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Chapter Text

Dracule Mihawk wakes to the sound of screaming. He is already scowling by the time he cracks his eyes open and sits up to scan the horizon. Seems like he had drifted close to a small island while napping. His lip curls up in a sneer when he hears the screams again, and it has him standing from his perch and using a bit of haki to see what was going on. 

There, being chased by a group of obvious pirates, Is you. His ringed eyes narrow, and with a dramatic sigh, Mihawk directs his little boat closer to the shore and tosses the anchor over. In a flash, he stands on shore, and begins making his way toward the commotion that woke him in the first place. Dracule is not a hero, would never dream of calling himself one, but even he would not turn a blind eye to a woman in need. He wasn't a monster, after all. 

The warlord swings his sword from his back and takes off, boosting himself forward with a little haki. It's laughable how easily Mihawk cuts down the pirates, these men little more than bandits with A stolen ship. However, he is caught off guard when the ground under his feet suddenly becomes cold, near freezing, and he is quick to hop away from the patch of snow that has formed under his feet. 

“You ass! I was having fun!” The woman he thought he had saved snarls at him. Mihawk schools his face back into its usual unimpressed look and looks at you. She is scowling fiercely up at him, but all Dracule can see is an upset kitten. 

“You should be grateful. I saved your life, you know.” He replies hauntingly and swings his sword back around to latch it to his back, “Why were they chasing you?” 

You shrug at him, shifting foot to foot in impatience. You needed to get a move on. Hank was waiting for you back home. “I dunno. They showed up this morning and demanded I give them whatever I had. I told them to fuck off.” She frowns and kicks the snow that has gathered around her. “They didn't like that answer.” 

“No, I would imagine not,” Mihawk agrees and looks her over. The woman wears simple clothes, just leggings and a loose tunic, and quite a few years younger than himself. He finds himself oddly concerned. Hmm. How unlike him. 

“Are you alone here?” He asks and the woman looks suspicious immediately. Her shoulder squares and she shifts into a defensive stance. Dracule wonders if she even needed his help in the first place. 

“Yeah? So what?” You demand and narrow your eyes at him. “Why don't you wear a shirt?” 

Dracule blinks at her, definitely not having expected that to be her question, “I run hot.” He says, and wonders why he is even entertaining this girl. 

“Ha, I run cold!” She exclaims and snow begins to fall around her as if to prove her point. Slowly, she begins to relax after realizing that this man isn't trying to attack her like the last people. She debates with herself for a moment, before ultimately giving in to her baser desires. It's been so long since she's had good, human company. 

“Would you like some tea?” 

Mihawk opens his mouth to turn her down, but what comes out is, “What kind do you have?” He can't help but enjoy the tiny little smile you send him at his question. He is curious as to why you have yet to call him out, and questions why a warlord of the sea wanted with you and your little island. 

“I grow my own, so you'll have to come see at home,” you tell him and point south, “If you aren't busy anyway?” 

Truth be told, Dracule probably should get back on his boat and sail away to never see this slip of a girl and tiny island again. Go back to his lonely castle and read the hundreds of books just waiting to be cracked open. Maybe even do his job and report to the Marines about this place. But Mihawk would do none of those things. Instead, he gestured for you to lead the way, and was rewarded with another one of those timid smiles. 

“Hank should still be home. He's my dog,” you inform him as the two of you walk, and it doesn't take very long for your home to come into view. It's a quaint little cottage with rows of flowers and a large garden off to the side. He can see rows of drying herbs in one of the windows and even a smoke room connected to the side of the cottage. A massive hound with shaggy gray fur comes bounding up. It doesn't even bark at him, and instead plops right down and starts to beg for attention. 

“And this is why you aren't a guard dog, Hank,” you grumbles and pats the hound on his massive head as you walk past Mihawk. Dracule eyes the dog, before rolling his eyes and giving in to pat the top of his head like you had. 

“You know, I know his name now, but I've yet to have the pleasure of knowing yours.” Mihawk follows after you, and a tiny smirk plays on his lips when he sees your face flush a pretty pink. 

“Gods, I'm sorry about that,” you laugh and run your fingers through your hair before offering the handsome man your hand and introducing yourself. 

Mihawk grasps your hand, noting that you indeed do run very cold, “Dracule Mihawk,” he rumbles and waits for the inevitable panic that his name usually causes anyone he comes across. 

“Huh. I like that. It suits you. Especially your eyes,” You tell him instead and Mihawk finds that he likes You even more than he thought he would. 

“Thank you,” he mutters quietly and follows you through the open door of your home. The inside Is just as cozy as on the outside, and he has a hard time not immediately investigating the tall stacks of books that seem to be piled on every available surface. Most of them look worn and smudged, as if they'd been drowned in water. 

“Sorry for the mess. I don't have company very often,” You murmur with a bit of wince and clear a chair for your guest. 

“Nothing to apologize for, Darling,” Mihawk assures you and examines the rest of your home. It's cluttered, yes, but clean and more or less organized. He cuts his eyes toward you, and smirks again at the sight of your flushed face. It seemed that you were not very used to being called any type of pet name. 

You cough and rub the back of your neck, “Anyway, tea is this way,” you lead him to the kitchen where strings of dried herbs hang from the ceiling. You point at a group set away from the others and point out which is which. “The peppermint came out nicely this year, probably my favorite so far.” 

“I'll have that then,” He watches as you dither around the kitchen, bringing a chipped kettle to a boil and pouring the two of you steaming cups of tea. He blows gently and then sips, humming at the pleasant coolness of the tea.

 “Very nice,” he compliments and watches intently as you blush even brighter than before. Mihawk finds that he enjoys making you light up. 

You quietly thank him and take a small sip of your own. He can feel your eyes on him, but Dracule doesn't particularly mind your curiosity. If earlier was any indication, then you had absolutely no idea who he was, and Mihawk would prefer to keep it that way. 

“And thank you for earlier, with those men,” you speak up and Dracule ticks a brow up at you, “I could have handled them, but definitely not as quickly as you did.” 

“Mhm. You are welcome. The tea is a good enough reward,” the warlord teases and you laugh quietly at his quip. After that, it's as if a dam broke. Conversation flowed between the two of you and Dracule found himself hard pressed to leave when he looked outside and noticed that the sun was setting. 

“Ah, I should be on my way. It is late, and I don't want to disturb you any longer,” Mihawk mentions. Truthfully, he wouldn't mind staying longer, but there were things he actually needed to attend to. 

You blink and jerk your head to the window. It's near dusk and the sun paints the sky in hues of pink and purple, “Oh, I guess it is pretty late, huh,” you murmur and try to keep the disappointment out of your tone. Today has been one of the best days you've had in a very long time. You would miss Dracule Mihawk. 

The warlord makes a split decision and stands, only to step close to his host and gently place a knuckle under her chin. He lifts her face, and she looks up at him with stars in her eyes when he swipes his thumb over her bottom lip, “Don't worry, Darling. You'll see me again,” he assures her softly. 

You wet your lip, tongue ghosting over the pad of his thumb, “Promise?” You whisper and Dracule gives the young woman a smile that will forever solely belong to you. 

“Of course, sweet thing,” Mihawk murmurs and reluctantly pulls away. He grabs his sword and hat, fixing them to their proper places before he heads to the door, “I'll see you again.” 

You watch him go, heart beating loudly in your chest as you stand to watch him out the window. When he disappears from sight, you plop back down and cover your flaming face with your hands. You couldn't wait to see him again. 

Chapter Text

Dracule huffed, nose scrunching at the taste of the shoddy peppermint tea that he'd chosen for the cabin boy to fetch him. Across the table, Sengoku raised a brow at the pirate. 

“What? Not to your liking, Hawkeye?” He mocked lowly, and was swiftly delivered a scathing glare from the yellow-eyed man. 

Mihawk sniffs and sets the tea away, done with it, “Not my taste at all, Fleet Admiral,” he drawled. No. The only peppermint tea he wanted was yours, and it had been far too long since Dracule had laid eyes on you. Several weeks too long, in fact. 

Sengoku scoffs and sits back in his chair. The warlord meeting had gone about as well as he had thought, with only Mihawk and Doflamingo showing. The pink idiot had shown his ass for half an hour before bugging out, stating he had more important matters to attend to. 

“Whatever. Get the hell out of here, Mihawk,” The Fleet Admiral grouched and the warlord happily rose and left without a word. Hawkeye went straight to his ship and hoisted the sail before turning east. It would take several days for him to reach your island. 

To say that Mihawk is in a shit mond when he finally arrives at your island would be an understatement. The seas had not been kind to him, and it had left him soaked to the bone and desperate for a hot cup of tea. 

The warlord doesn't waste any time, tossing his anchor and flashing to the shore. A permanent scowl is etched across his face as he stomps through the underbrush until he arrives at your quaint cottage. He shakes himself off any water once he stands under your stoop and then raises his hand to knock. 

Dracule listens, sharp ears picking up the sound of Hank's nails on the hardwood and then the soft steps of your feet. The door is yanked open, and the furious scowl on your face disappears the moment you lay eyes on the soaked bird in front of you. 

“Mihawk? Shit, come in here. You're soaked!” You grab his jacket without thinking and tug the warlord inside quickly. You flutter away and come back with a couple of fluffy towels that you hand over to him, “Gimme your hat and jacket. I'll hang it by the fireplace.” 

Dracule huffed and found himself doing as you order. He strips off his hat and shrugs out of his coat to hand it over. His lips curl when he sees your eyes flick over his body and your face pink up. You turn and leave before he can decide to do something about it. He huffs and then takes advantage of the towels that you gave him. 

You come back to see him stoking the embers of the fireplace, towel hanging around his shoulders, “Thank you, Darling,” he murmurs and hands you the one that he'd used to dry his hair. 

You clear your throat, “Ah. You're welcome. Is everything okay?” You ask and take the towel back to the bathroom before you begin to clear away the seating, tucking away the gardening books you have spread out. You had not expected to see Mihawk so soon, not that you were complaining. 

Hawkeye dips his head in a nod, “Fine. The weather was not kind during my trip here.” Dracule assures you and sits when you've cleared up a spot. He examines the books you've got scattered around, sharp brow ticking up in interest, “Botany?” 

You nod, smile crossing your face as you nod, “Yep. I know enough, but there isn't anything wrong with wanting to know more. I had to teach myself a lot of this,” You gesture around your cluttered home and shrug. You weren't embarrassed about your life  

“Admirable,” Mihawk rumbles. He grimaces when his boots squelch and raises a brow when you snicker at his scrunched face. 

“I'm sure Ive got some socks that will fit you. Let me go get some and then I'll make us some tea?” You offer and Mihawk gives you what might call a pitiful look if the elegant mad made those. You snicker again and then walk off, “Make yourself at home.” 

Dracule huffs at your retreating back and then reaches down to tug off his boots, and then his socks. He feels exposed like this, but not unsafe or in any kind of danger. it's not a common feeling unless he was home, secluded away inside his room in his empty castle. He kicks back in his chair, warming his chilled toes by the fire. 

You come back to your living room to see your guest leaned back in his chair with his eyes closed. You take in his relaxed form, tiny smile playing on your lips as you watch him. He looks peaceful like this, the monstrous scowl gone from earlier. You jump when he speaks up. 

“I can feel you staring, Darling,” he rumbles and cracks a yellow eye open to peer at the young woman he came all this way to see. He wonders if she understands how important such a notion was. 

“Sorry! you just looked comfortable,” you tell him and then step into the kitchen to start the kettle. You slap your cheeks while hidden away from him, cursing yourself for being so rude to your guest. 

Dracule rolls his eyes and stands to follow you to the kitchen. He comes to a stop behind you, reaching out one hand to place it on your hip. He feels you tense and then the room drops in temperature as your devil fruit comes to life in response to the sudden touch. He ignores the cold and takes a half step closer, and you shiver at the heat radiating from his front. 

“Don't be scared, Darling. You're safe with me,” Mihawk says quietly, and then reaches past you with his free arm to gather the two mugs that the two of you used last time. He set them on the counter and then stepped back like he hadn't just rocked your entire foundation. 

You swallow and turn around quickly, heart in your throat as you stare up at Darcule. He watches you, eyes intent, waiting for your next words. 

“Which tea do you want?” You croak and the tension in the air shatters when Mihawk snorts a laugh and runs a hand through his hair, fixing the black strands back in place. 

“I'll take the peppermint, Dear,” Dracule decides and watches the way you nod and quickly turn back to the counter. He leans in the doorframe, and by the time the kettle begins to whistle the chill of the room has faded and you face him with a relaxed grin on your face. 

“One for you, one for me,” You intone and the two of you settle back by the fireplace in the living room. He takes his seat and you surprise him by settling on the floor by the open fire. You hand him his tea, and Mihawk sips from the chipped mug. 

“Cold?” Dracule questions and you nod, lips twisting in a weary smile. He finds that he does not like the distant look in your eye, as if recalling bad memories. 

“Mhm, yeah. I ate the Yuki Yuki fruit when I was really young. You've seen it already. I'm always cold, so being warm is nice,” You admit casually, but Mihawk can still hear the strain on your voice. He frowns, curious for more, but unwilling to press for more if you did not want to speak on it. 

“It is a formidable power,” Dracule murmurs and stands to set another log into the fire. His concern and curiosity for you grows, and he does not fight it. So, he settles back in his chair and parts his legs, “Come here, Darling.” 

“What?” You demand, eyes wide and mouth growing dry. You can't have heard how correctly. 

Hawkeye sighs, yellow eyes narrowing in on your befuddled form. The warlord knows that you aren't this dense. You're a smart girl, “Don't make me repeat myself, Darling,” he quips and pats his lap, “Come here. I'll warm you up.”  

You find yourself standing on wobbly legs. In three short steps you stand between his legs, and Dracule finishes the job by grasping your hips and leading you firmly to sit in his lap. He sits you sideways, legs hanging over the side of his and pressing you into his chest. It's intimate, daring, and Mihawk has to look up to hide his smile when he feels you begin to relax against him.  

You grin to yourself, warm and comfortable tucked up against your friend's? chest. You don't really know what's going on, but you like it. You like the squirmy feeling that blooms in your chest when this man who invited himself into your life looks at you. 

“See?” Dracule speaks up and you can feel the way his chest flexes below you when he curls one of his arms around you, “I told you I ran hot, Darling.” 

Chapter Text

You don't remember falling asleep, but wherever you are, you're warm and cozy, just a little confused as to why your bed is moving. Up and down you go, and it's enough to pull your sluggish brain to wakefulness and crack your eyes open. The sight that greets you is one that you could definitely get used to. 

Ringed yellow eyes stare down at you, a fond, but exasperated look adorning Dracule's handsome features. He shifts under you and you realize that he's probably uncomfortable with you draped all over him like this, “How long was I asleep for?” 

“Only a couple of hours,” Mihawk murmurs and taps the side of your leg, “Move for me, Dear.” 

He watches as you carefully remove yourself from his lap, not touching him more than you need to. Mihawk stands and sighs in relief when his back pops. He steps by you, stopping for half a second to press a sleepy kiss to your forehead before he slipped off to the bathroom. 

You make yourself useful and go to the storage room to dig up a shirt that would most likely fit Dracule and that pair of socks you'd forgotten about. He has emerged from the bathroom by the time you come out of the back room, and you hand over the things you had gathered. 

“I checked your jacket. It's still pretty damp,” you inform him and turn away from the well groomed man as he slips the white shirt over his shoulder. Mihawk only bothers to button the bottom four buttons, leaving his chest exposed. 

“Nothing to worry about, Darling. I have others on my ship,” he rumbles and then steps towards the kitchen, “I'll put the kettle on, if you don't mind?” 

It makes your heart flutter to see him so comfortable in your home, so you nod quickly, “Absolutely. Like I said, Darcule. Make yourself at home,” you assure him and he slips you a tiny smirk before disappearing around the corner. 

Hank flops down beside you, giving you big pitiful eyes and you crouch to pet his shaggy head, “I know, Buddy. I don't really know what I'm doing either.” 

Which is terribly true. You've never had a man treat you like this before, as if you were his equal, and it made you feel comfortable and safe in his presence. 

“Darling, how do you like yours?” Mihawk's voice pulls you from your thoughts and you stand to meander to the kitchen. 

“I'll show you,” You step close and pull your sugar tin close and proceed to dump an obscene amount of sugar into the mug. When you glance at him, Mihawk is giving you a look as if you've suddenly grown a second head, “What?” 

The warlord huffs, “No wonder you're so sweet,” he quips with a twist of his lips and you gasp in mock outrage. You watch as he proceeds to put nothing in his tea and simply sips the blend itself. 

“Well, no wonder you're so bitter,” you tease back and sputter when Mihawk flicks you in the forehead. It doesn't hurt, but it's enough to have you glaring up at him, lips curling in a mischievous smile. 

“Don't call me bitter. I like plenty of sweet things,” Dracule rumbles and you flush as you recall his words from the first time the two of you met. 

Mihawk enjoys the red that tints your cheeks. Likes the way your eyes go all half lidded when he whispers honeyed words to you. A cruel smirk plays across his lips and he steps close, one hand curling around your hip, and you can feel his breath against your skin, “Things like deserts, and candies,” his lips ghost over the shell of your ear, “Things like you.” 

The room grows cold, but Mihawk does not move despite the rising chill. That same tension is back from yesterday and it makes you tremble, and not from your devil fruit. His hand flexes against your hip, tugging you a tiny bit closer to his furnace of a body and you gasp when you stumble forward. 

Your hands are freezing against his chest, and Dracule lifts his free hand to gently grasp both of your, squeezing softly. 

“I don't know what I'm doing,” You admit quietly, and stare at the way this beautiful man holds your hands like you are something precious. 

Mihawk stares down at the top of this young woman's head. He doesn't know why, and he doesn't know when, maybe when she had offered him tea the first time, but a connection had formed between the two of you. One that he didn't want to shy away from. You were something special in this world, hidden away from the drama and evil that tainted the Grand Line. Dracule has always gotten the things that he wants, this would be no different. 

“I won't lead you astray, Little One,” Mihawk murmurs, voice rough and he smooths his hand up from your hip to cradle your jaw. He lifts your face up, and you can't help but to stare into his ringed eyes. His lips curl into a soft smile so small that you wouldn't have caught it if you hadn't been paying attention. His thumb smooths over your cheek, “Do you trust me?” 

You search his gaze, and see nothing but fondness for you in the yellow depths, and you find that you do trust this man. 

“Yes.” 

The smile widens on Dracule's face, “Good,” he whispers and then he is leaning down to close the distance. He tightens his grip on your hand when you whimper against his lips, eyes falling shut so that he can focus on the way you feel against him. 

Your lips slot against his perfectly, but it's your first kiss, so it's enough to take your breath away and have you flushed to the roots of your hair when Dracule breaks the kiss. You breathe deeply through your nose, and he lets go of your hands to wrap his arm around your waist and press you close to his chest. His lips find your brow and rest there before he speaks up. 

“Was that okay, Darling?” He asks softly and you are quick to nod your head. You feel him leave one last kiss to your forehead and then he is letting you go to stare down at you, “Verbally, please.” 

You grin up at him, “That was my first kiss,” you say and giggle when you watch Mihawk's eyes darken a shade at the information. He knew that you were sheltered, innocent even, but knowing this about you only makes Mihawk want to keep you hidden away even more. Dracule knows that he is selfish. 

“I'm honored to be the one to take it,” He quips and you roll your eyes at him and carefully step away. 

“My books didn't do it justice,” You mention off handedly and gesture to a stack of said books, “I don't have a lot of romantic ones though, only the ones that have washed up on shore.” 

Mihawk huffs, “I can assure you that your books will not hold a candle to me,” pride in himself drips from his voice and you can't decide if what he says worries you or not. 

The rest of the day is spent in one another company. You show him your garden this time and explain which plant is which. Mihawk learns that you have become an excellent fisherman since that was your main source of protein, and agrees to stay for dinner when the sun begins to set. 

It's disgustingly domestic watching you dither around the kitchen of your small home, but Dracule is more content than he has been in a very long time. The smell of baking bread and grilled fish fill the cottage, and he can't help the small smile that plays along his lips. This was the start of a new chapter in his life, one that he would gladly share with you. 

Chapter Text

Mihawk leaves the next morning. After dinner, you'd fluffed out some bedding and parked the warlord on your couch. It was large enough to fit him comfortably, though he did have to contend with an over eager Hank. He woke before you, lips curling at the sound of your soft snores when he slipped into your bedroom. 

You wake when he cards one warm hand through your hair, eyes fluttering open to the delightful sight of Mihawk once more. However, you see that his coat is on and his boots cover his feet, so you know that he must be leaving. It saddens you, but you still smile in joy at seeing him. You reach for him and Hawkeye gives in with a roll of his eyes. 

His knee settles on the bed to leverage him as he leans over you, warm hand going from your hair to cradle your cheek. He leans in and kisses you, a simple press of his lips to your own. A hum catches in his throat when you tilt your head and purse your lips against his own, kissing him back even in your inexperience. He thinks of you going to bed last night, staying up and reading the romance books you thought he didn't catch you taking back to your room. Mihawk is curious as to how far you'll let him push. 

Dracule pulls away enough to speak, “Open your mouth for me, sweet thing,” he orders and you shudder In his hold even as you do as you're told. 

“Good girl,” he breathes and then seals his lips against your own once more, tugging and lapping at your swollen lips. Dracule's facial hair scrapes across your sensitive skin, and you whimper when you feel the heat of his tongue lick into your mouth. The kiss is like nothing you've ever experienced before, nothing all the stories in the world could prepare you for. 

Mihawk seems to be able to know when you need to stop, for he pulls away to gaze down at you with a smug smirk as you struggle to catch your breath, “That's not fair,” you grumble and fall back into the bed with a huff. 

Dracule rolls his eyes at you again and leans down to kiss your cheek, “You'll get there, Darling,” he teases and then pulls away fully to stand tall, “However, I must go. There are things that I must attend to,” his mind casts off to Gloom Island and the trouble that the pink haired menace causes every time he is gone for an extended period of time. 

You sigh dramatically and roll out of the bed, “Yeah, alright. I'll walk you to your ship.” 

Hawkeye follows you out of the bedroom and Hank meets the two of you at the door. The big dog whines for pets and you crouch to give him some before opening the door. Hank bounds put and the two of you follow the excited hound outside to wallow in the grass and do his business. You leave your best friend to do what he does best and follow Dracule through the forest that surrounds your home until you arrive at the shore. 

“That's your ship?” You demand, tone dropping in doubt and surprise. You look at him, brow cocked in disbelief, “It's tiny!” 

Mihawk sneers at you, “My ship has served me well for decades, little girl. You shouldn't presume such things until you know what they are capable of,” it's the first time that he had gotten even the slightest bit ill with you, but this is his ship, his home away from the castle. 

The change in attitude has you shrinking in on yourself a bit, and snow builds up around your feet. You feel guilty, but you hadn't been making fun of his boat! You promise. 

Before you can make a fool of yourself even more, a warm hand cups the back of your neck and you are pulled forward to thud against Mihawk's chest. He kisses the top of your head and wraps an arm around your waist  

“That was uncalled for, dear one,” Dracule murmurs softly. He had seen the way you had flinched away from him, the temperature falling, and the uncertainty that had pooled in your eyes. He must remember that you knew little about him, didn't even know that he was a warlord, someone to be feared by all least the government sick him after them. He dearly wanted to keep it that way, and snapping at her for something so small was not the way to keep you close to him. 

“I'm sorry. I wasn't picking fun,” Your voice is muffled, but Mihawk still hears your sad little explanation. It makes him feel a little guilty for snapping at you. 

“I should have known,” He assures you quietly, and an idea comes to mind, “Would you like a book on ships and seafaring?” He had noticed a couple of similar tomes lying about your cottage, but many of your books were water damaged, making it difficult for you to get through them. 

You jerk back to look up at him, excitement pooling in your eyes, “Really?” It's been decades since someone had gotten you a gift, the thought of Dracule being the one to be the first makes your stomach do flips. 

Your disbelief has his lips curling in a soft smile, “Yes, really, Darling. Would you like more than one?” He questions And by the way your face lights up, he knows the answer already. 

“Ah, no thank you. I don't want you to have to go through too much trouble for me,” you deny to his amusement. The warlord rolls his eyes, hand tightening on the back of your neck in admonishment. 

“None of that, I want you to be honest with me, Dear,” Mihawk orders. His thumb ghosts back and forth along the side of your neck, calming you from any nerves that want to rise up at his request. 

Dracule watches as you come to a decision, cheeks pinking cutely as your eyes flick away from his, “Can I have three?” you finally ask, he huffs at your stubbornness. 

“Fine. I will bring you three,” Mihawk agrees, though he is already thinking about other things that he could get you. He could finally put his Berri to good use. 

Hank barking at a nearby crab brings the two of your back to reality. Mihawk sighs and drags you in for one last kiss before he steps back. He needed to leave now before he ended up staying far longer than he intended. He pats Hank's shaggy head when the dog lopes up to him. 

“I'll be back, Darling,” he assures you and you nod, hands wringing in uncertainty as your friend boards his ship. You watch from the shore as he pulls up his anchor and loosens his sails to catch the wind. 

“Be safe!” You call before he can get too far away, and Mihawk raises a single arm to let you know that he heard your farewell. You watch him sail away from your little island with a heavy heart, but it fights with the joy of knowing that Mihawk will be back. Soon he is little but a speck on the horizon, and you turn away to go back to your cottage, Hank bouncing around your feet. 

Chapter Text

It's only been four days, and Dracule already longs to be back on your quiet island in the middle of nowhere. Just the two of you and quiet Hank, and not the loud mouth ghost girl who had shown up at his castle and just never left. He feels a sigh bubble up and spill over for the umpteenth time today when he hears Perona screech again about… something? 

He ignores her shrill voice and focuses back on the task at hand, finding his Darling the books that she wanted. Dracule has already found the seafaring and ship books he wants to give her; his home is filled to the brim with anything he may want, after all. He already knows you enjoy Botany, so he supposes he would search for those next. 

Mihawk Is pulled from his musing when he notices that it has gone oddly quiet. He cuts his eyes to the floating girl under his care and finds her far too close for comfort. He glares at her, face falling from whatever expression he'd been making, “What, Perona?” He demands. 

The pink haired girl narrows her eyes right back at him and floats closer despite the obvious annoyance that colors his tone. 

“You are what, Mihawk,” Perona squawks in his face. She glances down at the books that lay across his massive desk, “Since when do you need books about sailing? And you've been,” she grimaces, “Smiley lately. What's that about?” 

Dracule's expression closes off, mouth dropping in a sneer, “I suggest you mind your own business, today, Ghost Girl,” he snaps at her and casually tucks his gifts away under his desk. He absolutely does not want Perona of all people to know about his hidden oasis away from the world. You didn't need that kind of attention. 

Perona sticks her tongue out at him, “Ugh, so you are hiding something! Why don't you just tell me? Who else will I tell? It's not like Zoro is here anymore.” She laments dramatically. He watches her float up and around the room, her odd stuffed animals watching nervously from the doorway of his study. 

“My business, is my business,” Dracule quips and reaches for the glass of wine he'd left to air, and then takes a delicate sip. His mind wanders back to you, and he makes a mental note to bring along his favorite wine for you to try next time he shows himself. 

The thought of you flushed and giggly with alcohol has him shifting in his seat.While he would never take advantage of you, he can picture you clinging to him, thick tongued as he whispered all the things he wanted from you. You listened to him so well, trusting that he would not lead you astray.  Unwarranted, a smirk begins to curl his lips, and his nice day dream is shattered by the triumphant sound that Perona makes. 

“See! There you are again! You don't just smile like that! It's creepy,” she makes a face at him and Dracule can feel the vein in his forehead pulse in pure frustration. 

“Get out of here before I toss you in the sea, Perona,” Dracule snaps at her, and the pink haired girl huffs in obvious disdain even as she flips herself around to float out of his study. 

“Fine, Dracy. Be that way to your only friend,” Perona snips and thankfully one of the stitched stuffies shuts the door behind them. 

Mihawk swipes a hand through his hair. He's more annoyed about himself for getting so lost in thought over some woman on a lost island. He doesn't understand why you've become so…special to him so quickly, but he's learned long ago that one shouldn't question why one wants something. You were a unique specimen, one that he wanted to know everything about. These small glimpses into your life he has gotten so far are not enough, not for one as selfish as he. 

Dracule huffs to himself, “Acting like a fool,” he grumbled and sipped his wine in contemplative silence until his glass was empty. He stands from his plush seat, mind already occupied with mentally pursuing his collection of books and the ones he wanted to give to you. 

-----

Perona catches Mihawk twice more smiling to himself, and calls him out each time the next couple of days. She doesn't know what's gotten into Mihawk, but the usual stoic warlord was far more…pleasant than usual. As long as she didn't point out the way he was smiling to himself, that is. 

She looks through the odd arrangement of books in his desk when he is gone, frowning to herself at the array of sailing and Botany books. There is even one about the many species of animal that make the Grand Line their home. These aren't the kind of tomes that Perona sees him reading, and it has made her very suspicious. 

She drops the books with a wrinkled nose and floats back in the air, “What are you hiding, Dracy,” she hisses to herself and glares at his desk as if had all the answers in the world.

Perona sighs and then fixes the desk, hiding the books from sight and leaving before she is caught by the owner of the castle. She'd hate to see if he actually went through with his threat. 

-----

The weeks that you are alone on your island are long. Longer than long you think. It's been nineteen days since Mihawk left, you know because you keep careful track of when to rotate your drying racks for your herbs, and the departure has left you more…despondent lately. You try your best to ignore the cold that constantly surrounds you without your mysterious friend. 

Were the two of you friends? You didn't really know. You've never been involved with someone before, especially not with someone so unique and interesting as Dracule. It's rare that someone washes up on your tiny island, and when they did they usually tried to rob you after you tried to help them. 

You sigh and sit up in the sands of the shore that faces west, the way Hawkeye had gone when he left. You wonder when he'll come back, and you blush when you think of all the things he might want to do with you next. That kiss the morning before he set sail had been mind numbing. You liked the way he took control of your life, enjoyed it when he looked at you with those piercing eyes and ordered you. 

A big shaggy body shoves between your arms suddenly, and you snicker as Hank tackles you back down. Even with the distraction of your shaggy pup, your thoughts still linger on the yellow eyed man. 

“Look at me, Hank!” You bury your face in his fur, “All I can think about is him kissing me!” You whail and your thoughts instantly turn to the way his tongue had slid in your mouth, headless of you just waking, “I sound like someone from one of those books,” You huff in frustration and rise, wiping hair away from your face when the wind suddenly whips around you. 

Something shadow's you from the warm sun and you squint up to see what had interrupted your rant to Hank. Your mouth runs dry when you see none other than the man your brain hasn't been able to keep quiet about. 

Dracule smirks down at his sweet oasis who stares up at him with big eyes, lips caught in her teeth as if afraid to speak up. He reaches out for her, warm hand sliding along her jaw, and thumb tapping the lip between her teeth. You open your mouth, and Mihawk smooths the pad of his thumb over the abused flesh. 

“I believe I heard you saying something about a kiss?” Dracule questions, and you are caught in his ring-eyed gaze. He raises a brow when you nod, and you remember the last time this happened. 

“I was, maybe thinking about the kiss from that morning,” you say, voice rough in embarrassment as you try to look anywhere but at Mihawk. His grip tightens and your cheeks burn as Dracule forces you to look at him, proving any attempts mute. 

The warlord chuckles, a dark rumble deep in his chest that has your turns curling in anticipation, “Well then, Dear One. I'm here now, there is nothing stopping you from taking what you want.” 

Chapter Text

You stare up at Dracule, face burning like a thousand suns. Why? Why did the man who plagued your every thought have to show up just as you were lamenting about him to your dog. You watch as Mihawk crouches to bring himself closer to you, eyes looking expectant, “What's wrong, sweet thing? Cat got your tongue?” He teases meanly. 

Your expression morphs into a scowl and you try to pull away from him, but his grip simply tightens around your jaw, “Mihawk,” you whine his name, lips tugging up into a pout when all he does is angle a sharp brow down you. 

“What, Dear One?” He coos innocently. Dracule had not expected to see you sitting with Hank on the beach when he'd returned to your island. His sharp ears had easily picked up your rant, and the knowledge that you'd been thinking about him just as he had you, sent heat throughout his body. Mihawk wanted to be the only thing you ever cast your mind to when he wasn't there, “I'm only trying to make it fair.” 

You knew that your friend wasn't about to let you out of his hold unless you kissed him. You reach forward, grabbing the lapel of his coat and tug Mihawk down. His knees hit the sand and your lips meet his in a rough kiss. You huff and tilt your head, cheeks flushing when you nose bumps against his, but this is a much better angle. 

Dracule allows you to go at your own pace, patiently letting you find out what works best for you. He encourages you by gently pressing back, mouth parting as arousal pools in his gut when he feels your cool tongue tentatively lap at his lips. Your lips are cool, soft against his own and he greedily takes the messy kiss. His hand loosens around your jaw, becoming a sweet caress that he uses to hold you steady. 

You lean into his sure hold, kiss breaking with a soft sigh as you look up at him through your lashes. You wet your lips and catch the way Dracule follows the motion of your tongue, “Was that okay?” You murmur softly. 

“Adequate,” comes his reply and your shoulders slump at the less than stellar review. Mihawk chuckles at your pout and gently flicks your forehead for it, “Don't be discouraged, Dear. Take it slow, it's not a race.” 

You huff, annoyed with his advice when he'd been the one teasing you in the first place, however, the scowl melts away soon enough. You are just happy that he is back. You flick your eyes over him, taking in the perfect facial hair and the way his hat shadows his unique eyes from the sun. He looks content, lips pulled into a tiny smile that makes you feel all squirmy inside. 

Behind him sits a large pack that he turns and grabs, slinging it over his shoulder before he offers you a hand up from the sand. 

“Better trip here this time?” You ask and take his offered hand.  You dust yourself off and follow Dracule as he picks his way across the sand and to the jungle that separates the beach and your cottage. Hank bounds around the two of you, excited that his second favorite human had finally come back. 

“I'm not soaked to the bone this time,” Dracule comments dryly And you roll your eyes at his attitude, though the snarkiness makes you smile. 

“Good. I'm glad I won't have to take care of an angry bird like last time,” you tease and snicker at his affronted look that your friend sends you. 

“I don't appreciate being wet,” Mihawk grumbles lowly and enters your cottage like he owns the place. He bypasses the living room and goes straight to the kitchen where he opens the pack and begins to sort through his haul. You step close to his side, peering past his arm in curiosity. 

“Whatcha got?” You inquire and Dracule lifts his arm to scootch you in front of him. You've got a much better view of all the things that he has brought with him. 

“Your books, and just a few other things I thought you may enjoy,” Mihawk says and your eyes zero in on the thick, undamaged books that he sets in front of you. Your hands twitch and you long to flip through the pages, but Dracule hasn't stopped and you don't want to be rude. 

A dark bottle with a red label is sat to the side along with several much smaller bags of dried herbs. You pluck one up and examine it, “Tea from my own gardens and my favorite wine.” 

You aren't sure what wine is, but you appreciate the offered teas, “Thank you. You didn't have to bring anything but the books.” You remind him gently and Mihawk scoffs above you.

“Nonsense. I will get you things and you will like them,” Dracule says confidently, casually as if he knows what is best for you. You find that you don't really mind. You've been alone on your island with only Hank for company for almost your entire life, what did you know about the world? 

Mihawk watches you, finding your reluctance to take his gifts rather endearing. He abandons the bag to place his hands on your hips, turning you so that you now face him. He takes in the way you part your lips, tongue wetting your lips as you flick your eyes across his exposed chest. His lips twitch in a smirk and he raises a hand to wrap it around your jaw, angling your face up so that he can dive in and capture your lips in a kiss. 

Dracule has missed the way you give in to him, body relaxing as he takes what he wants and you give without thinking of the consequences. Your lips are cold, open and inviting for him to nip, making your hiss at the slight pain before he smooths it with a lick of his hot tongue. 

“So good for me, Darling,” Mihawk praises quietly and you shiver at the sound of his voice. It sweeps through you like magma, warming you from the inside out and keeping the cold of your devil fruit at bay. 

His hands drop to your thighs, and he bends his knees while wrapping his hands under your legs. You get the hint and reach up, draping your arms around his neck and hop up so that Hawkeye can wrap your legs around his waist. Your ass is sat on the edge of the table, but this new position allows the two of you to be even closer. Your legs tighten around his waist and Mihawk suppresses a groan of want when he feels your heat against the growing tent in his pants. 

Dracule needs to stop. To slow down before he pushes so far that he scares you. You told him last time that you had no idea what you were doing, and while the thought of your innocence has him quaking in his boots, he wants you comfortable with him, safe with him. 

You whine when Mihawk stops the heated exchange, he soothes you with light pecks against your cheeks and lips and then he is pulling away to watch you catch your breath. He gives you one last kiss to your brow and then carefully lowers your feet back to the floor and fixes his hat. 

“Not going to hang those up?” You ask carefully. You don't want him to leave, not right now, and he has always taken off his coat and hat when he has stayed with you. 

“Trying to undress me before dinner, Darling?” Dracule murmurs back and smirks when your face goes red and you look away from him with pursed lips. 

“That's not what I was saying,” you grumble at him, embarrassed at your clingy actions. The warlord huffs and reaches for you, tugging you in to press your face to his chest. 

“Enough pouting. I plan on staying a couple of days, if You must know,” Mihawk assured you and push away from him so that you could look up and see if he was being honest. You search his gaze, and a grin spreads across your face when you see that he is telling you the truth. 

“Nothing to keep you away?” You question and Dracule dips his head in a nod. You stuff down the urge to squeal in delight and surge up to kiss his cheek. He releases you to disappear into the living room for a moment only to come back hatless and with the white button up from before covering his shoulders. 

“Make us tea and tell me about your weeks that I've been away, sweet thing,” Dracule orders and you hop to it with a pep in your step. He watches you debate with yourself over the selection of tea bags he'd brought with him and ultimately choosing chamomile. You ramble as the water boils, telling Hawkeye about the pretty seashells you have started to collect on your back deck. You promise to show him the best ones later and he agrees with an amused smile. 

The whistle of the kettle halts you long enough to pour the two of them steaming mugs of tea. Before you can settle in your own chair, Mihawk snags you by the waist and pulls you in his lap, arm winding around your waist to hold you close to him. You blush prettily and he hums in satisfaction when you rest your weight into him. Your thoughts wander as you sip your sugary tea, eyes occasionally flicking down to the arm around your waist. 

“Why do you keep coming here?” You find yourself blurting out. The question has been bothering you since the last time Mihawe came to your island. You weren't complaining, absolutely not, but you were curious. You have no idea what your friend does when he isn't here on your island, but you assume it has to be more important than spending days on the seas just to come and see you. 

“It's peaceful and I enjoy your company,” You aren't expecting an honest and upfront answer so quickly. He doesn't sound upset that you are asking, but you can hear a warning tilt to his voice that makes nerves shoot through your stomach, “Your island is an oasis compared to the rest of this world.” 

You shift and sip your tea in thought. Was it really so bad out there? Your memories aren't any help, you can't even recall what your parents look like, let alone what your home was like. 

“Well,” you begin and set your mug down so that you can turn and snuggle into his side, happily letting his body heat warm you, “I'm glad you found me then, Mihawk.” 

Dracule hums low in his throat, “So am I, dear girl” he rumbles and the two of you lapse into a comfortable silence. 

The sun is setting by the time you move from his lap. You disappear from the kitchen and Dracule takes the opportunity to pilfer around for something to eat. Hank watches from the doorway, big puppy eyes begging him for any snack that he may come across. He reluctantly gives the mutt a plain tasting biscuit that he finds in a container set aside that is helpfully labeled Hank. 

Dracule hears you before he sees you, ears twitching in the direction of the sound of your socked feet meeting the hardwood. He greets you with a tray of hard cheese, dried meats, and a couple of slices of the bread you had baked a couple of days ago. “I'll meet you by the fireplace,” Hawkeye tells you and hands off the try for you to take to the living room. 

You settle the tray on a cleared end table and crouch to love on Hank when the big brute plops in front of the fireplace. You grin when you scratch his tummy just right and he starts to kick, tongue lolling out to slobber all over the floor. 

Mihawk watches from the entryway, a soft smile on his face as he watches you play with your dog. You make a delightful image with the happy smile on your face, eyes alight with a life that he doesn't see often. He holds two glasses of red wine in his hands, though they are set beside the tray of foodstuffs to let air out. The warlord scratches Hank behind the ear. 

“I've always been more of a cat person, but he is a good boy,” He comments and you shrug. 

“I wouldn't really know. I've never met any,” you frown a bit at your lack of knowledge, but quickly shove any negative emotions down before your fruit decided to cover the three of you with snow. 

“Hank's been my only friend for a long time,” you admit quietly and smile when the big lug gives you living brown eyes, “Yeah, talking to you, boy. You're my knight in shining armor, aren't you?” you coo, baby voice coming out for your good boy. 

Dracule snorts and stands to sit in the armchair that has stayed clear for him since last time. He picks up his glass and swirls the liquid before taking a sip, humming in delight when the sweet flavor bloomed over his tongue. You eye the other glass and turn around to watch him savor another sip of the red liquid. 

“What is that?” Dracule hears you ask, and he hides a smirk behind his glass of wine. He adores your curiosity, your naivety of the world. 

Mihawk helpfully informs you of the name, but the foreign words go right over your head. He sighs when you give him a look that just screams confusion, “It's a sweet wine, my dear. Alcohol,” surprise lights his face when yours suddenly screws up is disgust. 

“Ugh. No thank you then,” you grouce and grimace when you watch him sip from his glass once more. 

Mihawk frowns, slightly annoyed with your reluctance to try it. He casts his eyes around, curious if he could spot the culprit for your dislike of alcohol. He huffed a laugh when his ringed eyes landed on what looked like an old rum jar full of tiny knick knacks. 

“Darling, your first drink should not be the foul concoction run of the mill pirates call rum,” Dracule admonishes and stands to point out the jar on the shelf. He examines the jar and turns his nose up at it when he realizes that the bottle is so old that the raised lettering on the bottle is hardly eligible. 

“Well I didn't know,” you counter and stand to plop on the other chair that you've dragged out of the extra room for yourself. You sit cross legged, still eyeing the wine like it might bite you, “That stuff tasted awful, so I just avoid anything that looked similar.”

“That is something we will remedy tonight, then,” Dracule announces and a bad feeling curls your gut, But you quickly push it away. You trust that Mihawk wouldn't make you do anything you truly didn't want to do. 

“No harm in trying it, I guess,” you agree slowly and Mihawk nods in pride at you being brave. He looms over You, setting his half empty glass to the side and taking up your full one. He lifts the glass to your lips, yellow eyes half lidded and heady as he stares down at you. 

“Sip it, sweet thing,” Dracule orders and watches in rapt attention as you hesitate briefly before opening your mouth so that he could gently trickle the red wine past your lips. Your eyes go wide at the sweet, but tart flavor that spreads over your tongue. Mihawk drinks in your expressful face, cataloging your reaction as the crinkle in your brow smooths out and your shaky nerves are replaced with pleasure. He tips the glass away long enough for you to decide if you want more, and his lips tug up smugly when your eyes go glassy in want. 

Dracule tips the glass back up, and he can't look away as you work your delicate throat. His imagination spins, and he wants to see your throat constrict and work around something much thicker. His pants tighten and he becomes so distracted at the thought of watching you struggle to take him, that he doesn't realize he has been holding the glass against your lips for a little too long. 

You pull away from him, coughing to try and clear the burning in your throat from the gulp of wine accidently forced down your throat. Mihawk hurriedly sets the glass away and kneels by your side, “Oh, Darling,” he croons and reaches for your hands that wipe at your face. 

Your lips are stained dark red, face flushed as you clear your throat. You make a fetching sight and Dracule commits it to memory, “Are you alright, Dear?” He swaps both your wrist to one of his hands, and reaches out to cradle your face in his free one, thumb gently swiping over your bottom lip. 

You nod, “I'm fine,” you assure him and swallow thickly. That had been a lot all at once. Your head feels fuzzy and you have to blink several times to get your vision to clear. 

Dracule nods, hand slipping into one of your own so that he can kiss your knuckles, “Good. That was my fault, Dear One. I became distracted.” 

You feel your entire body light up with the way Mihawk is looking at you. He looks hungry , like the massive sea kings that you've seen swim around your island. You swallow and his eyes track the movement of your throat, yellow eyes seemingly glowing in the firelight. Everything feels electric, and you have no idea what you're supposed to do next. 

Chapter Text

Dracule licks his lips, wanting to surge forward to devour you. He wants you, every drop that you would gladly give him. However, the warlord isn't ignorant and knows that if he were to dive in and open up to you about everything he wants, you would never allow him back on your island. So, he clears his throat and takes a step back once he stands from his kneel, “I think that's enough for now,” Mihawk rumbles and turns to take the wine glasses back to the kitchen. 

You surprise yourself by snapping your hand out and wrapping it around his wrist. You tug gently, face on fire as you give him a shy smile, “I would like another glass, please,” you whisper and look up at Hawkeye through your lashes. You like the way the wine has made you feel. Shoulders slumped and head a little airy. You wanted to know how else it would make you think. 

Mihawk watches you, golden eyes tracing a scorching path from where you hold on to his wrist all the way to your face. A smirk tilts his lips, and Dracule lets out a put-upon sigh, “I suppose one more wouldn't hurt, Darling,” he murmurs and twists his wrist so that he can catch your hand in his and dip to press his lips to your knuckles. 

You shiver at the press of those sinful lips against your skin. You aren't ignorant, not entirely, at least. Your books have prepared you for what goes in between a man and a woman, but to experience it? Just the thought of thinking about Dracule in that way has your face exploding in a blush. 

Mihawk ticks a brow up at your reddening face, “Something wrong, Dear?” He murmurs, tone a touch concerned when he watches you suck your bottom lip between your teeth and chew nervously. He hums and takes your face in his warm hands, and despite your current embarrassment, you still find yourself sagging in his hold. 

“I'm fine. You're just… really pretty,” you find yourself admitting, and Dracule chortles at your innocent admission. You want to duck away from his laughter, but the pirate steps close enough to gently press his lips to your brow.

“I am glad you think so, sweet thing,” Mihawk rumbles, and you can hear the muted delight in his tone, “Though your beauty far outweighs my own. Despite your snowy devil fruit, you shine brighter than the Sun.” 

Butterflies break out in your stomach, and your hands find his wrists and tighten around them. You have no idea what to say to his kind, flowery words, but Dracule doesn't seem to mind. He presses one last kiss to your brow and then recedes, taking the wine glasses to the kitchen to refill them. 

Mihawk takes a moment once he is away from you. His hands grip the counter, and he breathes deeply through his nose. Dracule doesn't understand the sway you have him under. His heart thuds at even the slightest hint of affection, hands sweating like some preteen who hasn't even kissed a girl yet. 

“Fool,” Dracule hisses under his breath. There was no need to be overthinking his feelings for his dear one. She was his, and that was that. 

That settled, Mihawk filled the glasses and loped back to the living room. A smile flits across his lips when he sees that you've stood from your seat and have taken his hat from where he'd placed it on the mantle of the fireplace. He can't help the huff of amusement that leaves him when you carefully place the massive hat in your head and examine yourself in the small mirror off to the side in your cluttered living room. 

“You know, Pirate Captains consider it rude and unwise for another to wear their hat,” Dracule comments casually And smirks at the way you jump in shock, flurries scattering about in a puff as you swipe his hat down from its perch. 

“Sorry!” You squeak and shuffle back to the fireplace to hook his hat back on the mantle. 

“Don't apologize, Dear One,” Mihawk dismisses and walks over to hand you the glass of red. You examine it with a critical eye and then take a careful sip, smiling when you find that it tastes even better than before. 

“Why is it rude?” You ask and settle back on your couch, pulling your legs up and under you. You are glad that Mihawk isn't upset at your curiosity. 

“For some, their hat is their staple, their symbol of who they are. I've had mine for well over two decades now, and it would be like losing a part of myself if something were to happen to it,” Dracule hums and fingers the cross necklace that hangs around his necklace, “Just like my ship and my sword.” 

You find yourself nodding along, fascinated by this way of life you know little about. The only pirates you've ever had the misfortune of meeting have been little more than barbarians. 

As the night goes on, one glass turns into three more. Dracule had sat beside you on the couch and as the bottle emptied, you had grown bolder. Scooting close to your friend and cuddling into his chest. Mihawk tightens the arm he has wrapped around you and you happily allow him to move you so that you sit in his lap, legs on either side of his own. Dracule collects the empty glasses with one hand and sets them on a side table for later. Your head lolls to the side, vision shimmy and head stuffed with clouds. You are well and truly drunk, but you feel good, and you know that Dracule can make you feel even better. 

You rise and Mihawk is subjugated to the most lust filled look he's seen so far, and it makes him shift under you, hands moving to settle on your hips to keep you steady. Your hands curl in the ruffle of his shirt and you gasp when Dracule drags you close by the hips, blushing when you realize that Mihawk can definitely feel how hot you are between your legs. 

You aren't sure who started kissing who first, all you know is that you adore the feeling of Dracule's tongue in your mouth. Mihawk explores in an unhurried manner, taking his time to catalog the meek whines and breathy whimpers you let out when he does something you like. His tongue curls around your own and he gently sucks your slick muscle into his mouth. It's slick and wet and exactly what you want. You whine into the kiss and Dracule takes pity on you, moving his hands up and under your shirt to rest his burning palms against your freezing skin. 

