong. Pushing you away was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

You stand there in a shocked silence, your mouth slightly agape, your lungs screaming for air.

Heavy tears start falling down his cheeks, his breathing slightly labored. “I’m sorry…it was the biggest mistake of my life. It pained me to distance myself from you, you have no idea how many times I broke down in the bathroom. I just thought it was for the best...”

Nothing prepared you for this.

“I became a different person, I wasn’t the man you fell in love with. I was cold, distant, angry…and it was all my own fault.” He whispers hoarsely.

Before you can control it, you let go of his arm and sink to your knees, your sobbing starting up again. All this time, and this is what he was afraid of? You feel your emotions falling apart, confused and sad.

He looks down at you with horrified eyes, not knowing what to do as he continues crying. “Shit, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I-I can go, if you want.”

“You can’t just leave!” You shout through your sobs, startling him heavily.

“O-okay I won’t go anywhere…I just don’t…” He fumbles.

Mihawk watches you cry for a moment, before carefully sitting on his legs in front of you. He takes your upper arms gently, trying to give you some sort of support.

“I’m sorry…” He repeats quietly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You question him, looking into his eyes again.

He swallows. “B-because…I was afraid you’d want nothing to do with me after you found out how truely damaged I am. I was scared that you’d see me differently and think I’m pathetic. And I didn’t want to burden you, all I wanted to do was protect you.”

“I never would have done or thought that…I would have tried to help you. To reassure you.” You sob.

“I didn’t…know that…” He whispers, a sigh leaving his lungs.

You sob a little harder, making him panic.

“What is it?? What’s wrong??” He says desperately, his heartbeat quickening.

You speak to the best of your abilities. “Knowing that you were going through so much, for months, years. That you were scared…that hurts me, Dracule. All of this is so much worse knowing you were in pain too.”

He nods his head slowly, understanding where you’re coming from. He gently caresses your arm with his fingers, trying to calm you down somehow. “Dammit, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have acted the way I did, I should have communicated with you. Please don’t feel bad for me.”

“Why couldn’t you be a heartless asshole, it would have made it easier.” You heavily sob.

“I’m sorry for not being a heartless asshole…instead I’m just this huge mess. You deserved better.” He says shakily.

“This is so much to take in at once…”

“I know…I…I should have told you years ago. I let it snowball into the biggest mistake of my life.” He says shamefully.

“I just…I can’t believe it…” You choke out.

Mihawks’ eyes widen impossibly large. “Y-you don’t believe me?? I promise I’m telling you the tru-”

“NO! Not…not in that way. This is all just so…I didn’t expect this to be the reason.” You sob.

“O-oh, thank god. What did you think the reason was?” He whispers nervously.

“Either…you were a heartless monster, or I did something wrong, maybe you stopped loving me…anything but this.”

“Fuck…I’m sorry for making you that worried. I was so caught up in my paranoia of you leaving, that I didn’t think you…really cared.” He whispers, tears in his eyes.

You sob a little harder. “But I cried beside you in bed, many times. I was upset, Dracule. You saw that.”

Shame constricts his features again. “I did…yeah. But I was too trapped inside my own mind, I convinced myself you weren’t being serious. That it was just you guilt tripping me.”

“Guilt tripping you?” You repeat slowly.

“I thought that was a way for you to make it my fault because you were going to leave me. I know it doesn’t even make any sense…I’m so sorry…I can’t even imagine the pain I’ve put you through.” He whispers brokenly.

You look at him with confusion, your tears falling rapidly.

“I’m gonna start working on myself, I promise. Whether we’re together or…not. The party was really eye opening for me, I can’t keep living in this mental state. I’m destroying myself and everyone else around me.” He says shamefully, looking into your eyes.

“All the things you said to me that night…” You whisper as another strangled sob leaves you.

“I was at the end of my line, the emotions I had been feeling for years boiled over.” His cheeks go slightly pink from shame but he holds your gaze. “I didn’t mean any of it, I was angry and drunk. I definitely didn’t mean that you belong to me because I’ve fucked you, I said that out of pure drunken possessiveness and jealousy. I was grasping at anything and everything to make you listen to me.”

