Here for a good time😌

with how clumsy ROSINANTE is, it’s impossible to not worry about him all the time. you’re always genuinely concerned for his safety every time there’s an incident due to his clumsiness, and we he noticed that, he definitely felt like crying. he wasn’t used to someone doting on him all the time and making sure he was alright. although you guys were in a relationship, you could very easily laugh at him for his silly mistakes like setting himself on fire instead of immediately trying to de-escalate the situation and make sure he was okay. he appreciated you so so much, surely a “thank you” would never be enough.

something flashy about BUGGY was his beautiful blue flashy hair. he’s always taken such good care of it and never let anyone touch it. he subsconsciously agreed to letting you brush it once and almost realized his mistake, but there was something so soothing about you helping him take care of his hair. it was calming heartwarming, he eventually hated the moments you couldn’t help him with his blue mane. even when you started doing little designs with his hair with braids, colorful rubber bands, and or little decorations, he always thought he looked a little flashy with them on even though his initial reaction imply he doesn’t like them.

once, you grabbed KIDD’s hand to lead him somewhere and he was immediately caught off guard. it came as a surprise to him; his heart was racing and he didn’t know how to react, so he defensively removed his hand from your grasp. that wasn’t the last time you attempted to hold his hand for something, but each time he let go. your hands were so warm and so soft compared to his, which are roughly calloused from his countless battles. of course, if you asked, he’d say that holding hands is that “lovey-dovey type shit” and ultimately would ruin the reputation he has if he’s seen holding your hand, but in all honestly, he just doesn’t want you to think he’s lame for liking it. he often finds himself staring at your hands, catching himself from reaching towards it. he didn’t want to admit how much he loves the way your hands fit in his, only ever bringing it up with he teases you about your height compared to his.

🏷: @neverbleednevergrow @underscar @thatsprettycoolbro @blackweebtrash @nami66k

join my taglist here !

What else were you to do, though? You certainly couldn't wait outside through the night, still dripping with sea water and at the island's mercy. You needed shelter, and despite your reservations about the only known resident, it was still a better alternative to hanging out by the coast only to die of exposure to the elements.

The trek to the castle was longer than you'd anticipated, and many dangerous things growled from within the darkness of the trees. What sort of horrors this place had lurking in the blackness, you didn't dare think about. Who would make such a place their home, you couldn't help but wonder? You supposed a man who feared nothing would...

By the time you made it to the clearing where the castle was situated--looming and glaring down from high above, the rocks a pearly gray--you were on the verge of collapse. Exhaustion threatened to steal away your consciousness any moment now.

You made it another 6 steps before you finally gave in, stumbling on your weary feet, letting the darkness take you before you'd even hit the ground.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You expected the cold, harsh ground of the island beneath you when you next awoke. Instead, you felt soft, crisp linen. The wetness of the seawater you'd been drenched in was also absent. And it was almost uncomfortably warm. Strange...

You wrestle your eyes open, blinking to clear away the fog, until you can finally make a semblance of sense of your surroundings. You lay in an unfamiliar bed, clean sheets and a white blanket covering the top of you. Stone walls, a crackling fireplace set against the opposite wall.

The sight of a man seated in a chair beside the fire, a newspaper held loosely in one hand, nearly gave you a start. You let out a small, involuntary gasp, which is enough noise to draw his attention to you.

Those yellow, hawk-like eyes pierce into you without emotion. The attraction you'd otherwise have towards the handsome Warlord is halted in its tracks by his title and reputation. Dracule Mihawk was not a man to cross, irritate, or inconvenience. And here you were...taking up a room in his castle after collapsing at his doorstep, supposedly doing all three.

"You're incredibly lucky the humandrils didn't find you before I did. They aren't known for their mercy, even against those who are incapable of fighting back." He says bluntly, as if the topic of your possible death wasn't at all unsettling. Not to mention you had no clue what a humandril was...

You're unsure what to say, throat dry as you look back. If he's bothered by your silence, or persistent staring, he doesn't show it.

His brow cocks upwards. "I assume you know who I am, and where you are?"

"...I do." You say, finally having found your voice.

He nods slowly. "Then I think it's only fair to ask who you are...and what you might be doing here."

"I'm...Y/N." You admit, before you can think of the consequences of revealing your identity to a man as powerful as him. There was nothing to be done about it now.

"My ship was wrecked in a storm. I don't remember much of what happened after I was thrown into the sea, only that the waves threatened to pull me under, yet somehow I ended up on your shore." You glance away. "I don't even know how long I was out there."

His gaze suddenly shifts to the side, and you follow where he's directed his attention to. The tall window set into the stone wall gave what would have been an incredible view of the surrounding land, had the fog and lashing rain not blocked the scenery. Ah, you hadn't even noticed the weather until now.

"I imagine this is the storm that destroyed your ship, then." He muses, almost to himself. "It reached the island a few hours after I found you collapsed at my door."

You nod, taking in this information.

An uneasy silence spanned the length of several seconds, broken as he pivoted his piercing eyes back to you. "As it stands now, it would be impossible to leave the island. I will permit you to stay here temporarily, only until the storm passes, by which time you will depart on one of my rowboats."