The temperature chance has you breaking the kiss to hiss at the unexpected touch. Mihawk slides his hands up your sides, leaving a fiery trail that leaves you shaking in his hold. Everything feels tingly, like when you step into the ocean and feel the calm waves sap your strength. You drop your head to rest on his shoulder, but Mihawk gently pushes you back, and you are suddenly caught in his demanding gaze. 

“Put your arms above your head, Dear,” Mihawk orders and you raise your arms up without a thought. He hooks your shirt and lifts it up and over your head and then tossed it to the floor. He sucks in a sharp breath when your breasts are exposed to him, and he makes a mental note that you did not wear any kind of chest wrap under your clothes. 

Reverently, Dracule cups one of your glorious mounds, thumbs swiping over a peaked nipple and sighing in rapture when you moan for him. He does it again, playing with your tits to his enjoyment until you are a squirming mess in his lap. 

“Dracule,” You whine, and glance down at him, eyes half lidded and full of heat. You don't know what you're asking for, only knowing that the man below you can provide it. 

With a growl, Mihawk tips the two of you, shifting so that you land on your back and end up staring up at him. The warlord dips down, lips latching around a hard nipple and swirling his tongue around the bud. You curse, back bowing off the couch, but Mihawk holds you down, hand coming up to tweak and roll the only nub. Pleasure zings through you, body heating up as Mihawk laves your chest with attention. He leaves your nipple long enough to gently bite the soft skin of your breast, teeth digging in just enough to leave an imprint. 

Your hands dig into his dark hair, pulling him down and closer to your heated body. Your hips jump on their own violation and Dracule groans when you accidentally rut against his growing erection. He doesn't stop, wanting to every breathy moan you make for him. 

Everything is perfect until it suddenly isn't. The multiple glasses of wine and your overheating body have made a bad combination. You grimace when you feel your stomach twist, eyes opening a crack and the flickering light of the fire just makes the feeling worse.

“Mi-Mihawk,” you stutter out and Dracule's sharp ears easily pick up on the panic in your voice. He raises up, and then he scrambles to stand when he notices the vaguely green tint you have going on. The warlord slides his arms under your body, lifting you bridal style as he speed walks to the bathroom. He gets you there just in time, knees hitting the ground and wine coming up to splash into the toilet. 

You're crying by the time it's all over, fat tears rolling down your face, and you know you look pitiful. Mihawk strokes his thumbs across your cheeks, cleaning your face of anymore tears, “I'm sorry,” You say, and wince at the roughness of your voice. 

Dracule huffs at you and gently clears your hair away from your face, “No harm, Dear One. Let's just keep your wine intake to just one glass for now, how about that?” 

You nod easily and sniff, wiping your face as your lips pull into a pout. You feel horrible, physically and for ruining the mood from earlier. Mihawk opens his arms and you gladly fall into him, shoving your face in the crook of his neck as he holds you. You silently promise yourself to never drink so much again. 

Mihawk sighs to himself as he adjusts the precious bundle of blankets in his arms. You had fallen asleep within seconds of him holding you, leaving Dracule to once again pick you up and tuck you into bed. Hank gives him a big puppy smile when he enters your bedroom, and Dracule makes sure to pat his head a couple of times after tucking you in. He leans in and presses a kiss to your brow before leaving the room. It looks like it would be the couch again tonight. 

Chapter Text

The sound of the native birds of your island is what wakes Mihawk. He cracks his eyes open, wincing when his back protests him moving as soon as he wakes up. He stands and moises his way to the kitchen, filling the kettle and setting it on the stove. Mugs and tea bags are next, and Dracule makes sure to dump some sugar into your own cup. He then moves on, collecting fresh fruits and vegetables from your garden and investigating the smoke room. He finds very little inside, and decides that his haul now is enough for breakfast. 

Fixing it up doesn't take all that long, and soon he has a platter of foodstuffs that looks similar to the one last night. Dracule makes a mental note to try and bring you some type of livestock, though he dreads the thought of anything bigger than a house cat on his ship. 

The tea is placed on the tray and Dracule makes his way to your bedroom. He eases the door open and a soft smile crosses his lips at the sight of you curled up with an arm around Hank. The big pooch whines and drags himself off the bed and out the door, gone to do his business. Mihawk takes his spot and sets the tray away from you but still on the bed. 

“Sweet thing,” Dracule rumbles and slides his hand up into your hair, scratching your scalp just the way you like it, “It's time to get up. I've made breakfast.” 

Those seem to be the magic words for you rise like the dead and look at Mihawk through squinted eyes. He thinks she looks adorable when you rub your eyes, pout on your lips from being woken up. 

“Hawk?” You mumble out and wince when your head throbs like a bastard. You whine and lay back down, not wanting to deal with the pain, “Don't feel good.” 

Dracule can't help but laugh at your pitiful state, “Oh, Darling. I'm not surprised you don't feel very well,” he coos and gently pulls you back into a sitting position. He shifts to sit behind you, back against the wall as he drags the tray of goodies closer to both of you. 

“One must be careful when indulging in alcohol. Is this your first hangover?” Mihawk asks quietly and you shrug, not really understanding what he's going on about. You frown when he laughs at you again and cross your arms over your chest, only to wince when you brush across your breasts. 

“Owee,” you murmur quietly and wonder why your chest aches so badly, only to drop your head in shame when you happened to remember most of last night. 

Mihawk gently lays you back and lifts your shirt, shushing you gently when you squirm and try to fight him, “Hush, let me look. There is nothing to be embarrassed by,” he chides and sends you a look that has you ducking your head and looking away from him. Mihawk examines the seldom hickies and love bites with a smug twist of his lips, hands reaching up to gently trace the bite mark that still lingers from last night. 

You look beautiful all marked up, and a dark feeling blooms in his chest at the sight of what he did. Mihawk wants to see more of them on you, a proof that you want him. That you are his. 

“Just sore, sweet thing,” Dracule comments lowly and kisses your cheek, lingering to leave a trail of hot kisses all the way down your neck and to your shoulder, “We will have breakfast and then you will have a hot bath while I do my morning routine.” 

You nod, completely at the warlord's mercy as you glance down to see that he hasn't stopped his gentle ministrations, thumbs rubbing over your nipples over and over again until you can think of nothing but the man who holds you. Even your hangover doesn't seem as bad with Dracule here. 

Mihawk glances over the tray and picks up a cubed melon slice, lifting it up to your lips, and grinning when you obediently open your mouth for him. He feeds you one piece after another until you are pleasantly full and ready to go back to sleep, “Tea first, sweet girl,” he orders when he feels you shift again. 

You nod slowly, wincing when your head aches at even the slightest movements. The tea has cooled, but it still tastes wonderful to your cottonmouth. You sip until it is empty and Dracule takes the mug away from you when he notices you finished. He taps your thigh gently, “Up you go, Darling.” He encourages softly. 

He leaves you to find some clean clothes and a towel while he goes to the bathroom and begins to run you a bath. He is surprised by the amount of modern utilities he finds in your cottage and wonders who you really are. While simple, your home was filled with older, but no less luxurious items. The hot water and plumbing was just one of the many things that he's noticed. 

Mihawk's thoughts are interrupted when you appear in the doorway with a thin robe and towel. You smile at the sight of your friend starting you a bath, “Thank you for taking care of me, Dracule,” you say, and step close to press your lips to his cheek when he rises from his slouch over the tub. 

Hawkeye feels hot satisfaction curl in his chest at your thanks. He turns and pulls you in for a kiss, hand coming up to tangle in your hair and pull you close to him. Mihawk likes the way you say his name. All breathy and full of gratitude, and all for him.

 You whine at the less than soft treatment, but you can't bring yourself to care or complain about it. Not when you love it when Dracule touches you like this. He kisses you breathless, leaving you a gasping mess as he turns away to fiddle with the knobs of the faucet. You pout a little, annoyed that Dracule is never as affected As you are after a kiss like that. 

Your annoyance disappears the second that Dracule steps behind you, hands placed on your shoulders as if to slide your robe down. Nerves surge through your entire body, and you clutch the thick fabric to your chest, “I um. I can take It from here, Mihawk.” 

You shiver at the feeling of his warm breath on the back of your neck. Your hair is up in a messy bun, allowing the warlord to press chaste kisses to the flushed skin there, and thankfully, no more than that.

 “Take your time, dear one. I'll be outside if you need me.” Dracule assures you and then he is shutting the door behind himself and leaving you alone in the bathroom.

You shrug off your bathrobe and a relaxing sigh escapes you as you settle in the hot water, eyes closing as you do what Mihawk bid and take your time. 

It's an hour later by the time you step outside. It's nice and sunny like usual, and you grin when Hank bounds up. The big lug presents you with a stick, and you toss it into the woods for your dog to go running after. You glance around, humming wordlessly as you look for Dracule. 

You find him at the back of the cottage where the sun shines brightest. Your home is situated up a small embankment, leaving your backyard to drop off into a cliff face. Dracule stands at the edge of the cliff, looking regal and dramatic as the wind blows his dark hair this way and that. 

You wonder why he keeps coming back here. He's told you before that your island is like a safe haven from the rest of the world, but sometimes you aren't sure that you believe him. You don't know what the rest of the world is like, and when you first came to this island, you yearned to leave and explore the world. How much of the world has Mihawk experienced to say that your island in the middle of nowhere was a safe place for him. 

What did your friend go through for him to run and hide away from it all? 

“I can hear you thinking from up here, Dear,” Mihawk says and you nearly jump out of your skin. He turns and gives you a smug smirk, “What's on your mind?” 

You huff at him and step by his side, eyes flickering to the crashing waves of the ocean. Your devil fruit reacts to the sight, sending flurries scattering about the two of you. You debate asking the real question you've wanted answered since Dracule stepped foot on your island. Just who exactly was Dracule Hawkeye Mihawk? 

“Nothing, just admiring,” you say instead. You didn't want to give him any reason to leave early. 

Dracule huffs at you with a roll of his eyes, “Is that so?” He presses and eyes you, “You can ask me things, Dear One. I won't lie to you.” 

“Even if it's about who you really are?” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. You tense, flurries sticking to your skin as your nerves get the better of you. The silence is thick between the two of you, and you are terrified to even look in his direction. 

“I introduced myself when I saved you from those pirates, did I not?” Dracule's tone is one of forced calm, and more snow begins to fall when you hear it. You can't help but feel like you've messed up. A warm hand catches your chin and you are forced to look into the golden, ringed eyes of your friend. His gaze is as cold as your devil fruit, and you find yourself shivering under it. 

“You did,” You agreed carefully, “But, you just… don't speak about yourself often, and I'm curious.” You swallow harshly and catch the bird following the movement of your throat. His eyes catch your own in the next moment and you force yourself to hold his gaze. 

It feels like it takes an eternity, but Dracule relents, eyes softening just a fraction and grip becoming more tender, “I have a good reason for not doing so, Snow Angel,” he murmurs. 

You suck in a sharp breath at the new name, wetting your lips as you latch on to the pretty words that he spills. You want to say more, but your lips won't move, your jaw won't work to form the words that you want to say to him. Dracule has you, hook, line, and sinker, just where he wants you. He traces the curve of your jaw with his thumb, then leans forward to press his lips to your brow. 

“Promise to not ask me again, and I'll tell you in my own time,” Dracule suggests softly and you lose yourself even more to him, “I do not take the sharing of personal information lightly,_.” 

And there it was. The nail in the coffin. Mihawk rarely calls you by your name, so hearing it in his sinfully melodic voice sends shivers of pleasure racing up your spine. The flurries melt, and you find yourself nodding eagerly.

“I promise to not ask again,” You say, and feel like you are about to explode when Dracule gives you a proud quirk of his lips. 

“Good girl,” Mihawk praises softly and brings you in for a quick kiss, pleased that you see his way of things. The tension in the air is all but gone, and the warlord leads his snow angel away from the cliff edge.

“Come, I didn't get those books for you for nothing, Dear One. How about you read one of them to me?” 

You let Dracule pull you back to the cottage, Hank meeting you with a happy bark at the door. His anger still lingers in the back of your mind, but would let it go for now. 

Chapter Text

Dracule leaves two days later. You send him off with a kiss and a pouch of your peppermint tea leaves and watch him sail away until he is nothing but a speck on the horizon. You shake your head, the forlorn feeling present, but you are quick to shove it down. You had things to do, so you didn't need to be standing around wondering when you would see Dracule again. 

After the incident at the cliff, Mihawk had acted as if nothing had happened, and you were content to let the promise slide. The next two days had been spent quietly reading and getting to know one another. Sweet kisses and wandering hands had invaded each one of those moments until Dracule rose this morning and deemed that he had to go. Business to attend to once again. 

You frown thinking about those words. You want to know what he means by Business. You want to know what islands he goes to and who he's met. You have poured over your books and sea stained papers for years, and every single map you have come across never has your island. 

You know the shape and length and every plant and animal that shares this island with you. You and Hank have explored every nook and cranny your home has to offer, down to the sandy beach and up to the small mountain on the western side of the tropical island. And not once have you seen it labeled or drawn on any of the scrolls that wash up on the shore. 

Dracule offered you so little knowledge about himself. However he could go on for hours about the books he's read, reciting poetry from memory as the two of you sit by the fireplace late at night. Later he would say that he would bring you more books, either to add to your collection or to replace the old ones. 

Maybe you can convince him to bring some maps so that you can try and find out more about your home. Did you live in any of the Blues? Or was your home in the more dangerous parts of the ocean such as the Grand line and the New World? You had no idea. 

The shaggy body of Hank barreling into you sends the melancholy thoughts from your mind as the big dog pulls your focus on him. He has his stick again, and the two of you play until both of you are exhausted and in need of a good nap. 

The two of you would wake up later than you had intended in the evening and examine the seeds and other goodies that Dracule had brought with him. You had been far too distracted with the man in question to even think about going out and planting any, but now was a good time as ever. You find some empty pots and carefully press the delicate seeds into the soil that you'd gathered from your garden. Once covered, you add enough water to properly dampen the spoil and then place each of your pots on the tall barrels that sit behind your home. You smile down at your hard word, excited for when the saplings break through the soil, though that wouldn't be for a week or two at the least. 