“So you aren’t possessive over me…?”

He takes a shaky breath. “I am possessive over you, but not to that extent. I promise. It still shouldn’t become your problem though, the way I acted that night isn’t who I want to be. I’m sorry for acting so unhinged.”

“I just wish you would have come to me before it got this bad.” You stammer.

“I wish that too, I wish I didn’t push you away. But you have to understand, at the time I thought that…you’d leave.” He lowers his gaze.

“I never would have left you, I loved you. I would have done anything in my power to be there for you, I’m not your parents.”

“Dammit…why’d I have to mess it all up…” He mutters to himself.

Another silence falls over the two of you, except for the sound of your crying. Both of your minds working overtime.

“Is there any way…you can forgive me?” He finally whispers, lifting his head to meet your gaze again.

You take a deep breath, sensing the anxiety radiating off of him. “Y-yes…”

His eyes widen and he’s speechless for a moment. “Thank y-you, I swear I’ll make it up to you. I swear on my life I’ll do anything you ask of me.”

All of these confessions and decisions are too much for you to handle, and you start crying even harder. Mihawk panics slightly.

“H-hey…don’t cry, I’m sorry. Please don’t cry. I’m sorry for not telling you about it all, just please…” He says shakily, looking at you with a worried expression.

You can’t help but keep crying, overwhelmed beyond belief.

“Y/n, look at me.” He says shakily as he cups your cheek, guiding your face so he can look into your eyes. “I promise I’ll be better, and it’s all going to be okay. I’m so sorry for taking you through hell, I’ll never forgive myself.

Mihawk then hesitantly wraps his arms around your body, bringing you flush against his chest as you cry. He rests his head on your shoulder, his hand soothingly caressing your back. “It’s okay, it’s okay…”

You bury your head into the crook of his neck, your arms going around his waist, needing comfort more than anything right now.

“Please stop crying, I can’t take it when you cry so hard…it breaks my heart...” He whispers pleadingly, but you can’t stop.

Mihawk sighs deeply, knowing you won’t slow down. So he holds you tighter and settles for whispering positive affirmations in your ear in hopes that it’ll help.

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

You’re not sure how long you’ve been crying for, all you know is that Mihawks’ embrace feels like the most comforting thing you’ve felt in months. His words have a soothing effect on you, bringing you back down from feeling so overwhelmed. The touch on your back feels nice, like home.

As your sobs become small sniffles, your body resorts to trembling from the intensity.

“That’s it, can you take deep breaths for me?” He whispers. You start to take deep breaths and begin to take note of his familiar scent, calming you further.

He keeps you like this for a while longer, making sure to tread carefully. Mihawk then leans out and cups your cheek again, looking into your eyes with his warm honey coloured gaze.

“Sorry for getting this close to you…”

“It’s fine…I needed you.” You whisper.

He gently strokes your cheek with his thumb, keeping his voice soft and quiet. “Okay, I was just making sure.”

“Thank you.” You murmur quietly, making him freeze for a moment.

“Please don’t thank me, I’ve done too much to-”

You cut him off. “You’ve been going through hell as well, it must be hard to navigate abandonment issues all by yourself…”

He sighs. “It has, but there’s no excuse.”

Your arms tighten around him. “Yeah…”

Mihawk nods slowly, processing your words before changing the subject slightly. “Can I…look at your wrist? I need to see what I’ve done.”

“Sure.” You whisper, and unwrap your arms.

As you remove the bandage, his eyes are locked onto the area, his heartbeat quickening.

The bandage falls to the ground and your dark bruised wrist is exposed. Mihawk takes a moment to look over the damage, his hand coming up to gently hold it.

“I’m sorry…” He whispers in utter guilt for the millionth time.

All you can do is stay silent, there’s nothing much you can say right now.

Mihawks’ eyes fill with tears, letting them fall down his face. He takes a shaky breath, putting your wrist down and wrapping his arm around you again to keep you close.

After a moment, you speak up. “Umm…how do your nuts feel…?”