The reality is bleak. Even with a boat, you weren't sure how you'd manage to make it to the next island without a log pose and no map to guide you. Now wasn't the time to ask if your unwitting host would care to part with some supplies when you did eventually leave, so you kept silent.

You heard him give a disappointed sigh, no doubt unhappy by your unanticipated arrival. "I don't make it a habit of taking in unfortunate strays, but I am not cruel enough to simply send you to your certain death. In that regard I hope you recognize your extreme luck, and possess the sensibility not to press it."

Nodding in understanding, you swallowed hard, hoping the nervousness didn't show through. He stood suddenly, face as impassive as it had remained through almost the entire conversation.

"Rest, and if you're feeling up to it, find the kitchen for something to sate your hunger and thirst."

And without so much as another glance, he was gone out the bedroom door, leaving you alone with this new and strange predicament.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For a castle as big as this one, there's almost nothing to do. It felt lifeless. The empty shell housing only one man who had so little to say to you. And once you'd sufficiently recovered from the exhausting ordeal of surviving being adrift at sea, boredom begins to set in quickly.

The tremendous storm that wreaked havoc on your ship was still raging outside. Now three days since your discovery on Mihawk's doorstep, you couldn't help but wonder how such an unnatural occurrence could even be possible. But you supposed this was the New World, and the word impossible held very little meaning here.

You'd seen Mihawk around much more often than you would have expected to. The castle was by no means small, and you'd thought he'd try to avoid you whenever possible. From what you knew of him, he wasn't much the socialite, and clearly he wasn't too happy with your presence here in his residence. Yet still, you'd pass each other by at various points each day as you wandered and explored.

Each and every time, his demeanor made it clear of one thing. The day you left was one he eagerly looked forward to. And for as much as you understood his reason why, it was still dismaying to be the cause of such ire.

What contempt that handsome face held for you...if only circumstances were different.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dinners were mostly a quiet affair.

...mostly.

You sat opposite one another at the long dining table, the muffled sounds of the still-tempestuous storm ever-present over the clinking of your silverware against the ceramic plates. It was a constant reminder that, despite the fact you weren't technically welcome here, there was no safe way of leaving. A fact that your host, no doubt, was increasingly resentful of.

And yet when you were digging into some of the most delicious food you'd ever tasted in your lifetime, it was easy to forget that.

It was one of the few times that you felt comfortable enough to speak to him, the delicious food putting you in a good mood, and boosting your confidence. His dangerous eyes were always somewhat of a ward to conversation, but despite that, you never failed to show your appreciation of his skills in the kitchen, and thank him for the wonderful meal.

Your willingness to talk to him, compliment the results of his work in the kitchen, never ceased to confuse him, you felt. Watching his brow raise, and see him pause for just a moment before graciously accepting your thanks with closed eyes and a quiet nod, you wondered if perhaps you he was caught off guard by your kindness. Was he not used to such behavior? Hmm.

And you couldn't deny...his sharp gaze, unwavering confidence, and attractive face was completely disarming. He was everything you admired in a man: suave, contemplative, mature--practically the epitome of all that you adored--and yet he was oh so distant. Aloof.

He was dangerous, yes, you knew. Even an idiot could recognize that. But surely...there was more to the world's greatest swordsman than met the eye?

You couldn't help but wonder as you drifted off to sleep each night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You tried to be a courteous guest, but boredom was a constant, whispering tempter in you ear...

The halls of the castle promised an endless number of rooms to explore, old and forgotten secrets from the occupants long gone. You'd quickly come to the conclusion that Mihawk did not use most of the rooms in the castle, going only a few places on a daily basis.

You'd chanced upon an old piano in what you could only assume was one of those unused rooms. It lay dusty and ignored in the corner of what looked like an anteroom. There was little else of interest here other than the black-wood instrument.

Sitting at the bench, you lift the fallboard and see that all of the keys are intact, and with luck, in tune.

You tap and poke at some of them experimentally, finding the tune just barely off key, but not enough to sound unpleasant. In such a cold castle, it was miraculous they didn't twang an entire key off pitch. Without any sort of specific melody in your head, you simply play a few harmonious chords, slowly making up something as you went along.

Those slowly turned into more complicated chords, which reminded you of songs from home, until you gently played something you were intimately familiar with.

For the first time since you'd arrived here, you felt like this place actually had some life left in it. Though hidden away, the castle's heart still beat. In little ways, the pulse beat quietly and steadily on, waiting for someone to feel it. Well, here was one such vein. You felt yourself smiling.

You couldn't be sure how long he'd been standing there, leaning against the entrance's doorframe. But when you finally noticed him, a dark figure in the corner of your eye, you startled and miskeyed the next chord as you whipped your head towards him.

Instantly, you stood, terrified of being the target of his displeasure. "I...I'm sor-"

You're cut off by his raised hand, halting the rest of your nervous apology. As always, his face was unreadable, neutral and carefully masked. But you think you begin to understand him a little bit more as he turns his wrist, softly gesturing to the piano you'd been playing.

"Continue."