The rest of the day was spent harvesting your other herbs, cutting and drying out the roots and leaves for brewing and leaving the rest to replant. It's satisfying work, and soon your kitchen is full of drying herbs that make your home smell delightful. Chores done for now, you make yourself a cup of tea from the ones that Mihawk had gifted you and settle on the couch by the fireplace with one of his books. You read until you dozed off, Hank curled up on the floor snoozing away with you. 

~~~~~~~~

“Oh boy, look who decided to grace us with their presence,” Shanks crowed, a grin stretching across his face as he raised his mug of ale up in greeting. It isn't often that Mihawk would show up in a good enough mood for a drink, especially since the warlord didn't want to fight him anymore. 

Dracule rolls his eyes, a sneer on his lips as he casts his ringed eyes over the Red-Haired Pirates and their Captain. He'd seen the Red Force by chance and had decided on a whim to investigate what they were up to. In a way it was his job to do so, so it wasn't like it was out of his way, “Only to see what you and your lot are doing here.” 

It didn't help that the Yonko had docked on an Island only a four day sail away from your home. Shanks didn't hang around the first half of the Grand Line often, so it made him antsy to know that someone so powerful, even with a single arm, was so close to his safe haven. 

“The usual, partying, exploring, having a good time. Something you should definitely do more often,” Shanks tells him, vague and annoying like always. 

Dracule keeps his expression neutral. Shanks was like a shark in the water when it came to finding out things about his once close friend. It would be catastrophic if the redhead found out about you. 

“I have my own way of enjoying my time. One that doesn't involve drinking myself into a stupor every evening,” Dracule quips, but still takes the offered drink despite his words. 

Shanks slaps him on the back, laughing jovially and Mihawk grimaces when the unexpected contact makes his drink slosh over the edge of his mug. Dracule shrugs off the offending hand with a roll of his eyes. 

“I'm sure you do, Hawkeye. Brooding away in that castle if yours. When's the last time you even spoke to a woman?” Shanks teases and knocks back the rest of his ale then signals the bar keep for a new one with a cheeky wink. 

“A couple of days ago, if you must know,” Dracule admits without thinking about it, and immediately curses himself when Shanks gasps dramatically and crowds his space. 

“What? Tell me about her! What's she like? What's her name? She must be someone special to catch your eye, Mihawk.” 

Dracule shoves the redhead back, regret coiling hot at his mishap. He takes his time by sipping his ale and ignores the manchild whining in his ear and asking question after question that Dracule would not be answering. His patience soon wears thin however and he slams his mug down on the counter with a snarl.

“It is none of your business, Shanks. I never meant to say anything to you about her,” Dracule states, tone tinged in an unfamiliar rage. He doesn't get angry very often, but the thought of playboy, beachbum, Shanks even knowing your name sets his teeth on edge. 

The other pirate captain shows some tack for once in his life and raises his hand in surrender, “Alright. I won't ask anymore,” he says, but a shit eating grin is curling his lips and he leans in close to the warlord, “Ya gotta at least tell me she's a catch though, right?” 

Mihawk huffs and pinches the bridge of his nose. Shanks just couldn't stop could he? 

“As beautiful a fresh blanket of snow, but with a smile that could melt it all away,” Dracule murmurs quietly and Shanks eyes the swordsman in a new light. He had never heard the man wax poetry about someone before. 

“Huh, you must really like her then, huh?” Shanks presses and is rewarded with the sight if Dracule dipping his head in a nod. he sips his ale, thoughts swirling about this mystery woman. 

“Well. I'm glad you've finally found someone that'll put up with your broody ass,” Shanks snickers and slaps Mihawk on the back once more with a big grin. Truly, he was happy that his friend has someone to escape to, especially when their world grows more dangerous every day. 

Mihawk is quiet for a long time, long enough that he has finished his ale and stands from his stool. He tosses enough berri on the counter to cover his drink, and then turns away from Shanks, “Thank you, Red Hair,” he begins and sends the Yonko a look over his shoulder, eyes holding The threat of a fight, “Don't make me regret telling you.” 

Shanks laughs with a shake of his head and waves at Dracule, “I'll try not to, Hawkeye,” he snickers again at the glare that receives for that, but it was definitely worth it. 

Mihawk leaves the island without bothering to learn its name and sets sail for Gloom. He filled the boring trip with thoughts of you, recalling how nicely your cool skin felt upon his heated body. How much he enjoyed listening to you read from the books he's already devoured countless times. How sweet your lips taste when you kiss him so innocently. 

Dracule is not sure when he will go back, but his hands already itch to feel your softs skin, and he is parched for The sweet peppermint tea you grow. The warlord sighs, a great expel of air from his lungs, and looks north to the calm belt, where your island stays protected at its edge. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

The screams of the men and children of your home island echo in your ears as you are dragged through the crowds of people. Your older brother holds you tight by the wrist, pulling you through the throngs of citizens. Your short legs can hardly keep up, but you power through the fatigue to keep up with your brother. 

Your island, your home is being attacked, and you are terrified. You don't understand why it's happening, only know that your oldest brother had woken you up in the middle of the night and packed your largest bag with thr essentials. He had instructed you to be silent as the two of you snuck through the castle, away from your mother and father and other siblings that still slept in peace. 

You yelped when you suddenly tripped over a loose brick in the road, sending you to your knees and snow exploded around you and your brother, causing screams to erupt all around. You wince and push yourself up, desperately scrambling for your older brother. 

Gods, you wish you could remember his name. 

“Come on, princess,” He is suddenly there, swinging you up and over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, “We're almost to the port.” 

You watch from your perch as the people of your island run for the castle, panic and fear all around as the town burns and the fields are decimated by someone with an earth devil fruit. Your brother runs as fast as he can to the port, trying to shield his baby sister from the harsh realities of a treaty gone wrong and a dark secret revealed. 

The two of you make it to Port just in time to witness the biggest ship you have ever seen crash into the main docks. The pirates don't seem to care about the destruction they have caused and you watch in horror, eyes latching onto the symbol that the barbarians proudly wear. It's a bright pink cloud, a skull with bug red lips and with a sun and a tree on opposite corners. 

The sight is broken when your brother rounds a corner, and you grunt when he slides to a sudden stop. You try to turn around, and are able to catch sight of a wide brimmed hat with a massive white feather falling from the back. A giant sword rests on the man's back, the hilt oddly shaped like a cross.

“Don't look, Sunshine,” Your brother orders, but you don't listen. You can't listen to him. Not when that hat and sword look so familiar. But from where? 

You are still thinking about the strange looking man when the two of you finally make it to the escape ship. Your brother loads you up and with one last forlorn look at your dying island, he sets sail for Paradise, away from the New World where his precious little sister would be safe. 

You wake slowly, the dream trickling away like grains of sand in an hourglass. It felt familiar, and your heart aches at the sight of the man who had saved you. With a sigh, you pull yourself up from the couch and give Hank a smile. It was time to start the day. 

Chapter Text

The days dragged on, Mihawk actually busy for once with Navy orders to investigate a new emergence of rookie pirates at the edges of Doflamingo's territory. The world leaders knew that the pink moron would rather turn a blind eye to any criminal activity in his region. 

Even with his experience with much of the Grand Line and the New World, it still took Dracule a few days past a month for him to even return back to Gloom Island. He found that he missed you terribly, to the point that even Perona had pointed out his less than stellar mood. Not that he was ever really expressive anyway. Mihawk ignored her questions as he packed his ship once more for another week of travel. 

Perona floated after him, a scowl on her pretty face, “You just got back and you're already leaving again? Why? What about me?” 

Hawkeye rolled his eyes, “I have a life outside of this castle, Perona,” he groused out and carefully stacked the books he had mentally chosen on his way back to Gloom Island. Last time he had seen you, you were particularly interested in the Blues. One of the thick tomes he'd picked would be a perfect gift for you. 

“You didn't three months ago,” She snapped back at him and crossed her arms in a pout. She hated being ignored! What was she supposed to do all alone in this dreary old castle? Zoro wasn't here to entertain her any longer. 

Dracule sighs, sweeping his hand through his hair and leveling the ghost girl a look, “It's rude to dig into other people's business. So stay out of mine,” He points out and then closes the bag full of books. Another, smaller satchel, rests at his feet, though that one is full of small trinkets from his foray into the New World. 

Usually he strayed away from the market stalls and over priced jewelry, but a small wind chime made of green sea glass had caught his eye. Dracule had paid for it without looking at the price and then continued on his way, unconsciously keeping a lookout for anything else that he thought you may like. 

The warlord may or may not have ended up with a few more than he had even meant to buy, but Mihawk thought about the look of joy that would cross your face at his gifts, and pushed the thought of how many he'd gotten away. 

“Well someone should be in your business! You've been so sneaky, Dracy! I want to know what you've been up to!” Perona demands again with a huff. She doesn't care that it's rude to butt into his business. He took care of her, let her stay on Gloom Island and hadn't kicked her out like she knew he could. Perona would look after him too! 

“Give it up, Perona,” Dracule grumbled, tone final as he picked up both bags and slung them over his shoulder. He fixed his hat with his free hand and then marched out of his study without a word to the floating pink girl. 

Mihawk wouldn't lie and say that he didn't feel at least the tiniest bit bad for lying to Perona. He did care for the girl, in a way like one would a stray cat. But she also had a big mouth, and Dracule had already slipped up once with Shanks. He couldn't do that again. 

The ghost girl pouted behind him as she followed the warlord all the way outside and to his ship. A frown took over her face when she noticed that he was packed as if he would be gone for a while. The ship looked more crowded than usual, and she wondered what Mihawk had stored away. 

“Well. How long will you be gone for?” Perona asks quietly and tries to not let it show how upset she actually was with Dracule leaving already. 

The older man sighs, stepping off his ship to trudge back inside the castle, “I won't be leaving until tomorrow. The trip takes around a week. I plan to stay for at least four days, and then a week trip back,” Dracule says and makes sure to keep everything as vague as possible. He glances at the young girl and rolls his eyes when she still looks upset. 

“We will go shopping when I come back. Will that appease you?” Mihawk asks and it's like a light switch. 

Perona grins in excitement. Shopping with Mihawk means getting whatever she wants. The warlord had more than enough berri to spend. 

“Fine! But I want to go to the best places, Mihawk! You owe me that,” She demands and crosses her arms in a huff, ready to argue her case if denied. 

“As long as it keeps you quiet,” Dracule says instead and Perona just sticks her nose up in the air again as she floats away to her room. This wasn't over! She would find out what had suddenly taken all of Mihawk's attention. 

Dracule watches the pink girl leave with a fond sigh. He sits in his chair and reaches down to retrieve a bottle of wine from inside his desk. He pops it to let it air and then pours himself a careful glassful. Mihawk admires the red and thinks back on how this same brand of wine had stained your pretty lips. 

Now alone, the warlord allows his mind to drift without worry, eyes closing as he thinks back to the last time he was with you. His overly romantic thoughts have him sneering at himself, as if he were some prince come to sweep you off your feet. Dracule sips his wine. 

He likes to think that it's the other way around. For the most part, life had before a melancholy bore to Mihawk. Either following the Government's orders to look for a good fight, or napping the day away in his ship. Little caught and held his attention, but you? You are an entirely different story. 

Mihawk had never met someone so sheltered, only knowing of the world through waterlogged books and from the kindness of any pirate that may have washed up on your beach. From what Dracule has gathered, he has been one of the very few that hasn't tried to kill you. 

You were kind and intelligent. He loved the way that your eyes would light up whenever he spoke of what he knew, always excited to acquire more knowledge. Mihawk found that he wanted to teach you, to show you everything that he knew. 

He frowns suddenly and thinks back to the rather innocent question that had made anger and panic race through him. You wanted to know about him, not his knowledge, and it made him antsy. You didn't deserve to know the hardships and pain that he has gone through to get to where he is today. You did not need to be aware of the atrocities that he has committed over the years. Dracule Mihawk is not a kind man, and his past certainly reflects it. 

Mihawk would tell you more in time, but for now, Dracule wanted to be selfish. Wanted to hoard you away from the world and keep you safe like a dragon would its treasure. And maybe that is what you were to him. A pirate needed treasure after all. 

The warlord finishes his glass and then stands, intending to fix himself and his ward dinner. He would leave at first light tomorrow morning, not later than that. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Hank whines at your feet, big puppy dog eyes catching your attention from where you sit slouched at your kitchen table. It's been a month and a half, and still, there has been no sign of Dracule. He had promised that he would be back, and the man didn't seem like the kind to break those, but it still made you worry for him. 

Was he okay? Did whatever business he had to attend go bad? Did a seaking attack him and somehow get the better of him? You have know idea and your chest hurts at all the horrible possibilities that could befall your friend. 

Were you friends? Did that term apply to the two of you? The few romance books that you'd been able to cobble together didn't make it seem like the two of you were just friends. Was he your boyfriend? Partner? Lover? Again, another countless item that you did not know, however, you resolved to amend that when Dracule returned. Whenever that may be. 

“I know, Buddy. I'm sorry that I'm being such a sad sap,” You lament to your pooch and lean down to give the shaggy dog a scratch under his chin. 

Hank's woofs at, and you watch in suspicion when his ears suddenly snap back and he wheels around to start barking at the front door. You frown as you get up and follow him, curious as to what got Hank's attention. 

That frown turns upside down when the door opens and Dracule Mihawk strides in like he owns the place. He sets down several bags and pats Hank's head with a soft smirk before the mutt’s attention is caught by something outside. He bounds away, leaving you and Mihawk staring at one another. 

“Snow Angel,” He begins and takes a half step forward, but that's as far as he gets before you slam into him, Snow exploding around the two of you as you bury your face in his chest. You don't even care that his cross necklace is digging into your face. 

“You're back,” You cry. And when did that start? Oh well. You pull away and wipe your eyes, though you can't help the tremble in your bottom lip, “I was worried that something might have happened to you.” 

Warm, calloused hands close around your freezing face and Dracule leans in to rest his brow against your own. The feather on his hat tickles your face, but you ignore it, not taking your eyes away from the beautiful yellow ones that demand your attention. 

“There is little out there that could truly hurt me, Dear one,” Mihawk says in such a sure tone that you have no choice but to believe him. He strokes your cheeks, wiping away your tears with a soft smile meant only for you, “Though I do appreciate the thought that you worried for me so.” 

You sniff and send him a glare at his teasing. Damn this man and what he does to you. What you hardly understand. 

“You're really that strong?” You find yourself asking him, and lean back to observe his chiseled physique and the sword on his back. A funny feeling shoots through your stomach when you lay eyes on the cross guard, and you frown at the negativity of the emotion. 

You're so focused that you don't notice Dracule's hesitation, though you are quick to tune back in when he speaks. 

“I am. One of my proudest titles is the Strongest Swordsman in the world,” Mihawk admits, and you can't help but think that this is an important event for him, and you delight in knowing that he was finally giving you a peek inside of who he really is.

“It sounds like you've worked very hard for it,” you say softly and reach up to cup his hands with your own, thumbs swiping gently over his knuckles.  

“I did, still do. It is a title that I will happily defend,” Dracule murmurs and slips a hand free so that he can curl his arm around your waist. You shiver at the warmth he emits, and finally feel like you can breathe properly once again. Before you can comment further, Mihawk is twisting the two of you around and backing you up against the door, “Enough of that. Do kiss me, sweet thing. I have missed your taste.” 

Your back hits the door and then his lips are upon your, closing over your own in a heated exchange that has one of your hands sliding into his hair and pulling him closer. You kiss him back like your life depends on it, opening up for him when Mihawk's tongue licks the seam of your lips. A choked moan leaves your throat when that hot muscle sweeps inside and curls around your tongue. 

Dracule slows, this kiss turning less frantic with need and more passionate, soft pecks of the lips that still leave your heart racing but in an entirely different way. He leaves one last lingering kiss to your cheek and then pulls away to tuck your head under his chin. You take advantage and cuddle close to him, arms dropping to wrap around his waist. You hum when his grip on you tightens. 

“I missed you,” You murmur quietly and Dracule kisses the top of your head. 

“I know dear. I longed for you as well,” he says and your heart flutters at his words. Did he long for you? Did he pine like the men from your story books? 

“Wh-What are we?” You ask before you can stop the damming words coming out of your mouth. You flush and bury your face in the crook of his neck, “I know that we're friends, right? But I don't think friends kiss and, um, touch the way we do.” 

Dracule listens to you babble, finding it endearing that you wanted his opinion on this.

 “You can call what we have whatever you like,” He decides on and then catches your chin to lift your face and place a quick kiss to your lips, “But no matter what you choose, you are my treasure.” 

You can't find any kind of words to say to that, so you just reach for him to pepper his face with kisses, giggling when his facial hair tickles your face. Mihawk allows your fun for a whole before he puts a stop to it by flicking you in the forehead. 

“It's later than I intended to arrive, Darling,” Dracule scolds with a smirk and turns to the two of you around and gently pushes you to the kitchen, “You remember how I showed you to properly open a bottle of wine, right?” 

You laugh and dance into the kitchen, gathering the glasses that he had brought from last time and showing him that you did remember his instructions. You haven't touched the dangerous red liquid since that night, but you know that Dracule enjoys having a glass or four in the evening. 

The two of you settle in the living room afterwards and Dracule sets his wine down long enough to retrieve the smaller bag. He opens it up and you watch in growing panic as Mihawk pulls several Boxes out of the drawstring. He hands over the largest of the parcels. 

“Open them, please,” Dracule instructs and you set your own mug away to carefully tug at the delicate purple ribbon that holds the box shut. A gasp leaves you when you take the lid off, and you reverently pull out the beautiful green sea glass and delicate metal tubes attached to the fishing line. 

“What is it?” You ask and raise it up to better examine it in the setting sun that streams through your window. You gasp in delight when you hear the melodic echo at the slightest movement. 

“A wind chime. We can hang it wherever the wind blows most,” Dracule suggests and you nod eagerly as you set the chimes back inside the box for safekeeping. Miahwk takes it away only to replace it with another. 

You end up with a fish bone comb that has been chiseled by masterful hands. A full sand dollar that you are extra careful with, and a large piece of red glass from a broken bottle that has been sanded and polished to a shine. Each item is handpicked just for you. 

Dracule looks like a smug cat, lips tugged up in a smirk as he watches you reverently put away your gifts. You agree to hang up the wind chime in the morning and open his arms for you to fall into. You gladly do, holding Mihawk close and not ever wanting to let go. 

It's quiet between two of you, a comfortable air that puts you at ease. At some point, Mihawk takes up the book, the one that you had read to him from, and begins to read. His soft timber is enough to send you into a light doze, and he slows to a stop, not wanting you to miss anything. 

“Darling, if you are so tired, let's get you to bed, yes?” Mihawk murmurs and rolls his eyes when all you do is give a sleepy nod. He shifts forward and then stands with you in his arms, tracing the now familiar path back to your bedroom. 

Dracule tucks you in, content to leave you for the night, but he doesn't get far before your pitiful voice rings out, “Stay here with me?” 

The warlord is already sitting on the bed and tugging his boot off. You watch with squinted eyes as Mihawk reaches for his belt, sliding it out of the loops and sliding his pants off. You admire his lean form dressed only in black men's underwear. He is radiant, and it makes you a little nervous to have him so undressed and in your bed no less. 

You toss back the blankets and Dracule slips in beside you. It's a little awkward at first, but then you can feel how much heat he is radiating and desperately wants to know how it feels to have so much of his exposed skin touching you. You roll over to face him, smiling in the dim light of the moon when you realize that he's been watching you the whole time. 

“I know you're cold,” Mihawk whispers and you can hear that knowing, teasing tone that you have missed so much. “Come here, Snow Angel.” 

You don't have to be told twice, happily closing the distance and tossing your arm over his waist, head pillowed on his chest. You press your freezing feet against his legs and are treated with the rare sight of his eyes going wide and a hiss like a cat escaping his mouth. 

You snicker and get pinched in the side for your trouble, but you can't bring yourself to care. This night couldn't get any better. 

Chapter Text

For once, you are the first one awake the next morning. Your eyes crack open to the delightful sight of your lover? Boyfriend? You still don't know which term you prefer. But he looks beautiful while asleep, his usually pinched scowl relaxed and peaceful in his sleep. You take in his handsome features, to his sharp jaw and immaculate facial hair. 

This man has become so much to you in what feels like such a small amount of time. It feels more like you have known Dracule for your entire life, not the measly three months that have actually passed. And maybe you have, the more you think about it, and if your dreams have anything to say about it. 

After that first time, you've had similar dreams since. Sometimes they aren't as bad. Sometimes it will be you and that same young man, he would grace you with a smile and promise that everything would be okay. That he wouldn't allow what mother and father agreed to to happen. You still don't really know what he means, and the dreams always slip away before you can examine them. 

Other times it would be storming, the wind and sea raging as you and the boy struggled to sail through the crashing waves. Those ones were the worst, for you had eaten a devil fruit, and the ocean hated those who had betrayed her trust. Those dreams made you wake up in a sweat, the name of the young man on your lips, but unsaid, you still couldn't remember it. 

But no matter what, you would always see a familiar sword and a wide brimmed hat with its white feather. You know who they belong to now, especially now that the owner in question lay in the bed with you. But why would he be showing up in such odd dreams? Did Dracule know something about you? Something that could connect you to your past that you have long forgotten? 

The thought made you uneasy, and you did not like it. 

Mihawk moves in his sleep, the arm that he had wrapped around your waist tugging you closer, “Stop thinking so hard, Angel,” he grumbles and his rough voice had your stomach doing flips, “Go back to sleep.” 

A quiet sigh leaves your nose, and you close your eyes to do as he says. This lasts all for ten seconds before you open your eyes again, frowning as you shift to get comfortable. You try again, and still, sleep does not come. You squirm a little more and press your cold nose into his chest to block out what little light is streaming through the window. 

Despite being much more comfortable, your mind will not calm and thoughts race. You find yourself shifting again, brow scrunching up and you close to giving up when Dracule suddenly grabs you and rolls so that he lays on top of you. 

You shiver when his hot breath ghosts over your neck and ear, “What's got you so restless, Dear one?” Mihawk demands and presses soft kisses to the skin right below Your ear. You gasp and clutch his shoulders, eyes fluttering at how nice it feels to have him press you into the bed. 

“I keep having these dreams,” you begin and hiss when Dracule nips you a little harsher than usual, “But they feel like memories. And I see you every time.” You admit and Mihawk chuckles darkly, and you can feel it rumble through his chest.

“Dreaming about me?” Dracule teases and leans up to rest on his elbows, looking at where he has you trapped beneath him, and frowns when he realizes that you look serious. He shifts to his back, taking you with him so that you lay splayed over his chest. 

“Do you want to tell me about them?” Mihawk asks, teasing tone from earlier gone and replaced by one of care and gentle encouragement. He rubs circles into the exposed skin of your back where your sleep shirt has risen up and hums in content when he feels your weight settle over him. 

You think about his offer. You aren't sure what kind of answer Dracule could give you if you told him about your dreams, but you didn't want to keep anything from him, either. So, quietly, you tell him of your first dream. About running, the cities and fields of your home burning. The young man who carried you through the destruction of the island. It's hard to recall details, but you do your best to describe the symbol that you'd seen many of the attackers wearing. And finally, of seeing his sword with the literal cross guard and his hat. 

The moment that you had described Big Mom's jolly Roger, an awful foreboding feeling had begun to creep in. Dracule knows what you are talking about. A time when he had been still young enough to make foolish, quick decisions that he would later on regret. How could this have happened? How did you survive? 

Dracule tightens his hold on you, and his angel snuggles into his chest like he wasn't the savage who hadn't helped destroy her home. 

Thankfully, you don't seem to find anything amiss with him, instead turning to look up at Dracule with sleepy eyes full of adoration.

“I know it's a long shot, but you wouldn't happen to know anything about it, would you?” You say, voice wavering and unsure. You blush and loom away, “I know it's kinda dumb, since they are just dreams, but they feel so real.” 

Dracule Hawkeye Mihawk decided then and there that this would be the only lie that he would ever tell you, for he leaned in and kissed your brow, “I'm sorry, Darling. I'm afraid I don't know anything about that.” 

You nod easily, “I figured so, but I just wanted to make sure,” you place a soft kiss to his chest and Mihawk's heart aches in a way that he has never felt before. He isn't in the habit of feeling guilty, but right now? If you asked the warlord for anything, he would move the world to do it for you. For how could he not, when he was part of the reason you were stuck on this island? 

Mihawk hums in response. He needs to distract you from this line of thought you seem to be stuck in, so he changes tactics. His hands press more fully Into your plush skin, the innocent touches becoming a bit more forceful. Your hands flex against his chest and Dracule takes that as permission to continue. 

“Don't think about them, Sweet thing. You are here, with me, now. And I am not going anywhere.” Mihawk swears quietly, and grasps your hips, adjusting you so that you sit on his lap, legs resting on either side of his waist. Your face is scarlet, frost creeping along your arms, and Dracule rubs your exposed thighs in a soothing manner. 

You nod quickly, eagerly. You don't want him to ever leave you, and would go with him if you could. But just the thought of leaving your island sends fear striking down your back, and a voice shouting at you that you can never ever leave for your safety. 

Dracule smirks up at you, “I'm glad we've come to an agreement, then,” he draws and tugs you down by your sleep shirt. You fall forward and catch yourself on the bed, and Mihawk leans in to capture your lips in a kiss that makes you forget about the less than pleasant memories. 

The warlord sweeps his hands under your shirt, hands finding your nipples with ease and gently rolling the buds between his thumb and forefinger. You keen into his mouth, and Mihawk slips his tongue inside at the first opportunity. 

He plays with you until your hips jerk against his own, and your eyes fly open when you feel the hard length of Dracule, separated by the thin fabric of both of your underwear. His hand finds your hips again, and he pulls you down as he rolls his own hips up, grinding up into your delectable heat. 

The friction has you whining, eyes clenching shut as Dracule does it again, and again. The man under you licks into your mouth, rhythm unhurried as he gives you a pleasure that you have not experienced before. He doesn't stop, and the heat in your lower stomach coils so tightly that it suddenly snaps, leaving you crying out and burying your face in the crook of his neck. Everything feels over sensitive, and it takes you longer than what it should to catch your breath. 

Dracule says nothing, allowing you to come down from your high. His cock twitches from where it's still pressed between your legs, and it takes all of his willpower to not remove the offending layer so that he could feel how soft he knew you would be. 

The pirate grits his teeth when you move, sitting up so that you can look down at him. He is flushed, chest a light pink under the thick hair that grows there. He watches as you lick your lips, eyes going half lidded, “What about you?” You murmur softly, and meet his heavy gaze. 

Just as Dracule was about to suggest something rather lewd, a loud whining came from outside the bedroom. Your expression drops, and Dracule can't help the sigh he lets out as he drops his head into the pillow. This would not be the first time that Hank has ruined the mood, and it definitely would not be the last. 

“Go on, sweet thing. I'll meet you in the kitchen for breakfast,” Dracule assures you and you lean down to steal a kiss from his lips before you slide off his lap. You dress quickly in a pair of leggings, but leave your sleep shirt unchanged for now. 

He watches you disappear, and then slings an arm over his eyes. He needed to think, your admission about your dreams, no memories, had shaken him. Mihawk knew who you were, at least he had a good idea of who anyway, and if Big Mom ever found out if you were still alive, Mihawk isn't sure if even he could save you from her wrath and the rest of her monstrous family. 

Chapter Text

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter Text

It is 29 days later, you know because that's how long ago you planted your strawberries, when you decide that you are tired of beating around the bush. Sure the two of you kissed, and Dracule liked to touch you, and explore you, but ever since that one delightful morning, the well-groomed man never went very far. He always pulled away at the last second when you were just on the verge of begging him for more. You were sick of waiting for Mihawk to make the first move, but you definitely weren't brave enough to make it yourself. 

So that left you having a conversation with him. One that made you embarrassed just to think about. Dracule had phoned earlier that day, the snail phone was the best gift he'd ever given you, and let you know that he would be arriving soon, so you had at least two hours before he got here.

The bedroom was first on your list. It needed a good cleaning, and that would take the longest. Time was running out by the time you finished fluffing the quilts and pillows, and you dashed to the bathroom to wash and shave in the appropriate areas. You knew what you wanted and had to be prepared for it. 

You are still wrapped up in a towel when you hear the front door open and Hank gives a happy woof to the only man that can just waltz inside your home. You curse yourself for not remembering to grab any clothes and peek out the door of the bathroom. Just as you are trying to creep to the bedroom across the small hallway, a looming shadow blocks the light, and you are caught in a yellow-eyed gaze. 

“Catch you at a bad time, Snow Angel?” Dracule teases with a mean twist of his lips. You blush and quickly retreat to the bedroom, but the warlord is right on your tail. 

“I was trying to finish up before you got here,” you tell him as Mihawk follows you inside and shuts the door behind him. You round the bed, putting the queen-size between the two of you. “You are early.” 

The warlord scoffs, “I am never late or early, Darling. I always arrive precisely when I mean to,” he eyes you from over the bed, and you gulp when you see his gaze darken a shade, “And what a treat it is to arrive home to see you in nothing but a towel.” 

The word home catches in your brain, leaving you stalling a bit. He's said it once or twice before, and it always leaves you a mess. How can he call this place home so casually, when Dracule himself has told you that the sea has been his home for most of his life? It left you reeling every time you realized how much you mean to him. How much he meant to you. 

A warm hand landing on your arm knocks you from your thoughts, and you jerk your head up to see Dracule giving you a look of concern. You smile at him, feeling bold in his boat of playfulness. 

“Maybe you should take it off?” You suggest and are treated with the rare sight of taking Mihawk by surprise. His eyes widen, and you watch in fascination as his golden eyes turn molten. A mean smirk curls his mouth at the side. 

“Is that what you want? Do you want me to touch you, sweet thing? Do you want me to show you all the ways I could make you come?” Dracule snarls the filthy words, pushing himself closer to you at the end of every question. Mihawk expects you to back down at his aggression, at showing you how much he desires to have you, to taste you.

A whine leaves your throat, and your hands grasp the edges of the long coat that Dracule still wears. It isn’t often that your warlord stayed dressed in his rather flashy regalia, and it made you ache all the more for the pirate. You force your thoughts into order and lock eyes with his molten gaze. You need him to know that you are being truthful, “I have been wanting you to touch me for a long time, Mihawk. I just didn’t know how to ask.”

The warlord is quiet as he searches your eyes for any hint of uncertainty. When he finds none, Dracule takes a half step back and his voice is rough when he speaks.

 “Lay on the bed, on your back,” Mihawk orders and looks down at you under the wide brim of his hat. He looks dangerous like this, and you are reminded that Dracule is so much stronger than you are. He clicks his tongue when you take a beat too long, “Don’t keep me waiting, Angel.” 

You turn to hop up on the bed, shimmying back so that your head lies against the pillows. A shiver wracks your body, and you swallow harshly when Dracule follows you up. He rests on his knees, and you can’t help how your devil fruit reacts when he reaches for the edges of your towel. It’s one thing for Mihawk to see your upper half, you liked when he laved your breasts with attention, but he has never seen you naked before. 

“Relax, sweet thing,” Dracule rumbles above you and leans down so that he can kiss your brow, “I will stop when you ask me.” 

“Okay,” You whisper and sigh heavily when you take a deep breath and relax into the bed. Dracule kisses your cheek and then he pulls away to take hold of your towel, easing it away from where you have it tucked around you. A low, pleased sound escapes him when you are revealed to him. 

“Beautiful, every inch of you,” Mihawk praises and then proceeds to pinch your left nipple. You hiss at the prick of pain, though a soft groan follows when he rubs your sensitive nub between his thumb and forefinger. His other hand follows the curve of your body down to your hip where he rubs gentle circles there, and you relax further into the bed, eyes fluttering closed as you give up control of the situation to Dracule. 

Mihawk soaks in every reaction you have to his touch. He experiments, smoothing his hands up and down your body, seeing what you enjoy best. When you like it soft, and when you like when he gets a little rougher. He scoots down, ringed eyes raking down your body until he spies the apex of your legs and the neat thatch of hair that hides your most sensitive parts away. 

The warlord grasps your legs and lifts them from the bed. He gently opens your legs, pushing them up so that your feet rest on the bed and your knees sway in the air. Mihawk kisses your knee, smoothing his calloused hands down your thighs, and curls one around the inside of your leg, keeping you spread for him. 

Frost has begun to creep up your legs, and the cold of your devil fruit and the heat that Dracule puts off make every unexpected touch feel like a live wire against your skin. One hand moves to skate down your leg and dusts the frost away.

“I’ve got you, Darling,” Mihawk croons above you, and then his middle and ring fingers are sliding through the folds of your cunt. Your eyes fly open and you look up only to lock eyes with the entranced look that the warlord sports. He looks in a trance as he gently rubs his fingers back and forth, humming in content when slick gathers on them. 

You watch, eyes tracking his hand, as Dracule brings those two fingers up to his mouth and wraps his lips around them. He cleans his fingers and gives you such a lewd grin afterward that you have to look away from him. Who knew that such a sophisticated man was such a pervert?

There isn’t much time to think about it, not when Mihawk slides those same fingers back through your folds, stroking you in a perfect rhythm that has you arching off the bed. 

Dracule's other hand holds you down, making sure you stay still for this, and crooks his middle finger, slowing to a stop. He had made sure to get you significantly wet just for this, and he sighs in delight when he sinks his digit inside of your throbbing hole. Your pussy sucks him down to the last knuckle, so wet from slick and his saliva that it is an easy stretch. 

You suck in a sharp breath at the intrusion. It doesn’t hurt, you’ve touched yourself before, but having someone else do it is an entirely new feeling of bliss. You whine when Dracule begins a slow pace, and it isn’t long before he is pressing his ring finger in along with the other. Pleasure builds and you lose yourself, hips rutting against his hand as heat coils tight in your stomach. Mihawk’s thumb suddenly catches your clit and the sharp press against the over sensitive button. You hiss his name as you come, walls clenching around his fingers and you see spots with how hard you've clenched your eyes. 

Dracule smirks, satisfaction curling hot in his chest. His cock aches in his pants, and he longs to shuck them off and slip inside your inviting warmth. But he holds himself back, instead gently pulling his fingers from your fluttering cunt and sticking them right back in his mouth to clean off. 

“Is that all you want, Dear One?” Mihawk murmurs above you and dips to press his cheek to your own, lips ghosting over your ear as he speaks, “Or do you want more?” 

While he waits, Mihawk presses chaste kisses and sucks gentle hickies along your skin, the hand on your hip rubs soothing circles there, occasionally dipping down to touch your swollen clit teasingly. 

You roll your head, lips seeking his in a kiss that is more tongue and teeth than anything else. Dracule licks into your mouth, spit leaking down your chin as the messy kiss continues. You shift your hips, making his hand fall between your legs, and you break the kiss long enough to plead for more. 

“Don't stop, Dracule, please.” 

The warlord doesn't need to be told twice. He kisses you one last time before sliding down and taking a nipple between his teeth. His thumb finds your clit and presses harsh half circles into it, sending shocks through your body. Your hands find his hair, weaving through the dark locks and scraping your nails along his scalp. Mihawk growls low in his throat at the blunt pain, and bites your nipple in retaliation. 

You yelp and send a glare down at him, but Dracule is already soothing the hurt with a sweet lap of his tongue that has you sighing. He moves to the other nipple, giving it the same attention as the first before he shuffles further, trailing a hot line of kisses down past your navel. You open your eyes, licking your lips when you realize how far he's moved down. 

“What,” you swallow harshly, “What are you doing?” 

The look you receive is one of pure want, his ringed eyes blazing as they lock with your own, “I want to taste you, sweet thing. I've not had my fill of you quite yet.” 

The sound that leaves your throat is a mix of a squeak and a moan, and you drop your head back to the pillow, “O-okay,” you stutter out. You weren't about to argue with him. 

Dracule smirks and presses a kiss right below your belly button, and then down he goes. He shoulders your thighs open, and then looks up to watch your expression when he lolls his tongue out and swipes the hot muscle along your puffy folds. He watches your mouth drop in a silent moan, hips stuttering in his hold as he does it again. 

Mihawk swirls his tongue, saliva pooling in his mouth and dripping down to join the slick clinging to your pussy. It's lewd, and messy, and your cheeks are on fire as you listen to the wet sounds of Dracule eating you out. 

You curse when his lips find your clit, nails digging into his scalp when Mihawk sucks on the nub, tongue lapping until you are jerking your hips and accidentally forcing his face in your cunt as you come. You hear him groan as you gush around his face, and you shake when you feel his tongue probe forward to lap at your hole, making sure not a drop of your essence was wasted. 

You release his hair, and when Dracule rises, the warlord looks thoroughly debauched. Slick and spit are smeared along his face, and his usual perfect facial hair has been mused this way and that. Mihawk looks devine like this, and arousal is already stirring in your gut just looking at him. He wipes his mouth and then shuffles up the bed to lay beside you. 

Dracule pulls you into his arms, curling them around you and tugging until you lay splayed across him. He hums as your weight settles across his, hand sweeping into your hand to gently massage your scalp.

“Are you okay, dear one?” He asks quietly and peers down at you, yellow eyes seeming to glow in the low light of your bedroom. 

You nod easily, “Better than okay, Dracule,” you assure him and place a loving kiss to his chest. The two of you still needed to have an actual talk about this, but that could wait. The two of you would have plenty of time later. 

Chapter Text

It’s two months later when Mihawk decides to tell you about his charge, for lack of better wording. Perona had shoved her way into his life, and for some reason, Dracule had let her stay. The pink ghost girl drove him crazy, with incessant questions and ridiculous demands, but…it made Gloom Island far less lonely. Maybe that had been why he had allowed Roronoa to stay and train.  

The warlord huffs at himself. Look at him, lamenting like a sentimental old man.

Anyway, Dracule could tell how happy you were when he spoke about her, so he started to pay more attention to the other occupant of the castle. While Perona was loud and obnoxious. Mihawk also found that the young woman was kind, and wasn’t above helping someone in need. She had been the one to nurse the green swordsman back to health after all.

Since then, Dracule has been debating with himself. It would be a compromise to your safety, but the thought of the look of delight on your face was too good for him to pass up. Not to mention, he had come to tentatively trust Perona in her stay with him. He would have her swear to him not to tell a soul about your existence. 

Dracule sighs and shifts to plant his feet on the ground from where he had them kicked up on his desk. He refills his glass of wine and takes a deep sip before calling for Perona.

“Ghost girl! Come here, bring your animals, and shut the door,” Mihawk doesn't need to speak very loud, her room was right now the hall from his study. 

Perona floats inside not long after, a massive scowl on her face, “What? What’s so important for you to be making so much noise?” She demands but does as Mihawk had instructed and shuts the door behind her. 

“Stop complaining and sit down if you want to know where I keep disappearing to,” Dracule snaps at her, and has never seen Perona move so fast in his life. She zips to her usual armchair across from his desk and tucks her feet under her body as she sits down. Her eyes are wide and expectant, waiting for Mihawk to finally tell her his big secret.

Mihawk looks at her, tone deadly serious when he speaks, “You will swear that you will not speak about this outside of this room,” He demands and Perona looks shocked at the demand. He watches her gulp and looks up at the two ghosts that float above her. They disappear with a soft pop and Perona grows serious. 

Whatever this is, it has to be super important. Perona was good at keeping secrets, so she could definitely keep this for Mihawk. 

“I swear I won’t say anything outside of this room,” Perona repeats diligently. 

Dracule gives her a long look, studying the young woman and hoping that he is making the right choice here. 

“I met a woman,” He begins and before Perona can get anything out of her open mouth and demand questions, Mihawk holds up a finger and glares at her, “You will let me speak, or I won’t say a word.”

Perona snaps her mouth shut and crosses her arms with a pout, “Fine.” 

Satisfied, Dracule continues, “She lives on an island, just herself and a mutt she found. His name is Hank,” He licks his lips and locks eyes with the enraptured Perona, “I helped destroy her home.”

Perona sucks in a sharp breath. What? Had she heard him right? 

“Twenty-two years ago, there was an island in the New World, the Nammu Isle. It was on the outskirts of Big Mom’s territory and was rumored to have connections to Ohara. Charlotte wanted the island gone, and what a Yonko wants, a Yonko gets. The royal family begged her and offered their youngest daughter up as a bride for one of Big Mom’s sons. She pretended to accept the deal, and on the day that they were to come and get the princess, they attacked in the night instead. We attacked.” 

Perona doesn't recognize the name of the island, and it makes her wonder why it was such a problem that a Yonko wanted to destroy it. 

Dracule pauses to take a deep drink of his glass of wine, licking his lips of the dark liquid, and then picks his tale back up, “I was young. Twenty years old and still dumb enough to be influenced by others. Big Mom promised anyone who would listen to her a good fight, that _’s family was filled with fierce warriors itching for one. None of it was true. We slaughtered the entire island, but somehow, her older brother caught wind of Charlotte’s plans and got his sister out in time. When I overheard plans to send her crew out to look for them, I volunteered and made sure that they got away safely. Went about my life after that, until around half a year ago.”

Perona swallows harshly. Had Mihawk really done all of that when he was younger? While a pirate, Perona thought of the older man as very honorable, not someone who would willingly partake in others' pain. 

“Why did you change your mind?” She asks him softly. She needs to know. Why would he be so for the destruction of this girl's home only to change his mind at the end? 

“Inside the castle, I caught sight of a portrait of the princess, and she was beautiful in every sense of the word. Looking at her made me feel… guilty for the first time in my life.” The emotion coats his voice, and Perona feels her heart reluctantly go out to the warlord. 

“What about _,” Perona presses and frowns harshly when Mihawk looks away from her, his own mouth screwing up in a deep scowl, “You haven't told her, have you?” 

“No, and I don't plan to either.” Dracule snaps lowly and then snatches up his glass to drink deeply from it, “I did not tell you all of this for you to judge me, Perona. I told you because _ deserves to know someone other than me.” 

The pink ghost girl blinks rapidly. Did she hear him right? She casts off the doubt and quickly takes it in stride. Of course you deserved to know someone as fabulous as Perona, and not just dreary old Mihawk. 

“Well when do we leave?” Perona demands and stands from her seat. Her mind is a whirlwind of plans and things that she could bring to show her new friend. And damn it! She was determined to make this mysterious woman who had captured Mihawk's attention her friend. She could guarantee that _ would like Kumae! 

“Sit back down,” Mihawk snaps at her, though a smirk has curled his lips. He is glad to know that his charge had taken everything in stride. “I'll phone her later and the three of us can have a quick chat. She's very protective of her island, and her devil fruit isn't something to be trifled with.” 

Perona promptly pouts and turns her nose up at him. “What's her devil fruit?” 

“She ate the Yuki Yuki fruit. She's a logia type.” Dracule says and the two fall into conversation. Perona is curious and asks all sorts of questions about the lost princess, Mihawk finds himself smiling as he speaks of his angel. It has been a week since he was last in her calming presence and he longs for you the more he speaks of you. 

“You really care for her, don't you Mihawk?” Perona points out several hours later. She'd gone and fetched them some lunch at some point, and helped herself to a glass of rosé as they ate. Dracule glared at her over his own glass of red wine and said nothing. Perona grinned at him, “Aweee come on. You can admit you love her.” 

“I do not love anything,” Mihawk snaps harshly and swirls the glass of red, “If anything, _ Interests me. Her kindness, her beauty. She is a hidden bloom in an arctic landscape. She deserves to be protected, and I will be the one to do so. I owe it to her.” 

Perona gives him a look of disbelief. How in the world could this stubborn warlord not admit that he loves this mystery woman. She had never once heard him wax poetry before, but she'd heard him recount how lovely this woman was at least three different times in the past four hours. 

“Sure, Dracule. Keep telling yourself that,” Perona sneers and takes a big bite of her sandwich, not flinching when Mihawk sends her a scathing glare. 

“We'll go make that call when you're finished stuffing your face.” The warlord grumbles and then stands to retrieve the snail phone he inherited from the castle. 

Perona finishes in record time, and soon she is floating beside Mihawk as he dies the number to the matching mushi that you own. It rings for a while, long enough that Mihawk begins to grow worried, before you finally pick up  

Ca-lick

“Dracule? Is everything okay?” You sound concerned and Mihawk instantly relaxes at the sound of your voice. 

“Everything is fine, Dear one,” he begins and glares at Perona when she claps her hands together in obvious glee, “You remember Perona, yes?” 

“Sure do. The ghost girl right? You've told me all about her. Is she okay?” 

Gods, Perona could die from how cute you sound! 

“She is fine. I called because I told her about you, and she wanted to speak with you.” Mihawk sends Perona a glare when she makes grabby hands at the receiver, “Are you okay with that?” 

It's quiet for a moment on the other end. 

“Uhm. Yeah that's fine. That sounds nice actually.” Mihawk can hear the nerves in your voice, and knows that this is a big step for you, speaking to someone other than him. Dracule can imagine you there, flurries scattering around you, and wished that he could be there for your comfort. 

“If you are sure,” Dracule murmurs and hears you hum over the connection.

“Yeah, I'm sure. It's okay, Dracule.” 

Satisfied, the warlord hands over the snail phone to the overly excited Perona, “Here. Keep it short. The connection won't last forever.” 

Perona lets out a squeal of happiness and jerks the phone towards her, “HI! I'm Perona. I've heard so much about you! Mihawk really doesn't know how to keep his trap shut when you're on his mind!” 

The phone is silent again, and Mihawk looks murderous for half a second, before laughter bursts out the other end. Perona gives Mihawk a smug look. 

“Hi Perona, I'm _,” You introduce yourself, and Dracule can hear the smile in your voice, “It's really nice to meet you!” 

Chapter Text

Time passes as time does. Weeks turn into months since the day Dracule stumbled upon your island. He visits when he can, usually staying three or four days at a time, every couple of weeks. During that time, you and Mihawk have grown closer, to the point that the two of you were in each other's thoughts at every waking moment. There was nothing in this world that would keep Dracule away from his Snow Angel. 

Today Dracule had a rather unusual gift, so his ship was packed with the things necessary to take care of it. Dracule dearly hoped that you would like this one. He surely did not. Or maybe it didn't like him. 

As the months passed by, Dracule gifted you many things, some for you and some for your home. The three chickens, one rooster, and two hens had arrived not long after Dracule had figured out your true heritage. Your garden expanded another four plots to accommodate all of the new seeds and saplings Dracule brought you. He had even gone so far as to help you build a pen for the goat Dracule had brought along on one memorable trip. The poor man had not been happy and made you help him clean his ship. 

The best gift of all was being able to finally meet Perona after weeks of speaking over the phone. The pink girl had quickly become your closest female friend, and it felt incredible to have someone to speak to about the girlier things in your life. There were some subjects that Mihawk just didn't get. 

Thankfully, Mihawk arrives at your island before he decides to toss your gift overboard. He gathers his things and then flashes off the ship, making sure the ocean doesn't touch the wiggling body in his arms. Golden eyes glare up at him and he glares right back down, and the warlord swears this thing is worse than the goat. Dracule can hear music pouring out of the cottage when he gets close enough. 

And then there suddenly appears before me 

The only one my arms will ever hold

I heard somebody whisper “Please adore me” 

And when I looked, the moon had turned to gold

Mihawk huffs at the lyrics. His timing was far too good. The closer he gets, he begins to hear your voice as well, and Dracule would much rather hear you sing to him than some man who is long dead. He would stand and listen if his gift wasn't threatening to claw his eyes out. 

The warlord steps through the open door of the cottage, and his shoulder slumps as soon as he enters the humble abode. This place is his home away from home, and it never fails to bring him peace. 

Dracule finds you in the back storage room, a crate full of the older and unneeded stuff you had lying around. After not having anything but the couch for Perona to sleep over on, you had decided that it was about time to clean out the back room for her. Or anyone else that didn’t want to kill you first thing when they washed up on your island.

Blue moon

Now I’m no longer alone

Without a dream in my heart

Without a love of my own  

He leans in the doorway, watching you finish up dumping a broken oar into the crake. Mhawk knows that you see him when you jump and turn to look at him with narrowed eyes and a cute little sneer. 

“Bastard. You scared me,” you grumble and then you cross the floor to carefully slide his hat off, holding it to the side as your free hand slides into his hair and brings him down for a sweet kiss, “Welcome home, dear.”

Mihawk hums into the kiss, gently nipping your bottom lip, and then sliding his tongue inside your mouth when you open up for him. You taste like sweet chamomile, and it leaves a soft smile on his face when he pulls away to gaze down at you, “It is good to be back, Angel.” 

The two of you share several more sweet kisses before the wriggling bundle in his arms finally gets your attention. You pull away and look down to see a very angry feline staring up at you. You break immediately at the sight of its pitiful gold gaze and hand Mihawk his hat back so that you can scoop the kitten up.  

“Where did you find him?” You ask and have already abandoned Mihawk in favor of giving the orange tabby in your arms all of your attention. The kitten purrs happily when you scratch behind his ears. 

Dracule glares at the creature, and the kitten glares right back from where it is happily curled up against your breasts. Mihawk doesn’t know how much he likes this idea anymore. 

“I stopped for a resupply before I came here. There was a fishmonger that had chased it off, and I knew that you would give it a good home,” Mihawk explains. He sighs when you baby talk at the kitten, not giving half the attention he deserves for bringing the little demon to you, but your happiness was definitely worth it, “I have what you’ll need to care for it in my ship.” 

The grin you grant him is worth it too, and Dracule can’t help himself when he crosses the room to press you against the wall, lips connecting with yours in a kiss a little more fierce than the ones earlier. Mihawk has missed you, far more than usual for some reason. You moan into his mouth, eyes sliding shut when Dracule slides a hand around your jaw, angling you just how he likes.

A loud yowl interrupts the two of you, and Mihawk pulls away to sneer down at the kitten who proceeds to hiss at him. You laugh, seeing his jealousy clear as day, and over a cat of all things!

“I guess we should name him, huh?” You say and it’s your turn to be on the receiving end of that sneer. You scoff at him and lift the kitten, dangling him in front of Dracule, “You found him, so you get to name him.”

Dracule scoffs and turns on his heel, stripping off his coat to hang on the mantlepiece, quickly followed by his hat, “He is your cat, so you are the one naming the demon,” He dismisses and stalks to the kitchen, but you only pout and follow after him. 

“Nu-uh. That’s not how this works. You saved him, you name him.” You weren’t about to back down on this. The kitten mewls and you snuggle it back to your front, tucking the fuzz ball under your chin. 

Mihawk ignores you in favor of pouring himself a glass of wine and snacking on the green grapes you must have harvested earlier today. He feels you slide up beside him, and chances a glance down to see his darling staring up at him with wide, pleading eyes, “Ugh. Fine. Give me a moment to think.” 

You cheer at your victory and patiently wait for Dracule to decide on a name. He does you the courtesy of actually thinking of a name and smirks when he settles on a proper name for the hellspawn.

“Sukuna,” Mihawk decides and you repeat the name, getting a feel for it. You don’t know the story behind the name, but it must be an interesting one with the way Mihawk is smirking at the kitten. 

“I think that’s a good name,” You agree and scratch Sukuna’s little ears again, melting when the kitten only purrs louder and snuggles close. You giggle when you catch Mihawk glaring at the kitten again, “Let’s find Hank. I think he’ll like his new friend.” 

Hank turned out to not like his new housemate very much. Sukuna had taken one look at the big hound and had puffed up, long fur bristling so much that he resembled nothing but a cotton ball. Hank had run from the tiny ball of anger straight to Mihawk, cowering behind the man, and whining whenever Sukuna got too close. 

“Nothing but a coward,” Dracule says, but he is already kneeling to give into Hank’s puppy dog eyes and give him some pets. Sukuna stalks from one end of the room to the other, fluffy tail straight up in the air as he surveys his new home. 

Mihawk straightens up when he sees you approaching. You settle in his lap, hands cradling his handsome face as you lean in to press your lips to his brow. Mihawk grasps you by the hips, tugging you flush against his front and holding you close. He noses along your jaw, “Are you happy with your gift, sweet thing?” He rumbles quietly. 

You nod, “Very happy, Mihawk,” you assure him and settle more fully in his lap, letting the man under you take your weight. He massages your hips, causing a soft sigh to slip from between your lips, “I missed you.”

“Did you, Darling?” Mihawk breathes and pulls you down to press his lips to yours for half a second, “What all did you do while I was gone? I see that you already started to clean up, even though I told you to wait for me.” 

You shrug helplessly, “I couldn’t help it. I was really bored, and we already decided what needed to be thrown out, so,” You trail off and lean forward to snuggle against his chest, “You can help in the garden later?” 

Mihawk huffs and presses a kiss to your hair. He watches as Sukuna chases after Hank’s tail, lips twisting in satisfaction to see the two animals getting along better. His arms tighten around you, and you have relaxed completely in his grasp. 

“Whatever you wish, dear one.” Dracule agrees and says nothing when he feels you grin against his neck.  

Chapter Text

Shanks doesn’t expect to see an island this far out of the way of everything. It’s unnervingly close to the calm belt, and the Yonko probably would have never found it if he and his crew hadn’t been on a three-day bender after a successful raid on the last island. Maybe it was a little irresponsible of him and his crew, but sometimes he just liked to see where the Grand Line would take them. This tiny island was new so that obviously meant that he and his crew should check it out. 

Lucky Roux drops the anchor, and Shanks flashes to shore with his first and second mates. The island is on the smaller side, though a small mountain range rises in the west. The jungle is thick, and Shanks can hear all manner of wildlife within. The sands of the long beach they’ve landed on are beautiful and inviting, prompting a big grin to stretch over the redhead's face, “Get the booze, Benn. I think this will be the perfect place.” 

The older man scoffs at his Captain, but he has already turned around to begin shouting orders to the men. Shanks and Yasopp step further into the island, and that’s when the Yonko spots a small footpath that leads into the jungle. He nods his head to the path, and Yasopp unhooks his pistoles from his belt. 

The two men follow the footpath for a while, it wides through the thick foliage until it empties out into a clearing. The sight isn’t something either man is expecting.

A cottage sits innocently in the middle of the clearing. Several sea glass wind chimes hang from the front stoop, and the tinkling melody is pleasant on his ears. Three chickens are clucking around and even a moody-looking goat glares at them from its pen. A massive garden sits on the left side of the building, and Shanks can see smoke rising from the chimney. Yasopp gives his captain a look, only to jerk back around when they hear the door of the cottage swing open. 

Shanks can hear music playing loudly from inside, a slow bluesy tune that has his browns rising. No wonder who lived here had not heard the commotion he and his men made. A massive furry, grey mutt comes running out of the house, going straight after the chickens and sending the hens flying into the air. The rooster crows and chases after the dog, sending the mutt careening backward to run the other way. Last but not least, Shanks watches a young woman step out of the house. 

His heart speeds up when he sees her. She is stunning, the sunlight bouncing off her hair and making her glow in the morning light. She is dressed in tight leggings and a loose, but thick-looking sweater poncho, and Shanks wonders why the young woman would want to dress that way in such warm weather. He dismisses the thought and starts walking forward, a grin on his face as he opens his mouth to shout a greeting. 

“Hello! We didn’t know that this island already belonged to someone. We saw the foot trails at the beach and wanted to investigate.”

Shanks watches as you freeze in place, and his eyes widen just a tad when he sees snow flurries scatter around you. Huh, a devil fruit user all the way out here. He plasters an easy smile on his face and saunters forward only to stop when he catches the glare on the young woman’s face. He raised his hand in the air to show that he meant no harm.  

“We didn’t mean to frighten you! I just wanted to see if it would be okay if my crew and I could crash here for a little while. Can I come closer to introduce myself and my friend here?”

The shaggy mutt seems to answer for you as he bounds forward and slams into Shanks. He grunts, and keeps his footing, bending down to pet the dog, “You sure got a friendly mutt!” 

You grimace as you watch your fool of a dog run right up to the red-haired stranger. You stomp forward, annoyed at having your day ruined by some unknown captain and his crew, but at least he was being friendly. You examine the man when you get close enough, taking in his beach bum outfit and shaggy red hair. His face is scruffy with unruly facial hair and he has three scars over his left eye. When the wind blows, his cloak opens enough that you get a peek at the empty space on his left side. The way he held himself reminded you interestingly enough of Mihawk. Maybe that’s why you decided to humor the pirate. 

“His name is Hank. How um. How long would you and your crew want to stay here?” You ask him as you come to a stop a safe distance away. The last people to come to your island had been the pirates that Mihawk had taken care of, so it unnerved you to have someone else show up. 

Shanks shrugs, “For as long as you tolerate us,” he says with a handsome grin. You fight down the way your cheeks heat up when he directs that look right at you. He stands and offers you his hand, “I’m Shanks, and that’s my second mate, Yasopp.” 

You reach to shake his hand, and a feeling of Deja vu settles over you when he lifts your hand to place a kiss on your knuckles. Shanks winks at you, lips curling in a teasing smirk when you jerk your hand away from him. Quietly you offer your name and give a small smile to Yasopp.

Shanks repeats your name slowly, tasting each syllable as he watches you step away. Your goat has escaped its pen and now stands at your side, beady eyes seeming to stare into his soul. You drop your hand on top of its head and scratch at where the horns grow out of its head, “Oh, this is Neal. He isn’t very fond of men, so you may want to steer clear of him.” 

“I’ll take your word for it,” Shanks snickers and waves Yasopp away, “Go on back to the ship. Tell the others that we are guests here.” 

The dark-skinned man grinned and gave a quick salute and a goodbye to you before he loped off back through the jungle.

Now alone, Shanks shifts his weight and gives you an assessing look, “So. What’s a beautiful girl like you doing all alone on an island so close to the Calm Belt?” 

You lick your lips, filing the new bit of information away for later. Dracule had yet to tell you where your island was located. You had stopped asking a long time ago for maps and topography graphs, especially after Mihawk had told you about the more dangerous places and players inside the Grand Line. You were happy on your island, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t want to know where you were. 

But now that you thought about it, you were 80% sure that the man in front of you was one of the few people that Dracule had warned you about. Red Haired Shanks, Captain of the Red Force and one of the four Emporers of the sea. 

“I live here, have my whole life,” You tell him, and settle for being vague. If Dracule told you to be wary, then be wary you would be.

Shanks makes a huh sound in the back of his throat, “Really? Seems pretty lonely out here,” He comments and you shrug as an answer, “Will you show me around? You’ve got a lovely home.” 

You can’t help but burn in pride at his comment. You are very fond of your home and all the work you’ve put into it, so you don’t think twice when you nod and begin to lead the captain to your home. Shanks follows with a smug grin, eyes flickering over your shapely legs as he follows you. 

You don’t take him inside yet, instead, you point out the gardens and flower beds that line your home and show him the view from the cliff behind the cottage. Neal had thankfully wandered back into his pen, but Hank seemed to have taken a liking to Shanks, for the big lug had yet to leave the pirate's side. You shoot him a look. Traitor. 

Surprisingly, the redhead makes good conversation after getting over the awkwardness of the sudden visitation, and you find yourself relaxing in his presence. He seemed genuine in his goodwill and cheer, and his lax behavior had you smiling and inviting him inside. 

“Would you like some tea?” You ask after a moment of comfortable silence. Shanks easily agrees and you lead him inside your home. Neal bleats and tries to bite Shanks when he passes the pen, and the redhead shoots the goat a glare. 

You snicker at the sight and go about the kitchen to make your guest some tea. You avoid the peppermint, which is meant specifically for Mihawk, and instead settle on a strong lavender tea. You mix in sugar for both mugs and then hand it off to Shanks. 

Shanks sips, humming at the taste and finding it not bad. He wasn’t usually a tea person, but he could be polite. He looks around your home, taking in the hanging herbs and the strings of peppers that crisscross by your windows. Your home looks straight out of a storybook, and the homey atmosphere has him sighing deeply, shoulders loose and relaxed. Shanks doesn’t remember the last time he felt like this in someone else’s presence. He takes another sip of the sweet-tasting drink and casts his eyes to the opening of the living room, and his gaze promptly zeros in on a familiar-looking coat. 

It's a long coat, dark and made out of fine leather with intricate patterns sewn into the arms and along the sides. The inside is a deep dead, and Shanks knows in that instant that this is the young woman that his friend had spoken of all those months ago. No, he corrects, it’s been close to a year since the last time the two men had spoken. Two emotions war inside of him at once. Elation that this is the woman who had caught Mihawk's attention and pure green envy that the other man had found you first. 

Shanks keeps his face clear of anything that might give him away and then knocks back his tea, placing it in the sink to be washed at a later time. You eye his sudden movements, and Shanks responds with an easy grin and a hand extended out to you. The pirate wouldn’t dare try and steal you away from his friend, but there was nothing wrong with the two of you getting to know one another in his eyes. 

“Come meet my crew?” The redhead offers quietly. There is pressure in the air as if taking Shanks’ hand would open a new chapter in your life. You debate for a long time, looking up and catching his dark gaze. His eyes are like melted chocolate, so soft and inviting, and so much different from the only other man you know. 

What would Mihawk think of you out there on the beach, mingling with a dangerous pirate crew? You knew who this man was, and knew some of the rumors about him from Mihawk and Perona. But then you think, harder and know that Dracule would never begrudge you having fun. He actively encouraged it whenever you became playful, though it was usually Perona that he would send after you. 

You lick your lips and make a decision, reaching out to take Shanks’ hand. 

“Okay. Just for a bit though.”

Shanks grins like a hyena and wraps his fingers tight around your hand, “Sure thing, baby. Let’s go.”

The pirate captain tugs you out of your kitchen and then out of your home entirely, leading you down the path and to the beach so quickly that you don’t have the time to examine the new pet name or how it makes you feel. The redhead leads you to where his crew has already laid out cases of booze and food. Shanks grins at you and tugs you close, flurries exploding around the two of you when you fall into his side. He enjoys the wide-eyed look that you shoot him and then turns you towards his crew.  

“Guys,” Shanks announces and winks, sending your cheeks up in flames, “this is,_, our host!”                           

Chapter Text

Shanks and his crew stay on your island for an entire week. You are properly introduced to his entire crew and find that while far more rowdy than what you are used to, the Red-Haired Pirates were good people. They welcomed you with open arms, telling you all sorts of stories as booze and food flowed freely around. You avoided any foul-smelling liquid and declined Shanks’ offer of his sweeter drink called sake. You just didn’t feel comfortable drinking without Dracule with you. 