He chuckles lightly, which catches you off guard. “I’m in constant agony, I can barely walk properly.”

“I kicked you pretty hard, I won’t be apologizing for it though.” You mutter with a slight smile.

“Good, don’t. I think you kicking me in the balls brought me to my senses more than anything else. I should be thanking you.” He whispers, holding you closer.

Taking a deep breath, you breathe in his scent again. “I missed being held by you.”

“I missed holding you.” Mihawk responds, his face deep in your hair and his voice filled with remorse. “I hope you know that I still love you. I’ve never stopped loving you and I don’t think I can even if I wanted to.”

“I…” You pause. “As I told Robin, I love the man you used to be. And right now you feel like the man you used to be.”

You feel his heart skip a beat and he whispers quickly to himself, so quiet you nearly don’t catch it. “I can work with that.”

He tightens his grip on you ever so slightly, and you feel him close his eyes against your neck.

“Y/n…this may be asking too much but…” He whispers hesitantly. “Is there any possible way you’d give me a second chance?

“Y-yes, there is. But only if you promise to communicate properly with me.” You whisper back nervously.

“I’d do anything to get you back and keep you, so yes. A million times yes. I’m done pushing you away and hiding my feelings. I couldn’t bear losing you again.” He says sincerely, his body trembling again.

“I’ll give you that second chance, but you don't get a third. Got it?” You whisper sternly.

Mihawk leans back out, his hand going to the side of your neck as he looks into your eyes. “I got it, you have my word.”

“Okay…good.”

“Does this mean that…you’re mine again?” He whispers chokingly, his hand trembling.

You nod, your heart skipping a beat. “Yes, I just want my boyfriend back. I need you back.”

“You have me…I promise you do. We’ll get through this, I’ll work on myself and treat you like you deserve to be treated.” He whispers, caressing your cheek again.

“O-okay…” You whisper back.

“Can I kiss you?” He says in an unsure tone.

“Please.” You murmur.

Mihawk sighs in relief, and leans forward. He gently connects your lips in a sweet and tender kiss, pouring all of his feelings that have been in a dark corner for months.

The two of you pull out after a minute and you look into his eyes, his gaze full of love.

“God…I’ve never seen anything more beautiful…”

“I’ve been crying…” You whisper back.

“I don’t care, you’re still the epitome of beauty in my eyes.” He murmurs.

You rest your head back onto his shoulder, holding him tightly. Mihawk goes back to caressing your back, holding you close to him.

As the two of you spend a few minutes calming down and process everything, you stay silent.

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

Your breathing and his has mostly gone back to normal, but there’s still an air of unease.

“Can we…take a bath?” You whisper softly, breaking the silence, your body still slightly trembling from the aftermath.

“Sure, anything for you. Would you like me to-”

“Yes.” You reply quickly.

He can’t help but smile, before helping you up to your feet. “Lead the way, I haven’t been here before.”

“Oh yeah…that’s right.” You mutter, intertwining your fingers and starting to walk to your bathroom with him.

As you walk, he looks around your home properly for the first time tonight. “How did you get this place so fast?”

You shrug as the two of you get to the bathroom, flicking the light on and shutting the door. “I was lucky, it was for lease when we uhh…broke up, so I decided to rent it. How did you know I lived here, by the way?”

Mihawk leans down and turns on the bath, his hand under the water to test the heat. “Shanks knew where you lived. He was at the local tavern, and it slipped out while he was having a conversation with the owner about houses.”

That damn tavern owner never seems to keep his mouth shut about everyone's business.

He gets the right temperature for the water and fills the bathtub up fully, then stands up, turning to you. “Come here. I can remove your clothes, let me take care of you.” He looks at you with soft eyes.

You nod, feeling a tiredness grow.

Mihawk smiles and starts taking your clothes off, being sure to be careful with every movement of his hands.

When he’s finished he looks over your body, admiring it. “You’re just as gorgeous as I remember…”

You lightly blush, and then watch him as he takes off his own clothes.