It's rude to stare, but in this moment it's so difficult not to. You blink away your surprise, trying desperately to glean whatever he was thinking from behind his cool gaze as you slowly returned to your seat. Deciding that for now, there was no use in questioning it, you look back at the keys and reset your fingers above them.

He listened. Just...stood there and closed his eyes as you played. He didn't move, body still, as if any movement at all would cause you to stop again. And that's how he stayed until dinner needed preparing that night, never speaking a word, and yet you thought you could see something new behind that closed-off and stony expression of his.

Something...soft.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You weren't sure how long you'd been standing at the window, watching the storm continue to do it's worst to the island outside. The castle was sturdier than you'd anticipated, given the surrounding landscape's ruins and crumbling remains of civilization before. Even the windows showed no sign of breaking. Here in Mihawk's castle, you were safe, if not also trapped.

There was no end in sight to this terrible storm. You'd never yearned for the sight of sunlight this much before.

A melancholy had settled over you, perhaps due to a mixture of loneliness and the overall situation. You had no choice but to remain sheltered in the home of someone who hadn't wanted you here in the first place. It was at times difficult to ignore the feeling of intrusion, and you couldn't help but feel down about it.

Without meaning to, you let out a disappointed sigh, arms crossed as you gazed sadly out the rain-spattered window.

A clearing of a throat drew your attention.

The glass of red wine held out in your direction was unexpected to say the least. When your gaze lifted to the man offering the drink to you, he looked almost...understanding. Apologetic. You couldn't be certain which of the two was more appropriate. Had he finally realized that you hadn't had much of a choice in coming here? Or, maybe he'd come to appreciate your company? Who could really say?

Still, this small gift of a sort--you'd quickly learned how much he enjoyed wine during your stay so far--felt much like an olive branch. A clean slate, to start things anew. He'd been rather unpleasant to you thus far. Not blatantly cruel, of course, but the distaste towards you had been palpable to say the least. Now, much of that resentment was absent as he watched you quietly contemplate taking the drink.

Daring a small smile, you accepted the glass, further surprised as he took up a stance across from you, his own gaze turning outwards to the raging storm.

For once, the silence felt...comfortable. And not for the first time, you swear to yourself that there is something more behind the stoic exterior of the World's Greatest Swordsman.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There were many interesting novels in Mihawk's library. The castle contained many old publications of a multitude of genres. Most were original editions of their respective titles, and some you suspected to be knowledge that the World Government would certainly wished destroyed. With dozens of floor-to-ceiling shelves filled to the brim with hardback books, there was never a lack of reading material present.

Had he read every one? Did he want to? Suddenly the answers felt so important. What a silly thought...

You found yourself curled up in one of the cushioned chairs within the library one afternoon, cradling a rather comical book in your lap. You'd been taken by surprise with its humor, but after such a long and stale stay in this drab castle, you felt you were in need of a good laugh. And so you'd gotten comfortable and settled down to read it all.

At some point, Mihawk had joined you, selecting his own book from one of the shelves and taking up a seat across the way; far away enough not to disturb you or impede on your space, but close enough that you could still claim to be reading together. It was a respectable distance. You wished it was closer...

You're horrified when a hilarious joke from the book yanks an undignified snort of laughter from you. The sound is cut off almost as soon as you make it, but you feel your face go hot as your hand flies up to cover your mouth. Almost instinctually, your eyes flick up towards Mihawk.

Your heart gives a particularly hard thump against your chest when you notice the lift at the corner of his mouth. He...was smiling. Respectfully, he keeps his gaze on his own book. But the amusement is there, and you don't get the impression he's mocking you.

With a matching smile, you return to your own book. But the sight of that expression is forever burned into your mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His sudden desire to talk catches you off guard, nearly causing you to cut your finger with the knife you were using to chop a tomato. First his request to help him prepare dinner, and now inquisitive questions? Wasn't this a strange night...

When did you learn to play? Why were you on the ship that wrecked and caused you to wash ashore to his island? Where were you from? What had been so funny in that book you were reading? There seemed no end to them, really.

His voice was quiet, and the questions he asked were short, but you are almost dizzy with realization that this is the most he's spoken to you since your surprise arrival to his home. Where was all of this coming from? You suppose you shouldn't really care. It was better than the cold shoulder he'd been exuding the first few days.

He talked all through dinner, your discussion moving to that of more personal topics little by little, things that you felt you could trust him enough to disclose.

His interest was...well, you can't tamper the desire that burns in your chest the longer he speaks with you. Your attraction to him had rekindled since his demeanor towards you changed, and having him look at you like that--like you were so incredibly intriguing, so wonderfully unique and interesting--oh, what was a woman to do? A man as handsome and intense as Dracule Mihawk, strong and capable, with his eyes on you? That was the stuff of fantasies.

With each of his prying questions, he offered an answer to one of your own. You started small--likes, dislikes, where he was from, and what had driven him to be a swordsman--but over time, and with his encouragement, you delved more into what made Mihawk the man he was. Regrets, ambitions, perspectives and lessons learned from his life traveling and fighting.

His aloof facade hid so much from the world. He did possess a sense of humor, you'd discovered as well, though he rarely felt the desire or thought to show it. It wasn't fair, you thought, that he hid such a thoughtful and contemplative, complex man, one who had become humbled and yet so confident by the world and his place in it.