Thankfully, the crew and their captain accepted your rejection with ease and supplied you with sweet juices that stained your lips a dark red. Shanks couldn’t keep his eyes away from you, gaze stuck on the way you licked your overly red lips of any leftover pomegranate juice. He watches you across the large bonfire that sits in the center of the circle, admiring the way the flames make your eyes glow in the night. 

The captain drinks from his shallow bowl, enjoying the way the warm sake burns his throat. Hank whines beside him, and Shanks smirks down at the shaggy dog. The mutt had not left his side for almost his entire stay here, and it made him wonder if Hawkeye had a soft spot for the pup too. 

He frowns when he thinks of Dracule, and a curl of guilt throbs in his chest for half a second before he shoves it away. Shanks already knew that you would tell the warlord about his sudden visitation the moment Mihawk stepped on your island. He wasn't doing anything he wasn't supposed to do, only enjoying the company of a lovely, lonely young woman, but he remembered the way that his old friend had spoken about you. 

Shanks certainly agreed with everything Mihawk said, but mostly he remembered how his friend's voice had turned soft and affectionate for this mysterious woman. And then the fierce anger when Shanks poked fun at him. Mihawk cared about you unlike anything else in this wretched world, but Shanks was a greedy man, and he could tell that you had more than enough room in your heart for the both of them. 

The Emperor shifts in the sand, reaching for his bottle of sake and pouring himself another cupful. He would never do anything to take you away from Dracule, he wasn't that kind of man. Especially when he heard you speak of his old friend earlier, carefully omitting his name in worry of getting Dracule in trouble with someone, but the way your cheeks lit up, and your expression turned to one of wonder spoke of how much you adored the older man. 

“Whatcha thinking about, Captain. I can see the gears turning from here,” Beckman questions from where he sits on an empty crate near the redhead. The sharpshooter has been watching his Captain make eyes at you all night, and he wondered when Shanks was going to make his move. It wasn't like the other man to lollygag on something he wanted. 

Shanks huffs at his friend, raising his occupied hand guilty, though he breaks and snickers, “You caught me, Benn.” 

He finishes his sake and shakes any remaining liquid from it before setting it on top of the bottle, done with it for now. 

“Remember when we ran into Hawkeye? About a year ago now?” Shanks asks and waits for Benn to nod before he continues, “He told me about a woman he met, said that she was something special. That's her.” 

Beckman huffs to himself, and then rolls his eyes, “Of course we'd somehow run into her. Not planning anything dumb are you, Shanks?” 

The redhead glares at his first mate, pouting at the condescending way his name is spoken, “Hey. I'm not that much of a jerk,” he grumbles and then softens, calculating gaze landing back on you. 

“But this place. You can't deny that it isn't peaceful, Benn. Different, almost out of a story book its so far removed from the rest of the world. I want to come back, I want to get to know her.” 

His first mate raises a brow and drinks deeply from his bottle of rum. His Captain was certainly a menace, but he also had a good point. There was something about this place that relaxed even his old bones, “What about Hawkeye?”

Shanks shrugs, “He can get over it. I'm not trying to steal her away, but _ seems lonely. I want to be her friend.” 

Benn scoffs. Yeah right. He knew how his Captain was. He fell hard and fast, and you obviously had his attention, “Sure, Captain. Just don't do anything stupid.” 

Shanks stands and shoves at Benn's shoulder good natured, “Yee of little faith my friend. Now excuse me, the crew is singing my favorite song, and I want to dance with our host.” 

The Emperor doesn't wait for his friend to respond, instead he is already sliding his way across the beach to stop beside you. You look up at him when his shadow eclipsed the roaring fire, big grin on your face as you sway back and forth to the pirate shanty the crew slurred. 

“Dance with me?” Shanks offers and you take his hand with ease, laughing when the redhead pulls you to your feet so quickly that you collide with his chest. He basks in the coolness of your body for half a second and then Shanks is pulling you away from your spot to follow the rest of his crew in the manic dance they had going around the fire. 

Gather up all of the crew

It's time to ship out Bink's brew

Sea wind blows, to where, who knows

The waves will be out guide

Shanks twirls you around, easily keeping pace with you and the rest of the men as the song continues. You look radiant as you dance around, loose shouldered and free in a way you hadn't been when Sanks had first shown up. You laugh when Shanks loses his footing in the sand, grabbing him by the wrist to keep him from falling. 

He takes this as an opportunity to pull you close to him, pressing you under his arm as his hand settles along the curve of your waist. He watches your face explode in a blush, but you aren't fighting him away, so Shanks counts that as a win. 

O'er across the the oceans tide

Rays of sunshine far and wide

Birds they sing, of cheerful things

In circles passing by

A guilty look flashes over your face when the song comes to an end, and you are quick to pull away from Shanks. You remind yourself that while this man is nice, and has been cheerful his entire stay, you didn't know him. He is still a stranger to you, but you wouldn't mind seeing him again. You have caught the redhead watching you, and the look in his chocolate eyes reminded you of your warlord early on in your relationship with him. It makes you nervous. 

Mihawk flashes through your mind, and the guilt intensifies. Was it wrong to want to get to know Shanks when you already had Mihawk? Or was wanting more too selfish? You didn't know and it ate you up inside at the thought. 

“Everything okay, Doll?” Shanks asks when he sees you draw into yourself. Frost has crusted over on your exposed shoulders and he follows after you when you escape from the crew and start back up the path to your home. 

“I'm fine! Just going to the bathroom,” your voice is too high pitched for it to be truthful, so Shanks steps up his pace and reaches out to carefully curl his hand around your arm, stopping you in place. 

“Hey, no. We were just having fun. What's going on?” The Emperor presses and walks around so that he can face you. Your eyes are teary, and the sight sends a shock of panic through his body, “Woah, what's wrong, Babygirl? Why ya crying?” 

His concern just makes you feel worse about it all, and snow begins to fall, making it hard for you to see the man in front of you. His hand is warm on your arm though, and you reluctantly lean into the hold. 

“I don't know if it's a good idea for you to be my friend,” you blurt suddenly, and then quickly bite your lip from embarrassing yourself further. 

Shanks cocks a brow at you, confusion evident on his face, “What do you mean?” 

You shuffle in place, you have kept quiet about Dracule. You weren't sure why, maybe you wanted to try and keep your warlord safe, but you couldn't lie anymore. 

“You are a very nice man, Shanks, but I don't want you to get the wrong idea. The man I keep talking about, his name is Dracule Mihawk, and we are…a thing. He's told me about you, warned me about you really, called you a menace, but I could still hear how fond he was of you.” You are ranting, but Shanks is patient and waits it out. He could tell that you weren't done yet. 

“I don't know your past, but I know that the two of you know each other, and I can't risk the happiness I have with Dracule. I know that the two of you haven't seen eye to eye in a long time, and I don't want to be another reason for any more tension.” 

Shanks is silent for half a second before he bursts out laughing, doubling over and clutching his stomach in his glee. Oh you sweet thing! You were worried about ruining the friendship he and Hawkeye shared. How precious you were! 

“You are adorable, Babygirl,” Shanks crows and draws your shocked form close to him, shivering when his exposed chest meets your frozen nose, “Mihawk will huff and puff like a rooster, but in the end? He'll forgive you. I'll even go track him down myself and tell him what happened if you want me to?” 

“What? No no, you don't need to do all that” you quickly deny and shove away from his chest to look up at him in panic. You needed to be the one to tell Mihawk, for you can imagine the ensuing fight that would most likely happen, “And how would you know Dracule won't be mad at me?” 

Shanks gives you a smug grin, and sniffs pretentiously, “Trust me, Sweetheart. I've known Hawkeye for a long time, and heard the way he spoke about you. I can promise that he won't be too upset with you. Me? I'm a different story, but it's going to take a lot more than just getting to know you for the respect we have for one another to go away.” 

You find yourself somewhat appeased by that. It was true that the two men have known one another far longer than you have, so it makes sense to you to take Shanks' word. You sigh heavily and nod, conceding. 

“Alright, ugh. If you are sure, Shanks,” you grumble, but you feel much better about this than you did just a moment ago, and give the redhead a grateful smile. 

“See, that's the spirit, Doll!” Shanks matches your grin, “Stop worrying that pretty head of yours and come back to the party, yeah?” 

You roll your eyes at the redhead, but nod anyway, “Okay, just a little longer, and then I'm going to bed. You and your crew party too much for me.” 

Shanks snickers at you and tugs you back down the footpath and back to the beach and his crew. He sits back near his sake and you sit with him, content to watch the others have fun for now. 

It's hours later that Shanks feels a weight thunk into his side. He looks over and sees that you have passed out, and the sight makes his heart only grow even more fond of you. He stands and then bends to scoop you up, difficult with one arm, but not impossible. He balances the now empty sake bottle and cup on your sleeping form and shuffles back up the path. 

Hank follows after him, leading the way up to the cottage and shoves the door open with a heavy paw. Shanks snickers and steps inside your home, following the shaggy dog to your bedroom. He stops short when he meets a pair of glaring golden eyes. 

A big fluffy orange cat sits in the middle of the bed, the only occupant of the house that Shanks had yet to meet. He is careful of any wayward claws as he lays you down in the bed, sitting his empty sake bottle on the end table, then sitting down with a huff and a small smile when you groan in your sleep and roll to your side. 

Shanks gazes at you with soft eyes, reaching forward to tuck a fallen strand of hair from your face with a sigh. You look lovely even in sleep, and the redhead aches to stay here with you, but then he would be bad, and you probably wouldn't want him around anymore. 

The captain stands with a sigh, and pulls the blankets up to your chin, “Sleep well, Babygirl,” he murmurs and then he is gone, shutting the door of your home with a soft click. Shanks would make sure to come see you in the morning before he and his crew left. 

Chapter Text

Mihawk arrives at your island three weeks after Shanks has departed. He notices something off the moment he comes within sight of the white sands, observational haki sending shivers down his spine. An awful feeling curdles his stomach and Dracule curses how slowly his ship reaches the shores of his home.

The warlord flashes to the island, leaving behind the books that he had brought along for your overstuffed bookshelves. Mihawk picks up his pace, arriving at your door far quicker than usual, and barges inside. He stalks through the house, frowning when he does not find you anywhere inside. What he does find, however, is an ornate ceramic sake bottle in the shape of a gourd, that Dracule knows he did not gift to you, and it was in far too good of condition for you to have found it on the shore. The bad feeling in his stomach grows to the point that he feels sick, something that he has never felt before. 

Mihawk stalks out the backdoor, shoulders slumping in relief when he spies you sitting at the cliffside in the back. 

You turn around at his approach, the devil cat glaring at him and hopping off his human’s lap to strut past Mihawk and back inside the house to hide away. Hank greets him like usual, and Mihawk gladly slides his hands into the shaggy grey hair to ground himself. There is tension in the air, and he knows that you are about to say something he isn’t going to like before you can even open your mouth. 

“Welcome home, Dracule,” You greet him and go to stand, but your warlord motions you to stay there. He comes and sits beside you on the cliff, thigh pressed against yours, and you easily lean into him, pressing a kiss to his bare chest, “How was your trip?” 

Dracule hates all this lead-up, but he has missed you terribly, and so curls his arms around your waist and buries his face in your hair.

“Uneventful. Too long,” he grumbles quietly and you snicker and reach up to pet his hair. Mihawk shifts enough that he can turn and bring you in for a sweet kiss. He takes his time, lips a gentle press against your own until he pulls away to kiss your brow, lingering there as you relax against his chest. Mihawk wonders if you can hear how loudly his heart is beating. 

“I had visitors while you were away,” You begin and Dracule feels like his heart is about to explode out of his chest, nerves eating at him in a way he's not experienced before, and he does not like it. Mihawk can't help the way his grip around you tightens, teeth clenched when he speaks next. 

“I know. I could tell before I even made landfall.” 

You nod, not minding the way he tightens his hold. You can tell that your admission has upset him because you know how careful the other man has been to keep you safe. 

“It was one of the men you told me to be careful about. Red-Haired Shanks,” You finish, and your words are the final nail in the coffin. Mihawk sees nothing but red, furious that the bastard has found the one soft, good thing that Mihawk wanted to keep all to himself. Especially, Shanks, the man was a womanizer through and through, and he hated the thought of you spending any time around him. You are speaking before Dracule can get a word in, and he forces himself to listen to your stuttered words. 

“Shanks asked if he and his crew could stay on the island for a few days. I said yes, even though I was terrified, but you and Perona are always pushing me to try new things, so I thought that you wouldn't be that upset, but obviously, that isn't true. And I'm really sorry Mihawk,” you are rambling but you can't help it. You've pulled away to look him in the face, wincing when you see the downturn of his lips and the fierce scowl between his eyes. 

“They were all really nice, and he and his crew had so many interesting stories! I promise I didn't drink, I didn't feel comfortable with it because you weren't there, but they were funny and Shanks seemed so kind, so I told them that I wouldn't mind if they came back around.” 

Mihawk goes through a lot of different emotions as he listens to you gush to him. It infuriates him that Shanks had wiggled his way so quickly into your good graces, but he felt pride in knowing that He, Dracule, was the first person you thought of when Shanks had shown up. However, he can't help but feel hurt at the knowledge that you invited the redhead back to your island. This was his home, and you knew that. 

“I don't like the thought of that beach bum being here when I'm not around. I don't like that he stayed for a week and you didn't phone me at all. Shanks is nothing but a womanizing menace who plans to take you away from me,” Dracule snarls lowly and extracts himself from your grip. He needs to move before he does something he regrets, “I hate the thought of him even looking at you, _.” 

Guilt crushes him when he catches sight of the hurt look on your own face when he turns to pace the cliff. He can't be angry at you, not when Dracule knows how kind and humble you are. There wasn't a deceptive bone in your body, and you were a terrible liar. He shouldn't be surprised that you allowed Shanks to stay so long. 

Take you away? There was no one in this whole world that would be able to take you away from this gloomy, handsome man.

“I- I'm sorry Mihawk. I just get so lonely when you and Perona don't come around, and it was so nice to have someone to talk to. It was exciting to have so many people around,” You say, throat thick with emotion and unshed tears. You hated this. Hated that Dracule was so upset that he couldn't even touch you right now. 

“I tried to tell Shanks that I didn't think it would be a good idea to be friends with him, but he said that you wouldn't get too upset, and I believed him because he's known you so much longer than I have. I shouldn't have taken his word,” You are crying now, snow gathering around your sitting form and piling up around your legs. 

“No, you shouldn't have,” Mihawk snaps at you and you flinch away from his anger. He deflates as soon as he sees the pile of snow that has gathered around you. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose and then goes to your side, sitting back beside his angel and pulling her close despite the snow. 

“I am not angry with you, Dear one,” Dracule begins and takes both of your hands in his own, “But you make me a jealous man, and Shanks doesn't know how to quit.” 

He kisses your knuckles, rubbing your hands together between his own to warm up your freezing flesh, “I do not trust him, but I do trust you, and I can't be upset with you for seeking out companionship from someone other than myself and Perona.” 

You slump forward, relief coursing through you when Dracule takes your hands, happy that he is finally touching you, “You and Perona have spoiled me with attention. I shouldn't need any more than that.” 

Mihawk swears silently to himself and gathers you close, “No, _,” He grasps you by the jaw, turning you up so that he can catch your eyes with his own gaze, “You deserve so much more than what we can give you. If you want the redhead to come back around, I'm not going to stop you from making friends with him. I just don't like it.” 

He licks his lips when a thought comes to mind. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea for Shanks to have found you. Mihawk would bet his hat that the redhead figured out your past the moment you mentioned your name, Shanks had always been knowledgeable about what goes on in the world after all. Having Shanks in your corner if something were to ever happen would be a boon, not that Dracule wants anything to occur of course. He'd much rather the redhead just stay away from his Angel, but he knows that he isn’t that lucky. 

“If it makes you feel any better, Shanks and his crew swore not to tell anyone about this place. Told me that treasures needed to stay hidden,” You inform him, and while it lessens his worries a little, Dracule doesn't trust the drunk not to slip up, and he really dislikes the thought that Shanks called you his treasure. That term belonged to him. 

“Promise to call me next time he shows up. I don't care what time it is,” Mihawk orders softly and then leans in to capture your lips, “I want to know when that bastard comes around.” 

You can't help but giggle at his miffed tone. Shanks had mentioned that Mihawk could be possessive, but seeing it in action was something else. You hadn't expected such a calm, cool, and collected man to get so upset. You yelp when Dracule pinches your side, and find the man glaring at you for poking fun at him. 

You grin and the tension in the air melts away, “I promise to call you. I should have when he showed up, I didn't think about it.” 

Dracule hums and kisses your brow, “Just do it next time, Dear one.” 

He pulls you close again, tucking you against his chest and you snuggle into the possessive hold he has on you. This definitely wasn't the outcome that you had foreseen, but you weren't about to complain. Not when Dracule has reluctantly given you his blessing to stay friends with Shanks. However, you were not naive enough to think you were out of hot water yet.  

Chapter Text

It's during the first year of knowing you that Dracule begins to want more than what little tastes here and there he has gotten so far. He has been patient with you, leading his dear one through the more intimate aspects of their relationship with a gentle hand. Mihawk never pushed and never assumed that you wanted more than what you asked for. However, that patience has grown thin, and he thought it was about high time he showed you the things that he liked. 

Dracule had seen the way that your hands wandered, the way you licked your lips so sweetly for him after while you watched Hawkeye jerk himself to completion. He wanted to see your pretty lips wrapped around his cock, eyes full of tears as you choked around his length. He wants you to worship him as he does you, and Mihawk didn't think you would have anything against his wishes. 

He watches you clean up in the kitchen, humming along to the song that plays in the background. Dracule waits until you set the last dish aside before he makes his move, sweeping forward to cage you in against the counter, muscled arms trapping you between them. Mihawk dips to press kisses to the back of your neck, nosing your hair out of the way so that he has access to your delicate flesh. One hand settles on your hip and squeezes gently, “Come to bed with me, sweet thing.” 

Dracule’s free hand dips between your legs practiced hands finding that precious bundle of nerves under your leggings and rubs sinful half circles. Mihawk feels the shudder that wracks through your frame. He pulls you back into his body, and you relax when you feel his heated skin warm you from the outside. Hawkeye smooths another kiss or three behind your ear, and you feel his grin when you nod in a daze.  

“Y-yeah, carry me?” You whisper and Mihawk doesn't waste any time. He turns you in his hold, grabbing your thighs and heaving you up. Your legs wrap around his waist and your arms loop around his neck, then you are being carried off to the bedroom while Mihawk kisses you senselessly.  

Dracule sits on the bed with you in his lap, kiss turning a tad darker in the way he nips your lips and slurps your tongue into his mouth. You moan, mouth falling slack as Mihawk tastes you how he likes. You can feel his length pressing hot and heavy between your thighs, and you grind down, whining when the pressure against your clothed cunt rubs against you just right. 

Mihawk breaks the kiss with a reluctant sigh, one hand sliding into your hair to direct you away. He leans in to rest his brown against yours, breath mingling as he searches your gaze, “I want you to try something new, Darling.” 

You blink slowly, cocking your head to press your lips to his, “What's that?” You ask and curiously color your tone. It always excites you whenever Mihawk decides to show you something new. 

“I want you to suck my cock,” Dracule rumbles against your throat, and pulls away to give you a molten look, eyes heavy-lidded and shadowed. You suck In a sharp breath, and your mouth begins to water on its own violation. 

“I-yes,” You agree, maybe a bit too eager to try this. You have watched Dracule bring himself over the edge more times than you care to remember, but the well-groomed man had always denied you. You want to feel how heavy his cock is on your tongue, to taste his spend when he comes. 

You shuffle off his lap before Dracule can do something foolish like change his mind and drop to the floor, suddenly glad that you were wearing a thicker pair of leggings today. You watch in rapt attention when Mihawk reaches for his pants, untying them with ease and shoving them down his legs. You toss them across the room when he kicks them off, and you are greeted with the sight of Dracule's cock bobbing in front of you. You watch him grab the base, stroking his length until a bead of precum gathers at the slit, curious, you open your mouth and lean up, tongue grazing over the feather-soft tip. 

The precum is more salty than anything, but it still has your mouth watering and you whine when Dracule nudges his dick along your lips, smearing it across your lips to lick away. 

“Open,” Mihawk snarls his order, and you drop your jaw without a second thought, and Dracule slides in just enough that you can feel the silky skin grazing your tongue. A muffled moan rocks through you, and you allow your tongue to mold to the hot member in your mouth. Your lips seal around his cock, and Dracule bares his teeth when you tentatively move your tongue against the underside of his dick. 

A calloused hand drops into your hair, fingers threading through the thick strands to set an easy rhythm. You relax your jaw, tears gathering in your eyes when Dracule presses in further, the tip nudging against the back of your throat and making you gag. You sputter when you pull away, spit leaking down your chin, but you aren't detoured. You would do this. 

You wrap your lips around Dracule's cock, sucking him down slowly and hollowing your cheeks as you gently suck. Precum pools in your mouth and you swallow it down greedily.  

“Breath through your nose, sweet thing,” Dracule advises and you do your best to do as he says, sucking in oxygen gratefully when you get the hang of it. You take over, his hand just resting in your hair as you begin to bob your head. 

Dracule grits his teeth, fighting against the urge to dismiss your slow, inexperienced pace and stuff your throat full of his cock. Your mouth is heaven around him, and the warlord regrets not asking this of you sooner. He can't look away from the lewd sight that you make, and Mihawk rewards you with a soft grin as he pets your hair. 

“That's it, Angel. You're doing so well for me,” Mihawk praises, and your eyes flutter at his tone. You take him down another inch, flexing your throat and feeling yourself grow wet between the legs when Dracule throbs in your mouth. 

His hand leaves your hair, gently smoothing the pads of his fingers down and around your ear, then further, leaving your skin dusted with frost when those sinful fingers wrap around your jaw. Mihawk's thumb strokes over the hollow of your throat, and he hisses in pleasure when you swallow around him. 

“Don’t push yourself, darling,” Mihawk rumbles and his free hand meets your cheek, knuckles dragging under your cheek to gently whip away the tears that have slid down to mingle with the drool and precum. He memorizes the sight of his angel dirtied and ruined by his cock, “Use your hands too.” 

The encouragement is met with a muffled moan, and then Dracule feels one of your hands wrap around the base of his cock, a sloppy rhythm starting up that makes him grit his teeth. He is close, mostly at the sight of watching you, his darling struggle to take his prick. 

“I want you to swallow all of it, think you can do that for me, sweet thing?” Mihawk asks and you pry your sticky eyelashes open when he speaks. Your jaw aches, and there is a haze over your mind, but you have never felt better in your entire life. You meet Mihawk’s burning gaze, trying to let him know that yes, you absolutely want him to come down your throat. 

Dracule must be able to see it, for his golden eyes seem to glow in the low light of your bedroom, and you half a second to fear that you've made the wrong decision before all thought is stipped from your mind. Mihawk tightens his grip, fingers sinking into your skin as he holds you still and pumps his hips forward. The tip of his cock drags along the back of your throat, making you gag, but you force yourself to hold through. 

It’s seconds later that Miahwk is snarling your name and spilling down your throat, thick cum filling your mouth so quickly that you struggle to drink it down. Some spills out the side, but Mihawk is still gently rocking back and forth, using your mouth to milk his cock until he was satisfied. You whine and cough when Dracule slides his length out of your mouth, and you struggle to catch your breath as you wipe your mouth. 

Hawkeye helps you back on the bed and disappears long enough to retrieve a wet hand towel and a glass of water. He hands off both to you, and you gladly clean your face and sip the water. It soothes your sore throat, and you hand it back to your warlord when you are finished. You don’t expect the be gently shoved to the bed, deft fingers finding your waistband and shifting your pants down your thighs. 

“Mihawk?” You question, and wince at how your voice croaks. 

“Yes, dear?” Dracule hums as he works, resting between your legs and shouldering them. He kisses the insides of your thighs, “Oh? This? You didn’t do as I asked of you, so I thought of a fitting punishment.” 

You lick your lips, hands coming to rest on his shoulders, “And what’s that?” 

The grin you receive is nothing less than evil, and dreaded arousal curls hot in your stomach. You shiver when Dracule nips the delicate flesh of your right thigh harshly. 

“You’re going to come on my tongue until you pass out, and then when you wake up, we’re going to see if you can’t follow my instructions better next time.”  

Chapter Text

A week is all it takes for Mihawk to track Shanks and his crew down. He finds the redhead in the cove of a chain of merchant islands near Sabaody, and flairs his haki to get the Emperor’s attention. Shanks jerked his head up from where he’d been dozing in the mid-day sun. He rubs the crust from his eyes and gives the warlord a wide smile in greeting as he approaches. 

“Hey, you! Just the guy I wanted to talk to,” Shanks smirks at his old friend and he pushes himself up, leaning heavily on the tree he’d been dozing under. The warlord looks immaculate as usual, and Shanks doesn’t hide the way he casts his eyes over his bare chest.

 Mihawk comes to a stop a foot away from the other man, far closer than he would usually deem to get nowadays. Dracule narrows his eyes at the other man, mood already soured.

 “If you weren’t such a drunk buffoon, I would suggest a duel, if only so I could kick your ass,” Drcaule sneers at the redhead. The Emporer looks tired, and hungover, not an unusual sight, though at least Shanks seemed sober enough to pay attention. It’s more of a struggle than it should be for him to keep his stance relaxed and nonchalant. Shanks knew more than anyone on the Grand Line how to push Mihawk’s buttons. 

“Ohh, now you want to fight? You know I’d win, right?” Shanks sways straight, feet planted as his hand lands on the hilt of Griffon. The tension in the air skyrockets, getting the attention of the rest of the crew that lazes around. 

The two of them had not fought since Shanks lost his arm, so having the Hawk's attention on him was riveting. He grins at Dracule, his own haki flaring in response to Mihawk's that is still raging at the redhead. 

Beckman takes one look at the two men and rounds everyone up, directing them back to the Red Force. Who knew what was about to happen, and the first mate would rather not have any possible casualties if Mihawk and Shanks decided to actually duke it out. 

Mihawk takes a half step forward, not backing down from the challenge that Shanks presents.

“I would like to see you try,” He sneers. Lip curling as he looks down his nose at the bum. The only thing that is keeping him from making mince meat of the younger man is a tiny voice in the back of his mind that sounds oddly like you, telling him how bad of an idea it would be to cause a scene. His snow angel surely wouldn’t be happy with him.

The two powerful men eye each other for a while, ready for the other to make the first move. Shanks sighs and removes his hand from his sword, shifting to gesture at the port town down the beach. 

“How about we act like adults and go have a drink? My treat?” Shanks suggests and Dracule huffs at him but dips his head in agreement. He follows Shanks back into town and to the first bar they come across. They order and Dracule picks a table in the back, away from the rest of the patrons. Shanks pays like he agrees, and Mihawk takes that as a win. 

“This is about that treasure, huh?” Shanks starts after taking a deep pull of his ale, “I just want to go ahead and let you know that you can’t make me stay away. She said that we’re more than welcome to come by her island.” 

Dracule could strangle the smug prick across from him. Shanks speaks nothing but the truth, but Mihawk can’t help but bare his teeth in a silent snarl at the redhead’s self-satisfied tone, acting like he had already won whatever argument that had yet to be had. He hadn’t expected Shanks to bestow you with such a familiar nickname, and the older man doesn’t know how he feels about it right now. 

“I’m not here to warn you to stay away from the island, Shanks,” Mihawk clears his expression back to one of uninterest and shelves the earlier thought for later. The Emperor can see the displeasure lurking in Dracule’s ringed eyes despite his best efforts, “I’m here to tell you to stay away from,_.” 

“I found her first, she is mine, and I am not going to let you of all people ruin the relationship I have with them,” Dracule continues, tone deadly and not booking any kind of room for argument. He sips his wine, finding it subpar, “That girl is worth more to me than any treasure in this miserable world.” 

Shanks watches his old friend. He commends the usually monotone man for speaking about his feelings, but the redhead has a stubborn streak bigger than an island, “We’re pirates, Hawkeye. I don’t think I should have to remind you what we do with treasure.” 

He lets the threat linger in the air, the tension borderline suffocating, before Shanks breaks it by sipping from his mug once more, “Anyone else I wouldn’t have any kind of reservations about taking what I want, but we’ve been rivals for a long time, and we’ve known each other for even longer Mihawk. What’s one more thing for us to scuffle over?” 

“_ is not some kind of prize to be won,” Dracule grumbles, anger leaking over as his hand tightens around his glass. He must consciously think about loosening his grip, or else he would have sent wine and glass exploding everywhere, “And if she were, I have already won.” 

Shanks purses his lips and sits back in his seat, amused at having gotten such a rise out of Hawkeye. He wasn’t about to give up though, but also wouldn’t go behind the warlord’s back. He had too much respect for the other man. He sips his ale and then sets the tankard away. 

“You can't be there all the time, Mihawk,” Shanks points out quietly, and his tone has shifted, more to one of careful understanding, “Your duties as a warlord pull you away from her, don't they? Leaving her vulnerable and alone for longer stretches of time than you like.” 

Dracule says nothing even as Shanks lays his greatest fears on the table for all to see. The redhead isn't wrong, and just admitting that rankles the warlord in the worst of ways. However, Mihawk wasn't above putting your safety above everything else in his life, there would only be so much he and perhaps Perona could do if Big Mom somehow found out that you still lived. 

“Do you know who she is? Her connections?” Mihawks asks the redhead, and gets his answer when a dark expression crosses Shanks’ face, “And my involvement?” 

“I knew the moment she introduced herself. Is that your reason for wanting her, Mihawk? Trying to atone for your sins?” Shanks sends the other man a mean grin and Dracule matches the look with a glare of his own. Shanks can remember the day of your island's destruction and can remember the disappointment he felt when he found out that Dracule had left to help Big Mom. It's mean, and he feels guilty for bringing it up, but Shanks invested himself into your happiness the moment you told him that he and his crew were welcome back to your island. 

“I don't have to explain my actions to you,” Mihawk sets his empty glass away, leaning back in his seat to cross his arms over his chest, “Besides, you have no right to judge any of what I do.” 

Shanks is an Emperor for a reason. He answered to no one, and while he wasn't a monster like Kaido or Big Mom, the redhead had skeletons In his closet like everyone else. He raises his hand in surrender, reluctantly agreeing with Dracule on the subject. 

“Does she know about it?” Shanks pressed and his brows shot up in surprise when the warlord sniffed and looked away from him. Shanks narrows his eyes, disbelief thick in his tone, “You really haven't told her?” 

“No, and I have no plans of doing so, either. Why should I bring up painful memories when she doesn't even remember what happened to her?” Dracule draws and crosses his legs like he has done no wrong in the world, “It's best that she never finds out.” 

“Oh, that way she can't get upset with you and tell you to leave,” Shanks summarizes and nods like it makes all the sense in the world, but Mihawk can see the tension in his smile and the sarcastic way he slaps his knee, “Smart man, Mihawk, keeping that away from someone you love.” 

“I do not love her. She interests me, and we have a mutually beneficial relationship,” Mihawk snaps at the redhead. Panic had swept through him the second Shanks had dropped the L word. Dracule Mihawk loved nothing in this world, he only invested his time into interesting subjects, and you were the most mysterious by far. 

Shanks snorts in amusement, eyes rolling skyward at how stubborn his old friend was. This song and dance was familiar, one that Shanks had the displeasure of knowing intimately. The Emperor can't keep the bitter tone out of his voice when he next speaks. Shanks can't help but want to be mean right now. 

“Of course you don't,” He hums and sweeps his hand through his hair, leaving the red strands tussled, “Then you shouldn't have any problem with me wanting her, then, right? Since she just interests you.” 

An image of Shanks and his angel curled up together in front of the fireplace in his home, you leaning into the bare chest of the redhead as helps you sip from a shallow bowl of sake. He sees you pulling Shanks in for a kiss, a sweet one full of yearning. 

The imagery has Dracule seething with a feeling he is unfamiliar with, though any normal person would call it jealousy. He sucks in a sharp breath and shuts his eyes, fighting to control his breathing and his growing annoyance. This insolence that Shanks wears like a second skin has always been able to set Mihawk off. How he once called this man more than a friend, Dracule didn't know. 

Shanks smirks, self-satisfied at seeing the other man break even further at his scathing remarks. He thinks that Mihawk deserves it. He also thinks that the other man is a big idiot for not telling you about your past. That information belonged to you, you deserved to know about it. 

“You will not touch her, Shanks,” Mihawk repeated, tone laced with finality. He was done with this sham of a conversation. He should have known that Shanks would push on this. The Emperor matched his own stubbornness. 

“I won't do anything that _ doesn't want,” Shanks snapped right back, dark eyes narrowed on the other man. Dracule wasn't the only one tired of this back-and-forth. He softened after half a second, shoulders relaxing as he leaned forward and rested his upper body on the table between them. 

“I'm not trying to take her away from you, Dracule. I want to help you keep her safe, but I'm not doing it for free,” Shanks murmurs and Mihawk sighs heavily when he feels defeat creeping In. He does not want to admit that Shanks makes nothing but good points. Mihawk may not trust the other pirate, not any longer, but it could have been someone far more ill-mannered than the laid-back Emperor. 

“I want you to tell me when you will visit her island. I want your word that this is for her, Shanks. That you are not just doing this to spite me. That you aren’t going to run away from her like you’re known to do” Mihawk demands, and leans forward, voice dropping and becoming deadly, “Swear it to me.”

The warlord is bringing up the past. A gamble, but it gets the younger man’s attention, and Dracule feels a dark satisfaction rip through him when Shanks sits up straight and looks at him in surprise, though hurt swims in his dark eyes.  

Mihawk knows how much he is giving in and giving up with this, but your happiness and your safety mean more to him than little else. He would have to contend with Shanks for your attention, and he despises the hurt and anxiety that curdled in his stomach at the thought of you leaving him for the redhead. Shanks was nothing but selfish, a problem that Mihawk knew too well. Dracule didn’t want to have to share you with the other man, but this wasn’t about him. If you wanted Shanks around, then the warlord would not keep him away. 

Shanks meets his golden gaze, any trace of humor or teasing attitude gone from his expression and he offers Dracule his hand. He thinks back to a time before none of this would ever be necessary, a time when he and Mihawk trusted one another explicitly, and the Emperor dearly wishes for that closeness. Shanks wonders if the older man ever wants the same, “I swear that this is for _.” 

Dracule eyes the hand that is placed in front of him. An old tension had settled in the back of his mind, one that Mihawk hadn’t felt in well over twenty years when the two of them had been far closer. He feels that tension shimmer between them, and Shanks’ hand is familiar and warm when Mihawk finally takes it. 

Shanks curls his hand tight around his old friends, holding on far longer than necessary just to feel the heat of Mihawk’s palm against his own. He grins when he catches sight of the dusting of red on the Hawk’s cheeks when he extracts his hand. While there is still much to hash out between the two of them, the air has settled, and their haki smooths along one another as if greeting an old friend. Shanks leans forward, eyes mischievous, “Let’s have another drink, Hawkeye. My treat.” 

Dracule hears that little voice in his head again, though this time it matches the troublesome tone that lingers in Shanks’ voice, but Mihawk finds himself listening to it once again as he leans back in the creaky bench and crosses his legs. 

“Get me something better this time.”    

Chapter Text

Hank watches his human lay still and silent in her bed. His nose twitches when a draft comes by and tickles his nose, and a sneeze follows when his little brother comes back and smacks him in the nose. Hank grumbles at the fluffball, but at least Sukuna doesn’t use his claws this time. The cat jumps to the chair that Hank lays under, golden eyes watching his human too. 

Neither animal understands what had gotten into their human. She had yet to get up and start the day like usual, instead, she still sleeps. Hank whines when his nose picks up the scent of something that doesn’t belong on his human, and he shuffles out from under his chair to stand by the bed. Sukuna joins him, jumping from the chair to come to a stop by their person’s head. Hank jumps up, nosing forward and huffing when he picks up that same smell. 

It’s hot and rancid, and the two of them nearly jump a foot into the air when you suddenly groan and roll over, eyes cracking open to the sight of two concerned brothers. 

“Hello children,” You green softly and wince at the soreness of your throat. You snake an arm out from under the covers, shivering when the cooler air of the room floods the blanket cocoon you’ve made around yourself. You feel awful, and you wonder what had changed so suddenly for you to feel this way. You frown as you think. No not suddenly. You’ve not been feeling yourself for a couple of days now. More tired than usual, a constant chill that wouldn’t go away no matter how hard you tried, and you dearly wished that Mihawk and his overheated body were here to help warm you up. 

Sukuna darts forward to press his forehead into your open palm, purring up a storm as his human gently scratches between his ears just the way he likes. Hank shoves him when he heaves the rest of his huge body up, and Sukuna sends the mutt a sharp glare for the disrespect. Their antics bring a giggle out of you, however, so the cat isn’t too upset about it. 

“Gimmie a second and I’ll get up. Not like you’re starving or anything, you gluttons,” You grumble good-naturedly and force yourself to sit up. 

Hank surprises you by butting his big head in your chest and knocking you back down. It takes the wind out of you, and you send a half-hearted glare at the big lug, “Hey. What was that about?”

The shaggy dog whines, not wanting his human up in fear of spreading the hot, sick scent that he can still smell. You break easily when Sukuna teams up with him and steps on your chest, making a round of biscuits and then lying down. You shove one hand into his fluffy orange fur and then the other into Hank’s grey, tangled locks. You have half a thought of brushing him soon before your stuffy brain is making you go back to sleep. 

Sukuna shares a look with his older brother when a soft wheeze spills out of your chest. This is not good. Their human was sick and the other humans who liked to show up were not here, and probably would not be back for a while. The dark-haired one that smelled like steel and old books had left only a week ago.

It’s hours later that you wake again, and luckily, Hank allows you to get up when you express the need to go to the bathroom. He knows what that word means, but still diligently followed after you when you got out of bed because he is a good boy. Sukuna flees to the kitchen, selfish enough to beg for food now that his human is out of bed for now. 

You wash your face after doing your business and look at yourself in the mirror. You look like utter shit, face flushed and skin pale as a ghost from whatever sickness that has a hold of you. You sniff and blow your nose a couple of times, hurting your throat even more each time. A cup of tea sounds like a grand idea, so you shuffle to the kitchen and put on the kettle. You choose a nice chamomile and load the cup up with the honey that Dracule had gifted you not too long ago. A lemon slice is next, another gift, though the lemon tree had come from Shanks on his third visit to your island. 

Speaking of the redhead, it’s been a while since you’ve seen the other man. You assume that his Emperor business is keeping him busy, but you still kinda miss the older man. He always knew how to make you laugh. Gullt curls in you at the thought, but you shove it away and remember the talk that you and Dracule had on his last visit.

Mihawk had assured you several times that he and Shanks had come to some sort of agreement. They would more or less stay out of one another business unless there was a shared concern about your well-being. Dracule had basically given you his permission to seek comfort and companionship in Shanks when the warlord could not be there. 

You still didn’t really know what to think of the idea that Shanks and Mihawk had spoken about you while you weren’t there, and you know that neither of them had come completely clean about whatever deal they had going on.

What you did know was that something fundamental had changed between the two men, but honestly, you didn’t much care about all the details. If they were happy, then you were happy. You didn’t know what you would do with yourself if either man stopped coming to your island, and just the thought of being alone like that makes agony tighten around your heart. You’ve known Mihawk for over a year now, and the reclusive man had slowly opened up to you during that time. He was a friend, a lover, a protector, and you loved him. 

Of course, you haven’t told him yet, you’re not so much an idiot to bring the L word into the equation, not when the very notion made fear strike through you like lightning. You wouldn’t ruin what you have going on with him, not unless he said those three words first. You just couldn’t risk being that lonely again. 

And Shanks? That mischievous man had wiggled his way into your daily thoughts and heart, fast. His easygoing attitude is so different from Mihawk's, but no less enjoyable to be around. 

A loud meow right in your ear has you jerking out of your thoughts. Sukuna stands on the counter, big golden eyes narrowed as he meows loud enough for it to echo in the house. You wave him away and apologize for not being fast enough to meet his majesty’s needs. 

You feed Sukuna his usual dish and a little extra for being patient with you this morning and then go outside to do the same for Hank. He whines when you step outside, but his food easily distracts him so that you can go check on Neal and the three chickens. You really need to give them names, you feel bad that it’s been this long. 

Neal bleats a greeting when he catches sight of his human, and you laugh when he digs into your loose dress for any snacks to be found. You gently steer his the other way, fixing up his feed and water before leaving them to it. You stoke your fireplace and settle in on the couch with a new cup of tea, blankets bundled high around you. 

You still feel awful, and a deep ache has settled in the middle of your back, but the satisfaction of doing something keeps any bad thoughts away. Sukuna and Hank find their way back to your side whenever they finish, bullying you into lying down so that they can cuddle with you on the couch. It works, for you are back to sleep in no time, dead to the world. 

-------------

Three days later, It’s Neal who hears the sound of loud laughter and the soft thuds of crates hitting the sand down at the beach. He waits until he can see a familiar silhouette trudging up the footpath to his home, hoofs stomping when he realizes that it’s the red-haired one, and not the one with the tasty-looking hat. Neal bleats a warning, loud enough that it gets the attention of Hank who comes bounding out the door. 

Shanks grins when Hank runs to meet him, the shaggy dog jumping up to place his paws on his chest and whining in his face, “Hey, big guy. You seem excited to see me.”

He pets the dog for half a second before Hank jumps down and trots into the cottage. He turns and whines again at Shanks, big eyes demanding the other man to hurry up. Shanks frowns and picks up his pace, entering the cottage with a frown when he notices that you are not up and about like usual. It was midday, but the house was silent as a grave. 

The emperor winds his way through the house, following Hank until he reaches your bedroom. He doesn’t hesitate to step inside, and his chest seizes when he sees the pitiful bundle of blankets and pillows that lie on the bed. He can hardly see you, only your hair making your whereabouts known in the mess on the bed. Hank whines at his feet, paws tip-tapping on the floor in his distress.

“How long has she been this way buddy?” Shanks asks out loud and doesn’t receive an answer, not that he was expecting to. He steps to the side of the bed, knee sliding on the mattress as he reaches over and pulls the blanket closest to your face down.

“Babygirl?” Shanks murmurs and slides his hand along your jaw, hissing when he finds your skin literally ice cold. His hand throbs when he pulls away and he wipes the frost off on his pants leg. Gods, no wonder you were bundled up like you were. 

You groan when he pulls away, your body seeking any amount of warmth and your voice is nothing but a croak when you speak, “Who?”

Shanks slides his hand back to your cheek, uncaring of the cold when he hears how loopy you sound. He wonders if this is how your devil fruit is reacting to you having a fever. Freezing you to the bone instead of warming you. Mihawk would know how to answer that better than he could. 

“It’s me, sweetheart. It’s Shanks. Think you can tell me what’s wrong?” Shanks shifted more onto the bed, crowding you close in hopes that he could warm you up a little, “You’re freezing, way more than usual, Baby.”

“Dunno. Thought it was a cold, “ You slowly slur as you focus on the handsome man above you. You grin up at him, chest losing one kind of ache now that one of them is here, “Shanks, how was your trip?”

Shanks scoffs at you, eyes rolling skyward as worry curdles tight in his stomach. How could you be asking him questions like that when you looked like a zombie come to life, “It was fine, silly. Don’t worry about that right now. Tell me what I can do to help you get better.” 

Before you can speak, a shiver wracks your body so hard that it leaves your body shivering, teeth chattering and frost creeping up your neck. Shanks jerks his hand back before the dangerous frost can touch him, anxiety curling up when he spots the fear lingering in your eyes. You swallow and curl further in your blanket next, “I don’t know, Shanks. I- I don’t have any medicine. I didn’t think that someone like me could get sick!” 

You don’t have any books on devil fruit users, had no idea how to deal with how your body works sometimes even though you’ve had this horrible power since before you came to this island. You’d always resented the devil fruit inside of you, having never been taught how to properly use your logia abilities. 

Shanks licks his lips. He was out of his depth here. None of his crew had a devil fruit. They’d fought plenty of men and women on the grand line who used them, but Shanks never had the responsibility to know any more than he needed to know about them. 

“That’s alright, Babygirl. We’ll figure it out together, okay?” Shanks assured you and went to rise off the bed only for your hand to shoot out and wrap around his wrist. He looks at you and sees the fever lingering in your eyes, so he changes tactics and shifts to lay down on his side, curling you against his chest, and tossing his arm over your waist to pull you in close. You snuggle close, grateful for the heat that slowly seeps past your blankets. 

Shanks thinks quickly for a solution. He would need to move later, go check on his crew, and see if his crew’s doctor could help with any of this. If that didn’t work then the redhead would call the one person would would most likely know what to do, and Shanks couldn’t help the excitement that erupted at the thought of having his two treasures in the same room together. Despite the situation, it was a chance that Shanks couldn’t pass up.

He wanted to see how the two of you looked curled up together. Wanted to watch the sweet way Mihawk would kiss you and how you would open up to him in kind.  

Turns out that Shanks wouldn’t have to go anywhere, for Benn came to check up on him when he didn’t return after so long. He knocked on the doorframe before peeking his head inside after Shanks told them it was fine.

Benn took one look at your pitiful state and then left to go grab Hongo. The doctor of the crew was able to suggest the proper things than most medical professionals could for what looked like the common cold gone bad, but even he became stumped when it came to the problem of her devil fruit. 

“In a way, It’s preventing her fever from getting too bad, internally at least, but it's also inhibiting the growth of any fresh, healthy cells and bacteria that are trying to get rid of the virus. She needs medicine Captain, and I doubt that I’d be stocked up with what she needs.” 

Shanks sighs heavily from where he sits on your bed, hand behind him to keep hold of your own. You had refused to let go of him, and Shanks didn’t have it in him to leave your side. 

“Bring me my transponder, I need to make a call,” Shanks ordered and Benn left to go find the snail as Hongo packed up his medical bag. 

“Keep her hydrated captain. She needs food too, nothing too solid or hard on her stomach,” Hongo advised and then he was gone too. 

Now alone, Shanks rolls back over, looking down at your scrunched face even in sleep. He smiles and leans down, balanced on his knees so that he can place a quick kiss on your brow, “Don’t worry, Baby. We’ve got you. You’ll be better soon.” 

Benn leaves again when he brings Shanks the snail, though he reminds his friend to call if he needs anything. Shanks had given him a grateful nod and then focused on the transponder, licking his lips as he dialed the number he’d never forgotten. 

Ca-Lick

“There aren’t many people who know this number, who is this?” Dracule sounds furious, and Shanks can hear the sound of shouting and battle in the background, “ This better be good.” 

The Emperor takes the dive, “Mihawk, it’s Shanks.” 

The silence on the other end, at least from Dracule, is deafening. It’s only been a month or so since Mihawk had tracked the other man down. He can feel the panic on the other side, and quickly continues, “It’s _, She’s sick, Mihawk, and we don’t have the kind of medicine that she needs.” 

Shanks hears a sudden explosion and then the probable death of whoever it was that Dracule had been fighting. Arousal swirls inappropriately when he listens to Mihawk wields Yoru, and Shanks longs for a time before when he could watch Dracule fight whenever he wanted. The sounds of battle fade away after a moment, and when the warlord speaks next, Shanks can hear the worry lacing every word.

“What do you mean she’s sick? What is wrong with her?” Mihawk had left your island a week and a half ago, and you had seemed just fine then, so what had happened?

Shanks quickly explains the problem, and Dracule wracks his brain for a solution, though one seems unlikely until Shanks mentions that the devil fruit is the problem. He focuses on that, licking his lips as he debates with himself. 

Haki users like Shanks and himself were logia users' worst nightmare since haki could bypass their powers. Could Shanks negate yours long enough that normal medicine and treatment could work? But that could take days to work, especially with just one of them, and Mihawk refused to let someone else from Redhair’s crew get that close to you. Garp would be pissed that he was leaving his assignment half-finished, but Mihawk could care less. His angel and Shanks needed him.  

“Dracule? Is everything okay?” Shanks’ voice brings him back to the present and Drcule straightens up even if the redhead couldn’t see him. He didn’t like how his body had warmed up at the concern he could hear swimming in the other man’s tone. 

“Fine, Shanks. I have an idea.” He informs the redhead then hears Shanks shuffle on the other side of the phone, and realizes that he had to be near you, “ Let me speak with her.” 

The emperor shifts so that you are comfortably lying across his chest and can be closer to the transponder snail. You open blurry eyes and sniff harshly, “Mihawk?” 

“ There’s my angel,” Dracule coos over the phone, tone soft and full of affection for the young woman, “ How are you feeling?”

“Like shit, but Shanks helps,” Comes your blunt reply and Mihawk can’t help the snort of laughter that leaves him. He still feels that jealous sting at knowing the redhead is the one holding you, but it’s not nearly as bad as it used to be. Damn, Shanks and his ability to get into people’s good graces, his included.

“Then I am glad he is there for once,” Mihawk quips dryly and fixes his hat, “ I’m going to have Shanks try something, Darling. He’s going to try and coat your body in haki. If that works, then your devil fruit shouldn’t be a problem. That way, your immune system can fight off any infection, and you’ll start feeling better.”

“Okay, that’s fine,” You slur, already half asleep by the time he has finished his explanation. Thankfully, you have a redhead who has taken his duty as a caregiver very seriously. 

“This is why I called you, Dracule. You always know what to do,” Shanks praises quietly, voice laced with sincerity. The other man is quiet on the other end, but Shanks doesn’t mind, it just means that he’d surprised him. 

“Just do what I said, you fool,” Mihawk grumbles quietly, “ Have Hongo come back and give her some medicine, whatever you have in stock should work once her body is coated. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” 

The smile on Shanks’ face is nothing but fond, and he nods even though Mihawk can’t see, “Sure. Be safe, We’ll be waiting for you.” 

You call a weak goodbye to Dracule, lucid enough to hear that he is coming back, and then you are gone again, body weak and exhausted from fighting off the growing virus. Shanks curls around you, focusing on weaving his haki over your body until you are completely coated by his will. 

Shanks doesn’t know how to describe the way it feels to have someone so intimately twined within his will. He can feel everything , every twitch of a muscle, every shallow breath you take. It’s almost overwhelming. However, it seems to be working. 

The frost that has been ever-present has slowly begun to melt away, leaving the blankets damp and uncomfortable, but Shanks feels victorious. He calls for Hongo, and the doctor is back in the cottage in a flash and tells his captain that whatever he is doing, he needs to keep it up. Shanks easily nods, curling around you and focusing on keeping his haki a consistent stream to regulate your body. It’s harder than it looks, and Shanks is very glad that Mihawk is coming.

----------

You are still loopy and out of it when Dracule arrives two days later, pushing his ship as hard as he can and catching every tailwind he can navigate to speed up the process. Even though your body had regulated itself into something more human than logia, the process of recovery was slow going. The Red Haired crew greets the warlord when he makes landfall, but Mihawk is in too much of a hurry to return the greeting.

He darts up the path and into his home, stopping long enough to toss his boots, hat, and coat off, and then Mihawk is creaking open your bedroom door, ringed eyes landing on the bed. What he seems makes him choke up, but in a way he hadn’t expected. 

It’s not anger that he feels upon seeing you curled up in bed with Shanks, blankets tangled around both of you as the redhead holds you to his chest. Your face is pressed into his chest, mouth open in a soft snore that has Mihawk’s lips curling at the sides. Shanks turns his face just enough to catch sight of the older man and send him a weary grin, and it definitely isn’t jealousy that Mihawk feels. No, it is satisfaction, at seeing the two people he cared for most in this world curled up together in the too-small bed. 

Dracule shuffles to the other side of the bed and lays on his side, boxing you in between the two men. He can feel the way Shanks’ haki coats you and his own reaches out to glide along the redheads, curling protectively around you and Shanks both. He jumps when he feels a hand land on his waist and glances over you to see Shanks grinning, that familiar teasing look in his eye. 

You wake between them before Mihawk can puff up about the sudden invasion of space, and his attention is quickly drawn to you. You yawn, and then roll, opening your eyes to see another body beside you that isn’t Shanks. A blush floods your face when you realize that Mihawk is there, his magma-like body pressed close to your own. 

You latch onto him, arms coming up to wind around his neck as you bury your face in his neck. Mihawk tightens his grip on you, kissing your brow as you sniffle into his chest and ramble about how much you missed him. He glances up and catches Shanks watching, a fond, though possessive look in his dark eyes. 

“Thank you for looking after her,” Mihawk whispers once you’ve quieted down. It pains him to admit it, but you would have been so much worse off if Shanks had never shown up.  

“Don’t thank me for something I wanted to do, Baby,” Shanks says and pulls at Mihawk from where his hand still rests on his side. The older man looks exhausted, and Shanks knows that the warlord pushed himself since the phone call, “Sleep, Mihawk. I’ve got you.”   

Chapter Text

Sukuna narrows his eyes at the two men who are curled around his human. He doesn’t like either of them, even if the dark-haired one had been the one to save him in the first place. Sukuna didn’t trust men other than himself and his two brothers. The chickens were far too stupid to count. The males took away his attention from his human and thought they could boss him around. No one but his human bossed Sukuna around. 

It’s been a day and a half since the older human had shown back up, and Sukuna’s sensitive nose could tell that you were feeling better. The sick scent had all but disappeared, but you were still weak. The cat yowled loudly to try and get your attention, but all he gained were two sets of glares from the men crowded around his human. He yowls again, putting an extra amount of sass in, and finally, it seems to work, for the smug cat watches as you sit yourself up, hair a wild mess as you find the source of all the noise. 

“Suku, gimmie two minutes, and I’ll get up,” You assure your spoilt baby, and then those twin glares are on you, yellow and chocolate full of disappointment. Shanks rolls his eyes at you and then lays back, content to let Mihawk handle this when he notices the other man gearing up for it. 

“You are not getting up just because that cat is begging,” Dracule says lowly, and you shiver when his hot breath tickles your chilled ear. His arm is tight around your waist, legs tucked behind your own. Shanks is pressed in close on your other side, sole arm tossed over you and resting innocently on the other man’s waist. You take in the sight, lips curling up when you happen to glance at the redhead to see him giving that soft look you are just getting to know to Mihawk. 

“Hawkeye is right, babygirl. You are staying right here. One of us can go feed the bugger,” Shanks suggests, and when he gets two sets of eyes, one pleading and the other demanding, the Emperor sighs and extracts his arm, “Which, I guess that’ll be my job.”

You snicker at his put-out voice but are swiftly distracted when Mihawk rolls the two of you, legs settling on either side of yours as he settles his weight on top of you. The warlord holds himself up on his elbows and then dips to seal his lips to yours in a relieved kiss. If you are feeling well enough to try and get up to feed one of your nosey pets, then you must feel well enough for Dracule to steal a few kisses. He has missed your soft voice and plucky attitude, so hearing it has sent his heart racing, and his hands aching to touch you. 

You sigh into the kiss, arms lifting to wind around his neck, and pull him more fully into your embrace. His tongue pushes forward, and Mihawk hums into the kiss when you wrap your lips around the muscle and gently suck. The warlord allows you your fun before he pulls away to nip your lips and press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. He opens his eyes, ringed gaze locking onto the redhead who had not left the room. 

Shanks watches the older man kiss you, the display is lewd and possessive. He licks his lips and longs to lay back in the bed, to pepper both of his treasures with sweet kisses and words of endearment of his own. He shifts his weight when as he watches Mihawk place sweet pecks on your cheeks, and your brow, and the redhead breaks at the display. He doesn’t want to be left out. 

Mihawk stops Shanks in his tracks when he lifts himself to his knees, leaving you a panting mess pinned beneath him. He watches in interest as Dracule swings off the bed and stands beside the other man, “I’m going to help him. Neal almost got him last time.”

You share a snicker with Dracule when the redhead pouts dramatically, lip jutting out as he turns on his heel to stock out of the bedroom. Mihawk gives you one last kiss on the brow and then he follows Shanks out of the bedroom. With both men gone, you take the chance to lope to the bathroom and freshen up before either man can stop you. 

Shanks feeds Sukuna and Hank while Mihawk goes outside to take care of Neal and the three chickens. He gets pecked for his trouble and sends a scathing glare at the rooster. He meets Shanks back inside, and the domesticity of the situation hits him when he catches Shanks filling up the kettle and putting it on the stove. Dracule steps in behind him, gathering mugs and tea bags that he sets out on the counter. 

There is a peace in the cottage that neither man has felt other than out in the open sea. It brings back the good and the bad memories, ones that the warlord isn’t quite ready yet to acknowledge. However, being around Shanks so much lately has forced Dracule to look back on their own past, and the reason behind why it had fallen apart. Could he take that chance again with the younger man, now that he has you to mitigate the rough edges that have built up during their time apart?

A quiet curse gets his attention, and Mihawk watches the younger man, who has become distracted by the baked goods that you must have made before your sickness got too bad. Dracule huffs when he sees that one of the most feared pirates on the seas has gotten his hand literally stuck inside of a cookie jar. The fool had shoved his hand inside the too-small jar and turned to Mihawk with a helpless expression. 

“You idiot. What would have you done if I weren’t here? Your crew would have never let you live it down,” Dracule snarked at the redhead but closed the distance and reached out to grab the younger man’s wrist.

“Like you’ll ever let me live this down,” The Emperor teases right back, and Dracule thinks that the younger man is too cheeky for his own good. 

Shanks is expecting Mihawk to just yank the jar off, but he is surprisingly gentle as he removes the offending item. He cheers quietly when his hand is free, and then he snags Mihawk by the belt loop so that he can lean in and plant his lips on that clean-shaven cheek. He lingers there, waiting to be pushed off, but Dracule doesn’t move an inch.

When Shanks pulls away, he catches sight of the wistful expression that adorns Mihawk’s face for a split second before the older man schools expression once more, and it causes him to frown in concern. Shanks licks lips, his thoughts running as he recalls the past couple of days.

The closeness that the two of them once shared had easily been obtained again, and having you in the middle made it all the better. You were a perfect match for their warring personalities, easily soothing any hurt feelings when the two men went too far. All it took was a sleepy boys, and then two men were backing down like that. It’s only happened a few times these past few days, you needing to step in, but the thought had cemented itself in Shanks’ mind, and he always fought for the things he wanted. 

“Mihawk,” Shanks murmurs and inches closer to the other man, angling his head so that he can catch those beautiful ringed eyes, “C’mon, Baby. Tell me what you’re thinking about.” 

His lips twist at the pet name and Dracule sends a sharp glare at Shanks, but he still does not pull away. He surprises himself and Shanks when he leans in, back bowing as he rests his face in the crook of the redhead's neck, hands coming up to grasp his loose, white shirt. 

“Can I trust you again?” Mihawk asks softly, and his next words are laced with hurt, “How can I know that you won't turn to the closest pretty smile when things don’t go your way?” 

Shanks freezes in his grasp, a tension blanketing the room, and then the redhead steps away from Mihawk with a stern frown on his face. Hurt swims in his eyes and he raises his hand to wipe at his mouth, collapsed fingers scrubbing at his scruffy face as the pirate thinks about what to say to that. Shanks may have been drunk that evening, but that night was as clear as day for him. He lost his treasure at that dingy bar after all.

You sigh as you stand from the tub, grabbing the towel you left hanging on the rack and quickly drying yourself before you catch another cold. Once dry, you dress in a set of soft undergarments and flush at the reminder of the first night you wore the set, and the way your warlord peeled it off you.

Mihawk called it lingerie, whatever that meant, you just liked the way the silky material felt on your skin, and it was modest enough that it covered your stomach and the tops of your thighs. A fluffy robe followed and you wrapped it close around you, relishing the warmth of the material. 

You step out of the bathroom and look around. You could go back to bed, but you can hear speaking in the kitchen, and you are curious. It’s been days since you’ve felt well enough to even walk your own house, so it felt nice to go more than the six feet it took to go from bathroom to bedroom. You slow to a stop just outside the entrance, frozen when you hear it. 

 “Can I trust you again?” “How can I know that you won't turn to the closest pretty smile when things don’t go your way?”

You swallow harshly, feeling like an intruder in your own home. You don’t know what to do, and you feel too many emotions at once to settle on any of them. You figured that the two men had a past, though not as close as the one that Mihawk could be insinuating. Not that it bothered you, now that you were being forced to acknowledge it. You had no basis on how people outside of your island worked. Happiness was happiness to you, it didn’t matter where it came from.

But had that really happened? Your heart shatters at the hurt in your lover's voice and you are taking a half step forward before you think better of it. You don’t need to get in the middle of whatever spat the two men were having. You felt like they were more comfortable working this out without you there. 

“_, I know you’re out there. Come here,” Shanks calls, but you can hear the underlying order there. He doesn’t expect you to deny him, and you prove him right when you slowly step into the kitchen. You can feel the tension, and it wraps around you like a second skin. Shanks gives you a strained smile, but Mihawk is the one to come to your side and lead you to a chair. 

The kettle makes its debut and Dracule busies himself by making tea for himself and his angel. He takes a chanced glance at Shanks and the other man dips his head in a nod, so Mihawk pours the steaming water into his mug with the lavender tea bag. 

“Sorry for interrupting,” You apologize once everyone is settled. Dracule has taken a seat beside you at the kitchen table, and you can’t help but feel like you are in one of your romance novels. Life certainly became exciting after meeting these men, “I can leave for a while? I don’t mind too.” 

Shanks smirks at the sincerity in your voice and shakes his head, “No, I think it’s best that both of you hear this. Especially since Mihawk here doesn’t know the full story either it seems.”

Dracule puffs up like he is about to snap back at the other man, but you raise your hand and give him a look, and the dark-haired man quickly deflates, cowed for now. You put your attention back on Shanks, and the redhead looks even more smitten with the sight of the two of you, and it only cements his decision further. 

“Mihawk and I have known each other for a long time. Longer than you’ve been alive, babygirl,” Shanks begins and it’s then that you realize that Shanks is about to reveal an important part of his and Mihawk’s past. You feel honored to know, but a quick glance at Mihawk has you frowning. The older man looks distinctly uncomfortable, and you butt in before Shanks can continue. 

“Is this okay?” You ask Mihawk. You can still recall the day that Dracule had asked you to not ask about his life, that he would reveal to you who he was in time. He was careful that way, and you didn’t want to overstep. 

Mihawk looks genuinely surprised at your question, and you watch with growing fondness when you catch a blush across his cheekbones, “Yes. It’s fine. I too, would like to know what story Shanks is talking about.”

The emperor looks at you for permission to continue, and you nod, sipping your tea. Shanks huffs at his treasures and then begins his story, voice painful, but fond, and the redhead as you on the edge of your seat at once.

A year before Shanks loses his arm, two young men stumble into the first bar the younger of the two spots. The older man rolls his eyes but eagerly follows after his friend, fingers tangled in the unbuttoned shirt that Shanks wears. It had been ages since Shanks had seen his best friend and he was eager to catch up. 