He sets everything to the side and extends his hand, you take it without hesitation and you step into the bathtub with his help. He slowly follows behind and sits down, guiding you down with him. Mihawk gently sets you down between his legs, your back up against his chest, his arms encircling your waist and his head resting on your shoulder.

The warm water surrounds your bodies, making you both sigh in relaxation.

“Are you comfortable, darling?” He murmurs, the nickname making your heart skip a beat.

“Very comfortable, thank you.” You murmur back.

“Good, now just relax. I’ve got you, I’ve always got you.” He mutters, taking your bruised wrist in his hand and bringing it up to his lips. Mihawk softly kisses your skin, his arm tightening around your waist.

You relax against him, being careful to not hurt his nuts further. He continues to kiss your wrist as his hand caresses your stomach.

“I love you…I’m sorry for everything.” He whispers in a low soothing tone through kisses.

You sigh deeply. “I love you too…”

“I’ll never do something like that again, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.” He says softly.

“Mmm.” Is all you manage to say, making him smile lightly.

Mihawk puts your wrist down and wraps his other arm around you, breathing in your scent. He begins slowly kissing your neck and shoulder, your eyes fluttering closed.

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

The two of you stay in the bathtub for around 30 minutes, letting your bodies rest and soak in the heat of the water.

When the water begins to cool, Mihawk carefully stands and helps you out, then dries you off carefully. He then dries himself off, and when he’s finished you take his hand.

“Can you stay tonight?” You say pleadingly, making his eyes soften.

“Of course, darling. I want to take care of you.” He says softly as he runs his fingers through your hair.

You start leading him to your room in a comfortable silence, with him tightly holding onto your hand. The two of you haven't even bothered to re-dress.

The two of you make it to your room and you get into bed, pulling the covers over you. Before you know it, he’s wrapping his arms around you again and pulling you close to him. Your arms wrap around him as well. Mihawk looks into your eyes, his hands gliding over the smoothness of your skin.

You’re the first to break the silence. “Can you kiss me, Dracule?”

He smiles, leaning in and gently kisses your cheeks, eyelids, forehead, nose. He kisses all over your face until every inch has had his lips on your skin. “I love you so damn much…is that enough kisses for you? I’ll give you hundreds, thousands, if that’s what you need.”

You sigh, making him furrow his brow in worry. “Not good enough. You have to kiss me for every tear that’s fallen because of you.”

His eyes soften even more, slight guilt in his gaze. “I can do that, but how many would that be, my love?”

You think really hard for a moment, looking back on all the times where you’ve cried because of his shitty behavior. After a few moments you come to a conclusion. “One thousand, six hundred and eighty three.”

Mihawks’ eyes widen the moment you announce One thousand, six hundred and eighty three, and you can tell he’s got an urge to laugh. Despite the serious night, you can’t help but be grateful that he’s amused by this. “One thousand, six hundred and eighty three, huh? Darling, are you absolutely sure you counted that many in…a few seconds?” He pinches your cheek lightly.

“Did I stutter?” You whisper, holding him tighter.

Mihawk laughs softly, gently pinching your cheek again. “You’re adorable…but no, you didn’t stutter. I guess you’re just a fast counter.” He talks between laughter.

“So…will you do it?” You whisper, a slight smile at the corner of your lips. His laughter lighting up the room.

“I could never say no to such a wonderful request.” He giggles lightly, then leans into your neck to kiss it.

“One.” He whispers softly against your skin.

He presses another kiss into your neck. “Two”

You melt into his kisses, your eyes fluttering closed as you surrender to the feeling of his soft lips.

“Three.”

You’re finally in his arms again.

“Four.”

His heartbeat.

“Five.”

His warmth.

“Six.”

His scent.

“Seven.”

His breathing.

“Eight.”

His skin.

“Nine.”

Mihawk stops kissing your neck and moves his lips to your own. He kisses them gently, his lips moving in sync with yours for a few seconds. Both of you know you’ll be here for a while with how many kisses you demanded.

He pulls away briefly to say…

“Ten.”

You only want him whispering sweet things in your ear all night long, for the rest of your life.

Notes: I had to make the ending for this really sweet, after all the angst♡ I hope you enjoyed reading!

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