And when was the last time he'd gotten to speak with another about these personal, emotional, soul-bearing topics? Had he ever? Did Dracule Mihawk ever, in his years sailing the seas and defeating many armies-worth of enemies in duels, have someone he could bear his old soul to?

The wistful smiles, solemn gazes, and stale chuckles barely audible above the wind and rain outside made your heart ache with the knowledge that such a thing was unlikely. And that thought only fueled your questions, lengthened your conversations, deep into the night with glasses of wine to encourage the words past your lips.

You were so desperate to know all there was to this peculiar and fascinating Warlord. Selfishly, you hoped that his willingness to oblige your curiosity--and indulge his own--meant that perhaps he wanted to be understood, to be known for more than his reputation, than his skill.

To be seen as Mihawk, and nothing more.

And it was over the course of that night that you knew: leaving this place, leaving this man, would crush you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You supposed it was only natural for a castle as large as this to house a ballroom. What you hadn't anticipated was the grand scale of it.

Situated in one of the furthest wings of the castle, in the sections that Mihawk seldom felt the need to visit, you peeked your head into the enormous room, immediately caught with wonder at the size. With fresco-painted ceilings over 20 feet above and one side of the room completely taken up by beautiful and incredibly colorful stained glass windows, you felt small and insignificant as you stepped inside.

Your slow steps eventually took you to the center of the room, taking in the grandiose atmosphere. Despite the dust, it still left you feeling like you were remarkably under-dressed. Certainly only a bejeweled gown and fancy heels were fit for such a space.

What a sight it must have been, the dances and parties held here. This place had surely not seen such merriment in years, the music long ago faded into echoes against the graying wallpaper. If you closed your eyes, you swear you could hear the music, the swell of the orchestra, and the muted swish of ladies' skirts amidst the crowd of dancers-

And then you heard it. The music! Eyes snapping open, you look towards the entrance with a quiet gasp, where you watch Mihawk set down a small object on a tiny side table set against the wall. You blink. A tone dial. The source of the violins and brass band that currently echoed throughout the room. Such things were rare, but perhaps the recording had been hidden away somewhere in the castle from years back.

He walks towards you, dressed down to only his pants and white shirt. You can feel the anticipation swirling in your veins as the music begins to crescendo, the suspicion of what he was hoping to do here, and when he finally reaches you and holds out a hand in invitation, you swallow back the burn of appreciation in your heart.

"May I have this dance?"

You're struck by the reality, and inadvertently stumble out a reply. "I don't kn-know how..."

"It would be my pleasure to teach you, then." Is his reply, smooth and without hesitation. And the encouraging smile he gives you is enough to have you reach out and take his hand.

And when he pulls you close, hands holding you gently to his chest, his warm breath whispering instructions in your ear, you feel the last of your resistance against the feelings in your chest fall away.

The start is slow, your steps unsure and hesitant, but he's a talented and patient partner. The song ends, but the next begins within moments, and so the dance goes on.

"That's it." He mumbles, half to himself. "You're a natural..."

The praise lights a fire in your heart.

If you closed your eyes, you could almost imagine the golden lights of the chandeliers above, the swelling sound of the orchestra, and envision yourself in a fanciful gown. How easy it would be, to lose yourself in that wonderful imagination.

But you don't. You can't bring yourself to close them and miss a single second of dancing in his arms. Not when Mihawk's golden gaze is affixed to you, never straying for a moment, irises traveling the contours of your face, down your neck and then back up again, mapping and memorizing your visage. Like you were the only thing worth looking at in this elegant and picturesque ballroom.

You dared not breathe, afraid he'd look away. Under the hawk's stare, you were everything. All he wanted, and all you desired to be. What you wouldn't give to stay this way for days and weeks, and perhaps for as long as you lived.

Words get stuck in your throat. Meaningful words. Ones that only felt right with his mouth inches from your own. It would be so easy, you think, to speak them and see what might unfold.

In the end you stay silent. Because perhaps this night, dancing in the rays of the colored moonlight through the fading stained glass, was better kept a cherished memory than a painful regret.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was quiet.

Silent.

Not a single rustled leaf, nor the timid tap of a raindrop to be heard.

For the first time since you arrived...the island was totally still. The storm had passed, quietly into the night, as if it had never been at all. Gray skies had lightened, sun filtering through the windows, offering a bright morning to awaken to. The peace outside rang so hollow after almost 2 weeks of unending fury you initially suspected it was all a dream.

You remember once having yearned for the storm to end, for this unwanted term of shelter to cease, for the opportunity to be released from Mihawk's hospitality and finally get on your way towards home.

But now...

You dragged your feet as you wandered the castle, in search of your host. You'd never had such trouble finding him before, having bumped into one another several times even when you weren't looking for one another. But now, the castle was quiet and felt so much emptier than it ever had before.

The life, the warmth, you'd felt these past several days was gone, replaced by a dread and a hole somewhere in your heart. It was a childish notion, to ever toss about the idea of staying here forever. You'd known from the start, that this was a temporary arrangement. And now it was time to go. But surely he'd at least see you out, to make sure you actually leave as he'd first demanded?