He bought them drink after drink, and hours later the two had stumbled away from the bar and ended up in a dark corner of the seedy bar. Mihawk shoved Shanks into the wall, mouthing at his neck as the other man hung on for dear life, hips canting and shameless in his want for Dracule.

Drunk on cheap beer, and love for his friend/lover, Shanks blurted out the fateful words that would be the end of their relationship. He had missed the older man so much even though it had only been two weeks since he’d seen Mihawk, but every day the ache in his chest grew and grew until Shanks couldn’t hold it in anymore. He needed Mihawk to know how he felt.

“I love you,” The pirate captain breathes, Join my crew, Mihawk. I love you.”

Shanks’ admission is so soft it’s but a whisper, but Mihawk still hears it. Those wondering hands freeze on Shanks, and the redhead is left, confused and a little hurt when Dracule pulls away from him. 

The other man won’t look at him. Ringed eyes downcast and looking anywhere but the younger man. Shanks reaches for the other man, heart seizing up and tears gathering in his eyes when Mihawk takes a half step away, just far enough that Shanks can’t reach him, “Mihawk..?” 

Panic had shot through the older man the moment his friend brought up his feelings. Shanks had been the first to break through his walls, bringing them down with a friendly smile and a mischievous twinkle in his eye. Dracule had opened himself up to the other boy, spilling his secrets and his fears, but never once had he tacked an emotion onto what he felt for Shanks. It terrified him to put a label on anything. 

“I- I can’t right now, Red,” Mihawk croaked and then he was gone, coat flapping behind him as he ran away from his friend for the first time in his life. Shanks watches him go, tears streaming down his cheeks and mouth hanging open in disbelief. He slides down the wall, chest torn open as sobs wreak his frame. He doesn’t know how much time has passed when his attention is taken by a pretty lady with dark hair and hazel eyes who grins down at him.

She buys him a drink and Shanks cries on her shoulder, draping himself over the kind lady who coos at him and kindy says that maybe Mihawk just needs some time to come to terms with his own feelings. There is a commotion at the front of the bar, but Shanks is far too drunk to pay much attention, though, and if he had, the pirate would have seen the stricken look on Mihawk’s face before the other man turned and fled. 

Mihawk would do his best to avoid Shanks in the coming years, at least until the warlord came upon a boy in a familiar straw hat.

It’s silent when Shanks finishes his tale, and you find yourself at a loss for words. All of this animosity, and all over a misunderstanding and a man who runs away from his feelings. You don’t have to wait long before Mihawk stands, booted feet loud on the hardwood floor as he strides across the room. He looks furious, and heartbroken all rolled up in a big angsty ball. 

“You were all over that woman, and you’re telling me that you didn’t sleep with her?” Mihawk hisses, “You’re taking me for a fool.” 

Shanks scoffs, displeasure flashing across his face, “I knew you would never believe me, it’s why I stopped chasing after you when you kept avoiding me. Then you became a warlord and so much time had passed, that I thought. Why bother?”

The Emperor runs his hand through his hair, making the shaggy locks stand on end. His voice is full of bitter resentment when he continues, “But no, I didn’t sleep with her. I didn’t touch anyone else for a long time. Guess I wanted to make sure that you really meant to stay away.” 

Mihawk looks like he’s been struck, and he swallows harshly, taking a step back as his face flushes, brow scrunching as he takes in what the other man is saying. A self-deprecating laugh escapes him. He turns away from Shanks and sits back down, leaning back and pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. With the way his and Shanks’ haki is still intertwined, Darcule can tell that the other man isn't lying. All this time, and it had been him that had been the problem, the fool who couldn't accept the sight of Shanks wrapped around another person. If he had stayed, then maybe their lives would have turned out differently.   

A small hand in his shoulder is what gets his attention. You have stood from your seat and rounded the table, standing behind him as your hands settle on his shoulders. You rub the tense muscles, and Mihawk finds himself relaxing under your familiar touch. You kiss the top of his head, lips lingering there for a moment as you lock eyes with Shanks. 

The younger man looks distraught, body tense, and you wonder if Shanks will leave now that he has said his piece. You aren't sure what to say, so you decide to keep quiet and stand in silent support of the man who had found you first. To you, both men have been wronged, you just hope that they can work it out for their sakes. 

Mihawk looks up when he hears the sound of heavy footsteps, and his eyes widen when Shanks sinks to one knee, hand coming up to clutch at Mihawk's hand that sits on his lap. He looks up and catches Mihawk’s gaze, and then your own, “I don't want us to linger on our past, it isn't fair to _, or to us.”

“Even after that night, you have never stopped being one of my precious people, Dracule, and I would like to give you that title too, Babygirl. If you'd have me.”     

Chapter Text

Mihawk is quiet for a long time. Guilt eats him up on the inside, and the hopeful look in Shanks’ eyes just makes him feel even worse. This amazing man was willing to look past his blunder, to forget about the animosity that surrounded the two of them over a misunderstanding some 14 years ago. He licks his lips, thoughts running a mile a second, and soon finds that he wants nothing more than to start over with his angel and Shanks. Dracule is a selfish man, and he couldn't let this go. 

However, there was the pressing matter of his angel's past, and now, more than ever, did his guilt and fear of your rejection seem so close. Mihawk wants to tell you, wants you to know of his involvement in the destruction of your home, but his mouth won't move, voice frozen at the thought of having to explain himself to you. Instead, he tightens his fingers around Shanks’ hand and gives a slow nod. Later. He would tell you at a better time. Just…not now. 

“Starting over…sounds good. To know you again, Shanks,” Dracule murmurs and catches those chocolate eyes that shine in careful optimism. He feels your hands tighten on his shoulders and glances up to see a happy little grin curling your lips.  

“Is this something that you want?” Mihawk asks you, but you are already nodding and leaning down to drop a kiss on the cheek that is turned toward you. 

“I don't see any harm in trying. I'm already rather fond of the beach bum,” you tease gently, and it seems to shatter the tension around the three of you. There would be plenty of ups and downs, and trust would have to be regained, but for now, the three of you were content to bask in the new relationship you all now shared.   

Shanks brightens and his smile is almost blinding as he stands and shuffles forward, letting Mihawk and his chair hold his weight as he reaches for you. His hand finds your jaw, and the pirate pulls you in for a kiss before you can get a word out.

The redhead has been wanting to kiss you since the moment you introduced yourself the first time he happened upon your island. Your lips are chapped, rough against his own, but it’s better than anything the Emperor could have imagined.   

Mihawk watches the younger man kiss you, and the only envy he finds swirling in his chest is the want to be included in the not-so-innocent display. 

Kissing Shanks is so much different than kissing Mihawk. His lips were a little thinner, and he used more teeth and tongue than lips, selfishly devouring you in a shameless display of possession. Your lips are sore when he pulls away, but the Emperor looks nothing less than satisfied before he releases your jaw to tuck his knuckle under Dracule's chin, angling the other man towards Shanks, and then he dives down to seal his lips over Mihawks. 

You watch, attention easily caught by the way Shanks shoves his tongue past the warlord’s lips and the soft groan that leaves the older man. Arousal pools in your stomach at the lewd sight, and you can't take your eyes off the way Mihawk opens up for Shanks, yellow eyes fluttering shut as the redhead plunders his mouth like a true pirate. You are still watching when the kisses slow to a stop, and Dracule blushes prettily when he catches you staring. 

“Shameless,” He admonishes quietly, but you just grin and shrug. 

“I like to watch,” You answer honestly, and your blunt reply sends Shanks into a fit of giggles. Mihawk already looks annoyed and shoves at Shanks, sending the redhead back to his feet.

“Alright. That’s enough of that,” the warlord grumbles and turns a disappointed look your way. Mihawk takes in the flush high on your cheeks and the way you still seem out of breath, and can tell that you still aren’t feeling up to much.

“You should be back in bed, resting and getting better. Did you take your medicine while we were gone?” Dracule demands and you shrink under the attention of the sudden attention of both men. The warlord has stood, looming over your smaller form, and Shanks stands pressed against the back of the other man, brows raised, and expecting an answer. 

“Well, I nooo, but I planned to,” You stamper out and take a step back, cheeks burning. It’s surreal having such powerful men looking at you like this, and you find yourself suddenly nervous, feeling like the naive girl you'd been before Mihawk found you. 

“Such a naughty girl,” Shanks murmurs from behind Dracule and leans into the other man, hooking his chin over Mihawk's shoulder. He catches your flush and it only makes the redhead want to tease you more, but he won't, for now. 

“Can't we stay in the living room? It's been days,” You plead quietly. And wow. When did your life come to this? Having to beg for the things you wanted. You weren't above it though, and angled a wide eyed look at both men, fluttering your lashes and pouting your lips, “Please, Mihawk? I'll be good.” 

The warlord can't help the smug smirk when you say his name, and doesn't put up much of a fight in the face of your cute pout, “Fine. I suppose you look well enough to stay out here.” 

The grin you reward him with Is enough to satisfy him, though it's replaced by embarrassment when Shanks opens his fat mouth. 

“My treasures are so cute together. She's got you wrapped around her little finger, Hawkeye,” the Emperor gushes and his arm wraps around the older man's waist to hug him close with a big cheesy grin. 

“Like you are not?” Dracule grumbles, but then you are slipping around the chair and pressing yourself close to his chest, one hand tangled in his shirt while your other hand finds Shanks wrist. 

“That's not exclusive, you know that, right? I'd leave this island if you asked me,” You declare and you surprise yourself and both men with your passionate words. 

Shanks thinks of you on his ship, wind in your hair and the salty sea spraying you with foam when the waves crash along the sides. He thinks of showing you everything he's already seen just to see the look of wonder on your face and the joy in your eyes. But then the imagery takes a turn, and Shanks sees you pale and washed out, shivering under the threat of the other Emperor’s and the World Government. 

Dracule imagines you in his castle on Gloom Island, dancing through the long hallways and chatting with Perona. He sees you tending to his gardens, your own seeds and flora over taking his plots. But like Shanks, Mihawk's imagination takes a dive and all he sees is Big Mom, her meaty fist clutching you in her grasp. 

“As much as your offer means to us,” Mihawk murmurs and his hands find your hips, pulling you flush against his front in a possessive display, “We'd prefer you to stay here for now, Dear One. At least until the world calms back down.” 

Shanks hums in agreement, eyes half lidded as he watches his treasures, “Let's not worry about that right now, though.” He murmurs and gently tugs Mihawk, and in turn you, gently just to grab their attention, “Take her to the couch, and I'll meet you there, yeah?” 

Dracule doesn't argue, and when Shanks releases him, he bends and grabs you under the thighs, hefting you up with ease. You wrap your legs around him, face pressed in the crook of his neck, suddenly worn out and sleepy. Maybe you aren't quite up to snuff like you thought. 

Mihawk settles in the plush cushions and keeps you in his lap, focusing on wrapping his haki back around you while Shanks runs back to the bedroom to grab the medicine Hongo prescribed you. Dracule tugs a blanket off the back of the sofa and wraps it around you, tucking you in after he helps you take the chalky tablets with a sip of lukewarm tea. It's not long before you doze back off and Mihawk sighs as he settles in for the next couple of hours. 

“Need anything, Baby?” Shanks murmurs as he leans over the back of the couch to drape himself along the older man's shoulders. He doesn't care that their new relationship is still new, the Emperor has missed Mihawk, and not that he has that permission back, there was a lot of lost time for them to make up for. 

Mihawk hums, a tiny smile painting his lips as he leans back to flick his eyes up to Shanks. The redhead is as handsome as ever, “Not right now, Red.” 

Shanks lights up at the old nickname, smile becoming impossibly wider as he loops around the couch to sit beside his partner. He snuggles close, feeling giddy when Mihawk lifts an arm for Shanks to rest against his shoulder. A nap with his treasures sounded like a swell idea right about now, and Dracule must agree for the older man slips off before Shanks. The emperor swears to himself then that there would be nothing in this world that could take you or Mihawk away from him. He would turn the world upside down for his treasures. 

Chapter Text

Your boys leave the island together when you are back to one hundred percent. Both drag you in for kisses that last forever, memorizing the feel of your lips, and Mihawk surprises his partner by tugging Shanks down for a quick kiss before stalking away with a blush and a farewell. You laugh at the redhead’s flush, but Shanks gets you back for making fun of him by tickling you until you cry, uncle. 

It's quiet with them gone, but you are glad that you're feeling better. The first thing you do is finish up any chores that your boys hadn't done for you while you'd been sick. There isn't much, but you're particular with the way you weed the garden. Neal stays by your side, eating any greenery that you hand him. The goat makes you smile, and you recall the day that Miahwk had left him here. The poor man had been lied to, the seller telling the warlord that Neal was indeed female, and Mihawk hadn't bothered to check. 

You leave Neal to his own devices once you're finished in the garden. Sukuna and Hank greet you when you go inside, the big mutt lying sprawled out in front of the dead fireplace. Your cat yowls at you for pets and you make sure to love on them both for a bit before pulling away. 

Before Mihawk and Shanks had left, they had sat you down and explained that you needed to stop being so fearful of your devil fruit. Hongo didn't understand where your sudden sickness had come from, and after some brainstorming with Mihawk, both came to the tentative conclusion that maybe your lack of use had caused It. You told the men that unless needed, you didn't use your powers. You didn't like them, especially when your snow could be so dangerous. 

The three of you came up with a game plan. You would take at least two hours of your day and train with your devil fruit. For now, the boys wanted you to keep it simple and focus on creating snow and turning your body into the cold substance. It was hard, and it took way more out of you than you expected it to, but eventually, the difficulty lessened and you were able to manipulate your body without a thought. 

Your island, bright and tropical, made the training even more difficult. At first, you're only able to create small piles of snow that Hank had a blast diving in, but the more you use your powers, the stronger you become. Your body temperature evened out, the fear disappeared, and you felt better than ever, and soon began to grow curious about what else you were capable of. 

You grew bolder, forgetting about pacing yourself, and began to experiment with what you could do. How cold you could make your snow, and how much you could still control the liquid when it began to melt. Creating ice was beyond your abilities, but you can still compact your snow, and you start out by making a rough club out of the packed snow. You had cowed in victory, your screech echoing across the island when your fruit did its job and your creation stabilized. You'd scared the hell out of Hank and Neal, but the excitement had been well worth it. 

When you weren't trying to make defensive weapons, you were seeing how large you could make snowflakes. The biggest you had achieved so far was around the size of a coffee mug, and you noticed just how pretty your snow could be. The individual flakes looked like flowers, each one unique to the other, and you grew to love them. 

The more you used your fruit, the better you felt, as if the fruit had been waiting for you to accept it, instead of fighting against its abilities. You felt more comfortable with yourself, a hole you didn't realize you had filling up and making you feel whole. It was…nice, and you couldn't wait to show your boys all the things you learned about yourself. 

It'd been three weeks since they left, and you missed them something awful. Sukuna and Hank filled the void when Mihawk or Shanks wasn't here, but your animals couldn’t cuddle or kiss you, or hold a conversation like your boys could. 

You mosie back outside, mind now preoccupied with thinking about the two men who had changed your life. 

While you had been eager to add Shanks to the connection you shared with Mihawk, you couldn't help the trepidation you felt. You and the warlord had a comfortable relationship, built on affection and mutual trust. Shanks was a wildcard, and it still astounded you that the two men had been a thing long ago. How? You weren't sure, and unless they wanted to tell you, then you didn't plan on asking. 

The two were complete opposites in almost everything. Sake and wine. Comfortable silence and rowdy parties. Quiet poetry and raunchy shanties. Mihawk screamed proprietary and Shanks didn't have a proper bone in his body. Even the way they kissed you was different. Mihawk is always careful, and Shanks never knows when to stop. 

You sigh from where you now lay in the middle of your front yard. Thinking about your boys only made you miss them more. You raise your hands, activating your fruit and sending a scattering of snow above you. The flakes are massive, though still around the same size as a coffee mug, and you smile watching the beautiful patterns fall around you. 

You lay there for a long time, welcoming the cool that falls around you. With the acceptance of your devil fruit, came your lack of care for the cold. Gone was the ever-present shivering and the need to bundle up constantly. You've stopped dressing in your thick leggings and sweaters, and the fireplace hasn't been touched in over a week. Today you were dressed in one of the button-ups that Shanks had left behind and a pair of, much thinner, leggings. You liked how the baggy shirt fits you, giving you more range of motion. 

Hank had even followed you around the entire island the other day, and the two of you explored the nooks and crannies of the jungle and the small mountain range to the west. The cove on the north side had rewarded your long walk with pretty sea glass and shells the size of your head. 

You eventually rise out of the snow drift you've created around yourself, and with a wave of your hand, it begins to melt until there is nothing left but wet ground. You didn't need to be lying around daydreaming when there were still things that could be done. You'd rather not have to do any chores when your boys showed back up.

Sixteen days later, at least that's what your calendar says, you hear the sound of booted feet against the hardwood of your floor. A grin splits your face and you turn around to see Mihawk stalking through your kitchen, a smirk on his lovely face and his arms already open and ready for you to jump into them. 

You do just that, flinging yourself into his arms. You hug your warlord tightly, and then pull away to accept the kiss that Mihawk bestows upon you. It's been longer than either of you expected for him to be gone, and Dracule makes up for it in the way he holds you close and lingers to press his lips to your brow, “Hello, Dear One. I have missed you.” 

“I've missed you, too,” you murmur and tug him down for another kiss before releasing your lover to meet his gaze. His eyes swim with content glee, and you flush at having it trained on you. It's been almost a year and four months since you've met the dark-haired man, and he could still make butterflies erupt in your stomach. 

Mihawk lets you go after one last kiss and you go about making the two a glass of wine. You've learned to appreciate the fancy drink, and you were still too chicken to try the strong sake and rum that Shanks preferred. 

The two of you catch up inside the kitchen, The warlord telling you of Perona's newest escapades and of the letter Zoro had sent him. You listened intently, eyes never leaving the handsome man as he told you about his time away. Listening to the stories the two men always had available was definitely one of your favorite pastimes. Both your boys had such rich, soothing voices that they'd put you to sleep more than once. 

“Enough about me, I want to know how you've been. You look radiant, Dear One,” Mihawk murmurs and reaches out to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, fingers sliding under your chin to turn you this way and that. It was true. You looked brighter today, a light he hadn't seen before glowing in your eyes. 

You set your glass in the sink and come to a stop between Mihaek’s parted legs. You watch his eyes narrow in on you, and he shifts to sit up a little straighter, “How about I show you, instead?”

Dracule licks his lips, hands reaching for your hips to pull you closer. His thumbs rub soothing circles into the sensitive skin there and he leans in to place a delicate kiss on your stomach, golden eyes catching your own, “Looks more like you’re trying to distract me, my dear.”

You can’t help the smirk that curls your lips, but you shake your head, “No, nothing like that.” 

Now more curious than anything, Mihawk sits back in his chair but doesn’t move his hands. You raise your own and concentrate on activating your devil fruit, eyes narrowed and tongue caught between your teeth. You want to make Mihawk a special one. One that would last.   

It starts as a tiny flake, hardly bigger than what the eye could see, before it begins to grow. It solidifies, branching out like a growing sapling and sprouting snowy leaves. The snowflake is about the size of a baseball, beautiful and perfectly symmetrical. 

“If I did this correctly, then this shouldn't melt unless I want it to, or like. I die or something,” You explain, tone full of morbid curiosity. Mihawk pinches your hip in retaliation. 

“It's beautiful, Darling,” Mihawk murmurs and carefully takes the gift in his hands when you hold it out to him. It's incredibly cold, but very impressive, “I'm proud of you for keeping up your training plan. You've not overworked yourself, have you?” 

You flush at his praise, cheeks lighting up in delight, “Nope. I feel good, actually. Like I have more energy. Hank and I went around the whole island the other day.” 

Dracule ticks a brow up, impressed by your jaunt around this island. He had offered before to explore the island with you, but you'd always be content to stay at the cottage and read your books. He hadn't complained since he was still getting to spend time with you, and this new development pleased him. He was glad that you seemed to be doing much better. 

“Find anything interesting?” Miahwk asks you and the sound of your voice soothes him as he listens to you ramble about all the bits and bobs you'd found in the cove. 

After a while, you seem to run out of steam, excited babbling coming to a stop. By now the two of you had moved to the living room and you sat in his lap facing the warlord. Mihawk takes advantage of the quiet moment to slip his hands under your shirt, fingertips trailing over your cool skin and sending shivers racing up your spine. The more he looks at your shirt, the more he realizes that it doesn't belong to you.

“Wearing our clothes, sweet thing?” Dracule points out and extracts a hand to gently tug at the ruffles that fall down your chest. The top button pops open without much prompt, and Mihawk smirks when he gets a view of your cleavage. He leans in and presses a kiss to the valley between your breasts, humming in pleasure when your hands find his shoulders and dig your fingers in. 

You blush and shrug, “They're more comfortable, and my old clothes were too constricting.” 

Dracule smiles as a thought passes by. If you no longer wanted to wear your old wardrobe, then that was just an opportunity for him to go clothes shopping. He would love to whisk you away from your island and take you with him, just so he could see the wonder on your face with all the different fabrics and colors, but alas. His worries kept you safe, and Mihawk would not risk you over clothes. 

“What would you like me to bring you next time?” He asks and feels pride in you when you immediately start listing off the things that you would like. It had taken his angel a long time to start asking for things instead of making careful suggestions. Mihawk took mental notes, already making plans to stop on several shopping islands to look for what you wanted. 

It's nearing midnight before the two of you decide to head to bed. You've already dressed in your sleep clothes and snuggled in bed by the time Dracule steps out of the shower. He slips into a pair of soft sleep pants and slides under the covers, manhandling you until you lay spread across his chest. His mind is a little sluggish from the amount of wine the two of you had through the evening, and maybe that's why he doesn't protest when you scoot up and begin to suck gentle marks into his skin. 

Mihawk sags into the mattress, hands finding your hips as he allows you your fun for now. Your lips feel delightful against his heated skin, and he hisses in pleasure when you nip the hollow of his throat. Feeling impatient, he tightens his hold on your hips and grinds up into your waiting heat. The friction is a sweet drag along his cock and Mihawk wants more than anything to be inside of you. 

The warlord had yet to push for sex, and you had yet to offer it to him. Mihawk felt more like a handsy teenager than his fourth three years, but he feels like he's waited long enough, and tonight felt like a breaking point  

“_,”Mihawk rumbles and you slow to a stop, shifting to hold yourself up by his shoulders and catching his gaze. Even in your slightly inebriated state, you could hear the seriousness of his tone, and it made you pay close attention to him, “I want to have sex with you. I want to feel you around me as you come on my cock. Do you want me, too?”  

Chapter Text

You freeze above Mihawk. Did he want to have sex with you? Right now? The thought makes snow spout and shower around you, dropping the temperature of the room by several degrees.

It's not that you don't want to. You do! But you've never had sex before, and you don't think your books do a very good job of explaining the concept. Your silence must have stretched for too long. You feel Mihawk tighten his hold, and his voice is full of concern when he speaks up, though you can still hear desperation wrapped around every word. 

“We don't have to, Darling, but I have desired you for so long, and my patience is growing thin,” the warlord had wanted you for a long time, but he could wait longer if you wished. No one could ever say he wasn’t a gentleman. 

“O-of course I want you!” You blurt before Mihawk can take his offer back or something equally silly again, “I want to have sex. I want to feel you too.” 

You lick your lips in thought, trying to figure out how to explain to Dracule. You're nervous of course, this was a big step for you, but you trusted Mihawk to do this right. 

Hawkeye watches you closely, seeing your nerves come in and make it hard for you to think. He's seen this happen before, and it would not be the first time Mihawk has pulled you out of your head, but he only smiles gently up at his angel and squeezes your hips to catch your attention. The warlord had no complaints about walking his dear one through what was to happen.  

“Would it make you feel better if I explained everything as we go?” 

You consider the offer and find that the thought of Mihawk explaining his actions makes you feel better, so you nod and squeeze his shoulders, “Yeah, I think I'd like that.” 

Dracule gives you a nod, and he starts up those soothing strokes along your hips again. The most important thing here was to keep you comfortable. There was no joy or pleasure in the act of sex when his partner was not secure in the situation. You, above all else, deserved that from him, “Do you want to start now?” 

‘Yes,” you whisper, eyes locked with Mihawk's molten gaze as he smirks in satisfaction. 

The warlord moves silently, rolling the two of you over until your back is pressed into the mattress. His fingers find the edge of your sleep shirt, playing with the hem of the soft material, “I'm going to take this off now.” 

You nod, sitting up to help him. Mihawk flings it to the floor, and then he looks down to admire the perky breasts in front of him. You look radiant in the low light of the bedroom, and the wine he had earlier makes him burn even hotter for you. He reaches out, tweaking your left nipple harshly while his free hand smooths up to gently cup the side of your neck. You watch him through lidden eyes, lips caught between your teeth as you shiver from the twinge of pleasure. 

“So sensitive, sweet thing,” Mihawk croons and tweaks your nipple again with a content sigh, “You’ve had my fingers inside of your cunt before, remind me how many?” 

“Th-three,” You stutter out and flush at the reminder. It shouldn’t make you blush so much still considering at least one of the days Mihawk or Shanks stays while here is solely dedicated to exploring your body. They were both givers, but now and then they would be selfish for your mouth around their dick. 

“Such a good girl for remembering,” Mihawk murmurs and sits back, devious fingertips leaving your throat and breasts to trail down your stomach and pluck at the elastic waistband of your sleep shorts, “Lift your hips, dear.”

You do as you're told, lifting your hips, and Dracule snags both your shorts and the soft cotton undies you wear. After he flings them to the floor, Mihawk leans up and grabs the pillow that’s been designated as Shanks’ and pats your hip, “One more time.”

The warlord slips the pillow under your hips, adjusting it until you assure him that you are comfortable, “This will make penetration easier, though the angle will let me go deeper,” Mihawk warns, and you give a slow nod, showing him that were paying attention.

Like this, you are fully exposed to him, and Mihawk takes his time to lavish your legs with attention. Smoothing his hands down to your ankles and massages your muscles. He hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, kissing the inside of your knee and making you giggle at the ticklish sensation. Hawkeye smirks against your skin and does it again, before suddenly digging his teeth in and making you shout.

Before you can protest, the warlord soothes the bite with a swipe of his tongue and a kiss to the imprints of his teeth. It would not be the last mark he would leave on your skin tonight. You were a canvas and he was determined to paint you the way he saw fit. 

Mihawk lawyers your leg only to bring up the other one, kissing along your ankle and up your knee, giving it the same attention as the other. He kisses the inner part of your knee just to hear you giggle, before he moves up, sucking bruises into the plush skin of your inner thighs.

Dracule and Shanks always impress upon you that they wanted you to tell them what felt good, even if you didn’t use words to express yourself. The way your body arced and strained for Mihawk’s touch spoke volumes of how much he affected you. You whine when the awful man licks down your thigh and to the apex of your legs. 

Mihawk greets your pussy like an old friend, tongue swirling through your folds and then up to wrap around your clit, sucking gently and you spread your legs for him, sighing and tossing an arm over your eyes. You leak around his tongue, cunt quivering, and you are so so close, but then the warlord is pulling back and reaching forward to toss your arm off your face. 

“You need to be properly wet and stretched before I fuck you,_,” Dracule explains, and smirks at your frustrated look. He ignores it, for now, tonight would not be one for his darker desires and sits back between your thighs, one hand maneuvering one of your legs back on his shoulder, “I want you to watch me.” 

You angle yourself, sitting up on your arms to be able to get a proper view of Mihawk's actions, and the devious man rewards you by placing a soft kiss to your calf, “Do me a favor, sweet thing, and slick these up for me.” 

Mihawk presses his middle and ring fingers to your lips and you open up without thought, groaning when the warlord stuffed your mouth with the digits. He presses down on your tongue, and saliva pools in your mouth, coating his fingers before he releases the pressure to gently slide then in and out past the ring of your lips. His eyes track the way your throat works, memorizing the sight and storing it away safely. 

Properly slick, Dracule slips his fingers from your mouth, and then slides them through the folds of your pussy, and the combined mess of spit and slick causes embarrassing and lewd sounds to fill the room. 

“I'm going to put my finger inside you, now,” Mihawk murmurs quietly. His middle finger finds your entrance, and you watch, lips caught between your teeth as he sinks his finger inside you, all the way down to the knuckle. 

You keen at the intrusion, cunt tightening and walls fluttering as Mihawk sets a steady pace, soon adding the other soaked digit and making you hiss at the slight stretch. 

The warlord looms over You, bending your body until the stretch is nearly too much. He bends, balancing on his knees as his free hand captures your jaw and brings his angel in for a kiss. Mihawk, the impressive man, matches his kissing how he fucks you with his fingers, lips pulling at your own and sliding his tongue past your lips to give you a taste of yourself. 

Mihawk loves the sounds that you make for him, and if wasn't getting so impatient to feel your cunt around his dick, he would take longer to pull them from you. However, his cock is straining against his sleep pants and staining the soft material with precum. It's almost painful in the way it throbs, and Dracule is desperate for relief. 

He breaks the kiss and you fall back, head hitting the pillow and you gasp for precious oxygen. You moan when his thumb finds your clit, and Mihawk runs harsh circles into the nub. You shudder under him, legs shaking and hands digging so tightly into the sheets that you fear you'll rip them. You leak around his knuckles, and confusion settles over your flushed face when he pulls his fingers free. 

Mihawk shoves his sleep pants down, and he hisses when the cool air touches his dick. He is painfully hard, and he grasps the base, scooting forward to rub the head of his cock through your folds, “I'm going to put it in. Are you ready?” 

Dracule watches the way your pupils dilate, eyes shining with lust and you nod jerkily, tongue coming out to wet your lips, “Please fuck me, Mihawk.” 

The warlord doesn't need to be told twice, and shifts forward, head of his cock sliding inside your waiting cunt. Mihawk curses, brows furrowing at how fucking tight you are. He pauses there, allowing you to adjust to his size, and only slips deeper when you give him a soft okay. 

It takes a bit, but soon, Dracule bottoms out, heavy balls presses flush to your sensitive skin and causing him to groan. He stays still, teeth clenched as your walls flutter and pulse around him, dragging him deeper into your stuffed cunt. 

“Y-you can move, now,” your voice, thick with unshed tears and pleasure rocked him, and with a low snarl, Mihawk rocked forward, before pulling out half way just to sink back inside. You whine, head thrown back and Dracule looks down to take in the way your pussy sucks him down perfectly. 

Mihawk sets a steady pace, hips snapping forward. His hands find your hips, fingertips digging in and most likely leaving marks as he speeds up, cock dragging along your walls, and leaving you a cursing mess. 

Everything felt overwhelming, oversensitive, over everything. You've always enjoyed the way Mihawk's devious fingers stretch you out, but having his cock open you up was something incredible. You angle your hips, pressing back into his thrusts, and your eyes blow wide when his dick shoved into that spongy spot deep inside. Dracule does it again, and you wail, hands finding his shoulders to hold on for dear life as he abuses that spot inside of you. 

“That's it, sweet thing,” Mihawk hisses above you and leans down, bending you up, and pressing your knees into the mattress beside your head. The angle is even better this way, and you look down to watch the way Dracule pistons in and out of your cunt. Mihawk can tell that you are close by the way you keep clenching around him, and he smooths one hand from your hip, thumb finding your clit and pressing down just enough that it ends you over the edge. 

Dracule curses, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead as you come undone, gushing around the warlord so much that slick leaks past your folds to stain your inner thighs. He doesn't stop, pace steadying out as he fucks you through your first orgasam. He leans in, sealing his lips to yours in a kiss that leaves you crying for more. 

Mihawk delivers, sending you over the edge twice more and soaking the sheets in sweat and juices. He has shifted, lowering your legs, and slowing to a gentle pace that purposely ruts into your sweet spot. He is close, balls tight and swollen as he slides in and out of your slick hole. The two of you are tangled together, legs intertwined with one of your arms tossed around his neck to keep him close. 

“I'm close, Angel,” Mihawk rumbles and presses his face in the crook of your neck to breathe you in, “Can I come inside you?” 

Just the thought of being able to feel Dracule pulse and paint your inside was enough to send shivers all over your body. You nod, kissing the side of his face, “Yes.” 

Mihawk nods once, and then he switches to a faster, more erratic pace. His rhythm is off, and it makes you feel powerful to see such a beautiful man come undone because of you. It's enough to make you clench around him again, your body wringing out one last orgasam for him. That tension breaks, and Dracule groans your name as he finishes. 

You feel him come inside you, scorching semen splashing your walls and filling you to the brim. The combined fluids of your juices and his cum leak around his cock, and the amount that pools under you when he pulls out is obscene. 

The two of you lay there panting, and it takes Mihawk longer than he would have thought to move. He rises carefully, moving off you and the bed. He stumbles to the bathroom and retrieves a wet rag, first cleaning himself and his thighs before loping back to the bedroom to clean you up. 

Mihawk crawls back in the bed with you, body work and mind tired as he wraps you up in his arms. You snuggle into his chest, pressing your face into the muscles there and sighing heavily. He strokes your back and kisses the top of your head, “Are you okay?” 

You nod against him, kissing his chest delicately, “I'm fine. I really liked it.” 

Mihawk smirks at your admission, pride making him smirk and puff up like a bird. You snicker at him and then yawn loudly, eyes closing. You feel satisfied, body sore in the best ways. You feel him press a kiss to your hair, “Good, now get some rest, Angel.” 

You definitely don't need to be told twice, and it takes less than a minute for you to drop off to sleep, your light snores already filling the room. 

Dracule follows after you, holding you tight and not planning on ever letting his precious angel go. You are his, mind, body, and soul. 

-----------

The next morning, Mihawk gets up and leaves long enough to go to the bathroom and draw a bath. Your tub is large enough to fit both of them, though it would be a tight squeeze. He ensures the temperature is just on the right side of hot before he lopes back to the bedroom.

However, before he can slip back inside, he hears the sound of your snail transponder going off, and there was only one other person beside himself that had your number. He quickly answers it before the ringing can wake you up. 

Ca-lick

“Yoo do know that it is an ungodly hour to be calling, don't you, Red?” Mihawk sneers over the phone. 

“Awee, Hawkeye, so you do miss me,” Shanks sounds delighted to hear from the other man, and it brings a reluctant smile to Mihawk's face. 

“You shouldn't put words in my mouth,” Mihawk sniffs and knows it's the wrong thing to say when Shanks snickers over the receiver. 

“Heh, I got something you can put in your mouth.” 

The sigh that escapes him is long and world weary, but he had walked straight into that one, “You are terrible, Red.” 

Shanks laughs on the other side again, “You know it, Baby.” 

He continues before Mihawk can make a snarky quip, “Anyway, I called to let you know that I'm about a day and a half out from the island.” 

“_, will be happy to see you,” Mihawk tells him, and even across the sea he can feel the joy that the Emperor wears like a blanket, “So will I.” 

Shanks hums on the other side, and his voice is full of warm affection, “I'll be there as soon as I can, Baby. I miss the two of you, too.” 

Mihawk feels his face grow hot at the sincerity, and he is glad that he is alone in the living room, “Be safe, Shanks.” 

The other man assures Mihawk that he will be and then ends the call. Dracule hums to himself and then turns to lope back to the bedroom. 

Inside, you are still curled up on your side, your arm tucked under one of your pillows, and Mihawk admires the curve of your body in the low light of the room. A smirk slides across his lips when he sees how swollen your cunt is, and he recalls with a sigh how beautifully you clenched around him as you came around his cock. 

The warlord kneels on the bed beside you, hands finding your shoulders to push you to your back. He looms over You, leaning down to press sweet kisses to your cheek and then to your lips. 

You wake up with a groan at all the commotion, eyes cracking open to see the sight of Mihawk holding himself up above you, “G’morning.” 

Dracule hums at your greeting, pulling away to look down at you with a quirk of his lips, “Good morning. How are you feeling?” 

You stretch in bed, sighing when your body protests, back popping, and you reach for Mihawk, twining your fingers with his own, “Sore, but good.” 

The warlord nods, and brings you hand up to kiss along your knuckles and then gently tugs you, “Come, I've run us a bath.” 

Being clean sounds incredible, so you don't protest and go scoot to the edge of the bed. Mihawk stops you, and then bends, scooping you up bridal style and carrying you to the bathroom. 

You giggle at the sweet treatment, head resting against his shoulder as Mihawk shoves the door open. He shuts it back before Hank or Sukuna could sneak in and carefully begins to lower you into the steaming water. It feels divine against your chilled skin and you gladly sink lower. 

Mihawk tells you to shift forward, and he lowers himself behind you, pulling you back into his chest and splaying his legs on either side of your own, bracketing you in. It's nice to just enjoy his company, and you hum one of your favorite songs as you trace random patterns on his chest. 

Dracule relaxes against the edge of the tub, hands finding your thighs to gently trail his fingers back and forth. The touch sends shivers up your spine, and you turn to kiss his chest. 

“Shanks will be here in the next day or so. He called earlier,” Mihawk murmurs and the news brings a smile to your face. His hands splay wide, fingertips dipping down to the apex of your thighs, “He will want you, too.” 

You flush, arousal already curling low in your stomach. You wonder how Shanks will want you, if he will be rough with you, selfish and taking like he is with everything else. 

“What about you?” You ask quietly, and you can hear the mischievous tone that paints his voice when Dracule speaks up. 

“Me? I'm going to enjoy the show.” 

Chapter Text

Two days after he calls the cottage, Shanks arrives at your island. He relaxes the moment his chocolate eyes land on the white beaches and the familiar mountains to the west. Benn rolls his eyes at his Captain, but can't find it in himself to be too upset with the other man. The first mate enjoyed your island too. Its peacefulness was unparalleled. 

A smile curls his lips when Shanks spots a ship in the shape of a coffin moored at the end of the white sands. He knew that Mihawk would be here, the other man had been the one to answer his call the other day, after all. It wasn’t often that the three of them had the chance to spend time together. Mihawk, while aloof and sarcastic about it all, still had his duties as a warlord. 

He had explained to Shanks that the position kept him in the know-how, but still allowed him the freedom he desired. The redhead had shrugged and nodded, assuring Mihawk that it was a smart choice, but he wasn’t about to let something like the World Government get in his way if it became a problem. Dracule had blushed and spluttered that He did what he wanted, regardless of what those pigs said, and then stormed off to find you and soothe his irritation with the Emperor.

Shanks smirks at the memory, coming back to himself in time to help his crew unload before Benn waves him off, a fond look on the older man’s face. The redhead doesn’t need to be told twice and quickly disappears up the well-worn footpath, shoulders slumping and an invisible weight lifting when your cottage comes into sight. A delighted laugh breaks from him when he catches sight of what greets him.

You and Mihawk are elbow-deep in the front garden, dirt staining both of their hands. Hank jumps up the moment he spots the redhead, running over to greet his second favorite human with a happy woof. Shanks pets the shaggy dog, greeting him with a little bit of baby talk and telling Hank how good of a boy he is. When Hank is happy, he flops back to the ground with a long sigh, and the Emperor continues to the garden. 

Shanks is careful where he steps, not wanting to have both of his treasures on his ass if he were to trample the garden. You stand and greet him, smile wide and radiant, and Shanks doesn't waste any time in pulling you in for a kiss. Your lips welcome him, and the Emperor sags, invisible weight leaving his shoulders as you kiss him back. 

Mihawk is next, facial hair scratching against the other man's for but a second before the bird pulls away far too soon. Shanks pouts a bit and gets flicked in the forehead for his troubles. 

“Welcome home, trouble,” Mihawk murmurs, and despite his uninterested tone, Shanks can see the pleased look in the hawk’s golden eyes. 

“How was your trip?” You chime in and press yourself into his side, and Shanks’ heart could explode from how adorable you look. 

“Not bad. Good weather and the sea must be in a pleasant mood,” He comments and looks down at you. He takes in your appearance, brows notching up when he realizes that you aren't as cold, and you have less on than usual. Actually, “Is that my shirt?” 

“Yup. It's very breathable,” you pop the p, but your admission just makes him grin, greed shining in his eyes as he gently tugs you away to get a better look. His shirt swallows you, the front dripping low and giving Shanks an excellent view of your perky tits. You look different, but in a good way as if a light was shining from within. He glances at Mihawk, curious if the other man had noticed the change, and relaxes when the warlord comes to his side, reaching out to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. 

“She's been practicing like we said to. How did you explain it to me, Angel?” Mihawk says and you blush at having both of their attention on you. 

You tell Shanks about practicing Your devil fruit and how you began to feel better once you started to use it more often. You explain how your body evened out, as you liked to put it, and Shanks could hear the excitement lining your voice. It makes him happy to know that you had practiced your powers and seemed to be better than ever. 

“That’s great, Sweetheart,” Shanks grins down at you, reaching out to slide his hand along your neck, gently cradling your jaw. His grin grows when you nuzzle into him, and he strokes his thumb over the line of your jaw, “How about you finish up here, and then you can show me what you can do?” 

You nod, joy erupting inside of you at the suggestion, “It won’t take too long, we are almost done,” you assure him, and Shanks nods then carefully steps out of the garden to mosey inside the cottage. 

It doesn't take long for Mihawk to join him in the house. He goes straight to the kitchen, washing his hands of any dirt before he puts the kettle on. Shanks steps into the kitchen, coming up behind the older man, reaching out to curl his hand around Dracule's hip. He molds himself along the warlord’s back, tucking his face In the crook of his neck. 

“She really okay?” Shanks murmurs, and busies himself with pressing kisses to the back of Mihawk's neck while he waits. 

Mihawk slowly relaxes against the other man, still getting use to being able to do this with the other man after so many years apart. His hand finds the one his hip, and he gently squeezes his wrist in reassurance, “She is. She's gotten stronger, and would be formidable with real training.” 

Shanks hums, disliking the thought of you having to fight. Dracule tightens his grip around his wrist, and Shanks knows that the warlord agrees with him. Mihawk sighs softly, head tilting back to rest against Shanks as he continues, “Mhm. I'd rather not, but if she wants to learn, then I won't hinder her progress.” 

“You? A teacher?” Shanks teases gently and pinches his waist with a smirk, “Couldn't imagine it.” 

Mihawk scoffs at the redhead, eyes rolling skyward, “Considering Roronoa is well on his way to being second to only, Me. I think that already proves that I can be one.” 

Shanks snickers at the miffed pride that laces his treasures’ voice. Mihawk was always so fun to rile up. He gently turns the other man, he reaches up, tucking his knuckle under that perfect beard, and kisses the other man, a gentle push and pull that had Mihawk sighing and sliding one hand into Shanks’ hair. 

He has missed the warlord. How had he allowed so much time to pass without finding the other man, Shanks didn't know, but now that he had him? Shanks would never let him go again. 

Dracule rests his brow against the Emperor’s, breath mingling with the other man's. He licks his lips, and catches the taste of sweet sake. He searches the other's dark eyes, and Shanks catches sight of the devious, smug look that swims in Mihawk's own. 

“What's that look for, Baby?” Shanks murmurs curiously, brow ticking up at the other man. 

Mihawk leans in, kissing the redhead again, and Shanks can feel the smirk that lingers on his lips. The redhead feels like he is missing something here, especially when you appear in the kitchen, a mischievous grin playing on your face. He watches you wash your hands and then takes the kettle from the stove when it begins to whistle, eyes following you even as he continues the kiss with his warlord. 

And then Dracule is pulling away, and leaving Shanks standing there like a knot on a log as his treasures dither about, moving past one another with a close familiarity that the redhead silently envies. He does get the chance to pout about it, not when you step in front of him and grab his lonely hand, “Come sit, Shanks. Mihawk brought your favorite while he was out.” 

Shanks allows himself to be pulled to the table, and he sits, eyebrows shooting up when you follow him, sitting on his lap and leaning into his chest. Mihawk comes around and places a steaming cup of sweet chamomile beside the shallow bowl full of sake. You help yourself to your tea and then sit back again, head pillowed against The redhead’s pecs. 

“Alright you two. What is this about?” Shanks rumbles, and he reaches for his sake, sipping most of it down in one go, “I'm being left out here.” 

Dracule shares a look with his angel, and you look so excited that he dips his head, and you say, softer with a voice so full of affection that it makes Mihawk blush. 

“Mihawk and I had sex.” 

Shanks looks at Dracule, and now realizes why the man had looked so smug earlier. In fact. He looked even more so now, those beautiful ringed eyes glowing with it. A slow smile begins to form, sharp white teeth gleaming in the light of your kitchen. His sake dish is sat down with a click that seems to echo in the room, and Shanks curls his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to grind his already hardening dick into the soft cheeks of your ass. 

He presses his face against yours, lips finding your cheek, and Mihawk speaks up, making the grin on the Emperor’s lips grow, “It's only fair you have your turn, Red.”

“Suck my cock, treasure, and I'll give you exactly what you want,” Shanks orders, voice rough and dangerous. He grabs your chin with two fingers, pulling your mouth open, “I'll even help you out, Sweetheart. Stick out your tongue for me.” 

Mihawk watches from where he sits in his armchair in the corner of the room. He sips his red wine, the alcohol staining his lips. His golden gaze never once leaves his two angels, and despite his cock hard and aching in his pants, he does not touch it. 

You are hesitant to do as ordered, cheeks darkening, but you see the expectation lingering in his dark gaze. You do as ordered, jaw clicking as you stick your tongue out for him. You blush furiously when Shanks leans closer and opens his mouth, pink muscle lolling out and dribbling an obscene amount of saliva onto your tongue, “Don't swallow that.”

You breathe heavily through your nose, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes, and focus on not gagging. 

“Take my dick outta my pants, Baby,” Shanks instructs quietly, and licks his lips, enjoying the way that you are struggling with his orders. Your hands are shaking when they land on his pants, you feel your way up to the elastic and then pull them down, whining when his cock slips out and smacks you in the cheek. 

“Shanks,” Mihawk warns quietly from his corner. He had given his word that he wouldn't step in, but that wouldn't stop him from speaking up if he deemed the redhead being too rough. 

“She's fine, Hawkeye. She can do it,” Shanks dismisses easily when he glances down to see a new light of determination in your eyes, “Right, Sweetheart?” 

Shanks moves your head down in a nod, before tipping your face towards his length. He groans when you grab the base, and then you are leading his cock past your lips, tongue sliding wonderfully alongside the bottom of his shaft. You take him down to about halfway before you start to choke. Shanks is thicker than Mihawk, making your jaw ache already. 

“Relax your throat, Angel,” Mihawk speaks up from his spot and you flick your eyes over to see him uncrossing his legs, and it gives you a good view of the tent in the seat of his pants. 

You work to do as he says, glassy eyes closing as you concentrate on your task. Shanks slips another inch down, and then another until the tip of his cock slips past the muscles at the back of your mouth and into your throat. A muffled whine leaves you at the painful stretch and the ache in your jaw gets worse, but your free hand grabs the fabric of his pants to keep him from pulling away. 

“Fuck, Treasure,” Shanks snarls lowly, and his hand find the back of your head, And he tangles his long fingers in your hair, “Doing so good for us, listening to Mihawk so well.”

The praise feels good, and you feel yourself growing wet, slick clinging to your exposed folds. You swallow around Shanks, sucking in a sharp break when he humps forward, pressing your face to his pelvis. You work your tongue along the bottom, and Shanks pulses in your mouth when you hollow your cheeks and suck as best you can being so stuffed full. 

Spit and precum leak and bubble past your lips, and soon your tears mingle with the mess when the Emperor grows impatient with your slow pace. You can do nothing but relax your jaw and breathe through your nose as Shanks fucks your face. He moans and groans above you, the sounds that leave him are lewd, and listening to him has your cunt clenching longingly around nothing. 

Dracule watches, golden eyes heavy lidded, and swirling with lust and want. He wants to step in. Wants to stand behind Shanks and wrap his hand around the base of his cock, and help the redhead paint you with his seed. His hands ache, and he occupies himself by playing with the stem of his wine glass.

Your eyes flutter, jaw on fire, and time seems lost to you. Shanks uses you for his own gain, seeking his pleasure until that coil snaps low in his stomach. The sound he makes is more animalistic than human, and you aren't expecting him to pull out so suddenly, and angle your face up. You gasp when you feel the first splash of hot cum on your cheek, and quickly close your eyes when more rushes toward you. 

Shanks never looks away, dark eyes full of adoration for you. You look beautiful like this, all painted up and dripping with his cum. He milks himself, not wanting any of it to go to waste. He presses the head of his cock to your lips, and you automatically open your mouth for him, “Clean me up, Sweetheart.” 

You flush as you do as ordered, cleaning his softening member until nothing but your spit remains. Shanks watches with a smirk, and then glances over at Mihawk, expression turning greedy once more and he crooks a finger at the other man, “Come clean her up, Baby. I know you want to.” 

Dracule licks his lips, tempted by the offer. He sets his glass aside and then stands to lope closer, taking in the delightful sight of you covered in the other man's semen. Mihawk leans down to help you stand, and then he takes your face in both hands, holding you still. 

“Keep your eyes closed, Angel,” Mihawk murmurs and then he is leaning in. The wet drag of his tongue makes you jump, and you hear the warlord hum at the taste of cooling cum. Dracule takes his time, hot tongue lapping at the cloudy fluid, until nothing remains. The act is lewd and intimate, and it's enough to have you whining and clutching at Dracule's loose shirt. When he is finished, Mihawk seals his lips to yours, and you moan at the taste of the wine and Shanks that still clings to his tongue. 

Shanks moves behind you, hand sliding between your legs and fingertips finding your clit. He massages the sensitive nub, smirking when he hears a muffled moan leave you. He slides past your clit, calloused digits gliding through your folds and slicking them with your juices. He finds your entrance, and slides in one soaked finger to the knuckle. 

“Can't believe that you let Mihawk fuck you without me here, Snowflake,” Shanks croons, tone full of disappointment, “Couldn't let me be here to watch him take you for the first time. 

He slips another finger in beside the first, stroking and rubbing your velvety walls. Your hands tighten, nails digging into the thick muscles of Dracule's abdomen. Those skilled, sinful digits find your sweet spot and Shanks proceeds to bully that spot, making you cry out and bow forward. The pleasure is immense, almost too much. His thumb catches your clit, and that heat winds and winds until it breaks and you gush all over his hand. 

It's an embarrassing amount, but this isn't the first time that Shanks had shoved his fingers inside you this evening and ripped an orgasam from your body. Your body is overworked, cunt sore, and you are so glad that Mihawk is there to hold you up. His hands support you, and he pets your hair as he leans in to kiss the top of your head. 

“Look at that. At least your body knows how to tell me how sorry it is for not letting me watch,” Shanks croons, tone still cruel, but the way he removes his fingers is nothing but gentle. 

The Emperor gathers you close, and Mihawk steps away when he is sure that you are able to stand without help. Your legs still shake, tremors make your thighs gently jiggle, and it only gets worse when Shanks carefully leads you over to the bed and then bed you over the side of it. He shucks his pants off and kicks them to the side, before draping himself over your sweat slick body. 

“I'm going to fuck you now, okay, Sweetheart,” Shanks coos in your ear and nudges your legs apart, spreading you nicely for him. He takes his cock in hand, rubbing it though your puffy folds before he begins to push forward. You whine at the intrusion, walls stretching more than they are used to as Shanks presses in. 

“Slower, Shanks,” Mihawk rumbles from his seat. His eyes track the way the other man's cock slips inside your heat. 

For once, the redhead listens to the other man, and slows to a crawl, Shanks doesn't want to hurt you, and he was thicker than the average man. 

“She's like a vice, Mihawk,” Shanks grunts above you and sinks another two inches, and you feel like you're being split open for half a second before the pain bleeds into pleasure. The Emperor groans when he bottoms out, brow pressed to the middle of your back as he rocks back and forth. He is already so fucking close, having edged himself twice when you'd been on your knees, so Shanks knows that he isn't going to last long, but he will feel you come on his cock. 

A shout tears out of your throat when your Emperor suddenly ruts forward, and pleasure zings up your spine at his brutal pace. His hand finds your hair, tangling in the stands and forcing your face down into the mattress. 

“Gonna fill you up, baby,” Shanks snarls against your back, and his pace falters, going erratic. The tip of his cock drags against your sweet spot, and it sends you over once again, dragging Shanks with you. 

Shanks swears as he comes, sinking his teeth into the meat of your shoulder blade, hips stuttering as he empties his load. He stays there for a long time, breathing in the scent of sweat and sex before he rises and carefully pulls out. You hiss at the feeling, feeling sticky and fucked out. You don't have the energy to say much of anything as Shanks lifts you the rest of the way onto the bed. 

“You okay, Baby?” Shanks murmurs and you muster up enough willpower to nod, before your turn to snuggle into the closest pillow. He smiles and gently strokes your hair, pushing it away from your face and admiring your tired beauty. 

Mihawk stands, stepping behind Shanks and grabbing the edge of his loose gray shirt and pulling it up and off the other man. He pushes his Redhead to the bed, and then swiftly undresses himself. Now that Shanks had gotten his fill Dracule was feeling just a little left out, and he intended to rectify that right now. 

You open your eyes enough to see Mihawk pressing Shanks down, long fingers wrapped around the other man's tan throat. Interested, you roll to your side, grabbing the sheets and pulling them around you, a soft smile playing on your lips as you enjoy the show that your boys put on for you. You are noticed eventually, and are dragged between them, but no one would ever find you complaining. 

Chapter Text

Shanks is drunk. Far more inebriated than he had planned to be, but the sake and rum were tasty, and he and his crew were celebrating a raid gone perfectly. The hoard that Yasopp had found at the end of the fight, if you could even call it one, had been the cherry on top. The group of organized bandits had been at work for a long time, stealing and taxing the villages of this island until everyone was as poor as dirt. 

A child of all people had begged Shanks and his crew to take care of the bandits. The redhead had seen another kid in this one’s place, big sneaky grin and mischievous eyes, and had easily caved. Lucky Roux had found the trail to the hideout quickly, and it was over after that. The bandits and their leader didn't stand a chance against someone like Shanks. 

So now, they sat in the bar that had the most booze, going through the bandit hoard for anything they may want for themselves. The villagers had been adamant that the entire crew take something as payment, and Shanks wasn't about to say no to anything for free. He was a pirate after all. 

The Emperor had caught sight of a beautiful hair clip, one simple but ornate with tiny blue jewels embedded in the silver material. Shanks had thought of his treasure, specifically his Snowflake when he'd seen the hair clip and had swiftly pocketed it before losing himself in the copious amounts of booze that flowed around him. 

Now that Shanks was thinking about you, he realized just how much he missed his treasure. It's been just over two weeks since he last saw you and tasted your lips on his. Far too long since he'd been able to bury his head between your legs and bring you to the edge over and over before you were begging him to let you come. Or having you ride his cock until you were nothing but a sobbing mess who couldn't remember anything other than the names of the two men who you belonged to.

It’s been three months since the first time Shanks had gotten the privilege of making love with his little treasurek2j. In his drunken state, these two weeks felt like that long ago5_ , and Shanks sighed dramatically and slumped over the bar, his mug of ale sloshing dangerously over the lip, “Benn when can we go back to _’s island?”

Shanks is far from quiet, and the bar is still filled with other pirates. People are listening in, most uncaring for the drunk pirate lamenting about his want for some woman. But to one, the old man hears your name, and recognition lights his brain. 

Benn slaps him on the back of his head, scowl on his face as he narrows his eyes at his Captain. The idiot was drunk as a skunk, “You need to be more careful, Shanks.” 

The redhead pouts at Benn, dark eyes glassy and then he drunks straight from the bottle of sake he holds. He wipes his mouth, “I know what I'm doing, Benn. No one here could ever beat me in a fight. I can protect _ just fine.” 

“That's not the point, Shanks,” Benn hisses at him and tugs his Captain close by his black cloak. He shakes him, trying to knock some sense into the other man. Beckman knows that Shanks could be irresponsible, but this was ridiculous. 

“Think for a damn second. If someone overhears and spreads a rumor that an Emperor of the Sea is head over heels with her. It's over. You know her past, you know who would be after her. Not to mention that Mihawk would kill you.” 

The redhead sees everything that has gone so well the past six months with you and Mihawk all go up in flames. His treasures would despise him, and he would have no choice but to accept that, because it would be all his fault. Already ruining something good. 

He spirals further when he thinks about the news you had shared with him and Mihawk the last time the three of you had been able to get together.

You stand before the two men. Shanks can tell that you are nervous, snow has gathered around your feet, and he fights the urge to pull you close and demand what's wrong. Mihawk sits beside him, concern swimming in his ringed gaze. Hank lays on the floor between the three of you, big dark eyes trained on his human. 

You begin to pace, picking up the now massive orange fluff ball and holding him close. You hold Sukuna close to your chest, threading your fingers through his thick fur. They watch you take a deep breath and then turn to them, eyes wide and full of trepidation. 

“My period hasn't started yet. I keep careful track of it, and it's been fifty-two days since my last one. I-I’ve been really sick in the morning and feeling weak and all my books say that I'm probably… pregnant?” 

Mihawk nor Shanks like the fear in your voice, but your announcement has both of them star struck. There was a baby inside of you? Made by one of them? Shanks pictures a little girl with bright red hair and golden eyes, chubby cheeks and a brilliant smile. It's picturesque and perfect in his mind's eye, a beautiful mix of all three of them. 

Hawkeye is the first to stand from the couch and go to your side. He takes your face in hand, calloused fingers holding you so carefully, and then dips down to press his lips to yours. Dracule is a mess of emotions, but elation wins over all of it. Never in his life did he think that he would have this chance, and he vowed that he would not squander it. As he kissed you, Mihawk came to the harsh conclusion that he no longer had a choice in keeping his involvement in her past a secret. The warlord would have to tell you. 

Shanks eyes his lovers, a smile playing on his lips as he stands to gather his treasures close. He drops a kiss to the back of your head and sneaks his hand around your stomach, a look of wonder coming over his face as he strokes your belly. 

“A kid, huh?” Shanks murmurs, and his haki creeps forth, wrapping around you and Mihawk, “I think we can swing that.”

Shanks seems to sober up a bit at the harsh reminder. He sits straight, frown replacing his easy going pout. his first mate is right, and his chest feels tight with guilt at his incompetence. Had he really been that loud? Fuck. Shanks doesn't remember. He licks his lips and pushes the bottle of sake to the side, suddenly not in the mood for any more drinking. 

How could he be this dumb? Shouting your name to the heavens in a drunken stupor, needing his first mate to come in and literally shake some sense into him. 

“Thank you, Benn,” Shanks croaks and runs his hand through his hair, grimacing at the state it was in. Gods, what was wrong with him tonight, “Let's head back to the ship, yeah?” 

Benn stands, tossing some berri to the counter, “Best idea you've had tonight, Captain.” 

The old man stands to go to the bar and order a drink, watching the two men stumble out of the bar. Though he looks unassuming dressed in regular clothes like a local, it is far from the truth. 

Wiseman is an old member of the Big Mom pirates and remembers the destruction of the Nammu Isles and the two members of the royal family who escaped. They knew of the location of one, but to hear the name of the princess who was thought to be dead was interesting news that his Captain would be delighted to hear about.

Thousands of miles away, a man sits at a dingy bar. He wears a navy uniform and a Vice Admiral coat clings to his shoulders. His white hair is shaggy and unkempt, and a pair of brilliant green eyes stare into the sake he holds in his hand. He is clean-shaven with a sharp jaw, though his face is marred by a single scar that crosses vertically on the right side of his mouth. No one bothers the man, for which he is very grateful. 

Today was his baby sister's birthday, and he always made sure to take off from any kind of work to mourn her. She wasn't dead, at least he didn't think so, but it's been twenty-two years since the last time he'd laid eyes on his sister. He couldn't visit her, it was far too dangerous for that, so the best he could do was make this day for her. Just like he used to before their home had been taken. 

The officer knows back his sake and the bartender helpfully refills his cup. He sits there for another hour before his peace is broken by one of his subordinates. 

“Vice-Admiral Delemur?” 

He sighs heavily and a scowl crosses his face when he gives the younger man his attention. His crew knew better than to bother him on this date, so this had better have been important, “Yes, Nitchell?” 

The young man gulped in the face of his superior, and Delemur cursed whoever had allowed this wet behind-the-wear recruit into his platoon. Wait. Fuck. That had been him. Was he an idiot? He focuses back on the kid when he speaks up.

“Vice-Admiral Smoker is here to see you. Said he would wait for you on the docks, Sir.” 

Smokey was here? Well, that changed things now, didn't it? Smoker, and when did he get Vice-Admiral? He'd been a Captain last time they spoke- was one of the two people in the Navy who knew about Delemur's sister. The other was Sengoku, even if the white-haired man wasn't a fan of the Fleet Admiral. 

Delemur stands and pushes his cup into the recruit's hands, “Here. Finish that for me. Be a good kid, and pick up my tab, too.” 

He leaves the kid blubbering at the bartender and disappears, body dropping to the ground and turning into dust. He flies past citizens and pirates alike until he arrives at the docks. The officer finds Smoker at the end of the docks, and he reforms beside the other man, the scared side of his lips twisting up in a welcoming smirk. 

“Hey, Smokey. Long time no see,” He murmurs and the other man gives him a matching smirk, “Nice coat.” 

“Tomura, still a smarmy ass, huh?” Smoker drawls, and shifts the two cigars in his mouth to the opposite side. He looks at his old friend up and down, seeing the drunken haze in those green eyes. The Vice-Admiral knows what day it was, it's why he came to seek Tomura out when he found out that the other man was only an island away. Not to mention that he had news that the other man might want. 

“You know it,” Tomura quips back dryly. He shifts to look out at the raging ocean, and two pairs of knuckle dusters clink on his belt. He licks his lips and eyes his friend out of the corner of his eyes. While it's good to see Smoker, it's odd that the other man would go out of his way to see him, even on this particular day, “Whatcha doin’ here, Smoker?” 

Tomura doesn't know if he is thankful or not that the other man has never beaten around the bush. But he does know that he hates the look of pity that Smoker gives him. 

“Someone's been talking about your sister, Tomura. Rumor says that it came from Red Haired Shanks singing her name, which started circulating about a week ago. News travels fast in the Grand Line, but there's not been a peep from him about her since.” 

Tomura sober instantly and orders his crew to start packing up the second Smoker finishes telling him about the rumors surrounding his little sister. He can hardly see through the film of red that threatens to block out his senses. His hold on his devil fruit fluctuates, his body a weird mix of dust and flesh.

The G-5 Vice-Admiral wishes his old friend good luck and departs as quickly as he'd shown up. While he'd like to go with Tomura, he unfortunately had orders to return to Impel Down for prisoner transport. Smoker grips his friend by the forearm, hand tight enough to leave fingerprints behind, “You watch out for those damn, pirates. Good luck, Tomura.” 

The white haired man books it to his ship, shouting orders to his crew that lingers around the docks. They break into action right away, most of them running to the ship to begin readying it to sail. Tomura goes straight to his cabin, dropping to his knees and pulling out an old trunk that is full of old documents and things from his past. He bypasses everything until he finds the old log pose that would lead him to where he needed to go. Back to the safe house. Back to his sister. 

Chapter Text

You watch in awe, eyes large and sparkling in fascination as your brother parries his opponent, knocking their arm away with a swat of his hand. His body turned to dust and dropped low to avoid the blow to the chest that would have surely happened. He comes back up with a vicious swing, his knuckles smashing into the other boy's jaw and busting their lips. Blood drips down their chin as they wheel back, lips pulling back to show white teeth stained red. 

Your brother goes back in, sending another two blows to the boy who had shoved you to the ground and called you some mean name that you can't even remember now. He is red in the face, his white hair a mess, and rage glowing in his green eyes. 

“Stay the fuck away from my sister,” your brother snarls in the redhead’s face and shoves him away for good measure, “Get the hell outta here, Jax.” 

The redhead sneers and spits at the prince. He turns and limps down the alleyway, a sneer on his face, “This ain't over, Princess.” 

Your brother rolls his eyes, and then dusts himself off as he turns back to his little sister, lips twisting into a smirk, “You okay, Sunshine?” 

You grin and fling yourself into your brother's arms, “I'm fine! Not even a scratch. Can you teach me how to fight like that?” 

Your brother laughs, green eyes alight with mirth, “Sure. When you're old enough not to need an afternoon nap.” 

You pout, thumping him on the chest, “Ugh. You say that every time.” 

“Sunshine. You'll be asleep before we even get back home,” He points out and scoops you up, over his shoulder, grinning when you let out a delighted laugh. You argue that you most definitely won't fall asleep, and to his surprise, you don't. Your Brother carts you all the way to your bedroom where he plops you on the bed. You bounce with a giggle, and then attack him, jabbing at his ribs and armpits with a grin. 

It lasts until he gets the upper hand and tickles his baby sister until you're red in the face and gasping for oxygen, begging for uncle. He pulls you in a headlock, kissing the top of your head with fondness. 

“You know I'll always protect you right?” 

You nod, turning around to hug your brother as tightly as you can, “Of course I do! You're my big brother, Tomura!” 

The scene changes suddenly, and you can hear the sounds of screams and vile laughter echoing all around you. Watching your home burn has become a familiar sight, but it still leaves you shaking in fear. Tomura runs as fast as he can, legs nothing but a literal cloud of dust as he skids around corners and runs down alleyways to get to the docks. 

Another turn and you know what's coming up. Tomura begs you to not look, but your eyes land on the tall figure anyway, wide-brimmed hat and white feather filling your vision until the next alleyway breaks your line of sight. 

Tomura drops you to the deck, and you scramble up to help him pull the rigging and open the sails. Snow falls all around you, but your brother is there to help when you need it, and soon the two of you are out in the open sea. Everything is okay for a while, and then the side of your boat exploding into splinters has you screaming in fear. Another shot is missed, sending freezing sea water over you and Tomura. The saltwater feels paralyzing, the devil fruit snarling at having been drenched.

The ship on the port side suddenly implodes, wood scattering everywhere and sending the Big Mom pirates to water graves. The same thing happens to the two ships on your starboard, and you look out into the raging seas and finally catch sight of that big white feather that blows in the winds before it disappears behind the rising waves.

 -----

You jerk awake with a gasp, eyes wide and chest heaving. You can still hear the boy's name ringing in your head. Tomura Tomura Tomura. That was your brother's name. How could you have ever forgotten his name? Someone so near and dear to your heart. The one who had saved you from the destruction of your home. Why are you remembering now when you've been having these dreams for over a year, why can you still recall his name? What he looks like. 

You are so in your head, thoughts racing as you try and fail to pull up any memories of your past, that you don't notice the two men looking at you in concern. You have sat up, hand over your mouth and eyes wide like you've just seen a ghost. Shanks and Mihawk share a look of concern, and then the redhead carefully reaches out to touch your shoulder. 

“You okay, Angel?” He asks, and the sudden touch and noise have you jumping out of your skin. 

You whip around, turning to sit on your knees on the bed and look at your boys. They look worried, and you can't blame them. You probably look crazy, but it feels like a puzzle piece has finally clicked into place, and you can't just keep it to yourself. 

“I have a brother. I-I think his name is Tomura. He's got white hair and green eyes, and he's the one who brought me here.” 

This is definitely not what either man had expected you to say. Shanks looks a little confused but accepting, but Mihawk looks pale, yellow eyes wide with a hint of panic behind them before he expertly schools his features. The redhead glances over at the warlord and quickly switches to damage control, this wasn't the time for that talk. 

“Do you remember anything else, Sweetheart?” He asks and smooths his hand up and into your hair. The name Tomura sounds familiar, but he doesn't think he's ever seen the man you are speaking about. To you, your brother would still be nothing but a boy in your memories. He glances at Mihawk, relieved to see that the panic has disappeared and he looks like his unimpressed self. 

“He was older than me, a teenager. He'd be a man now if he's still alive,” you murmur, carefully putting the pieces together. Why can't you remember more? Did something happen to you? Thinking about that makes you feel uneasy, and you curl an arm around your belly protectively.  

While you go back and forth with Shanks, telling the redhead of the other dreams you've been having, Mihawk is quietly spiraling. This is his worst nightmare. If you started to remember your past, then he feared that you would remember him too. Dracule knows that you saw him that night. He'd seen you too, tossed over your brother's shoulder as he ran away, and then again on the ship that took you away from your home. You would want nothing to do with him if you ever found out that Dracule was responsible. 

Even though you've only been a part of his life for such a short time, Mihawk couldn't imagine losing you. To give up the content happiness that he's finally achieved by being here with you. Not to mention the wonderful gift you have given to him and Shanks. You have become his everything, his reasons for continuing his sham of a career as a warlord. All of it is used to keep you safe from harm. 

Mihawk knows your brother, has seen him in passing, and seen him in action. The younger man is vicious and would not hesitate to attack Mihawk if he knew that the warlord had connections to his sister. It was only the knowledge of Mihawk driving the other ships away that night that kept the tension from snapping between the two men when they were in the same room together. Thankfully it isn't that often. 

However, none of that has happened, and if he were lucky, Mihawk would never have to deal with it being a problem. He forces himself to take a deep breath, letting it out slowly through his nose. He needs to focus and get over himself. Everything would be fine.

“I um. I saw you again, too, Mihawk.” 

Okay. Maybe everything wouldn't be okay. 

Dracule licks his lips, glad that he isn't facing his angel right now or else she would see the guilt that painted his face. The warlord schools his face once more, and then swings his legs off the bed, stomach churning as he turns and gives you a smirk that doesn't quite reach his eyes. 

“Still dreaming about me, are you?” Mihawk teases, and thankfully, you don't see anything remiss about his expression.  

You huff and roll your eyes at the warlord, put out at being dismissed on the subject, “At least a couple times a week.” 

Shanks gives him a look, and Dracule glares right back over your head at the redhead. The other man just sighs and shakes his head in disappointment, annoyed that Mihawk wouldn't just come clean and put all of this behind them. 

Dracule shifts back on the bed, long arms curling around your legs as he rests his face against your plush thighs. He kisses each one gently and then leans up to press his lips to your swollen tummy, and you can't help the snort that leaves you at the ticklish sensation. 

The warlord tugs you in for a kiss, aiming to make you forget about this topic, “I've told you before to not worry about these dreams, Darling.” 

You shrug at him, expression a bit helpless in the face of his clear dismissal. Usually, you would be content to let the matter slide, but this dream irks you, and you need to get to the bottom of this. 

“I know you have,” you grumble and let yourself be pulled into Shanks’ embrace, turning your head to nudge into his shoulder. The redhead runs almost as hot as Mihawk, and you bask in it. His hand finds your own and gives it an encouraging squeeze, “But I can't let this one go. I've never been able to remember anything more than watching an island burn and you, Mihawk.” 

The warlord tenses and Shanks can see the way his back tightens up like a bowstring. He tugs you closer to his chest, not willing to let you see the unease that surrounds the other man. You go willingly, frown lingering on your lips as you lose yourself back in your head, going over your dreams and trying to pick out anything else that might stick out at you. 

Dracule stands, turning to drop a quick kiss on your brow and Shanks’ cheek, “I’ll go start breakfast. You need your energy.”

Mihawk tosses on a robe and escapes from the bedroom. 

You watch him go, concerned at the way he had retreated, and Shanks sighs heavily under you, eyes shut as he shakes his head at the other man's ridiculousness right now. 

“Is he okay?” You ask quietly and Shanks hates the way you sound so hesitant, so unsure of yourself. You speak up again before the pirate can assure you that Mihawk is fine. 

“He's always been like this when I mention my dreams, and it hurts when he just casts them away. What if I'm right, and all this crap in my brain are memories?” 

Shanks isn't sure what to tell you. He isn't the one that you should be discussing this with, but Mihawk obviously wasn't going to be the one to come clean. How can Shanks tell you that your hunch is right without giving away Dracule’s involvement? This was the other man's mess to fix, but Shanks felt guilty just by association. 

“Sometimes Mihawk thinks he knows what's best for us, even if he doesn't go about it the right way,” Shanks murmurs and kisses the top of your head, trying to assure his lover, “Want me to go talk to him?” 

You debate the offer. It makes you feel weird to have Shanks be the one to mitigate the tension that rolls between you and Mihawk. But you're tired of watching the other man push you away any time that you mention your dreams to him. They have to mean something, and whatever it is- it's important to you, and you have to find out why. You could have a brother out there, someone who knew who you were, why would Hawkeye dismiss it? 

You sigh and finally nod, “Yeah okay. Maybe that's not a bad idea.” 

Shanks hums, rolling the two of you and looming over you. He leans in and kisses you silly, tongue slipping past your lips to gently curl with your own slick muscle. The kiss makes you relax, and you sink back into the bed with a soft sigh. He smiles down at you, leaning in to rub his nose along your own. 

“I've got you, Sweetheart. We’ll figure this out together. Okay?”  

You nod gratefully, a sweet smile playing on your lips, “Okay.” 

The Emperor bestows one last kiss and then shuffles out of the bed. He tugged on his pants from yesterday and watched as Sukuna took his spot, curling up close to his human and glaring at the redhead as if Shanks had been the one to upset you. He glares right back at the demon cat and then lopes out of the bedroom, Hank jumping up from the floor and following after him. 

He finds Mihawk in the kitchen, hovering over the stove and fixing up a hearty breakfast for the three of them. The kettle has been filled, and Shanks spots three mugs on the counter, each filled with their preferred blend. He is quiet as he steps close to Mihawk, pressing his front to the other man's back and hooking his chin over his shoulder. 

“You're being an asshole, ya know,” The redhead points out, tone not unkind, but Shanks is tired of stepping on eggshells about this with the other man. 

Mihawk puffs up like a bird, yellow eyes going wide as he stills, “I am not being an asshole. I'm doing my best to protect her.” 

Shanks hums. It's a disbelieving sound and it causes Dracule's hackles to rise, irritation flaring up like an old wound. What would the Emperor know anyway? He hadn't been there that night. Mihawk had slaughtered your people, painted Yoru red with their blood, and had done so out of pure boredom. He didn't think that saving you and your brother absolved him of his sins. 

“You could at least tell her that her brother is alive,” Shanks points out, but Mihawk is shaking his head, his frown even more prominent. 

“No, then she'd know of my involvement, and I can't risk that.” He denies it and goes back to furiously scrambling the eggs that pop and sizzle in the pan. He doesn't want to talk about this anymore. He'd much rather just forget about all of this and go back to having a nice, peaceful morning. 

“I think you're being an idiot,” Shanks says, tone disappointed and despondent, “She's been nothing but kind and accepting to us. She's pregnant with our child, don't you think she deserves to know everything?” 

Dracule tenses the more Shanks goes on, and inside, the warlord knows that the other man is right. It isn't fair to you, but just the thought of admitting his deeds makes him clam up, fear curdling his stomach. 

“You know she loves you right? Told me that before the three of us got together, she was worried I was trying to take her away from you.” 

“Stop lying,” Mihawk hisses and grips the counter, brows pulled together in an awful scowl. He doesn't want to hear anymore. How could you love someone so monstrous and selfish like him? 

“I'm not lying. She loves you. Just like I never stopped loving you, Mihawk,” Shanks murmurs and pushes past the grief and anger that he can feel surrounding the other man. He presses his brow to Dracule's tense back, willing the warlord to open his ears and listen to him. 

“Stop being afraid to love us back.” 

“I'm not afraid,” Dracule sounds wrecked, and Shanks curls his arm around that slim waist, tugging him closer to his chest and holding the older man close. 

“Then come clean, Baby. Tell her what happened, let her hear your piece.” Shanks urges softly and presses a kiss to the side of his neck, “You can't keep it inside forever.” 

Mihawk is quiet for a long time. Could he do this? Could he open up to you about everything, even with the risk of you tossing him out into the ocean? Dracule thinks of the pained look that he'd caught when he'd dismissed your memories, and finds that the guilt is near suffocating. Shanks was right. It wasn't fair to any of them. 

“After breakfast, I'll tell her.” Mihawk decides quietly. He doesn't want to, and it terrifies him to think what your reaction will be, but it must happen. Dracule was tired of hiding. 

Shanks hugs his treasure close, and promises him the same thing that he promised you not very long ago, “We'll figure this out together, yeah?” 

Dracule gives a jerky nod, and then the two focus on getting breakfast finished. Shanks sneaks Hank some eggs, and the big lug happily scarfs them down. Mihawk sets the table, busying himself while Shanks disappears to escort you to the kitchen. 

He finds you curled up still, Sukuna draped over you like a big, fluffy shield. He goes to the side of the bed and cards his hand through your hair, “You up for breakfast, Sweetheart?” 

Your pregnancy has been more of a struggle than anything. You hated how emotional you’ve become, getting upset over tiny things that you would otherwise ignore. You couldn’t eat certain things, and you had cried the last time the scent of your favorite tea had made you nauseous. You felt needy and that made you feel even worse, even though Shanks and Mihawk both have assured you more than a few times that it was fine. 

The men actually enjoyed how clingy you've become, eagerly awaiting your beck and call, whether it be running you a hot bath or massaging your sore ankles. Mihawk in particular turned out to be a mother hen, coming around more often and staying close to your side. He found books on the birthing process and what to expect after, and made it a point to read them out loud when Shanks was able to come around. The other man would grimace and bury his face in the closest soft surface. 

“I guess,” you murmur and push yourself up. Sukuna meows in protest, golden eyes narrowing on Shanks for being the one to disturb his nap. You dig your fingers into his thick coat and scratch the ornery beast, and your cat rewards you with thunderous purs. They make you crack and smile and then you scoot off the bed, grabbing your fluffy robe and tossing it on. 

Shanks follows you back to the kitchen where Mihawk has finished setting the table. The warlord comes to your side the moment he sees you, long fingers framing your face as he leans in and kisses you softly. You are surprised enough to kiss him back, but it only lasts half a second before he is pulling away, though he doesn't go far. 

“Forgive me, Darling. I shouldn't treat you that way. Especially when it is something so dear to you.” 

Mihawk's apology has you melting in his hold, and tears well up and slide down your cheeks. He wipes them away, unphased by the sudden appearance of them. 

You sniff and give Dracule a watery smile, “Thank you for apologizing.” 

Your rough voice makes his heart break, and Mihaek has a foreboding feeling that he'll be begging for your forgiveness again sooner rather than later. He doesn't want to upset you even more than you are now, but Mihawk had promised Shanks. 

“Come, Angel. Let's have breakfast, then I think you and I should talk.” 

You frown at the words, but nod, not in the mood to argue with the older man right now. Shanks presses a kiss to the back of your head and then takes his seat, patting his lap with a grin. Mihawk scoffs quietly but steers you in the Emperor’s direction and you end up seated on the redhead’s lap. You cautiously pull your tea forward, and relax when the scent of spearmint reaches your nose. 

Breakfast is a quiet affair, though both men are attentive as usual and make sure that you have eaten your fill before they begin to clean up. You pout at being sent to the living room and remind the men that you aren't completely useless. Shanks relents first, and reluctantly lets you take over drying the dishes while he goes outside to feed Neal and the three chickens. 

Afterwards, the three of you retreat to the living room. Your nerves build when the Mihawk sits you in his usual arm chair while he and Shanks share the couch. You curl your legs under you, not liking the tension that had bloomed in the room. you lick your lips and break the silence when it seems that neither Shanks or Mihawk looked like they were going to speak up. 

“What's going on?” 

You aren't expecting Mihawk to catch your gaze, and you are wholly unprepared to see the terrible guilt and fear that swim in his ringed eyes. The sight strikes you, and you feel concern and anger well up inside. You don't like to see these emotions in your warlord. Mihawk has always been a stone pillar in your life, and it upset you to know that something had made him feel like this. 

“Do you remember when you first told me of the dreams you kept having?” When you nod, Mihawk continues, “I lied when I told you that I didn't know anything about them. I panicked earlier when you called your dreams memories, because they are _.” 

You stare at Mihawk. You can hear him, but there is a ringing in your ears. What did he mean? How could Mihawk know? 

“...what?” 

Shanks butts in when he sees the confusion and horror that masks your face, “Sweetheart. What do you remember of your home before you came here? Where you came from?” 

You shake your head, hands clutching at your robe, “Ah, no? That's always been a little fuzzy for me. I don't know why I can't remember.” 

Mihawk speaks up, and you've never heard the stoic man so fretful and nervous before. You don't like it. 

“Your home was a chain of prosperous Islands named the Nammu Isles. Your parents ruled with a kind hand, but people began to talk, and Charlotte started hearing rumors that the kingdom had connections to Ohara.” 

you recognize the name. You remember reading it in one of the many books that Mihawk had brought you over the months. You remember feeling so so angry reading the name, but you couldn't find a reason why. You don't know if it's better or worse now that you know the reason. 

“Your parents begged her for a chance to save themselves, and offered you up as a bride for one of Big Mom’s sons. She pretended to accept the deal, but in reality, she sent out a message. Calling anyone who wanted a good fight to assist in dealing with a country who needed to know their place.” 

“And you were one of them?” You breathe, tone full of anguish and you look between Mihawk and Shanks. Your heart thuds loudly, and you curl an arm protectively around your stomach. You feel sick. 

“I was,” Mihawk confirms, tone wretched and broken, “Your oldest brother, Tomura, found out about the attack and got you out before Big Mom and her sons could make it to the castle. I followed them inside and overheard them making plans to send out ships to search for the two of you, and I decided then that I wanted nothing more to do with Big Mom and her destruction.” 

Dracule can see your mounting anger, and he knows he deserves every bit of it, but Mihawk needs to tell you the rest, so he continues. 

“I stood there in the main room looking at all the destruction that they had caused. That I caused, but when I saw you, so innocent and undeserving of what we did to your home, I knew that I couldn't let them find you. I left without a word and sailed out to find you and your brother, saving you from the pirates that had found you, and then I ran. As the years passed I forgot about what happened, forgot about you, until I found you again.” 

You feel like you've stepped straight into the raging waves of the ocean as memories play behind your eyes. You can see it so clearly now, Mihawk arriving on your island and your brother begging you to look away from the Marine Hunter at the time. You can feel the ship rock and shake under you when the cannon balls get too close, and the silence after once you realize that you are safe. You know in your heart that Dracule is telling the truth, but how are you supposed to take such a confession? 

You hate him for helping destroy your life, but you can't even remember what your parents look like. Your dreams -memories you remind yourself- only ever showing you your brother and the destruction of your home. But Mihawk had lied to you about who you are for almost two years. He knew your past, knew more than even you. How else were you supposed to feel? 

and Shanks? How long had he known? Was he on it too? The redhead had to have been, they were far too close, and Shanks too knowledgeable about the world. You feel sick, disgusted with the two men in front of you, but numb too. You don't know how the warlord wants you to react, but you don't think you can deal with either of them right now. 

Your silence unnerves Dracule, and he moves from the couch, taking a half step toward his angel, only to stop when you happen to stand as well. He watches with a hopeful expression that falls as you walk past him. Shanks stands as well, dark eyes never leaving your figure as you walk to the front door. 

They watch you open it up and stand beside the exit, and Mihawk feels his heart break into a thousand pieces when you look at him, expression closed off and unreadable. 

“Get out. Both of you.” 

The silence that rings after your statement is deafening. Shanks and Mihawk share a look, and the redhead takes a step forward, hand outstretched. 

“Baby, don't- you don't mean that,” he whispers quietly, but you don't look at him. You can't right now. instead you keep solid eye contact with Mihawk, the true culprit. 

“Yes I do. I want you out. Now,” you repeat, and the longer the men linger the more upset you grow. You have to think. You need time to wrap your head around the fact that both of the people you trust the most in the world have lied to you. 

Thankfully, Mihawk seems to understand that being there right now would be the worst thing he and Shanks could do. He tugs Shanks back to the bedroom where Dracule silently gathers his things, slipping on his coat and hat while Shanks roots around for his shirt. 

“Mihawk-,” Shanks murmurs, but stops the second the older man shakes his head. The redhead can feel Mihawk's anguish, and he desperately wants to take it away from him, but he knows that only one thing would get Dracule out of his head, and that was you. 

You are still standing by the door when they come out of the bedroom. Mihawk can see the way you tremble, but you stay strong and watch them come closer. He stops before you, wanting to reach out, to bed for forgiveness, but the warlord knows it would only make this all worse. 

“Call us, please, angel,” Dracule says instead, and doesn't budge until you dip your head in agreement. He fights against the urge to pull you in for a kiss, and instead ducks out of the cottage and stalks down the footpath. He needs to go or else he would stay and do something that he would regret. 

Shanks lingers, and the redhead can't help himself. He goes to close the distance only for a weight to be shoved at his legs. He looks down, disbelief coloring his face when he sees Hank standing between the two of you. The big mutt stares up at Shanks and the redhead swears that he can see disappointment swimming in the dog's dark gaze. He looks up at you, helpless, but you look away from him. 

“I said get out, Shanks,” You hiss, and the redhead can hear the strain in your voice. He wants to stay, wants to tell you that everything would be okay and that the three of you could work through this, but he knows that it's a lost cause. At least for now. 

“I'm sorry, Sweetheart,” Shanks murmurs and then he turns and follows Mihawk down the path and to the beach. He rounds up his crew with a few short words, heart breaking further when he realizes that Mihawk is already on his ship sailing away, not even nothing to wait for the younger man. 

Now alone, you shut the door and go to the couch, sitting in the middle of it. You take a look around your empty home, feeling hollow and alone. You give Hank a sad, strained smile when he comes and sits beside you, Sukuna appearing seconds later to curl up in your lap. Tears well up and stream down your cheeks, but you do not stop them. Instead you let them fall, and grieve for a past you can't remember and a future that you don't know if you can trust. 

Chapter Text

Being pregnant is weird. You ache in weird places and your feet constantly hurt. You hated how emotional you'd become and how much you still longed for the familiar comfort of your boys. You missed the easy companionship and the warmth of their love for you. How they held you close whenever you wanted and went out of their way to bring you little gifts. But then you are reminded that Shanks and Mihawk are nothing but liars, and are left wondering if anything that the three of you shared together meant something to them. 

It's a horrible way to think, and it makes you feel guilty, but you can't help it. What else could they have lied to you about? Shanks had told you he loved you early on, but Mihawk had never uttered the words once, preferring to show you how much you meant to him. But were you just play thing with them? A convenient source for both men to use? You didn't know and it made you even more upset thinking about it. 

Your tummy moves, and you glance down at the sight of your baby squirming. You can't help but grimace at the weird sensation. Your baby is always moving, never allowing you the rest you desperately want, and it's just one more thing to stack on top of all the rest of your woes. Sometimes it felt like the growing bundle was punishing you for sending your boys away, especially with how much worse you've been feeling lately without their presence. 

Shanks had been so happy to find out that you were pregnant, but he was less enthusiastic about the more gross details and what came with raising a child. He had promised you over and over that he would be there to help, but that he'd definitely have to get used to it. 

The redhead drops to his knees, arms wrapping around your thighs as he presses the side of his face to your tummy. It's hardly a bump, but Shanks loves the growing bundle inside of his treasure all the same. He kisses your stomach, lips lingering there as he imagines a tiny redhead running around. 

Mihawk stands behind you, still over the moon with the news. He was worried, very much so. Even if your pregnancy and birth were smooth sailing, that meant that Mihawk would have one more person in the world that he would need to protect. It terrified him, but running was the last thing on his mind. In reality, the hawk couldn't get over how radiant you looked, and planned to worship every inch of your body until you begged him to stop. 

You frown and push the memories aside. Maybe they hadn't been lying to you about everything, but both of them knew that you had no idea who you were. How could they have kept that from you? Why had they waited so long to tell you? 

You would have forgiven Mihawk if he had been truthful to you from the start. You were desperate for any kind of company then, and had become spoiled on his, so you hadn't thought to question his words back then. But now that you are thinking about it, you can recall how Mihawk had hesitated the day you first told him of your “dreams”. 

You would have been upset, yes, but you didn't love Mihawk back then. it would have been much less of a betrayal, but his decision to wait had made it one of the worst things he could have done. 

You had an older brother out there who you didn't even know existed, a connection to your past, but Mihawk was too fucking selfish to see that. Damn, now you're just getting angry. But maybe that was good? Maybe you needed to let it all out. 

You stand from where you'd been curled up on the couch. You have the sudden urge to move . It's been days since your boys left and you've done nothing but lay around and sulk. 

Hank jumps up after his human, dark eyes sparking up in excitement to see you finally up and about. He follows after you and lets out a low yip to grab his little brother's attention. Sukuna would kill him if he didn't wake him up. 

The orange fluff ball appears within moments, greeting Hank with a yowl and rubbing up against your legs. You crouch to love on him for a second before you continue on, manic energy coursing through your body. They follow their human to your bedroom, and you prop open the door, intending to start deep cleaning the room. You've let too many clothes pile up. 

Hank lays under your vanity, and Sukuna squeezes in beside the mutt, big golden eyes never leaving you. They can smell Your raging emotions, and neither want to accidentally get in your way. 

You start in the corner, lip curling up in annoyance when you immediately find a pair of Shanks’ pants that he'd left behind. You chuck them to the floor, and soon it becomes a growing pile of clothing that both men had left behind. You pause once you reach a familiar white shirt, hesitating in tossing your favorite to the pile. 

Hank whines when he begins to smell your rising distress, and crawls out from under his hiding spot to go to your side. He doesn't like that his human has been so upset lately and is curious as to why her mates haven't shown back up to take care of her. Hank knows that they had a fight, it's why he had gotten in between his human and the one-armed man, even if Hank really liked him. 

You turn to your dog, a sad smile on your lips as you hold the ruffled and well-loved shirt close to your face. Hank whines again and presses his face into your side, trapping the shirt between the two of you. 

“Oh. Alright. I guess it'd be okay to keep this one, huh, buddy?” You murmur and gently shove Hank away so you can lift the shirt you're wearing now and toss it into your hamper. You shrug on Shanks’ shirt, snickering when the material grows tight around your swollen belly. You can't help but think that wearing the shirt feels like the redhead is there with you, wrapping you up in a hug. 

You blink as your vision swims and quickly stand, going to the pile of their clothes and shifting through them until you find a large overcoat with delicate designs. 

It's during a rare storm on your island that Mihawk decides to show up. His coat and hat are completely soaked through and the warlord feels more like a wet cat than anything at that moment. This must be what Sukuna feels like when you give the poor cat a bath. Mihawk emphasizes with him. 

He barges into the cottage like he owns the place, scaring the hell out of you from where you sit in the living room putting together a puzzle that he'd brought you on a previous visit. The piece you're holding goes flying into the air and you level a glare at the soaked warlord. 

“I'll never find that you know!” you shout after him as he shuffled to the bathroom. He ignores you, closing the door with a snap and quickly undressing. He hangs up his coat to dry and then hops into the now steaming shower to wash the cold rainwater away. 

Mihawk joins you back in the living room half an hour later, dressed in nothing but sleep pants. He settles down on the floor behind you, tugging you close to his chest and hooking his bearded chin over your shoulder. He presses an apologetic kiss to your neck. 

“I'll buy you another if we can't find the piece later,” Dracule promises. You give a satisfied nod and smile, leaning back into his chest. 

“I'll hold you to it.” 

Mihawk never took that coat with him again. 

You stare down at the dark coat, licking your lips before ultimately saying screw it and sliding your arms through the sleeves. It's massive on you, dragging the floor and swallowing you up, but it brings you that comfort that you desperately need right now. You clutch the lapels of the jacket close, sniffing pathetically as you sit in the middle of the pile of clothes. Fuck. You miss them so much. 

Sukuma meows at you and makes a show of walking on the shirts and pants that surround you, sniffing at them before making biscuits and settling in. Hank plops down beside you, and you can't help the water laugh that escapes. 

“I dunno if it's sad or not that the two of you can communicate with me better than a human being,” you quip and let yourself wallow in pity for a little while longer before you stand. You sigh and gather the clothes up and place them in the dirty laundry with everything else. You don't have the heart to get rid of them, not when you can't even decide for yourself if you want them to come back or not. 

Sukuna and Hank share a look as they follow you around for the rest of the day. They don't dare leave you alone, not when you reek of sadness and self-pity. Hank does his best to make his human feel a bit better, bringing you his favorite toys and being a big goof when you toss his ball. Sukuna made sure to keep close, his purring a constant, thunderous roar that drowned out the sad little voice in your head. 

Their company makes you feel better, but you are still down and miserable a couple of days later. It's been just over two weeks since you sent your boys away, and you've had a lot of time to think during that time. You aren't nearly as upset with Shanks as you are with Mihawk. The redhead had only gone along with Dracule's dumb-ass decision at Mihawk's discretion, so you didn't think it was very fair to be so upset with the Emperor. 

You were still angry with him, but you could forgive the redhead. 

You still hadn't found a good enough excuse for Mihawk, however. His lying to you had been nothing but a selfish desire to keep you his. You don't understand how keeping such information from you could be considered keeping you safe, but then you think back to what Shanks had told you the morning before everything had gone to shit. 

“Sometimes Mihawk thinks he knows what's best for us, even if he goes about it the wrong way.” 

Well wrong he was, but in a weird way, you could almost see his logic. 

Your family, your home, your kingdom, it was all gone- destroyed by Big Mom and her family. You'd been so young, six years old, when it happened, that other than the same memories that plague you nightly, you hardly remember your family or your home. Aside from Tomura, and even then, the memories were vague at best. 

Did it make you a bad person if you stayed with the man who had killed the people who lived on your island? Your apparent subjects, because you're some long lost princess? Not that you being royalty mattered, not to you at least. Why would you want all that responsibility when you've lived such a free life away from the rest of the world? How can you grieve for something you've never known? 

You hated all these new questions and doubts that his confession had brought on. You almost wish that he'd just kept his mouth shut, but then you think about the brother who is still a mystery to you. Tomura had been your only friend as a child, and you wish you could ask him what he thought about all this.

A sudden pounding on your front door has you jumping out of your skin, and fury rushing up your spine. Really? They couldn't even stay away for a week? 

You stomp over to the door, a curse on your lips that sputters out the moment you see who exactly is at your door. 

“Perona?” You demand, brows shooting up. 

The pink girl barges in like her father figure, strutting into your home like she owns the place. 

“Wh-what are you doing here?” 

“Coming to see you, duh,” Perona quips like she busts into your life on the daily. Which she does not. She plops on the couch, sighing dramatically, “I couldn't stand another day being around Mihawk. He's not stopped moping since you made them leave.” 

Her words catch you off guard. Perona had come here to complain about Mihawk to you of all people? Was she crazy? Perona opens her mouth and spouts off before you can get a word in. 

“I'm surprised he even got inside the castle as drunk as he was! The humandrals probably stayed away because of how badly he reeked!” 

Your mouth grows dry. You didn't think that Mihawk would be the one to go off into a drinking stupor, and despite yourself, you still felt concerned for the older man. Mihawk was such a recluse and it had taken months for him to open up to you, and who knew where Shanks was? You had expected the men to at least find comfort in each other. 

“Shanks isn't there?” You ask her and take a seat in Mihawk's armchair. You haven't been able to bring yourself to call it yours again, even in your head. 

Perona shakes her head, sending her bouncy pigtails flying, “Nope. Not that I saw anyway. But enough about him. How are you doing? Are you okay? Is the baby okay?” 

You smile at her concern and push down the emotions that threaten to swell up like the ocean and pull you under. 

“I'm okay. The baby is okay. A lot more squirmy than usual, actually.” You assure the other woman and smooth your hand over your stomach. You are wearing one of Mihawk's shirts today, A brilliant red in color styled in his usual fashion. 

Perona squeals in happiness and claps her hands, “Oh good! Can I feel it?”

You nod and watch with a soft smile as the younger girl kneels by your seat and gently rests her hand atop your coveted belly. She giggles when the little one kicks her hand almost immediately. 

It's quiet for a while, and that concern for Mihawk resurfaces with a vengeance. You lick your lips, and Perona seems to feel the shift in the air, for she sits back and plops back on the couch. She watches her friend, feeling guilty and sorry for the other woman. It wasn't fair. 

“Mihawk told me what happened. Well, more like he drunkenly yelled about it and threw a lot of things, but still. I wanted to come see you. Are you seriously okay?” 

Her big eyes are full of nothing but worry for you, and you feel the walls crack and break under her kind gaze. 

“Ah-no not really,” you admit quietly and sweep your hand through your hair, “I guess I didn't realize how much they were picking up my slack around here. Being pregnant fucking sucks, and I feel horrible for missing two men who betrayed my trust.” 

You sniff and force the tears back. You are so sick of crying. Sick of feeling like crap, and you just want everything to go back to the way it was. 

Perona stands and gathers you in for a hug, and you gladly bury your face in her shoulder and cry. It feels like it's been forever since you've had any kind of human interaction, and having Perona here has broken you. She holds you until you've stopped crying, and then when you let go, the ghost girl lopes to the kitchen to fix the two of you hot cups of tea. The warm drink does wonders for your sore throat, and you let yourself relax back into Mihawk's chair. 

“I think you sending them away was the right thing to do. For now at least,” Perona begins and you glance up at her from over the rim of your mug. She sits crisscross on the couch, and you smile when you see that Sukuna has curled up in her lap. Big fluff ball only liked girls. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean that this alone time gave you some time to think, right? I know Mihawk did bad, and I told him more than once that it wasn't okay that he was keeping that from you, but, _.” 

You look at Perona when she says your name, and you frown at the surge of wrongfulness that swims in your chest. You don't know if you want to hear this. 

“He's a disaster. I've never seen him like this before, and maybe you could give him a second chance? Maybe give him a call to know that you're okay?” 

Mihawk had become Perona’s guardian and father figure all rolled up into one big surly warlord. She loved him and hated that Dracule was wasting away alone in the castle at Gloom Island. He deserved to be happy, and the ghost girl knew that you and Shanks were the only two for him. 

You stay quiet. Could you do what Perona asks? The more you think about it the more you come to the conclusion that yes you could definitely do this. You wanted to talk to Mihawk. You needed to see how the older man was doing. 

“Is he really that bad?” You ask softly and Hank seems to notice the stress that coats your tone. He rises from in front of the fireplace and lays his big head on your lap. You slid your fingers into his fur and found that easy comfort. 

“He won't stop drinking and yelled at me when I tried to take his booze away. He won't eat, won't shower, and hasn't trained since he got to Gloom.” 

It's one nail in the coffin after the other, and you find yourself up out of the chair and to the snail transponder that you've intentionally forgotten about. Your hands shake as you dial the familiar number and you glance to the living room to see Perona giving you a double thumbs up. 

CA-LICK

“Who the fuck thinks that they can call this number.” 

Gods. Perona really wasn't joking when she said that Mihawk was a mess. He sounded sloshed, voice thick with alcohol and lack of sleep. 

“Mihawk? It's me,” You say quietly and the silence is loud even over the phone. You close your eyes and picture the look of shock that the warlord no doubt has. 

“Angel? You called?” His voice is full of disbelief and aching hope. 

“Perona asked me to call you. She said you aren't…doing very well.” You finish lamely. It's never been this awkward between the two of you before, and you do not like it. 

“Oh, so that's where she ran off to. You shouldn't worry about me, Darling. I'm perfectly fine- oh!” 

You jump when you hear a loud crash over the receiver, “Mihawk? Are you okay?” 

“I'm fine my dear. Only tripped. I'm quite clumsy today,” Mihawk slurs and you crack a smile at his uncharacteristic behavior. You hear him shuffle about and settle down in a chair, his voice sobering up just a bit as he focuses on speaking. 

“It's good to hear your voice sweetheart. I missed you something terrible, you know? Are you doing well? Is the baby okay?” 

You can hear his voice catch a frantic edge and you are quick to reassure the warlord. You don't want him sailing across the Grand Line sloshed. 

“We're both fine. She's been a little more rowdy than usual,” you say quietly and bite your lip, a tiny sigh leaving you. You rub your tummy, eyes sliding shut, “She misses her daddies. So do I.” 

It's quiet on the other end of the line, just the sound of Dracule breathing. It's honestly nice to hear, and you find yourself relaxing against the wall, head thunking against it. 

“...I'm so sorry, Angel. What I've done to you is irreversible. I wish that I could take it all back.” 

His apology hurts . You want to forgive him for his sins, assure Mihawk that nothing has changed and that he can come back home. But you couldn't, even if he had saved you and your brother at the end of the day. 

“You can't, Mihawk, and I don't know if I can ever forgive you,” you hear his lungs hitch on the other end, a sharp intake of breath that sounds near painful. You look down at your growing belly, tears sprouting, “But it isn’t fair to you to keep you away from her, and- and I don't think I can do this without you.” 

“ Her? You think the baby is a girl?” 

A smile plays on your lips. Of course, that is what he picked up on right now. 

“I just have a feeling, is all,” you admit to him. You hum quietly, and thousands of miles away, Mihawk relaxes in his armchair for the first time in weeks at the sweet sound. 

“ …You would trust me around her? Around you again?” He asks you, and Gods, how were you supposed to answer that? 

“Did you ever lie to me about anything else?” You ask instead of answering that. You needed to know if anything you had shared with Dracule had been fake. 

“ No. I've always been truthful to you, Angel. You’ve become my whole world, and I wanted to do anything I could to protect that.” 

Even over the snail transponder, you can tell that Mihawk is telling the truth. You only have one last question, one that makes you almost nauseous to ask. 

“Do you love me, Mihawk?” 

On Gloom Island, the warlord looks stricken, face growing pale and falling at the mention of that four-letter word. Did he not show you how much he cared for you? Did his actions not speak of how much you meant to him? 

No, it didn't. His lack of action that had cost him everything. Mihawk wouldn't let that happen again. 

“ I don't think I should answer that over the phone, Angel.” 

He hears your breath hitch, and so he plows on, shoving away the unease that wants to settle like a deadly cloak. 

“ I want to see you, again. Will you permit me that?” 

Before you can answer, you hear a commotion on the other end of the line. Curious, you listen in. 

Mihawk cocks an unimpressed brow when the door to his study flies open, banging against the wall and sending a couple of books falling from the shelves. Shanks gives him an unapologetic grin and shuts the door softly behind himself. 

“Sorry about that, Baby,” the redhead slurs. He is drunk as a skunk, and Mihawk curls his lips at the stench that clings to Shanks, “I wanted to come see you, you've been avoiding me.” 

“It's not avoiding if you aren't seeking. I've been here this whole time,” Mihawk grumbles at the younger man and points to a chair on the other side of his desk. Shanks ignores him, loping around the desk to instead drape himself across Mihawk's shoulders instead. 

“Who're you talking to?” Shanks demands when he catches sight of the snail on Dracule's desk. 

“Hi Shanks,” the redhead zeros in when he hears your voice, dark eyes going wide and he makes grabby hands for the receiver. 

“Treasure! I miss you!” Shanks whines into the phone, and your chest tightens at the forlorn tone that coats his words, “When can we come home?” 

You can't help but giggle at his request, though that guilt still eats at you, you want to see them again. Maybe Perona was right about that second chance. It felt so good to speak to both of your boys, even if they hadn't been taking care of themselves, but you still didn't think you could have them here. Not yet. 

“Not yet, Shanks. I need some more time,” you murmur and wish you were there with them when you hear the sound of flesh meeting flesh. 

“Don't bother her with questions like that. She'll take all the time she needs,” Mihawk snaps and glares at the redhead who now lies sprawled on the floor. 

You listen to Shanks whine like a child in the background, and the sound of your two boys together makes you long to be there with them. 

“ He's fine, Mihawk. How about you let him stay there with you, and I'll call you again soon?” You suggest softly. You know that Mihawk won't willingly ask Shanks to stay with him, but you didn't want either of them to be without the other right now. 

Dracule sighs heavily, but nods all the same, golden eyes landing on the redhead who looks seconds away from passing out, “Only because you asked, Angel.” 

“ Don't act like you don't love him,” you admonish quietly, and his next words shock you to the core. 

“You're right, Darling. I do love him.” 

You can hear the quiet astonishment in Dracule’s voice, and this time it's happy tears that will up and threaten to fall. You sniff harshly, “ See, that wasn't that bad, was it?” 

A fond smile plays on his lips, golden eyes soft, “No, no it wasn't.” 

A stilted silence settles over the connection, and the two of you speak up at the same time. 

“ I should go-” 

“ I should go-”

You huff a soft laugh, and continue, “ You should make sure Shanks hasn't drunk himself into a coma. I'll um, I'll keep in touch okay?” 

“Alright, Darling, call again soon, okay?” Mihawk pleads and grips the receiver harshly, voice turning desperate, “We miss you.” 

You swallow harshly, eyes clenched shut, “I will. I miss you too.” 

You hang up the transmitter, taking a deep breath before going back to Mihawk's chair and plopping down with a world-weary sigh. Perona cocks a brow at you.

“Did it go okay?” 

You shrug, “Yeah, it was good hearing from them. Shanks will probably still be there when you go home, by the way.” 

You snicker at the sneer that ghosts across Perona’s face, finding amusement in her disgusted reaction, “Fantastic.”

Chapter Text

Mihawk cradles his brow in one hand, his head pounding in a hangover. After his Angel had ended the call, he and Shanks had cracked open the “good stuff” as the redhead calls it. He must have passed out still sitting in his chair, and the young man had curled up on the loveseat tucked in the back corner of his study. He wipes his eyes, grimacing at the state of himself. The warlord had definitely let himself go in these two weeks. 

How could he not when you had sent him away? Told him to leave with such a cold look that he had no idea how you felt about all of this other than utter betrayal? Mihawk couldn't get his mind off of his angel. Were you okay? Were you getting enough to eat? 

He and Shanks had taken up a lot of duties around the cottage as the weeks passed. Doting on you and making sure that you and their baby wanted for nothing. Shanks liked to cuddle you close on the couch, making sure that you couldn't move while Dracule uttered around the house, cleaning up after a lazy week and taking care of the early morning chores. 

“I bet she'll have red hair, and big golden eyes just like her daddies,” Shanks murmurs into your ear, single arm curled around your waist and holding you to his chest. You blush at his words, eyes closed as you imagine a little girl like your lover describes, laughing and playing in the shallow waters. 

Mihawk leans against the wall that separates the kitchen and living room, a fond smile playing on his lips as he watches his two dearest ones laid up on the couch together.

He pushes himself back, wobbling to his feet and groaning when his stomach sloshes dangerously. His head feels full, mouth dry and cottony. Every step makes the pain in his head spike, and Mihawk shoves at Shanks’ shoulder when he makes it to the loveseat. 

The redhead makes a sound closer to a wounded elephant than human, cracking his dark eyes open to glare at Mihawk. The warlord shoves at him again, he sighs heavily before shifting to lay on his back. Satisfied, Dracule draps himself over the broader man, tucking his face In the crook of Shanks’ neck and sighing when he feels an arm sling across his back. 

The two of them lay there for a while, dozing off at some point and waking back up to find a more comfortable position before dozing back off. 

Dracule wakes to the feel of nails scratching his scalp. He hums low in his throat, pushing his face into his tan skin and pressing his lips along the sensitive skin. He leaves a smattering of kisses there, lips quirking up when Shanks tightens his arm around his waist. A soft groan leaves the younger man when Mihawk shifts up to run his lips along his scruffy jawline, and his eyes crack open when Dracule kisses him. 

The kiss is slow and steady, a sweet push and pull that stays innocent. Mihawk pulls away and rests his head on his lover's chest, pillowed on the strong pecs there, eyes sliding shut until he breathes deep and gets a whiff of them both. 

Mihawk jerks his head up, lips curling in a sneer. Neither of them have taken very good care of themselves, and had continued their self destruction after you had called, wallowing in self pity and lamenting about their shitty choices. 

“I never should have told her, Shanks,” Mihawk bemoans into the glass of hard liquor. The redhead stares down at his lover, and shakes his head at the wreck slumped over his desk, “Perona has not stopped her incessant whining. I know I'm in the wrong.” 

“I know, baby. She'll call again though. I'm sure she will,” Shanks murmurs and then pours them both drinks. He leans his weight into Mihawk. “She just needs some time.” 

After you called last night, and more or less sober and hungover, Mihawk wasn't very inclined to continue his beder. Hawkeye wonders where the ghost girl had run off to. He vaguely remembers shouting at her a couple of days into his self destruction. His head hurt too much to think about that right now. 

Mihawk shoves himself up from Shanks, making the redhead huff and trying to pull him back down. 

“Let me go, Shanks. We need to get up,” Dracule grumbles at the younger man. He has to wrestle his shirt out of the redhead's grip, and quietly curses him when it causes Mihawk to tilt dangerously to the stone floor. 

“Noooo. Stay here. It's cold, and you're warm,” Shanks whines and makes a grabby hand at his hawk. 

“Red, we stink worse than a dive bar. I'm getting up to bathe,” Mihawk hisses right back and finally stands from the loveseat.

“_, would kill us if she saw us like this. Come on. We need to clean up.” 

It takes a bit more coaxing for Shanks to get up, and he's all but useless in trying to direct to the bathroom. The redhead is still drunk as hell, and Mihawk has to sling the Emperor’s arm over his shoulders to get him going. Dracule grumbles all the way to the bathroom, and drops Shanks on the nearest stool. He sways to the side, only to jerk back up when Mihawk smacks the side of his face just hard enough to sting. 

“Wake up, Red. I am not washing you.” 

Shanks pouts, hand holding his sore cheek as he gives Mihawk the best stink eye he can muster up right now. His hurt feelings dissipate the moment his woozy mind catches up to where they are, and his eyes zero in on Mihawk when the older man begins to undress. 

He watches his hawk peel away his shirt, exposing his muscled back and tapered waist. Shanks feels his mouth run dry, and he wants more than anything to explore that smooth expansion of flesh with his teeth and tongue. To leave behind his own marks. He keeps watching, cock hardening in his pants when Dracule shucks off his pants, giving Shanks an excellent view of his backside and creamy thighs that he wants wrapped around his waist. He can't help the groan of want that leaves him when his treasure bends over to turn in the faucet. 

Dracule glares at Shanks from over his shoulder, cheeks coloring when he notices those stormcloud eyes eating him up. He whips back around and gets into the hot spray of the shower, ignoring how his thighs tremble and his dick twitches in interest. He begins to wash, body relaxing at finally being clean, and a weight he didn't realize was there lifted from his shoulders. 

It doesn't take long for Shanks to join him, and though he said he wasn't going to help the younger man, he did. Taking the loofah from the redhead and motioning for him to turn around so that Mihawk could scrub his back. He scrubs that shaggy red mane until Shanks looks more like a poodle than human. He huffs at the image, feeling forlorn when he thinks of you and how you would have snickered at the two men being silly. 

Mihawk washes his own hair while Shanks stands under the hot spray of water, watching the way the water ran down that perfect body and feeling hungry. He waits until Mihawk and he swap places, watching the warlord rinse his hair before Shanks drops to his knees, hand coming up to curl around one muscular thigh. 

Dracule jumps at the sudden touch, opening his eyes and glancing down to see Shanks kneeling before him. His cock floods with blood, and he almost feels light headed with how quickly it happens. 

“Let me make you feel good, baby,” Shanks murmurs into the thigh he isn't holding. He kisses the inside, teeth nipping at the delicate flesh and making Mihawk jerk in his hold. He looks up, smirking when he notices the flush on his lover's face and the barely there nod he received. 

Shanks releases the leg he holds, smoothing his hand over the older man's hip and digging his thumb into the dip of his waist. He relents and keeps going, fingers gently stroking the sensitive skin of his tests before wrapping around the base of Dracule's dick. 

He pumps the other man, eyes landing on the bead of precum that wells up, and he leans in and licks it away before the shower could claim it. Mihawk hisses at the kitten licks, one hand finding the wall while the other slips into Shanks’ hair to hold tight. He leans in, lips wrapping around the head of his cock and suckling lightly, tongue rubbing teasing circles on the bottom of his length. 

Mihawk curses quietly, hips jumping forward to find more of that welcoming heat. Shanks eagerly takes more of him down, jaw dropping and throat relaxing until his nose bumped against Dracule's pelvis. He swallows around the cock in his mouth, humming low in his throat and loving the way that Mihawk clenched his eyes shut and ruts into his mouth without abandon. 

Dracule loves it when you suck him off, but Shanks has always been the best at giving head. The man had zero gag reflex and had had no problem when Mihawk became rough, fingers tangled in those red locks and moving Shanks the way he wanted. He fucks that sinful mouth, teeth bared as his orgasam crests closer and closer to he edge. 

It's a surprise to both of them when cum floods Shanks’ mouth, and the redhead’s eyes flutter as he swallows It all down, lips and tongue massaging the length In his mouth until it grows soft and Dracule it pushing him away, grumbling about how sensitive it is. Shanks presses his face to a pale thigh and looks up through his lashes at Mihawk. 

The hand in his hair loosens and gently strokes the wet hair out of Shanks’ face, and he aims a tiny smile at the younger man. The two of them stay in the shower until their fingers prune and the water runs cool. They dry and dress in clean clothes, leaving the bathroom for the kitchens where Shanks tries to help Mihawk cook breakfast. 

The two men hover around one another for the rest of the day, hardly leaving the other's side. Mihawk puts away the alcohol and wonders outside, breaking in the gloomy air of his island. Shanks stops beside him, arm hooking around his waist and pressing his cheek to the other man's. 

“I hope she calls soon,” he murmurs quietly.

Mihawk nods, pressing back into the redhead's scratchy cheek, chest tight and full of worry for his angel so far away from them. 

“Me too, Dear.” 

One month ago

In the New World on Whole Cake Island, Wiseman ran through the palace halls dodging servants and children alike to get to his Captain. He is stopped outside of the courtroom by her guards, but they let him pass after confirming who he is. Inside, Big Mom and Katakuri are speaking and Wiseman waits patiently for his Captain to acknowledge his presence. 

“Well, if it isn't one of my oldest crew, what brings you back here? Hmmm?” Big Mom demands of him from a top her sentient cloud. 

Wiseman bows low and then straightens back up, giving his Captain a lopsided smile.

“I overheard something that may be of importance to you. Red Haired Shanks has apparently found himself a woman. One that happens to be the lost princess to the Nammi Isles. I tracked his ship and her island is back in Paradise, close to Little Garden, safe and tucked away beside the Calm Belt.” 

Big Mom grins, plans already forming in her mind about which of her sons she could marry the little brat off to. This was the perfect leverage she needed to get to his brother too. 

“Well done, Wiseman. Take whoever you need and go retrieve our lost pet, would you?” 

Wiseman grins, and dips his head, “The pleasure would be mine.” 

Tomura was glad that his crew was full of marines who could be called competent most of the time. The other half of the time, the devil fruit user wondered why he kept them around. However, his crew must be able to tell that he wasn't in the mood for any kind of nonsense they could stir up. He'd left the backwater island as swiftly as he could after Smoker had informed him of the rumor about his sister. However, the Grand Line was unpredictable and the weather had turned to shit not a week into their journey back to the safe house on his sister's island. 

If the rumor had already made its rounds, there was little doubt that Big Mom knew about his sister. The thought of the Emperor getting her fat, grubby hands on you made Tomura's blood boil, red eating at the corners of his eyes and he's broken more than one railing on the ship in his rage. 

The same private from earlier hadn't left his side, always ready and eager to help his Vice Admiral with anything Delemur may need. Nitchell was also incredibly curious about what had sent his superior into such a tizzy. 

He shoved his brown hair back under his cap and went to the Vice Admiral's side, standing at attention until Tomura rolled his eyes and told him to stand at rest. 

“What do you want?” 

Nitchell licked his lips. He wanted to ask, but he also didn't want to be tossed overboard. 

“Orders were to head to Dressrosa and help mitigate the damages that the Straw Hats left behind, Sir. But we're going back to Paradise.” 

Tomura glared at the horizon, they were finally making good headway and would make it to the navy sanctioned area of the Calm Belt in the next day or so. He cuts his eyes at the private, turning to give Nitchell his full attention.

“You want to know why?”  

The private nods, and Tomura sighs heavily, leveling the younger man with a narrowed eyed look. 

“Not a lot of people know I've got a sister out there, and I think she might be in trouble.” 

Present Day. 

Perona had left three days ago, and you felt even more lonely than you had before she'd shown up. It had been nice to catch up with the other girl however, and assured her that you would call her if you needed anything. 

You sat on the couch, curled up on your side with Mihawk's coat draped over you like a blanket, wearing one of the redhead's shirts like usual. As the weeks passed and your belly grew, you found that none of your clothes fit you anymore. It's been a slap in the face that had made you break down for the third time that day. 

Sukuna and Hank lay with you. The fluffball curled across your swollen belly and your shaggy dog lay over your legs. The record player belted out a slow tune that made you think about Mihawk, and had mist gathering in your eyes. Fuck. You missed your boys so freaking much. 

Hank wishes that his human would start feeling better. She'd been down and sad for so long that the scent of her angst was stuck in his nose. He knew that Sukuna fared no better than him. 

His ears twitched when the crashing of the ocean waves broke, and his sensitive ears picked up the sound of loud human voices jeering and yelling. Hank raises his head, curious if it were the same humans that the redhead lead, but he didn't hear anything familiar about any of the loud sounds. He looks Sukuna's way and sees that the cat's ears are flat against his skull, and knows that whoever is on their island aren't nice people. 

You jerk up when a low growl erupts in the room. You have never heard Hank make that sound before, and before you know it, Sukuna is joining him. 

Outside, Neal bleats loudly, his sensitive nose picking up the scent of humans who don't belong here. He circles back and forth in his pen and bleats again, louder this time to get Hank and Sukuna's attention. 

Snow sprouts out around you, fear curdling in your stomach as the animals continue to show such aggressive behavior. Hank and Sukuna jump off the couch, the cat's tail lashing and he hisses at you when you go to follow them, making you jerk back in hurt. 

“What the hell is going on?” You demand, and that's when you hear the sound of yelling, men and women stomping up your path from the beach. Your eyes go wide and you are quick to run to your bedroom, finding your snail phone and booking it out the back entrance, Hank and Sukuna on your heels. 

You have no idea who is on your island, but you have a horrible feeling about it, and you do not want to be found. 

From here you can see the silhouette of a group of about fifteen people, you can't make out any faces, but one of them has a shirt that sports a familiar jolly roger, and you know who is on your island at that moment. 

Somehow, Big Mom had found you. 

You circle around them, heart in your throat as Hank and Sukuna keep close to you. You run the length of the thick forest, and curse your island for being so damn small. The only place you could hide would be the caves up in the mountains, but even then there were hardly any big enough for you to fit inside any of them. 

You aren't sure how much time has passed by the time you make it up the short mountain, but you are exhausted and your feet are killing you. You would have used your devil fruit, but after a long talk with Mihawk and Shanks, the three of you agreed that using the fruit would put you and the baby in far too much risk. Who knew what could happen if you turned to snow while still pregnant.

Thankfully, Hank had led you to a cave that the three of you could fit inside. Your heart ached for your chickens and Neal, and you could only hope that the pirates had left them alone.  

With trembling hands, you dial Mihawk's transponder snail, but it rings and rings without an answer. You curse as tears fill your eyes, terror eating away at you when the sound of yelling could be heard getting closer. 

You could hear them calling out your name, assuring you that you were safe and everything would be alright. Lies. All of it. 

You dial Perona next, and thankfully the ghost girl picks up after a couple of rings. 

Ca-lick

“Hello? _, is that you?” 

You sniff loudly and clear your throat, “Perona. I- I need help. I think Big Mom's crew is here.”  

You hear Perona curse loudly, and yell for one of her stuffies to hold the wheel of the ship she'd taken from Gloom Island. 

“Are you safe? Have you called Mihawk?” 

“He didn't answer. Please, get a hold of him. I'll keep trying on my end.” 

Perona quickly promises the same and then hangs up after demanding that you be careful. You promise to try and then end the call, quickly ringing for Mihawk again. You try Shanks next, and could have cried when the transponder connects. 

Ca-lick

“This is Beckmann.” 

“Ben!” You cry and clutch the snail to your chest, sobs coming in hard at hearing his voice. If Ben had answered then Shanks had to be near, “I need help! The Big Mom pirates are here.” 

You hear him curse even more colorfully than Perona and then he is assuring you that he would get Shanks back on the ship as soon as possible. You thank him and then hand up, fingers shaking as you try Mihawk's number again and again. 

The sound of hissing and Hank snarling grab your attention, and you jerk your head up to see a gaggle of lights coming up the mountain. You press yourself into the cave, dragging Hank and Sukuna close to keep them hidden, but it is all for nothing. Your heart jack hammers when the lights crest the rocky pathway and you are greeted by the sight of two men looming over you. One is older with well kept Grey hair pulled into a half bun. He wears a three piece suit and has a vile grin on his face. 

The other is short and stout, arms jointed in two separate areas and dressed similarly to the older man. He looks just as gleeful to see you as the other one. 

“Looks like Red Hair was right, Wiseman,” the short one says, and leans in close, sneering down at you.

“Big Mom will be pleased.” 

Chapter Text

Benn runs through the courtyards of Mihawk's castle, dodging swipes from the Humandrals until he hears the sound of striking steel. He turns that way, picking up speed as he goes until he arrives at a small clearing in the dirt. Shanks and Mihawk are both grinning, a joy so easy to see that Benn thinks he may go blind. Usually he'd stay and watch, but he can still hear your terrified voice pleading for help. 

He slides to a stop, and the two men sparing turn and look at him, brows raised. 

“Benn? What's going on?” Shanks asks his first mate. Benn wouldn't come get him unless it was important. 

“It's, _, Shanks. They found her.” 

The temperature of the surrounding area plummets, and all ambient noise disappears. Neither man can believe what they are hearing. They'd both been so sure that no one would be able to find your tiny island tucked away in Paradise, so close to the Calm Belt that most ships would be torn apart by sea kings. How could this have happened? 

“What did you say?” Mihawk hisses and his grip on Yoru tightens to the point of pain, his nails digging into the flesh of his palm. He ignores the feeling of hot liquid dripping down his hand. 

Shanks isn't faring much better. He looks ashen, pale faced and nervous. He and Benn share a look, one that Mihawk easily catches. 

“_ called the transponder snail. She said that the Big Mom pirates had made landfall,” Benn frowns, one hand running through his graying hair.

“She sounded terrified.” 

Mihawk is moving before his mind fully registers what's going on. He speeds through the castle, grabbing his coat and bag he'd packed the other day in case you called them. His haki is lashing, sending furniture falling and making the old stone walls of the castle crack and fracture. The ringing of his snail grabs his attention and Hawkeye grabs it before loping out of the castle and to the bay. 

Shanks is right behind him, Benn keeping up with his Captain. It is with a silent, shared look with his lover that Mihawk reluctantly steps aboard the Red Force. He isn't fond of being on another's ship, especially one as big as this one, but like hell would he let the younger man out of his sight. 

While Shanks is barking orders, Mihawk takes the time to answer the still ringing snail that he clutches too tightly. 

Ca-lick 

“Mihawk! Finally! I've been calling forever!” 

Perona’s shrill voice is a little comfort, but fear still clutches Dracule by the heart. She is rattling on before he can get a word in. 

“You've got to get back to _’s island. She thinks it might be Big Mom and her crew!” 

Mihawk feels a vein pop in his brow with his hard he scowls down at the snail. 

“I know! Where are you? How quickly can you go back?” 

“I'm three days out! So two and a half if the sea doesn't hate me. What if she's already gone? What if…what if it's worse?” 

Mihawk can hear the thickness in Perona’s voice and knows that the ghost girl is probably crying now, having worked herself up in a tizzy. He sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Perona. I need you to calm down, girl. Listen to me when I say that _ will be fine. We can handle anything that's happened, but I need you to do something for me, okay?”

He hears the pinkette sniff over the transponder, but she sounds like she's gotten a hold of herself. 

“Okay. What do you need me to do?” 

“I need you to go back to her island. Find out if she's still there, but be safe. If you see her jolly roger, then you sail right to us. You've got your log pose, right?” 

Perona sniffs again and nods even though her father-figure can't see it, “Yeah.” 

“Good. If the island is clear then investigate carefully.” He stresses the word, “Call me back as soon as you can, got it?” 

“Yes, Mihawk. Will she really be okay?” 

His heart breaks at the fear that he can hear swimming in his charge’s voice. He licks his lips. He is terrified in all honesty, but he keeps it together for her sake.

“She will be. Be safe, Perona.” 

The ghost girl assures the older man that she will be careful and the transmission ends after that. Mihawk pockets the snail and looks around the ship to try and find Shanks. 

The redhead is at the helm, still barking orders at his crew. Dracule picks his way past the pirates until he arrives at his lover's side. Shanks glances at him and then looks away, his haki curling tight around himself as if he was trying to hide away from the other man. Mihawk can't help but feel a little hurt. 

Shanks is panicking. How could he tell Mihawk that all of this was his fault? That it had been him That had slipped up, his lips loose with drink and his heart heavy with wistful thoughts of his treasure that night so long ago. 

The hawk hadn't trusted him with this from the beginning, and it killed him to admit that Mihawk had been right about Shanks after all? All the trust and affection that his lover had given him would go up in flames so quickly that Shanks wouldn't even be given a chance to mourn it. The redhead had little doubt that Mihawk would spirit you away from him as soon as he was able once he found out about his mistake. 

The captain keeps himself busy for as long as he is able, but Mihawk is nothing if not patient, and stays by his side until there are no more orders to be said. Before he can make a getaway, his hawk grabs him by the arm and practically drags him across the deck and into the Captain quarters. Shanks could have wrestled away, but then Mihawk would have been even more suspicious of him. 

Shanks is shoved in a chair, and his lover putters around the room, pouring them both a drink before settling down in the seat across from Shanks. He sips delicately, but Shanks' nerves have him knocking back the glass of rum like it's a shot of whiskey. He jumps when Dracule speaks up. 

“Perona is three days out from _’s island. She'll call me with news as soon as she gets there and if the island is clear or not.” 

Shanks forces himself to nod. He licks his lips and scrubs his hand through his hair, “Good. That's good.” 

Mihawk raises a brow at the other man's attitude. The man was acting more like a scared rabbit than the powerful Emperor that Dracule knows him to be. He sets his glass away and stands, crossing the short distance to stand between the redhead’s legs, and sets his hands on those tense shoulders. Mihawk guides him forward to rest his head against his bare chest, and his hands snake up to thread into red hair. 

“How are we going to find her, Mihawk?” 

The Emperor’s voice sounds shot, broken and beaten, and it breaks his heart listening to it. His grip tightens in Shanks’ hair and Mihawk sighs softly. 

“I don't know. But we'll search every island in Big Mom’s territory if we have to.” 