And then you think you understood.

Perhaps this was his way of bidding you farewell, allowing you to leave without so much as a goodbye. Was it just as painful for him, to see you leave? Was he loath to watch you walk away, growing smaller in the distance until he could no longer see you at all? No, that was your own heartache speculating, surely...

Maybe it was better this way. Thinking over it all, you don't think you'd have the heart to leave of your own volition if you did see him once more. And at least this way, you could hold the feelings you'd not spoken to him close to your heart, under lock and key, until the day you perished.

Yes. It was better this way.

Perhaps, someday, you'd actually believe it.

Your heart was heavy as you approached the main entryway of the castle, looking up at the doors you had only seen briefly before you'd collapsed in exhaustion that first fateful night. They looked so much more beautiful from this side.

You lay your hand on the metal knob, tensing your wrist as you twisted it open.

"Y/N."

The sound of your name on his lips nearly brings you to tears. No. You didn't have the heart for this. You couldn't see him once more, see the disregard in his eyes like on that first night. It would break you.

Lowering your head, you close your eyes briefly, before finding the courage to turn and face him. And where you expected to see that cold mask of indifference back in place, the prospect of your departure breaking whatever spell had settled over the both of you during your forced proximity...there was only desperation.

Composed as always, of course, but desperate all the same. Mihawk stopped a few feet away, chest rising and falling a bit quicker than was natural--had he been running?--eyes flicking back and forth over your face.

You decide to be the first to speak, because hearing him tell you to go was too much to bear.

"I remember seeing your rowboat when I came to the castle the first time." Your voice feels wooden and hollow. You swallow, hoping not to sound too distraught. "I think I can manage bringing it to the shore on my own."

"Y/N." He says again, this time a bit more forcefully.

He closes the distance between you slowly, approaching as if you would run, until he's close enough to reach his hand up and brush a thumb down the line of your jaw.

You know it's stupid, but you relish the sensation of his skin on yours while you can. It would be so painful later to remember, but for now you'd burn the moment into memory. The ghost of a touch morphs into him cradling your cheek, and he leans forward until you have no choice but to look into his eyes.

"Please..." He mutters, so quiet and so close you're almost unsure you hear him properly, "stay."

"But the storm-"

"I know." His head slowly shakes. "And I don't care."

The words he's spoken are so unexpected, you open your mouth but nothing comes out. He takes your silence as uncertainty.

"You've changed this place, somehow. I didn't see it at first. Didn't realize how you...breathed new life into every crack in these stones." His eyes have drifted lower, to the curve of your trembling mouth. "There's a warmth, wherever I go. You've filled a part of this place, or me, that I hadn't realized was missing...I fear that emptiness returning, when you depart from here."

"I-"

"This place can be your home, if you desire."

"Mihawk..." You trail away, equal parts confounded and elated by his offer. You smile briefly, huffing out a shocked laugh. He's so close, you blink a few times but always end up settling on the way his lips come ever nearer to your own. "I don't know what to say."

"Say yes, Y/N." Is his whispered plead.

How could you not? You felt the last of your fears melt away, his adoring gaze shattering all of the fears and worries you'd allowed to settle into your chest like jagged glass. Your breathless reply is answered with the press of his lips to your own, stealing any and all desire to ever leave this castle again.

You were holed up in the library, nosed buried in a book when you heard the impossibly loud creaking of the front door being opened. The book falls into your lap at the sound, your brain short circuiting in disbelief. It wasn't until the creaking open was coupled with a slamming shut that the book was discarded completely, and you were sent off running to the grand entryway of the castle.

"Mihawk?" Your call echoed throughout the chambered walls, ricocheting through the corridor loudly.

Rounding one last turn, you find yourself standing at the top of the carpeted stair case, staring with wide eyes down at the tall man. Sword and hat still on, Mihawk stared back at you, face stoic as ever. "Mihawk!" You all but fling yourself down the stairs and into his arms, making him wrap them around you so you didn't fall over from how enthusastically you went to hug him, "You're back!"

One of his hands snaked up into your hair, bringing your head to the crook of his neck while his head bent down to rest against yours, "I'm back, my love." His words resonated within you as you clung to every word, letting the mellow tone of his voice. Hands clinging to you gently, arms firmly wrapped around you, Mihawk kept you in his arms as he felt your tears wet his shirt.

He had been gone a long time, and although you had Perona to keep you company, you had missed him dearly. Overwhelmed with emotion, your arms held him tightly for so long you had lost track of the time completely.

Eventually though, you would have to let go. Feeling his hands slide to your shoulders, gently pulling you away from him, he tilts your head to look up at him to press a brief but tender kiss to your lips.

"I brought you something, dearest." Hands leaving you briefly, you can't help the small pout that graces your lips, immediately missing his touch. You hear a soft tsk at the sight of your longing stare, a silent be patient radiating off his slight glance back. Pulling a small, leather bound book from his pocket, he gently takes your hand and places it there.

Looking up at him curiously, you wait for an explanation. All you get is a gentle, soft-spoken, "open it" as his hand falls back to his side.

Opening the front cover your eyes widen to see Mihawk's neat, cursive scrawl. Page after page was full of his writing, each page accompanied by a new date. It was a journal, written by him during his travels. Looking up to him, you see his golden eyes staring intently back at you.

"Is this...?" Your voice trails off, eyes falling back to the page. Another round of your tears blur your vision as you skim the pages. You were only skimming his words, but you saw your name written over and over, consistently in every entry of each passing day he was separated from you.

You feel his hand rest on the top of your head, brushing your hair away from your forehead as he presses a chaste kiss on your temple. "Go, read it." Standing back up straight, he takes his hat off his head, "I'll be done packing and will have dinner ready by the time you finish."

- I could see it taking some convincing for him to let you spoil him, rather than the other way around. He loves to pamper you, take care of you, make you smile and laugh and feel nothing but love. But? This man deserves love too, and you’ll be damned if he doesn’t get the same pampering sometimes

The sun was just peering over the horizon when you woke, a smile around your face at the feeling of a heavy arm around you. Rosinante’s soft snores could be heard besides you, and you couldn’t have been more thankful for the man still resting.

You both took the day off today, and you were ready to make it all about him. well, after you spent a healthy amount of time admiring his sleeping figure.

Rosi was a light sleeper when it came to noise, since he had the luxury of a soundless sleep at his his hand. He didn’t use his power most nights, but on mornings like this, when he has the day off, he wanted to make sure nothing disturbed the precious time you two had.

It was lucky for you, though, that your bed was currently encased in a barrier. When you finally managed to pull yourself out from under his arm, and make it out of the room, you didn’t have to worry about noise when you went to the kitchen.

You prepared all his favorite foods, arranging them delicately on a platter, before heading back to the room. Now, the his power only works for sound mind you, and the smell of food wafting in the air would rouse your sleeping lover before you had the chance to.

He sat up slowly, his eyes widening at the sight of you standing before him, tray and hand. Rosi’s cheeks would flush, a big grin slowly growing on his face. “Is that for me?” Pointing a long finger at himself, you can’t help but smile at his giddy behavior.

- He’d pull you to sit with him after you put the tray down, smiling and resting his against yours. As much as you’d protest, insist that the food was his, it would make him happy if you let him feed you some of it.

When the meal was finished, you couldn’t help but turn and straddle his lap, holding the blonde’s cheeks your hand. Rosinante’s nimble fingers find their way to your hips, the blush never fading from his cheeks as he let you pepper his face in kisses. Your thumbs stroked his skin lightly, letting one of your hands move up to run through his fluffy locks.

After a small kiss on his lips, you feel his arms wrap themselves tighter around you, pulling you up with him as he sits up and stretches his long legs. “What’s the special occasion, love?” You see the curiosity flicker in his eyes with the question.

You can’t help but let out a small laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck, “Do I need a reason to spoil my husband?”

He lets out a chuckle, standing up with a grin on his face. A yelp leaves the both of you as he stumbles out of bed, his arms gripping you tighter as he lands on the ground.

“Rosi!” You look down at him, seated unharmed on his stomach. Reaching your hand forward, you lightly trace his forehead.

Rosinante looks up at you with a shy, slightly embarrassed smile, “I’m alright, sweetheart, promise. Are you okay?”

Climbing off of him, you help your clumsy man up with a smile. “Let’s go, darling, I have a surprise for you!”

- Rosinante would follow you to the living room, asking question after question as you made the short trip across your house, unable to contain his excitement that bubbled in his heart.

He stopped in his tracks, mouth agape at the scene before him. There was an array of candles, lotions, diffusers- the room had been turned into a small spa area by the loving touch of your hand.

“Take a seat, baby.” You give your husband a gentle push, guiding him to couch. Helping him pull his shirt off, you urge him to lay down.

- You ask him to pick his favorite candle, what music he wants playing, what you could to do make him the most comfortable. He wouldn’t quite get what was going on, and still ask prodding questions, and it wouldn’t be until you press a small kiss to the center of his back that he realizes he was going to get his answer soon enough.

When your hands first press between his shoulder blades, you can’t help but laugh lightly at how his muscles tensed. “Rosi, darling you’re supposed to relax.” Ghosting another light kiss on his skin, you let your hands work the muscles in his shoulders and neck, not moving on to another part of his back until you felt him melt against your touch.

Your heart fluttered hearing the soft sighs him, the occasional groan as you reach a spot that has a particularly tight knot.

“Oh, I love you.” The phrase escapes him as a sigh on his lips feeling your fingers work their way down his back, getting a kink out of his back that had been there for weeks. You poured your love into every movement of your hand, into every knot you worked out of your husbands back.

When you finally finished, successfully making Rosinante into a mushy pile onto the sofa, you pressed kisses up his spine until you reached his face, turning his head to press a kiss to his lips. You took in his face, his cheeks flushed with love and happiness, hair flopped across his eyes.

The chef in question pops his head up from the dozens of recipe books he has spread out on the table, “Oh, Nami-swan! I didn’t hear you come in. Would you like me to prepare you something?”

Nami crosses her arms with an annoyed look on her face, “Don’t you think it’s a little late to be doing all this?” She gestures to the counter where just as many pots and pans litter the space. Flour, sugar, eggs, and endless other ingredients brought out.