~~~~~ Tomura ~~~~~

Tomura dashes through the streets of the city, a mischievous smirk on his face when he looks behind him and sees his little sister chasing after him. You look furious, but the expression just looks adorable on her chubby baby face. Tomura had snatched her favorite blanket this morning to try and wake up the sleepy head, and the chase had been on since. 

Obviously, he wasn't going as fast as he could. Tomura was older than her by almost a decade, after all, and he didn't want his sister to get lost in the crowds of people. Not that the citizens of their Kingdom would let their only princess get lost. 

The people laughed and urged her in the way her oldest brother ran, encouraging her to catch up to him. Their King and Queen had always been kind to their subjects, and in turn they stayed loyal to the royal family. 

Tomura slows to a stop, ducking behind a stall selling fruit and waits for his little sister to dash past him. He springs out and grabs her by the waist, spinning you around in the air. You shriek in laughter, clutching at his wrists as he turns his lower body into dust and flies back the way he came, back to the castle and to where breakfast awaits. 

Tomura opens his eyes, squinting when the sun makes them water. He wonders what you look like now. Had you found a way to survive and flourish after he left you behind? Would you even remember him? The thought of you not knowing who he is made his chest tight with fear and hia throat clog with emotions he carefully hid from his men. Could you forgive him for leaving you behind, even if it had been the best course of action? 

An angry scowl twists his lips and Delemur lets out a string of quiet curses, mostly centered around a certain red headed Emperor who had somehow stumbled across the safe house. Damn Red-Haired Shanks. 

“Captain! We're going to make landfall soon!” the voice of one of his crew startled Tomura out of the fond memory, and his less than savory thoughts. He rubs his face, sighing as he straightens up from where he'd been leaning on the railing. 

“How long?” The white haired man asks and looks at the lieutenant before him. 

“Lookout said we're about thirty minutes out, Sir.” 

Tomura nods. They would need to be prepared if some of Big Mom’s crew were there. Same with Shanks and his crew. 

“Get the men prepared for a skirmish. Big Mom won't be here, but I'd bet she'd send some of her stronger men to get my sister.” 

The news of his little sister being the reason behind his sudden disregard of orders had swept through the ship quicker than scurvy. But his marines were loyal, and technically they were still chasing after pirates, so the higher ups could be too mad at them. 

“Yes, Sir!” his lieutenant snapped and then he was off, getting the other crew members up and running. 

Tomura stalked to the front of the ship, and from here, he could see the outline of your island. His mouth twists in a grimace and he prays that he's gotten here quick enough to beat Big Mom’s crew. 

However, the closer he gets the more his chest grows tight. There is grey smoke rising into the sky on the east side of the island, and even after so long away, Tomura knows that is where the safe house is. 

The shore comes into view soon, and Delemur frowns when he sees a small ship docked at the shore, a large cross on the flag. He's seen that before, but he doesn't understand why Dracule Mihawk would have a shit all the way out here. Maybe it'd been stolen? 

They drop anchor in the next couple of minutes, and Tomura flies ahead and drops to the sand, taking a look around with a frown. The beach looked awful, the beautiful sands trampled all the way up to where it became grass. Most of the lush forest had been torn down, most likely caused by the larger members of the raid party. He followed the trail up, picking up the pace until he was in an all out run. 

Tomura slides to a stop, sticken at the sight before him. The entire place is a disaster, the cottage a charred husk of what it used to be. The scent of burning wood is thick in the air, the once lush and full gardens that you had cared for have been overturned and stomped on. He can see the broken remains of a small pen on the side of the building, but there were no animals in sight. 

Carefully he steps forward, bending down to collect a shard of green sea glass that had survived the fire. The Vice-Admiral flips it end over end then pockets it before walking inside the destruction. The living room is full of burned books and clothes, the furniture broken and ashen like the rest of the house. There is a shelf holding on for dear life, an old record player with a stack of melted records resting beside it. 

Tomura moves to the kitchen, taking in the shattered glass of the window and the many planters that take up the majority of counter space, each plant dry and brittle or nothing but ash. A wind chime is still intact, and he reaches forward to brush the pads of his fingers across the metal tube, frowning when the beautiful melody fills the air. That kind of sound didn't belong in such destruction. 

Onward Tomura goes, learning about his little sister as best he can through the ruins of her home. Your love for music and books could easily be seen, but how could he ever know what they were? What your favorite song to listen to is now, or what you liked to do on long lazy days. Were you all alone? The pen outside suggested his sister had found animals, but where were they? 

Your bedroom was in a bit better shape from the rest of the house since the door had been shut before the fire had started. Tomura carefully sits on the ashen bed, green eyes looking at everything he can as quickly as he could see. He wanted to know everything about you. He had missed so much of your life, and the regret of leaving you behind was suffocating. 

Would you have been safer in the military? Maybe, but Sengoku would have taken one look at you and your devil fruit and thrown you into training, just like they did with him. Tomura didn't want that for his baby sister, he had wanted you to live a good life, even if it would be a lonely one. 

His thoughts are stalled when he catches sight of what hangs In your closet. His green eyes zero in on the long coat with a high collar decorated with intricate designs. Delemur knows that coat. Has seen it on the occasional times he had run into Mihawk. 

The two of them had a mutual understanding to not speak about what had happened between them. Tomura didn't like that the older man had helped Big Mom, but being in the Navy gave him a different perspective. Not to mention his own skeletons hidden away in his closet, and in the end, Mihawk had been the reason that Tomura and his sister got out alive. They were even as far as he cared. 

But seeing the Warlord’s coat made him pause. The tiny ship in the bay had already been suspicious, but the coat only added to his rising confusion. All the rumors had pointed at Shanks being the one to have found you, so then why in the fuck wasn't he seeing anything that might belong to the Emperor? 

The sound of a bleating goat suddenly grabs his attention, and then he picks up the sound of his men shouting. Delemur bolts out of the house and finds Mihawk's pink charge, Perona glaring daggers at his men, specifically Private Nitchell, who points a shaking pistol at the young woman. Three chickens and an ornery looking goat stand behind her. 

“What the fuck is going on out here?” He demands, and glares at the private, “Stand down, Nitchell. Does she look like a threat to you?” 

The young man shakes his head, a blush high on his cheeks at getting reprimanded, “No, Sir! Sorry, Sir!” 

The Vice-Admiral watches Nitchell stow his weapon and back up from where the ghost girl looks ready to tear his head off. Tomura rounds on the pinkette, cockimg a brow at her. 

“Perona right? The hell are you doing here?” He demands and crosses his arms over his chest, unimpressed by the glare that she proceeds to aim at him. 

“What's it to you?” She spits at him, and floats up, crossing her own arms. He spots several ghosts behind her, and prepares to turn himself into dust if one flies at him. He'd seen what those things can do. However, his annoyance skyrockets at her answer, and Tomura is hard pressed not to reach out and try to wring her neck. 

“I asked you first,” he snarls right back, and feels like he is arguing with a little kid when Perona sticks her tongue out at him. 

“I was coming to visit my friend, Navy Man. You should leave before my dad gets here.” 

Tomura rolls his eyes, and ignores the threat, “Your friend is my little sister. How did you find this place?” 

Whatever argument that Perona was hyping herself up for deflated like a popped balloon when she registered what the marine said. She looks him over, dark eyes flickering from head to toe. The more she sees, the less Perona thinks that this man is lying. He looks like you. His cheekbones and brow are a familiar and comforting sight. But what should she tell him? Perona didn't think that Mihawk would be very happy with her if she happened to spill the beans on everything that he's been doing. 

Perona licks her lips and floats back down, dismissing her ghosts and setting a hand on top of Neal's head. The goat grunts at her and butts his head into her hand, happy that the only other person he tolerated had found him and the three chickens hidden away in the intact part of the forest. 

“Mihawk found this place a few years ago, after a while he told me about your sister and I wanted to be her friend. She seemed lonely, and I know what that's like,” Perona begins and shifts her weight with a sniff. She's been here for two days looking for anything that would help them find out where Big Mom’s crew may have taken you. The only luck she had was finding your goat and chickens. Hank and Sukuna were nowhere to be found. 

Tomura's hands clenched into fists at the information. Mihawk had known about you for years, and Delemur was just now finding out about it. How was Shanks involved then? To his knowledge, the redhead and the hawk stayed away from one another. Until recently that is. 

Just what the hell had his baby sister gotten up to?

“She called me five days ago and said that some of Big Mom’s crew had found her island. I came as fast as I could, but I was too late. Shanks and Mihawk are on their way here now.” 

Tomura doesn't like the thought of such powerful men working together and all for the sake of his little sister. What had you done to catch their attention? Did he even want to know the answer to that? 

“How long until they get here?” Tomura asks after a moment. He would wait here until they arrived, at least he wouldn't have to go tracking the pirates down. He had a couple of choice words to give both of them now that he knows that Mihawk has been here as well. That bastard had looked him in the face not four months ago, and had said nothing about knowing you. 

Perona shrugs at him, her face morphing into a pout, “I don't know. Another week?” 

Shanks and his crew were strong enough to go through the Calm Belt if they wanted to, and that would cut their travel time down by a lot. Gloom Island was a two week trip from here by normal means. 

Tomura grumbles at having to wait that long, but he isn't that much of an asshole, and so stalks forward and offers Perona his hand. 

“I apologize for getting off on the wrong foot with you. My name is Tomura. Thank you for being my sister's friend.” 

The ghost girl blinks dumbly up at him before tentatively taking his hand and shaking it. 

“Uh. You're welcome?” Perona has never been thanked for being someone's friend before. It was a little weird, but Tomura seemed genuine and kind like you. Just a bit more…violent it seemed. 

Tomura blushes and takes his hand away, rubbing them together before pointing at Neal and the chickens, hoping to change the subject. 

“Are those _’s?” 

Perona nods and introduces Neal and the chickens. She couldn't remember if you had named the fowl, so had taken it upon herself to name the rooster Henry and the two hens Harriet and Henrietta. The crew of his ship piddled around the island while Perona told Tomura stories about his little sister, and soon the sun was beginning to set on the little island. He sighs heavily, and invites Perona on his ship for dinner. They may as well get to know one another if they were to be stuck on an island together for the next couple of days. 

Those days pass in the blink of an eye, and it is late in the evening on the fifth day when the Lookout on his ship announces that the Red Force is entering the bay. Tension skyrockets and Perona stands away from Tomura while they watch the pirate ship navigate to the shore. She can see two people standing at the bow of the ship, and tears of relief sprout in her eyes when she spots Mihawk's wide hat. 

The fear and anxiety that Shanks has felt during the entire trip explodes the moment they spot the navy vessel docked at his treasure's island. Of course the rumors had reached your brother. Shanks should have known Tomura would be on his way here to see you. He curls his haki close to himself, refusing to let the older man feel just how manic he is right now. He needed to keep his head clear for this. 

Next to him, Mihawk's haki lashes like an angry snake, golden eyes wide and full of fire when he sees the ship. He recognizes who it belongs to, and cuts his eyes over at Shanks, who won't even look his way. Dracule had been silent about his concerns with just how Big Mom had found out, and he doesn't like the picture that has been painted for him. He doesn't want to accuse anyone of anything until he has all the knowledge he needs. 

Mihawk and Shanks flash to the shore, and the warlord gets an armful of sad ghost girl the second his feet touch sand. Perona buries her face in his chest, arms wrapping around his waist and holding the warlord tightly. Tears sprout and run down her cheeks, and Mihawk can do nothing but sigh and hold the young woman close, one hand stroking the back of her pink hair. 

Shanks steps up beside him, a kind smile that he forces on his lips as he pats Perona on the back, “It's alright, kid. We're here now.” 

Mihawk shoots him a grateful look, and thankfully, Perona decides to pull away, reaching up to wipe her eyes free of smeared makeup. 

“It took you two long enough to get here,” She grumbles and takes a step away, turning to look over at the Vice-Admiral, “Tomura has kept me company.” 

Dracule looks up and catches the Navy man's eyes, the green dark and full of suppressed rage. He doesn't expect the younger man to bypass him almost immediately, instead, aiming that almost familiar glare at Shanks. The tension deepens, and sand is kicked up by the haki that coils between the three men. Tomura wasn't anywhere near the pirate's power level, but that wasn't about to stop him. The Emperor was the one responsible for his baby sister getting taken. 

“Did he, now,” Mihawk murmurs and carefully maneuvers Perona to stand slightly behind him. He didn't want her to get caught in this, and the Warlord could tell that whatever was about to happen wasn't going to be very pretty. 

Tomura isn't here to beat around the bush and cuts straight to the case, “Did you have any fucking plans to tell me that you knew my sister, Mihawk? How the hell did you even find her?” 

Mihawk keeps his face free of any kind of expression that may give away his true feelings. Brother or not, Mihawk wasn't in the mood to deal with this right now. Not when you were obviously still missing. What he doesn't expect is Tomura rounding on Shanks, his tone dropping and turning dangerous. 

“And you, you son a bitch. You're the fucking reason my gods damned baby sister was found.” 

The silence that blankets the shore of the island is deafening. Tomura grins meanly when he sees that panic that pools in Shanks’ dark eyes, and stands taller, pointing an accusing finger at the redhead. Mihawk follows the gesture, his heart seizing in his chest when he catches sight of the look of devastation that paints his lover's face. He takes two steps back, bringing Perona with him, away from the man who had promised Dracule that he could trust him. 

“You promised me, Shanks,” Mihawk remarks and tries to keep the hurt out of his tone, but the younger man easily picks up on it, making him feel worse than scum stuck to the bottom of his shoe. The hurt quickly turns to anger, and the warlord reaches for Yuro, the blade swinging around to point at Shanks. 

“You promised me that you would keep your mouth shut! You drunken, lying bastard. I never should have put my trust in you again.” 

His ringed eyes blaze with a rage Mihawk hasn't felt in decades. Not since he was young and impressionable. His heart feels shattered, and out of everything, disappointment rings through his body like a live wire. He shouldn't have allowed the redhead to pass his walls. 

Shanks’ eyes widen at the threat, and he takes a couple of steps back from the wicked blade. His own hand curls around Gryphon, and Shanks braces for the fight that would no doubt happen because of his mistakes. He didn't want to fight Mihawk, but he would defend himself if the older man made the first move. He quickly began to explain before Dracule could try and take his head from his shoulders. 

“I know, and I'm so sorry, Mihawk. I was drunk that night, and I missed the two of you so much. I didn't know I was being so loud until Benn told me to shut it. I never meant for any of this to happen.” 

Shanks is pushed back when Mihawk's haki lashes out, his face flushed red from how angry he is at the lame excuse. How dare he. 

“When are you not drunk off your ass, Shanks? There is no excuse that you can give me that will make any of this okay. _ is gone! Most likely slated to be married off to one of Charlotte’s sons because of your inability to keep your mouth shut!” 

Perona grabbing him by the arm is the only thing that prevents Mihawk from following after Shanks. He glares at her, about to snap at the girl to let him go, when he sees the unshed tears and fear in her dark eyes. 

“We need his help finding her, Mihawk,” Perona says, voice thick with emotion. She doesn't like seeing them fight, and it hurts seeing what she has begun to call family fall apart in front of her eyes. 

Her words seem to bring everyone back to the situation at hand, and the wild haki from the three men is pulled back and settled. Tomura relaxes his shoulders, shifting his weight and glaring at the two pirates. 

“She's right. Big Mom has a lot of territory. It'll take months for us to search each of her islands if we don't work together,” Delemur frowns even as he speaks, disliking the idea of working with the men who'd found his sister. What even were the three of them? 

“What is she to you?” Tomura demands and regrets it the second both men look at him like he was an idiot. 

“We,” Mihawk begins and then swiftly corrects himself. He didn't want anything to do with Shanks right now, “I love her. She had no idea who I was when I found her, and it was…refreshing to have someone like that. We should move quickly. _ is in a delicate state.” 

Tomura doesn't even want to think about what that means, and glanced at Shanks for the redhead’s answer. 

Shanks shifts his weight, his hand falling from his sword once Mihawk had sheathed his own, but he keeps his distance. He gives Tomura a helpless shrug. 

“My crew and I drifted close to her island one day, and we got to know one another. I can admit I was jealous of what Mihawk had with her, so we made it work. The three of us.” 

Tomura doesn't know what to say to that, so he keeps his mouth glued shut. How the hell had his little sister pulled not one, but two of some of the most powerful men on the Grand Line. He would ask once he found her. 

“I'll use whatever resources the Navy can give me to find her,” Tomura says after a moment of rather awkward silence. He reaches into his pocket and takes out two mini transponder snails and hands them to Shanks and Mihawk. 

“I'll ring you if I find anything. I hope the two of you do the same.” 

Mihawk dips his head in agreement, handing the snail to Perona and Shanks pockets his. They would work together to find you, even if none of them wanted to. 

“I'm going to take a look around and see if we can't find something that'll lead us in the right direction,” Shanks says and whistles loudly to signal to his crew that it was fine to disembark from the ship now. He chances a glance at Mihawk, but the dark haired man refuses to look his way. He frowns, guilt eating him up from the inside out before he lopes away without a word. 

“Perona and I will head to the New World and begin our search,” Mihawk says and then he struts to the ship Perona had taken from his island, not bothering to look back at the Vice-Admiral. He can't bring himself to search the island. Dracule had seen the smoke curling into the sky, and seeing whatever remained of his home away from home would only make the hurt worse. 

Tomura is left standing alone on the white sands, and he sighs heavily, looking out over the crashing waves. He smooths his white hair away from his forehead, and he murmurs to himself.

“Where the hell did they take you, Princess.” 

Thousands of miles away, you are escorted past hallways full of mirrors that make you feel dizzy if you look too closely. You cast your eyes back to the floor, one hand tangled in the fur of Hank's shaggy coat and the other holding Sukuna close to your chest. Your pets had chased after the men who had dragged you kicking and screaming from the tiny cave you'd forced yourself into. 

Surprisingly, once they had seen that you were pregnant, the men had handled you with much more care, and had even allowed you to take the cat and dog with you. Despite not wanting to leave, you had been much more willing once they assured you that you could have them. Hank and Sukuna were the only two things keeping you sane, right now. 

Sukuna wouldn't stop hissing, a constant low growl echoing in the hallway. His tail was poofed, and he glared at everyone with furious golden eyes. Hank fared no better, his hackles raised and his ear pulled up. He stayed pressed against his human’s legs as they walked, unwilling to let you out of his sight. 

It wasn't long before your group stopped at massive double doors that creak open. You waltz inside, relieved at the lack of creepy mirrors, but that relief disappears the moment your eyes lay on who hovers in the middle of the room. She is the biggest human you've ever seen, sitting atop a cloud that glares down at you. 

Beside her, another massive man stands. He has deep purplish hair and the bottom half of his face was covered in a black and white scarf. He wears an open vest and you can see a tattoo running down his exposed chest. 

“It's about time you showed up,” Big Mom’s booming voice startles you and you cut your eyes up to look at her. She grins down at you, her smile wicked as she looks you over. 

“Such a pretty young thing. You'll make a nice wife for my son Katakuri. Don't you think so?” 

Chapter Text

You stare at Big Mom in horror. Wife ? You’d heard about the Emporer before and her obsession with expanding her family, but never in a million years did you think that you would be up for the chopping block. The emperor cackles at the look you send her. 

“Oh don’t look so down, princess. If you hadn’t disappeared all those years ago, we wouldn’t have had to drag you back here,” The woman hisses down at you, and you watch in disgust as you watch Charlotte pick up a plate of sweets and begin to scarf them down, talking with her mouth full of cake, “But it’s no matter. My sons tell me that you are pregnant, so any child that you have will be taken care of, that way you can be free for my sweet Katakuri.” 

You don’t like the way she says this as if the baby that grows inside of you is nothing but a burden to be thrown away and forgotten. You grit your teeth, and take a look at the man who is to be your “husband”. Despite his rather feral look and the sharp teeth, you can see poking out from between his lips, there is a softness in his gaze that tells you he isn’t exactly happy with the arrangement that his mother has made for him. You want to shout and argue, but you know that even if you did, nothing would change. No threats that you made would be taken seriously, not when you were in the middle of Big Mom’s territory.

Unbidden, your devil fruit activates, sending a chill through the room and making Sukuna grumble and growl from where he lies pressed against your chest. Hank whines and presses himself closer to your leg, and his support makes you feel a tiny bit better about your situation. You wish more than anything that your boys were here, so that they could shield you away, and you would never have to look at this horrid woman again. 

“Hmm, if anything, your being pregnant shows how fertile you are. It won’t be long before you are able to supply me with a whole new host of grandchildren!” 

You grimace at the way the emperor so casually says this, as you were nothing but a broodmare to be used to make her family bigger. You clutch Sukuna tighter against your chest, pulling comfort from the way his claws dig into your flesh. The pain clears your head and you ignore Big Mom as best you can as she rants and raves about how beautiful her grandchildren will be once she has them. 

Finally, Katakuri seems to take pity on you, and speaks up, his voice deep and muffled from behind his scarf, “I think she understands why she is here, mother. Let me take her to our rooms.” 

Big Mom lets out a massive sigh, rolling her eyes before she makes a shoo motion, “Oh fine, then. Take away my fun.” 

Katakuri grumbles something unintelligible and then stomps over to you. You crane your neck, hearing it pop as you look up at him. You meet his eyes, and then he crouches down and you come face to face with him. 

He Is handsome up close, the edges of his mouth broken up by what look like stitches, but his voice is soft when he speaks, “You have little legs. I will carry you if you wish?” 

You lick your lips and shrug. If it would get you away from Big Mom quicker, then you weren't about to say no. 

“Please?” 

You watch him set his hand down, palm up, and carefully, you turn around and sit down, keeping Sukuna tucked close to your chest. His palm is big enough that Hank can climb up with you, though most of his shaggy body spills into your lap. You hang on tight to his sleeve when Katakuri stands and begins to leave the obvious throne room behind. 

You try your best to memorize the twists and turns of the castle, but it proves impossible for you with how the inside dips and curves, not making any sense to your brain. Katakuri is silent all the way up until he makes it to his room, and he is careful as he sits you back down on the floor. 

The two of you stare at one another, at a loss of words, until his voice fills the room, “You were to be my wife, but your parents denied my mother.”

You frown. That didn't sound correct. As much as Mihawk and Shanks had broken your trust, after that first call with the warlord after you had sent them away, you still felt like you could believe them. Mihawk had explained everything that he knew about the destruction of your home. He would not have omitted any details to you, unless he truly did not know about them. Your chest aches, and you have to force the urge to burst into tears just thinking about the two men. You missed them so much, you wanted them here, to steal you back and to get you and your baby to safety. You tune back in when the giant of a man keeps talking. 

“Maybe you would have been happy with me if your parents had not disrespected my mother, but I can't see that you will never be happy here. Not when you have someone that you already love.” 

You look at Katakuri in surprise, brows raised as your curl your free arm around your stomach. Hank, who had been silent other than his occasional growling at the men and woman who had escorted you to Big Mom, suddenly sat up, the big lug loping forward to sit in front of you, his tongue lolling out as he began to pant. You stare at him, brow pinched in thought. The dog has always been an excellent judge of character, and it makes you think that maybe Katakuri might be someone you can trust. 

“I do, and they will be looking for me,” you tell him, and Katakuri nods like he already knows this. 

And he did. The fourth son of Big Mom had done his research after Wiseman had made it known that you had been found. He had told his mother to leave you be, that they had already decimated your island, killed your family and subjects. The only ones left of the Nammu Isles were you and your brother, so it's not like either of you had much to offer the Charlotte family. 

Unfortunately, she had scoffed and raved at him, rolling her eyes and stuffing her face, declaring that neither of you are useless. The Nammu Isles were known for their beauty, the string of islands, and the people who lived there. To be married into any of the families was to be considered an honor, for your children would retain the beauty that their parents harbored. 

Katakuri had grumbled and backed down, not having wanted to argue with his mother, but seeing you now, belly swollen with child, and your eyes looking at him like you knew things that he didn't, made him think that his mother had bitten off more than she could chew. 

He already knew that your lover was Red-Haired Shanks, one of the other four emperors of the sea. Katakuri had not thought it wise for his family to go steal you away from your home, but there was little he could do or say once his mother had an idea in her head. It is then that your words properly register in his mind, and he looks at you, tilting his head to the side. 

“They?” 

The temperature in the room drops several degrees, and he watches this tiny slip of a woman look at him in pity, but there is a mean grin that paints her lips. 

“Yes, they,” you murmur and Sukuna turns, glaring at Katakuri with oddly familiar golden eyes, “Red-Haired Shanks, and the warlord. Dracule Mihawk.” 

-----

Mihawk and Perona sail straight to the New World. They arrive in half the time it would have usually taken, the ocean seeming to be on their side and aiding them in getting the two of them there swiftly. The warlord feels broken, his heart aching from the pain of having you taken and the knowledge that it was Shasks at fault. 

He should have known that the redhead would never be able to keep his damn mouth shut. He never should have trusted him with you. Dracule should have demanded that Shanks leave you and your island alone, to never return even if it would have made you upset. 

Maybe then Mihawk would have never felt compelled to tell you about his involvement. Maybe then you would have never sent him away in the first place, and none of this would have ever happened. He grits his teeth, rage flooding his chest only to be swiftly discarded into grief and disappointment. The warlord had trusted the other man, had opened up his heart, and told Shanks that he loved him not a week after Benn had rushed to them to tell them about you being abducted. 

Shanks looks at him with wide eyes, standing before Mihawk after the warlord had hung up the transponder snail. The redhead swallowed harshly, the drunken stupor clearing from his eyes as he licked his lips. 

“You... Did you really mean it?” 

Mihawk opens his arms for the redhead, and Shanks falls into his chest. He wraps his arms around the younger man, lips pressing against his brow. 

“I wouldn't have said it, if I didn't mean it, Red.” 

Mihawk forces the memory away, bowing forward to rest his elbows on the desk inside the ship and hold his face in his hands. Everything had been going so well for the three of you, and in the span of a month, it had all gone to absolutely shit. 

They hadn't even gotten the chance to come and see you before the Big Mom pirates had shown up. Had been waiting for your call so that you could tell them that you were ready for them to come back home, to the island, to Hank and the other animals, to you. 

Fuck. How had things gone so bad so quickly? Mihawk knew that the blame truly lay on both of them. Him for keeping your past from you, and Shanks for not knowing when to keep his big mouth shut for once. Dracule still feels so angry, so betrayed that the other man had given you away, drunken accident or not. How was he ever supposed to forgive Shanks for this? How were they supposed to go back to how things were? 

That's not even considering your brother. Tomura would be a problem in the future when they get you back. Your brother would never let Mihawk have you alone ever again, especially once he figures out that you are pregnant with their child. 

“You know, if you had listened to me in the beginning, this probably wouldn't have happened.” 

Mihawk sighs heavily at the sound of Perona's voice. He looks up to see her leaning in the doorway, arms crossed and a scowl on her face. He feels bad enough over Shanks and his own blunder, he doesn't need the reminder. 

“_ would still be on her island and her home wouldn't have been destroyed. You didn't even go see her home with Shanks, Mihawk. I know you're mad at him, but it would have been the least you could do. He's just as upset she is gone as you are.” 

Mihawk glares at her, hands clenching as he drops them to the table and shoves himself up, a snarl on his lips, “ This wouldn't have happened if Shanks knew how to be responsible for once.” 

Perona rolls her eyes, lips pursing, “Do you know how many times I've almost slipped up? How could Shanks have known that someone would recognize her name? It's not like he went around to every island on the Grand Line asking people if they knew who she was.” 

He grits his teeth. Mihawk had already thought about that, but it was easier for him to blame Shanks for this than to completely blame himself, no matter how unfair it was. 

“He's a fool,” Mihawk grumbles, and despite how much he wants to hang on, to cling onto that anger, the warlord begins to feel himself start to deflate. It used to be easy to cling to those feelings of negativity, but after the past months, with having Shanks back so close, and with you there to temper any hurt feelings, it was hard to stay upset. 

Because at the end of the day, Mihawk still loved the redhead, even if Shanks had broken his promise. He hears Perona snort and stride across the deck, dropping into the chair across from him. 

“A love-sick fool who needed you,” she grumbles and Mihawk sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose and giving her a look under the brim of his hat. 

“You don't have to remind me, ghost girl, but the faster we get to Big Mom’s territory, the faster we can get _ back.” 

Perona sighs and stands from her chair, rounding the desk and pulling her father figure in for a hug. Surprisingly, Mihawk doesn’t fight against her, so Perona tightens her hold, keeping her voice sure, “You’ll get her back. I know you will.” 

-----

Shanks stares at the ruins of his home, heart in his throat and hand clenched against his chest. So many memories, all gone with just a few words that came from his dumb mouth. Benn stands behind him, a silent pillar of support that the redhead appreciates. He clenches his eyes shut, teeth grit before he opens them up and forces himself to step toward his home. 

He is halfway up the path when a furry body blocks his way, and Shanks can't help but feel a shot of relief when Neal bleats at him, those beady eyes looking at him with recognition, and Shanks carefully reaches out, hoping to not get bit by the goat. Surprisingly, Neal butts his head forward and allows the redhead to pet him for a second before he grumbles and stalks off to his ruined pen where he stomps at the ground. He shakes his head and follows after the goat, frowning down at the foot imprints that dot your front yard. 

He takes in your ruined gardens, heard breaking all over again when he looks at the destruction. You would be devastated to see this, all of your hard work from over the years gone in an instant. Shanks forces down that guilt that eats away at him, and focuses instead on the rage that had begun to slowly simmer in his gut. Emperor or not, the second that Big Mom had heard that he was your lover, the woman should have dropped any kind of plans she had for you. 

Shanks and his crew had held off Kaido from joining the battle at Marineford, and won . It pissed him right the hell off that Big Mom thought that she could send out her family and drag you back to Whole Cake without thinking that Shanks wouldn't do anything about it. 

Did the woman think that you were just some run-of-the-mill woman that he would drop within a couple of days? Well, if so. Charlotte had another thing coming. Shanks has to fight down his haki, lest it unravel, and send what remained of his home crashing down. He sucked in a deep breath, face set in a terrifying scowl as he walked through the open door. 

Shanks pushes the door open, a grin on his face, “Oh honey, I'm home!” 