Sanji brushes her off with a laugh, “No need to worry, Nami-swan.” He stands from his spot, walking to the counter where he begins to measure out a few cups of flour, “This is when I do my best thinking.”

Nami chews on her lip in worry, “Robin mentioned you were up this late last night too.”

Sanji cracks a few eggs, whisking the ingredients, “Don’t tell me you two are sacrificing your beauty rest for me.”

“Sanji, I’m serious!” Ever since the incidents that took place at Whole Cake Island, Nami had been a little more perspective of Sanji. Not that she didn’t think he could take care of himself, but still wanting to look out for one of her nakama, “Why can’t you do this during the day?”

“Some things need to be a secret, Nami-swan.” He smiles while pour the batter into a pan, “But you’re more than welcome to stay and taste test.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Nami rolls her eyes, throwing her arms into the air, “Don’t come crying to me when you fall asleep at breakfast!” And then storms out of the kitchen.

Sanji smiles to himself at his nakama’s concern, but sleep is the least of his concern with your birthday coming up. It was going to be perfect, had to be perfect.

And if that meant losing a few hours of sleep here and there, then so be it.

He had spent days researching native dishes and recipes local to the West Blue where you were born and raised. Worked tirelessly to test and perfect the dishes he had overheard you mentioning from your childhood. And with your birthday just on the horizon the last hurdle was to piece together a menu the blended perfectly.

The only hitch in the plan seemed to be his nakama who appeared to make it her life’s mission to interrupt him each night.

“Again?” Nami asks from the doorway for the fourth night in a row, watching as Sanji piped out flowers from a buttercream frosting.

“Nami-swan.” Sanji countered, “With your concern over my sleep, it seems you’re losing just as much.”

“Just tell me what you’re doing every night!” She stomped her foot, always peeved to be out of the know on anything, “You had plenty of time to do all of this earlier today, but you just fooled around with the others!”

Sanji grits his teeth when one of the flower’s petals was a slightly bigger than the other. Anything less than perfect won’t do.

“Hello!?” Nami storms up to the counter and flicks Sanji on the forehead, “Are you even listening to me!”

Now Sanji would never raise his voice at a lady, but he’s coming damn close when he tosses his pipping bag on the counter, “It’s for (Y/N)-chan!”

“(Y/N)?” Nami cocks her head, “What are you talking about?”

Sanji groans, not totally wanting to explain all the effort he was putting into your birthday. He was perfecting the recipes on night to only hide them from you, but partly from the rest of the crew.

“(Y/N)-chan’s birthday is next week and I wanted to have everything prepared.”

Nami places her hands on her hips, “I don’t remember you going all out like this for my birthday.”

“I made you that sweet tangerine cake your mom used to bake.” He shoots back.

Nami flushes slightly. The cake had tasted just as she remembered, and surely took hours of trial and error to perfect. “Well still!” Nami argues, “Don’t you think this is a little excessive?”

Sanji picks up the pipping bag, returning to his work, “It needs to be perfect for (Y/N).” He pipes out a flower before softly adding, “She deserves it.”

A moment of silence passes before Nami’s eyes widen.

“Oh.” She gasps, a devious smile forming on her face, “Oh, I see.”

“What?” Sanji asks, not truly giving her his attention.

“You know.” Nami says breezily, “I always wondered what you’d be like when you’re actually in love. It’s a little sickening, not gonna lie.”

Sanji’s sputters, eyes flitting up to Namis, “What- what are you talking about!”

“Don’t worry.” She pats his cheek, “Your secret is safe with me. And I’ve just decided I’ll help you!”

“Nami, wait! You’ve got the wrong idea. I don’t, I wouldn’t-”

“It’s alright!” She cuts him off, “You can just repay me a hundred million berries when it all works out.” And then turns on her heel, skipping towards the door with glee now that she’s got her answer.

“Nami! What are you planning!”

.

The last few days on the ship have seemed… strange.

Sanji would barely meet your stare, seeming to find anything else to do when you walked into his vicinity. And Nami was always looking at you with some sort of gloating smile, like she knew a secret you didn’t.

It wouldn’t concern you too much if the others were off too, but it only seemed to be those two.

“What did he do?” You ask Nami one night as it’s just the two of you in your cabin.

“Hmm?” She meets your eyes in her vanity mirror.

“Sanji has been acting off, and so have you.”

But Nami just shrugs, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You scoff, crawling into your bed, “Right.”

“Hey.” Nami begins, spinning in her seat, “Isn’t your birthday tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” You answer cautiously, “Why are you asking?”

“Just wanted to make sure.” She smiles and climbs into her own bed, “Anything special you want?”

“Not really.” You look up at the ceiling, “Although I am excited to eat whatever cake Sanji makes.”

“Oh?” Nami asks, a little too interested for your tastes.

“What?” You shoot back.

“Nothing!” She flips onto her side, turning off her light and submerging the room into darkness, “Well, goodnight!”

“Yeah.” You mumble, burrowing into your covers, “Night.”

.

“Gooood morning (Y/N)!”

You nearly jump out of your skin when a scream in your ear pulls you from you sleep.