He can hear you leave the kitchen, arm open just in time for you to slam into his chest, and a wide grin on your face as you stare up at him. Shanks laughs jovial, matching your grin as he tightens his grip around your waist and lifts you up, spinning you around in a circle. 

“Welcome back, love,” you greet him, and Shanks will never tire of hearing you call him that. He dips and presses his lips to your own, this kiss chaste but full of affection, “How was your trip?” 

He walks past the living room, trailing his hand over the blackened wood as the rage builds and builds inside of him until Shanks feels like he might explode. He eases through the kitchen and looks down when his foot kicks something. He bends, picking up the warped bowl, the name Hank lovingly painted on the side of it. Carefully, he puts it back down and moves on. 

There is hardly anything that is salvageable, but Shanks would make damn sure that he would store away and preserve anything that he found. You deserved that much. The books and record player that Mihawk had given you are melted, the maps along the far wall of the living room are nothing but ash that now coats everything in the room. 

Shanks stops just outside the bedroom, heart in his throat before he pushes the door open and walks inside. This room, since the door was shut, had been preserved much better than the rest of your home. He looks at your bed, and swallows dryly when he sees that it is covered in an assortment of his and Mihawk's clothing. He wonders how large you've grown in the time the three of you have been separated. You must have started to wear their clothes the larger your belly became, and the mental image of his shirt streatching over your stomach makes heat pool unbidden in his gut. 

But he shoves the feeling away for now, there would be time for that later, once Shanks was able to piece his family back together. With a sigh, he sits on the bed, bending at the waist and holding his face in his hand. He pushes past the anguish that wants to choke him and makes himself think. 

He would sail straight to Whole Cake, and if Big Mom and her family did not give you back to him, then he would destroy them. There was a reason why no one could unseat him from his emperor status. Red-Haired Shanks and his crew were not ones to cross, so he would show the other emperor what it meant to cross him. He could only hope that you would be okay until he got there, and if you weren’t? The entire world would feel his fury.  

With that decision cemented in his mind, Shanks stands from the bed, then scoops to grab your favorite shirt that he knows came from him. He would dress you in his clothes once more when he got you back, would find you before Mihawk could, and present you to the warlord and beg both of you for forgiveness. Shanks was not one to give up, so he would grovel and plead at your feet until you gave in. 

Shanks takes one last look around before he leaves the house, meeting Benn back outside where he is watching Neal. His first mate looks up at him when Shanks steps to his side, “Ready to go?” 

The redhead nods, lips tugging into a frown when he spots the goat and the three chickens that mill around his hooves, “He’s not going to like it, but we aren’t leaving him here.”

Benn huffs a laugh, “Come on, I’ll help you wrestle him on board.” 

-----

Tomura sets sail not long after Mihawk leaves the island. He isn't about to wait around for the redhead, and thankfully they've not been here long enough for many of his crew to disembark. He gathers the ones who followed him on shore up and orders them to meet him on board, barking commands to get them underway and back to the New World. They would take the same route as last time, and hopefully catch up to the warlord before he made it to Whole Cake. 

It still pisses him off that the two men had found your island, but it's not like Tomura had been there to stop them. You probably trusted the other men more than you would ever trust him, your own brother, and the thought fills him with guilt. 

He had been the one to leave you behind, after all. Maybe if he had stayed with you, had been the big brother that you had always admired and loved, then none of this would have happened. He sighs and runs a hand through his white hair, brow pulled tight in a scowl. There was no point in thinking about what-ifs, however. Tomura had lost his chance to see you grow up and get to know you when he left you here, but he would help save you, and he would know his little sister again. 

The navy would be pissed that he was going off orders, but he didn’t care. Delemur had joined the military to keep himself safe, away from Big Mom and her hoard of children. But he would take on the emperor herself if that was what it took to get you away from them, you were the most important thing to Tomura, and he wouldn’t let anyone stand in the way of that.

Chapter Text

Katakuri stares at you, and a bad feeling begins to creep up. You look so sure of yourself, so confident that the men you named would come for you, and he couldn’t help but silently agree. He had seen the destruction that Shanks and Mihawk could bring, and his mother had brought it to their home. If he were a good son, and he was, Katakuri would go straight to Big Mom and tell her what was coming, shore up their defenses to hide you away to never see the light of day again. 

But, he can’t. Katakuri has never had a good example of love, especially with his family. He knew that his mother had never loved any of her husbands the way you obviously loved these two men. It is obvious with the way that you speak their names, laced with soft affection and a sureness of knowing that they would come for you. He knows then, that for the sake of his own family, he would have to go behind his mother’s back and give you back to them. 

“My mother never should have taken you,” He murmurs, and you look up at him in quiet surprise. 

You hadn’t expected him to say something like that, and you shift your weight, arms tightening about Sukuna. The cat begins to purr, but he doesn’t take his eyes off the giant man. He did not like this one, though he was glad that the other humans had left and he and his brother were out of sight of the disgusting female who sat on the cloud. She had put a fear into the cat that he had never felt before, and it had made him angry. 

His brother seemed content in this one’s presence, however, and Sukuna had found that Hank was a much better judge of character than he was, so maybe this one wasn’t so bad. He much preferred the other human men, though, and he hoped that they would get here soon. 

“No, she shouldn’t have,” you agree, and then shift so that you can sit down on the floor. Your belly makes it hard, but your feet ached, and you are tired of standing. It’s not like you were going anywhere anytime soon, anyhow. You tilt your head, eyeing Katakuri and the contemplative expression that he wears, “So what are you going to do about it?” 

He grumbles quietly to himself, crossing his arms over his massive chest. His family didn’t deserve the fate that would await them if Shanks and Mihawk showed up. The two of them would wipe the Charlotte family off the face of the planet, and nothing that his family could do would be able to stop those powerhouses. His mother had made a grave mistake in taking you, so he would fix it. 

Katakuri turns away from you, and back to the door. He had noticed your pregnant belly, and was sure that you were hungry, “I’ll be right back.” 

You watch the giant of a man leave, lips pursed to the side. When he is gone, you drop the brave face you are wearing and bury your face in Sukuna’s fluffy fur. Hank whines and pushes against you, sliding his big head under your arm, so you pull him close too. You were happy that Wiseman had allowed you to keep them with you, and their presence made the situation better, but you wished that none of this had happened in the first place. 

Truthfully, you couldn’t even find it in you to be mad at your boys anymore. The day that you were taken, you had told yourself that morning that you would call Mihawk again and ask them to come back home. You had told yourself that while you would never forget what Mihawk had a hand in, you could forgive him. The destruction of your home island had been over twenty years ago, and Mihawk had been a different person then. It wasn’t fair to keep him away when he has done nothing but take care of you the past few years. 

You had an idea in mind that it had been Shanks who had given away your island, and while you were terrified of having been taken, you weren’t upset with him. Despite how perfect the two men seemed to be, you knew that they were still human, and humans would always make mistakes. And if you were being honest with yourself, the trip to Whole Cake would have been fun if your circumstances were different. 

You’d seen so much while out on the sea. You had refused to interact with any of the crew, but they had allowed you to wander the ship and stay out on deck every now and then. Sukuna and Hank had stayed by your side the entire time, your cat swiping at any member of the crew who came too close to them. The cooks, who after finding out that you were pregnant, had provided you with all sorts of new and interesting food, and had been helpful in informing you about the nutritional side of it, too. 

You had absorbed the information, wanting to know everything you could get your hands on to properly be prepared for your child and the eventual birth. As if knowing that you were talking about her, the baby kicks wildly, and you grunt at the feeling. You glare down at your stomach, cursing both Shanks and Mihawk for doing this to you. 

Of course, you knew that unprotected sex led to children, but like everything that had happened to you the past couple of years, you hadn’t expected it to happen. You should have, but every time you had given any thought to the possibility, you’d shoved the thought away, not wanting to acknowledge it. 

“I know sweetheart, I miss them, too,” you murmur and smooth your hand over your stomach, and your baby kicks again. You can’t help but laugh when Sukuna is slightly dislodged by the next hit, and the cat turns to glare down at your stomach.

“We’ll be back with them before you come into this world, I’ll make sure of it,” you tell her because you don’t know if you would be able to do this all by yourself. You would need both Mihawk and Shanks there to welcome her, just in case you happened to not make it. 

It’s a morbid thought, but one you can’t help but have on occasion. You know that childbirth is dangerous, and for all that you have read and listened to Mihawk read aloud to you and Shanks, you can’t help but feel unprepared, and the feeling terrifies you. 

Your thoughts are interrupted when the door of the room creaks open and you look up to see Katakuri coming back inside the room. In one hand there is a plate of food that smells so good it makes your mouth water, and your stomach roars in interest. In the other hand is a snail transponder. You watch in interest as he sets the plate near you, and you can’t help but lean closer to get a good look. 

“Eat your fill, and then we’re going to make a call,” Katakuri tells you, and you eyed him suspiciously. The feeling of tentative hope begins to bloom in your chest and you scoot closer to the plate, picking at what you know you like and handing off scraps to Hank and Sukuna. You watched in fondness as your kids scarfed down everything you gave them. You sat the fluff ball down after you were finished and stood with a wince, your back protesting the movement. 

Katakuri sits across from you, and you can’t help but feel amused when you see the massive man sitting criss-cross, his hands resting on his knees while he watches you behind that scarf of his.    

“Done?” He asks, and when you nod, you get to witness just why his mouth curves up like it does. He pulls the scarf down, opens his mouth wide, and dumps the rest of what is left on the plate down his gullet. You watch wide-eyed as he chews a couple of times and then swallows. He shrugs when he sees you watching him, a blush staining his cheeks that you can’t help but giggle at. 

“Are all of your family named after food?” you ask him, and Katakuri dips his head in a nod, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Yes, our mother has a fondness for it,” He grumbles and eyes your stomach when you waddle around, arms stretched high over your head to try and relieve some tension in your back, “Have you thought of a name?” 

The question stalls you, and you drop your arms, looking down to stare at your pregnant belly. It’s a good question, and it makes an embarrassed flush light up your face. You’d been so busy wallowing the past few weeks without Mihawk or Shanks to keep you company, that other than focusing on your furry children, you never put much thought into a name for your actual child.

“...No.” 

Katakuri just shrugs, “Sometimes you don’t know until they are born. Mother makes it look easy.” 

You can’t help but snort. Of course, it would be easy for a woman like Big Mom, all she had to worry about was the possibility of repeating one of her many children’s names, “I’m sure that I will figure one out.” 

However, talking about this makes you miss your boys even more. It should be them that you were talking baby names about, not the son of the woman who kidnapped you. You swallow thickly and wrap your arms around yourself, smiling wetly down at Hank when the big lug crawls up to you with a low whine. Fuck. You miss them so much. 

Katakuri stares at the woman who was slated to be his wife and frowns, his decision to go behind his mother’s back cementing even further. He’d never wanted any children to begin with, he had plenty of siblings that he had helped his mother raise, so to him, it wasn’t that important for him to find a wife, never had been. Charlotte would be angry at him, but she would get over it. 

You jump when the transponder snail is sitting in front of you, and you look up at Katakuri in question. He gestures at it, “Call them.”

You turn wide eyes on Katakurti, heart in your throat, and voice nothing but a croak, “What?” 

Katakuri rolls his eyes and scoots the snail closer, repeating himself, “ Call them.”

----

Perona jumps when the snail transponder begins to ring. They have been sailing for the better part of two weeks now, getting closer and closer to Big Mom and Whole Cake. She stares at it for several seconds before she jumps up and answers. 

Ca-lick. 

“Mihawk?” 

Perona’s throat goes dry, eyes going wide at the sound of your voice. 

“_!?” 

She hears you suck in a sharp breath, and when you speak again, it sounds choked like you were holding back tears. 

“Perona? Is he there?”

The pink-haired girl is already striding to the deck of the ship, snail clutched tightly in her hand, “I’m finding him now. Gods, are you okay? They’ve not hurt you have they?” 

She hears you sniff on the other side of the phone and then the sound of a yowling cat, Sukuna having heard the familiar voice of his second favorite human and letting her know how displeased her was.

“No, I’m okay. I’ve been with Katakuri the entire time, and he’s been nice so far. I can hear the ocean, where are you?”

Perona scoffs, skidding to a stop beside Mihawk, and holding the transponder snail out to him, “On our way to you, silly!” 

Mihawk whips around, hand snatching the snail out of her daughter’s hand and cradling it closer, ringed eyes taking in the basic features of your face that the snail forms, “Angel?” 

He hears you burst into tears on the other side of the call, and a fond smile tugs at the corner of his lips. Mihawk had missed the sound of your voice, even if it was thick with sobbing. 

“I’m here, please, please tell me that you are on the way. Is Shanks there?” 

Mihawk purses his lips, heart thruming with irritation at the redhead for half a second before he pushes it away, “No, dear one, he isn’t. We decided to travel apart to cover a large search area. How are you, both of you?” 

He listens to you sniff and cry for a second longer, and then your voice breaks through once more. 

“We’re both okay. Suku and Hank have kept me safe. Are you okay? You sound better than the last time we spoke.” 

Mihawk grimaces at the reminder. He and Shanks had been in a drunken stupor for days and were still under the influence when you had called the last time, “I’m fine, darling. You shouldn’t worry yourself, over me. Where are you?” 

The snail morphs into a masculine face then, and Mihawk can’t help but glare down at it. He could recognize the purple hair and dark eyes as one of Big Mom’s sons. Rage threatens to consume the warlord, knowing that you were with them, but he pushes it down for now. You had told him that you were doing okay, so that meant they had not hurt you or the child growing inside. Mihawk would teach them the meaning of destruction if you had been. 

“Whole Cake, but we plan to travel back to my home tomorrow. It’s on the eastern side of the archipelago.” 

Mihawk sneers, “And why are you telling me this?” 

There is a scoff on the other side, and he watches the snail roll its eyes at him. 

“Because I’m giving _ back to you. Mother should have known better than to take her in the first place, and I’ve seen what you and Shanks are capable of. I’m saving my family.” 

The warlord can’t help the dry laugh that escapes him, “Charlotte was a fool to have thought that her actions would not have consequences. You are doing the right thing by giving _ back to us. At least one of you has some kind of intelligence.” 

The snail gains your features again, your tone amused but admonishing. 

“Be nice, Mihawk.” 

He listens to you and asks Katakuri the name of his home, and then you are back. 

“The island is called Komugi. It’ll have a big donut in the center of it.” 

Mihawk nods, committing the location and name to memory, “I’ll be there, darling. Perona and I are only a couple of days out.” 

“Please hurry, Mihawk. I miss you.” 

His heart aches in his chest, and Dracule wants more than anything to be able to wrap you up in his arms and hold you close. To hide you away and never leave your side, so that this could never happen again, “We’ll be there as soon as we can, sweetheart.”

He hears you sniff again, and then your voice is quiet but strong. 

“And Mihawk, please don’t be too upset with Shanks. None of us are perfect, and I’m sure he is beating himself up enough without you tearing him down.” 

Mihawk sighs heavily and looks out into the sea. He had already begun to regret how he had reacted to the news back on your island. You and Perona were right. 

“I will beg his forgiveness just like I will beg yours, darling. I’ll call Shanks and tell him to meet us at Komugi. Be strong for us, darling. I’ll see you soon.”

He listens to you give a teary goodbye and the snail transponder clicks once the call is ended. Mihawk dreads having to call the redhead, but if he didn’t, he knew that Shanks would go straight to Sweet City and raze the entire island to the ground. The emperor had always been rash when it came to the people he loved. 

“Do you really think she is okay?” Perona asks him, and Mihawk dips his head in a nod, opening his arm to the ghost girl so she can tuck herself close to him. He had learned from you that sometimes a person just needed a little physical contact to feel better. You would be proud of him, he thinks. 

“She would have told us if they weren’t treating her well, and I find myself… trusting Katakuri to keep his word.”

Perona pouts but nods, “They better. I’ll throw ‘em all in the ocean myself if they aren’t.” 

Hawkeye huffs a laugh and then releases his charge, turning away to go below deck. He still needed to phone Shanks. 

---

Shanks can see the archipelago that makes up Whole Cake on the horizon. They sailed hard and quickly, taking shortcuts and catching updrafts only he knew about to get to Big Mom’s territory as fast as possible. Shanks and his crew were ready for anything that the woman could possibly throw at them, for he had let that rage build and grow inside of him, his haki lashing out uncontrollably.

Not only had you been taken, but Mihawk had taken his heart and crushed it with no remorse. Shanks didn’t like it, but he couldn’t help but resent the other man for it at first. He had worked so hard to get the older man to trust him, and one tiny mistake on his part had led to Mihawk throwing his love for him in his face and raised his sword in anger at the redhead. Shanks understood that what he’d done had cost them you, but he hadn’t been the one who had made their treasure send them away. That blame lay at the hawk’s feet. 

So yeah, he was pissed right the fuck off, and had let his anger fester when he would normally let it slide away. He had wept and raged and drank in his cabin for the better part of the trip, and had only stopped when Neal, the damned goat, had tried to bite his fingers when he’d reached for the next bottle of rum. They had glared at one another before Shanks had scoffed and fell back in his bed to sleep the rest of the day away. 

Shanks’ anger had tempered in that time, but the more he was forced into being sober, the more he felt those feelings of resentment had faded into hurt. He had already beaten himself into the ground over his fat mouth in the first place and had hoped that Mihawk would have been a bit more understanding, but he should have known better. 

“Shanks,” Benn says quietly, and he turns to see his first mate standing behind him with the transponder snail in hand. It looks at him with familiar golden eyes, and he purses his lips, tempted to ignore the older man, but Benn puts that thought to the ground, “It’s about _.” 

The emperor sucks in a sharp breath and snatches the snail out of the other man’s hand, and beats a hasty retreat to his quarters. Once safely inside, he sets the snail on his desk and plops in his chair, “Mihawk.” 

“Shanks. Where are you?” 

The redhead frowns, leaning back in his seat, “Why?” 

He hears the warlord sigh in frustration, and can’t help the smarmy smirk that crosses his lips. Good, be mad.

“Because I know where _ is and I am still a few days away from Whole Cake.” 

Shanks drops the act at that and sits forward, eyes going wide, “What? How do you know?” 

“She called me. They planned to marry her off to Katakuri, one of Linlin’s son but he understood how ignorant that would be and decided to let her call me. They plan on traveling to his home island tomorrow. So where are you?” 

“We’re just out of range of any of their ships, but I can see the archipelago.” 

Mihawk huffs again on the other side, and Shanks watches the snail narrow its eyes at the redhead. 

“Then start sailing east, and I will meet you there.” 

If this hadn’t been about you, then Shanks would have snapped and been difficult about the obvious order, so ignored the urge. He is about to agree and just hangs up the phone, but Mihawk’s next words stop him in his tracks. 

“I’m sorry, Red. I should not have reacted the way I did. I was angry, and worried about _, but I should not have taken it out on you. You didn’t deserve that.” 

Shanks isn’t sure what to say at first. It was like pulling teeth to get an apology out of the warlord, so he knew that you had to have something to do with this. But even if you had been involved with this, he could hear the quiet sincerity in the other man’s voice, and it made Shanks ache with the need to see him. 

“I-.”

“I love you, Shanks. I don’t want you to think that I don’t.”

Unbidden, tears spring up in the redhead’s eyes, and he smooths a hand over his mouth. He blinks harshly to clear them away, heart in his throat, “I love you, too.” 

He can hear the relieved sigh on the other side, and the warlord is back to his usual drawl seconds later. 

“I will meet you there by the end of tomorrow. Wait for me, Shanks. We will get _ back together.” 

Shanks swallows roughly and scrubs at his face, voice still thick with unshed tears, “Okay, Hawkeye. We’ll wait for you. Be safe, yeah?” 

The other man huffs on the other side. 

“I should be telling you that, Red. I’ll see you soon.” 

Ca-lick

Shanks curls into himself the moment the transmission is cut, hope and relief flooding his veins and he finally allows the tears to fall. His shoulders shake, and a broken whine leaves his lips as all the rage and resentment floods out of him. His family was slowly beginning to mend itself, all they needed was you, and everything would be okay again. 

The emperor pulls himself together and drys his eyes with the back of his hand. His crew would know that he’d been crying, but the redhead can’t find it within himself to care. Shanks stands and ambles back out on deck dropping his hand on Neal’s head when he walks past the goat. 

“Sail us east, Yasopp. We’re meeting up with Mihawk,” he orders, and Benn lopes up beside him, his brows raised and an unlit cigarette hanging from between his lips. 

“Good news?” 

Shanks nods, and angles a smile at his first mate, “Good news.”

Chapter Text

As promised, you and Katakuri travel back to his island first thing in the morning. It’s just the two of you and part of his crew, but the trip doesn’t take too long. You can’t help but feel relieved to get off the main island, Sweet City, you were informed, and away from Big Mom, herself. The woman had sneered and salivated during the short amount of time that you had to be in her presence this morning. The emperor truly disgusted you and the further away from her you could get, the better. 

Komugi Island is interesting to say the least. You didn’t think that the doughnut Katakuri told you about would be quite so big, but it was definitely its most distinguishable feature. The two of you had made small talk during the trip, keeping the conversation light and not too deep since, hopefully, you would be reunited with your boys by the end of the day. 

Once on shore, you ask him if it would be okay if you could stay outside to wait for Shanks and Mihawk. The beach reminded you of your little island, and Hank was having fun running and rolling around in the sand. Sukuna had elected to stay in your arms, but you didn’t mind. Katakuri had shrugged and told you to do what you wanted, and he would be on the lookout for the Red Force . That had been hours ago. 

You lay on the sandy beach, and try to put together just how long it’s been since you’ve seen either of your boys. You know it’s been more than a month. Just the trip from your island to Whole Cake had taken forever it seemed, and that wasn’t counting the weeks after you had sent them both away. You frown and rub your swollen belly, staring down at the bumb that seems to grow bigger and bigger every day. 

It’s harder for you to walk now, and you tire far easier than you used to. You think that you were around the 28 weeks mark when you had told them to leave, so maybe… 34 weeks now? The thought makes you freeze in the sand, eyes going wide as you stare down at yourself. Fuck . You could give birth in the next couple of weeks. 

The books that you’ve read said that the average pregnancy lasts from 38 to 40 weeks, any earlier than that and the baby would be considered premature. You swallow harshly and curl your legs up to your belly as best you could. You’d never wanted the feel of their arms or the heat of their body more than in that moment. Even with Sukuna and Hank by your side, you’ve never felt more alone. 

“Please, please get here soon. I need you,” you whisper to yourself, and close your eyes, begging the sea and the wind to bring Shanks and Mihawk back to you. 

----

The sun is setting by the time Yasopp spots Mihawk’s little ship coming in on the port-side of the Red Force. Shanks is there to greet both of them when they climb up the ladder, smiling at Perona and laughing when she sniffs at him and then floats away, content to do her own thing. There is an awkward lull between the two men when they come face to face, but Mihawk barrels over it when he grabs the redhead by the arm and drags him past his crew and to his quarters where the warlord shuts and locks the door behind them. 

Shanks stares at the other man, grunting when Mihawk strides forward and grabs him by the face. They stare at one another, each one taking the other in. 

Mihawk’s usually impeccable facial hair is overgrown, hair covering his cheeks and making his beard thicker than usual. There are heavy bags under his eyes, and the normally put-together man just looks tired. Shanks doesn't fare much better. His scruff is thick and unruly, making him look more like a scallywag and less like a beach bum. His red hair is lank, flat atop his head instead, and Mihawk smooths one hand up from his cheek to push his hand through that red hair, pushing it away from the other man's face. 

“You let yourself go,” Mihawk murmurs, and Shanks gives him a helpless shrug, a world-weary smirk painting his lips. 

“I could tell you the same.” 

Dracule rolls his eyes, and then he is stepping into the redhead’s space, slotting against Shanks like he has always belonged there. The emperor raises his hand, and settles it around the warlord's hip, tugging him closer and tilting his head so that it rests in the crook of the other man's neck. Mihawk winds his arms around him, holding the redhead close and finally feeling himself relax after that awful day when you called. 

“I'm sorry, Mihawk. I'm so sorry any of this ever happened. It's all my fault,” Shanks whispers, tone thick with emotions, and Mihawk just holds him tighter like he should have back on your island, “I'm nothing but a fool, and irresponsible, but I can't lose you, either of you. I'll beg for the rest of my life for your forgiveness if I have to, but I won't leave.” 

Mihawk curls his hand around the base of Shanks’ neck, lips turned down in a frown as he shakes his head, “The fault lies with both of us. She sent us away because I was too much of a coward to tell her the truth about our past. She was taken because you were too scared to tell me about your blunder. Why didn't you tell me?” 

The redhead buries himself closer to Mihawk, seeking the familiar warmth that he had missed like the grass missed the rain, “It's like you said. I was terrified that you would hate me for it. That you and _ both would hate me, and I would never see either of you again. Everything was just going so well, and eventually I just… forgot I even messed up in the first place.” 

Mihawk tightens his grip on the other man, needing to get what he was about to say across to Shanks. 

“Both of us have to stop keeping important things quiet. _ has always been open with us, and it is a dishonor to her if we keep it up. No more secrets. No more hiding away from fear of rejection. Nothing.” 

Shanks nods, eyes clenched shut as he holds his lover as tightly as he can against him, “No more secrets.” 

A tension seems to bleed out after that, and the embrace they share becomes softer. Mihawk threads his hand through red hair and tips Shanks up and away from the crook of his shoulder. He leans in, lips meeting the other man’s and sighing in delight when Shanks offers himself up immediately to the kiss. It's been so long, that they take their time, exploring and familiarizing each other like a set of new lovers. 

Before the exchange can become too heated, for the two men had fallen back into Shanks' chair, the warlord perched in his lap, thighs pressed tight to one another's, Mihawk pulls away to rest his brow against the redheads, “We should clean up. I don't want our treasure to see us like this.” 

Shanks smiles, one easy and agreeing, then tilts his head to the side, eyes darkening with arousal, “Shower with me?”

Mihawk can't help rolling his eyes skyward, but he still stands and waits for Shanks to lead the way to the bathroom. They strip each other, the warlord making quick work of his lover's shirt, pushing it from broad shoulders and dropping it to the floor. His coat and shirt followed and then Dracule hooks his thumbs into the elastic of the redhead’s pants and pulls them down. Shanks plucks at the string that holds his lover’s trousers, lips curling into a smile when they fall and bunch around the warlord’s feet. 

The water is hot and soothing when they step in, and Mihawk can’t help but think back to the night back on Gloom, the heat of Shanks’ mouth around his cock, and the feel of his blunt nails digging into his thigh. But now wasn’t the time to think about things like that, not when you were so close yet so far away. They would get you back and then escape to your island where they would stay and rebuild your home from the ground up. They would never leave you alone again. 

Shanks lathers up a rag and begins to scrub his lover’s back, swiping it up his spine and then gently over his shoulders, cleaning away days old sweat. Mihawk takes over after a while, telling Shanks to turn around so that he can clean his front, rubbing the soap into that tan skin until he smells less like a bar and more like the man Mihawk loved. 

They trim and manicure their facial hair and then dress in clean clothes once they are done, both feeling far better than they have in the past couple of weeks. Mihawk dons his hat, and Shaks pulls his cloak over his shoulders before he steps forward and draws the other man in for a swift kiss. 

“Ready?” 

The warlord nods as he fixes his coat, “Let us go.” 

Once topside, they noticed Perona, red-faced yelling at someone over a snail transponder. Brow furrowing, Mihawk stalked forward, Shanks trailing behind him. 

“You’re too late, Tomura. We’re already at Whole Cake, and we are supposed to get her soon.” 

“What? How? I don’t see Big Mom giving my sister up so easily.” 

The snail transponder is yanked out of her hand, and Mihawk glares down at it, “One of the Charlotte sons allowed _ to contact us. He is handing her over to save his family, I think it would be best if you left this to us, Vice Admiral.” 

Tomura snarls wordlessly over the call, and Shanks can’t help but smirk at the sound of the navy man’s frustration. 

“Fine. I’ll be waiting back at the island then, you better make sure my sister stays safe.” 

Ca-lick 

Mihawk huffs and drops the snail back into his daughter’s waiting hand, “What an unpleasant man.” 

Shanks snickers beside him, before he sobers up and focuses on the island in front of them. Spotlights shine this way and that, highlighting the giant food that towers over the building that he can spot further inland. It’s a sight to behold, but the pirates aren’t there to awe over the giant sweets. No, they are here to get you.

The snail begins to ring again, and the two men stare down at the transponder when it morphs into the now familiar visage of Big Mom’s son, Katakuri. 

Ca-lick

“Come to the southern shore. I’ll meet you at my personal bay.”  

----

You jump when Katakuri makes his presence known when he clears his throat. You are still on the beach, your clothes, given to you by him from one of his many sisters, are full of sand, so you dust yourself off and then give him your attention. Hank stands close by, a silent, furry pillar of support that you eagerly tangle your fingers into. Sukuna lays across your shoulders, tail lashing back and forth as he stares at Katakuri with annoyed golden eyes. 

“They’re here,” He murmurs and nods his head out towards the black sea. You squint, but your eyes aren’t good enough to see much of anything this late in the evening. Regardless, you still feel excitement bubbling up in your chest, happy tears coming to your eyes, and you have to bite your bottom lip to stop yourself from whimpering like a child. However, despite the joy you felt, you couldn’t help the sudden nerves that threatened to overwhelm everything else. 

Katakuri stared down at you. You’d told him a little of what happened between the three of you, he was a better listener than a talker, after all, so he could understand the hesitation that seemed to surround you. Feeling uncharacteristically kind, he crouched down and reached forward, weary of the two guards who glared at him. He gently patted the top of your head like he would do for one of his siblings when they were upset.

“They will be happy to see you.” 

You can’t help but send him a grateful smile, eyes wet as you reach up to squeeze one of his fingers, “I know, and I’m excited to see them. I’m just nervous. It’s been so long.” 

Katakuri pulled away and then offered you his hand to sit on like he had the other day, and once you were comfortable and surrounded by your animals, he began to walk along the beach, “Do not worry. It will be fine.” 

The trip to his personal docking bay doesn’t take long, but it feels like it takes a lifetime to you. You are so nervous to see your boys again, but the thought of being able to hold them close, to be able to kiss them and feel their hands on you again, makes it a little better. You hope that Mihawk had taken what you’d told him to heart and hadn’t been too hard on Shanks over you being taken. You don’t think you would have it in you to mitigate anything between them right now. 

The closer the two of you got to the docks, the better you could see the approaching ship. The Red Force was dwarfed by Katakuri’s personal ship, but it still cut a striking figure as it sailed closer. You were practically vibrating in place once you were sat on your own two feet, and Hank whines beside you, pacing back and forth when he recognizes the ship. You can see three silhouettes standing at the bow, one with an achingly familiar hat that makes your heart clench in relief. 

Neither Shanks or Mihawk wait for the crew to finish tying the ship off. Once they are close enough, they simply flash to the docks with a burst of haki, wanting to get to their treasure as quickly as possible. You start waddling as fast as you can to meet them, and then finally , you are surrounded by your boys. 

They wrap themselves around you, Shanks pressed against your back so that he can wrap his arm around your belly. Mihawk’s arms wind around both of you, holding you tight to his chest as you press your face against his olive skin. You can feel tears soaking your hair from Shanks, but Mihawk doesn’t cry like his two lovers. Instead, he begins to whisper sweet nothings, his lips pressed against your temple. 

“Don’t ever let me tell you two to leave again,” you sob against the warlord’s chest. One of your hands clutched his coat, and the other wraped around Shanks’ wrist, needing to anchor yourself in their presence, “I don’t care how upset I am. I don’t ever want to be alone like that again. I’m so sorry.” 

Mihawk huffs and Shanks lets out a wet laugh, “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, Treasure. We’re the ones who are supposed to be apologizing.” 

You shake your head, uncaring, “I don’t care about what happened anymore. I’m just glad you’re here.”

Mihawk and Shanks let it go, for now, they would sit you down and the three of you would have a long talk about this later. You look up at them, eyes wet but happy, “Can we get out of here, please?”  

The dock creaks when Katakuri steps over to their little ground, and they look up when the giant of a man begins to talk.

“That would be best. I wouldn't be surprised if someone has already told my mother of your presence. You should hurry.” 

Not wanting to leave your side, but needing to, Shanks presses a kiss to the top of your head and heads back over to his ship, ordering his men to get the ship untethered so that they could get out of here. Katakuri was most likely right, so if they didn't hurry, Big Mom would send her own ships out to greet them on the open sea. Hank bounds after him, elated to see his second favorite human, and Sukuna steps between his human and the male who had saved him, rubbing himself against Mihawk’s legs before giving the warlord a look that screamed why did it take you so long to get here? 

You stop yourself from following after your boys, tugging at Dracule's hand when he goes to lead you away. You look up at Katakuri and gesture for him to come closer. Curious, he bends down, and you lean close so that you can press your lips to his cheek before you pull away with a grateful smile. 

“Thank you for keeping me safe, Katakuri. Maybe we'll meet again under better terms.” 

You watch as he blushes, and his lips turn up in a bemused smile as he rises back up, “Maybe one day.” 

You scoop Sukuna up in your arms and then allow Mihawk to escort you down the dock where the Red Force and its captain wait. They help you up the rope ladder, and despite your winded state once you get on deck, that doesn't stop the delighted smile that paints your face when the crew erupts in cheer at seeing you. Perona is at your side in a heartbeat, pulling you in for a careful hug and burrowing her tear-stained face into your shoulder. 

Shanks begins to shout orders to get the ship underway, and once Perona pulls away, she and Mihawk lead you to the captain’s quarters. You assure them both that you are okay, but Mihawk isn't satisfied until he can get his hands on you after his daughter has made sure you are okay for herself. He kneels in front of you, taking you in, golden eyes flickering everywhere like he doesn't know what to look at first. 

Overall, his angel looks tired. Bags under your eyes and hair swept up in a bun that hangs lank at the back of your head. Your eyes are bloodshot, most likely from all the crying that you have done, but Mihawk still thinks that you are the most beautiful creature he's ever laid eyes on. He holds your face like he had held Shanks earlier, then leans forward to press his brow against your own. 

“Mihawk,” you whisper, and he opens his eyes to meet your own. This might not be the best time, but you can't hold it in any longer. Not when you know that life can change in the blink of an eye, “ I love you.” 

The warlord feels his heart pound in his chest. He’s known for a while now that you loved him, you had to because he was sure that you felt the same thing that he did for you, but hearing it was something else entirely. A sureness settled over his shoulders, and neither of you heard the door shutting behind Mihawk when he murmured. 

“I love you, too.”

Chapter Text

“I guess all it takes for you to admit your feelings is a life-threatening situation, huh, Mihawk,” Shanks teases, and Mihawk turns to glare over his shoulder at the redhead. You can’t help but laugh, finally feeling at ease with your boys after the admission of love and the easy way that Shanks poked fun at the other man. 

“Be quiet, Red,” Mihawk grumbled and then focused back on you. You can see the amusement that dances in his ringed gaze, “We’re having a moment.” 

Shanks scoffs, lips pulling up in a pout, “Ugh, can’t even wait for me. So selfish. I’m a part of this too, Hawkeye.” 

Mihawk rolls his eyes, “Do you hear anything, love? Because I don’t.”

You laugh again, cheeks hurting from how widely you are smiling. It felt wonderful to be surrounded by them again. You had missed their scathy attitudes and harness banter. You reach out, winding your arms around Mihawk’s neck, and pull him in for a much-needed kiss, lips moving against his own as you sag against the warlord. You feel Shanks slide up behind you, hooking his chin over your shoulder as he presses his lips to your neck, peppering your flesh with little kitten kisses that make you shiver. 

“I love you, too, Shanks,” You assure the redhead when Mihawk allows you up from the kiss. You lean back to rest your weight against the man behind you, sighing in relief when the distribution of weight makes your feet ache less. You look down when a hand curls around your stomach, heart softening at the sight. 

“How’s snowflake?” Shanks asks quietly, and you can’t help but huff at the nickname. 

“She’s doing good. Won’t be much longer until we get to meet her.” 

Both men catch on to your pronoun usage and share a look over your head. Mihawk had already heard this from you before, but Shanks hadn’t. The redhead turns you around with a careful hand and then drops to his knees, pressing his cheek to your stomach and grinning when he is kicked in the face for his troubles, “Well, she’s strong already, just like her daddies.” 

You smile, hand dropping down to thread your fingers through his hair, gently tugging the strands this way and that as you play with them. Mihawk wraps his arms around your middle, long fingers spread wide on either side of your stomach. He can’t help but the tiny smile that curls his lips when he feels the movement inside. 

“We need to find you a reliable doctor, darling. Nothing but the best for you,” He murmurs. They’ve talked about this before, and giving birth to your child had been the only thing that would have gotten you off your island, “How far along do you think you are?” 

You shiver when Shanks rusks your shirt up, pressing kisses to the underside of your stomach, and your grip tightens warningly in his hair. As much as you wanted your boys to lavish you with attention, you’ve had a very long, very stressful month away from your home and even longer away from them. You wanted a scalding shower and then to lay down with them wrapped around you. 

“Around 34 weeks, I think? Like I said, it won’t be much longer.” 

Shanks and Mihawk share another look, the redhead’s eyes wide as he slowly pulls away, though he keeps his hand tucked close, “Then we should hurry. Crocus will be able to take care of you.”

Mihawk frowns and licks his lips in thought, “He is at the very beginning of the Grand Line. Do you think you could get us there in time?” 

It’d taken Shanks three weeks and some odd days to make it from your island to Whole Cake, and that had been with him taking shortcuts. Mihawk didn’t think it would be possible for them to get to the lighthouse keeper before it was time for you to give birth. They could contact the Straw Hats, but neither man was ready to see Zoro or Luffy right now, nor did Mihawk think that the little raccoon dog had enough experience to help them. They could contact Marco the Phoenix, but last they heard, the man had holed himself off on Sphinx Island, but that was at least closer than Crocus. 

“Marco?” Shanks suggests. He would trust the other man with his most valuable treasure, and trust him to keep his mouth shut about why they needed him. No one needed to know that Shanks now had two weaknesses out there. The same could be said for the warlord. 

Mihawk purses his lips. He didn’t have as much experience with the other man, but they didn’t have a lot of options right now, “He’ll do.” 

You grunt suddenly, brows furrowing when you are kicked in the spleen, and decide that you are ready for your shower now, thank you very much. 

“I want it steaming,” you demand after they have detached themselves from you, and Shanks has left to go start the shower for you. The redhead sends you a lazy salute, a grin on his lips as he lopes away to do as you ask. Mihawk reaches for your shirt, carefully pulling the bright garment off your head and tossing it behind him. His eyes rake over your exposed front once you are bare to him, and his hand finds one of your perky breasts, cupping it gently and smoothing his thumb over a perked nipple. 

You hiss at the feeling, heat pooling between your legs, and Mihawk gives you a playful smirk before he does it again. Your toes curl in your socks, knees feeling like jelly just from the simple touch. 

“So sensitive, from the pregnancy, no doubt,” He murmurs and raises his other hand to cup your free breast, gently pushing against your nipple. Your hands find his shirt, teeth bared in pleasure as you grip the fabric tightly, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. You jump when you feel lips pressed against the middle of your back, and then a hot tongue laving at the thin skin just below your ear, and know that Shanks has come back from the bathroom. 

“ Boys,” you whine quietly, and have to bite your lip to keep yourself from making any more embarrassing sounds, “Please.” 

Shanks grins against your throat, hand dipping low to dance his fingertips just above the panties you still wear, “Please what, baby? Please stop. Or please keep going?” 

He knows what he’d like to do. He wants you on your back, legs spread so that he could bury his face in your cunt and show you just how much he’d missed you. Mihawk is having similar thoughts, though he wants to see you atop him, hovering over him with his cock buried inside your pussy as you seek pleasure from him. 

You curse them both softly, bottom lip throbbing from how harshly you have bitten it, and crack your eyes open to meet molten golden eyes that are watching your every move. He gives you a small, teasing grin, tilting his head to the side with a soft hum. His thumbs massage your breasts, pressing and dragging along your nipples, and his voice is husky when he speaks, “Use your words, dear one. You must tell us what you want.” 

KA-BOOM!

The moment is shattered by the sound of cannon fire, and it is a good thing that you were stuck between the two men, or you would have fallen to the floor. Their haki spills forth, lashing and whipping like a hurricane, but you have never been safer sandwiched between them. Shanks pulls away, grabbing up your shirt and Mihawk takes it from him to slide it over your shoulders. 

“I’ll stay here, you go and find out who’s attacking us,” Mihawk orders and the redhead disappears after giving both of his treasures a quick kiss. You watch him leave, your heart in your chest as you look back at Mihawk. 

“It’s Big Mom, isn’t it?” 

The warlord leads you over to a chair and sits you down, kneeling in front of your chair, “Most likely, love. Shanks will deal with them, so do not worry.” 

You smile at your lover and take the hand that he offers you, “I know he will. I know that you’ll keep me safe, too.” 

Behind them, the door is ripped open and Perona comes stumbling in, Hank and Sukuna trailing behind her. Hank whines and drops low when another cannon goes off, crawling forward so that he lays under your chair. Sukuna takes up the spot in your lap, glaring at the warlord until Mihawk huffs and rises from his crouch. 

“Shanks looked pissed ,” Perona comments and throws herself into a free chair. She had passed the redhead on the way to the captain’s quarters and had spotted the murderous look on his face. 

The warlord huffs a laugh and shares a look with you, “I’m sure he is.” 

Topside, Shanks glared at the approaching ships. There were three of them, all gaudy with bright colors and big sails. They obviously came from Big Mom, the woman most likely furious after finding out that he and Mihawk had found you, and he wondered which one of her children had cried wolf to her over Katakuri’s actions. 

“Yasoop, take out their main sails,” Shanks ordered his second mate, and the Red Force shook in answer. The captain watched in vicious satisfaction as a single cannonball sailed through the air and hit the main sail’s mast on the ship to the right. It tilted dangerously and then fell, hitting the foremast and causing the massive sails to fold into one another. The ship veered to the right and hit the vessel next to it, puncturing the stern and causing water to flood the inside of the second ship.

A tailwind catches the last ship and launches it forward, bringing it close enough to the Red Force that Shanks could see the terrified looks on the pirates faces when they realized who they had chased after. Shanks unleashes his haki, flaring it to the point that places on his own ship splintered and cracked as he step forward. The redhead stands on the railing at the bow, and once the other vessel is close enough, Shanks launches himself forward, sword drawn and intent to kill. 

Big Mom’s ship crumbles under his will, wood splintering, and the pirates hit the deck with a dazed look upon their faces. Shanks arches his sword up, and it comes crashing down with a boom, severing the vessel in half like a hot knife through butter. He listens to the pirates scream and plead, but it all falls on deaf ears. They had signed their death warrant the second they thought that they could even try and take you away from him. 

Once the commotion seems to have died down, Mihawk leads the way up to the deck, and you take in the destruction with wide eyes. You’d yet to see what your boys could do with the power that practically bleeds from them, but it was still more than you expected. You find yourself blushing, and shift your weight, not having expected that the sight of their strength would turn you on so much. 

You shove the feeling down for now and look around for your redheaded lover, and laugh when you find him standing in the very tip of the stern of the sinking ship, hand wrapped around the hilt of his sword and a smug look painting his face. Benn swings the Red Force closer to the wreckage and Shanks leaps up and back on the deck, loping over to you and sweeping you up for a kiss that takes your breath away. 

“Took care of ‘em,” Shanks says, and then notices the way your face is still flushed with arousal. He grins down at you like the pirate he is and then looks up to meet Mihawk’s gaze, winking at the other man as he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you close to his side. He cuts his eyes at Benn, and his first mates nod at him. 

“I'll get us out of here, Captain,” Benn assures him and then you are shuffled back down below deck, Mihawk following close behind the two of you. Once behind closed doors, Shanks pulls you to the bed where he snags your waistband and tugs your pants down, gently pushing you back on the bed after he drops them to the floor. You look at him with wide, desire-filled eyes, lip wrapped between your teeth in anticipation. 

You watch as Mihawk toes off his boots and coat before he climbs behind you on the bed, those golden eyes molten and heavy as he stares down at you. He pulls you further up the bed, your back resting against his chest as Shanks shuffles forward until your legs drape over his shoulders. You shiver when he smooths his hand up your exposed tight, leaning forward to press a kiss to your sensitive flesh, a smirk on his lips as he flicks his eyes up at you.

“Let me make you feel good, sweetheart. I saw that look in your eyes on deck. Didn't think you would like that kinda thing.” 

You flush and look away from Shanks, but a hand on your cheek turns you back to face the redhead. Mihawk strokes his thumb along your jaw, blunt nails gently scraping against your skin. 

“Well… it's new to me, too,” you mutter and feel their warlord chuckle behind you. 

“Nothing wrong with that, love. Red is quite striking when he wants to be,” Dracule rumbles and you give a distracted nod, eyes already eating up the way Shanks leans in to kiss up your thighs, tongue darting out to delve under the seam of your panties. He trails kisses up the fabric, humming when he notices the damp patch that only grows larger the longer he continues his teasing. 

Shanks slips his thumb under the elastic, tugging it lightly until you lift your hips and he can slip them off of you, and he grins when your cunt is finally exposed to him. You suck in a sharp breath when Mihawk gathers your arms and slides them up and around his neck, urging you to lock your fingers together. His hands delve under your shirt, one hand splaying over your stomach and the other cupping a swollen breast, fingers tweaking a peaked nipple. 

A soft curse falls from your lips at the touch, and you can't help but shift your hips, feeling greedy for the touch of both of your lovers after so long apart. You had tried once to pleasure yourself while they'd been gone, but you had gotten so frustrated when you couldn't because your touch wasn't near as good as theirs. You'd lain there, tears streaming down your face and stomach cramping with arousal for a long time, missing your boys. 

Your despondent thoughts are cut off when Shanks leans forward and licks between your folds, a gasp tearing from your throat and your eyes snapping down to watch the redhead. Shanks groans, eyes shuttering at finally being able to taste you again after so long. He licks up your cunt again, pushing forward to bury his face between your legs, lips kissing and sucks your folds and up to your clit until you are a whining mess. Your legs clench around his head, dragging Shanks even closer and he lifts his arm to wrap around your thigh, keeping you still when your hips jump. 

Mihawk watches with heavy eyes, his cock hard and aching in his pants. He wants to feel your cold hands wrap around his length, feel your mouth swallow him down until you're choking and teary eyed, but that would have to wait. Right now all of this was for you. You'd been alone so long, had become so spoiled from their touch and attention that you had to be pent up, and he wasn't wrong. You changed their names like a mantra, moans and huffs spilling from between your lips like the most lovely song. The warlord couldn't get enough. 

It doesn't take much more before you are wailing in their arms, pussy fluttering and coating Shanks’ face in slick as you come on his tongue. Your voice is rough, curses and hisses falling from your lips when Shanks snakes his hand between your legs, thumb dragging along your folds and pushing them apart so that he can drink you down like a man lost in the desert. He keeps going, tongue sliding through the cream that coats your folds and up to your clit when he gently teases the throbbing bud with the tip of his tongue. 

“ Shanks- honey, please,” you whine and jerk your arms, but Mihawk keeps them pinned with ease, a mean smile on his lips as he leans forward to press them against your neck. 

“What's wrong, darling?” He coos softly, and pinches your nipple, delighted by the sound that you make, “Is it too much?” 

You jerk your head in a nod, lips raw from being bitten, head feeling heavy with endorphins as you try to weakly shift away from Shanks. The redhead isn't stopping though, not until he had his fill. 

He shifts his hand, his index finger circling your entrance before gently pressing inside and groaning at the soft heat that clenches around it. Shanks wants to bury his cock inside you and never leave, wants to feel you pulse and shiver around him while he fills you up with his seed. The sight of you rounded with their child already ignited a need so great that Shanks thought it might ruin him, and he thinks he would keep you this way if he could. 

Mihawk strokes his hand over your stomach, up to the other breast when he pinches and rolls both of your nipples between his fingers, mouth leaving behind open-mouth kisses along your neck. His voice is airy, full of want and devotion when he speaks. 

“You'll never send us away again, right, angel? We're everything that you will ever need, no one else will ever make you feel the way we do.” 

You nod wildly, eyes filling with tears as their touch doesn't let up. Your cunt feels over-sensitive and raw, folds puffy from Shanks’ stubble and the way he delves two of his fingers into you over and over. The pace is maddening, the feel of his tongue stroking your clit too much, the rough pads of Mihawk’s fingers on your nipples electrifying. 

“N-never again. Can't live without you,” you stumble through your words, vision going blurry as tears spill down your cheeks. You are overwhelmed with pleasure and the knowledge that you are surrounded by your boys, and it's seconds later that you come undone for the second time, clenching around Shanks’ fingers and coming with a tired whine. 

Mind blank, you feel yourself being released and then positioned to lay down on the bed, and then two warm bodies shifting to lay on either side of you in the too-small bed. You snuggle up to the closest chest, and Shanks snickers when you bury your face against him. Mihawk tosses his arm across both of you, hand on the redhead's hip and keeping you trapped between them. You feel content and jelly-legged for the first time in over a month, so relaxed that it doesn't take long for you to pass out with a sleepy I love you . 

The two men share a look over your head, and both quietly agree that after today all of you deserve to have a good night's rest. They would wake tomorrow, and see about getting into contact with Marco, but for now, they would rest with their treasure tucked secured between them.