“Shi shi shi! You look funny in the morning!”

“Luffy!” You shout back, lobbing a pillow at his head, “What’s your deal!”

“It’s your birthday!” He exclaims, easily dodging your attack, “And I wanted to be the first to say, happy birthday!”

“Well, you did it.” You groan, falling back into your bed. You notice both Robin and Nami are out of the room. Which is lucky for Luffy, unsure how the other two would react to his wake up call, “Now go away.”

“Alright, but promise you’ll be out soon for your birthday, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You wave him off, knowing that no one loves to celebrate more than Luffy does for his nakama.

“Ten minutes!” He shouts, running out the door.

You roll over in bed with a smile on your face. Even with the abrasive start to the day, you knew it was going be a good one.

And good one it was.

From the celebrations on the deck with lively music and dance to the sweet gift your nakama showered you with. You had never felt so loved in your entire life.

And to top it off, Sanji had been running back and forth to the kitchen all afternoon. A sweet aroma spilling out each time he opened the door.

“(Y/N)!” Nami calls, “I think Sanji said he needed you in the kitchen.”

“Me?” You ask, unsure since Sanji always seemed secretive about any big feast he was making, “You sure?” You glance around the group you’re sitting with, Robin nodding in agreement while Usopp and Franky avert their eyes, Brook whistling an innocent tune, “Alright.” You mumble to yourself.

The scent of dinner gets stronger and more mouth watering the closer you get, hitting you all at once when peek in.

“Sanji?” You call out, standing halfway in the doorway, “Did you need me for somethi- ahh!”

“(Y/N)?” Sanji spins around to see you tumble through the door, “Are you alright? What are you doing in here?” He rushes to your side, helping you to your feet.

You swear you see a disembodied hand slam the door behind you, but are more overwhelmed with the hand on the small of you back, “Uh, Nami said you needed me?”

His face darkens for a moment that’s so quick you almost miss it, “Did she now?” He clears his throat, “I mean, no, no. It’s fine in here. Please, return to your party.”

“Alright.” You say, even more confused with everything going on. But you pause before Sanji can open the door for, “It smells really good in here.”

“Thank you, (Y/N)-chan.” Sanji smiles, “But let’s try to keep it a surprise…” He trails off, tugging at the door again.

“Sanji?”

“It’s stuck.”

“Huh?” You reach out to tug on the handle, “It wasn’t stuck when I just came in.”

Sanji growls something under his breath before banging on the door, “Nami! Open this damn door!”

“Sanji!” You hear her voice call back, a little too quick in Sanji’s opinion, “Everything alright in there?”

“The door’s stuck!” You call through, hoping your muffled words are understood.

“Stuck!” She gasps, “Oh no! Hold on, I’ll get Franky!”

Sanji balls his hands into fist, “How about I just kick it down!” He yells back in anger.

“Hey now, bro!” Franky’s voice carries through, “Don’t treat the Sunny like that! I’ll have you out in a jiffy!”

“Oh, what’s the Franky?” Robin’s voice appears, “This might take a few hours?”

A moment passes, “Oh right! Could be awhile!”

“You just said it would be quick!” Sanji screams.

“I guess you two will just have to enjoy dinner with out us.” Nami says, an overdramatic reluctance in her voice.

“What!” Your captain’s far off voice cries, followed by quick steps “No! Please! Franky, I can open the door!”

“Shut up!” You can hear Nami’s hushed voice demand, and the sound of one of Nami’s famous knocks over the head she reserves for Luffy, “Well, don’t worry about us! We’ll be okay.”

There’s more scuffling and whining from your captain before silence.

“Maybe they went to get some tools?” You offer.

“Right.” Sanji scoffs, stomping back to the stove. His anger is clear, and you feel a little bad the door’s been trapped. Now all of his hard work for dinner might have gone to waste.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, looking at the floor and missing the way Sanji’s head snaps up, “I’m sure everyone will still enjoy your cooking even if it’s a little cold.”

“What? (Y/N), no!” He runs up to you and grabs your hands, “Don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault. Besides, I only really care if you enjoy the food.” He grins when you roll your eyes, “Now c’mon.”

You let Sanji lead you to the table in the corner, pulling out your chair. He quickly brings out silverware to set your place.

“What about yours?” You ask, seeing he hasn’t set the place across from you.

“(Y/N)-chan, you know the chef eats last.”

“C’mon.” You plead, “Who knows how long it’ll take those idiots to open the door. I really don’t want to eat alone.” You pout, batting your eyes that Sanji are weak to, “Especially on my birthday.”

“Fine.” Sanji grumbles, knowing he’s been beat, and brings out a second set of silverware.

“It smells so good.” You smile, shifting excitedly in your seat as he plates the dishes.

“Bon appetite.” He sets the food down in front of you and immediately a wave of nostilga hits you.

Gasping, you look at the meal he’s prepared. The bread smelling like the bakery down the road from the house you grew up in. Your island’s native vegetables steamed and covered in sauce, beside the fish that was abundant in the cove off its shore.

“Sanji.” You feel speechless, “How, how did you do all of this?”

“I read a few recipes.” He shrugs, as if the dozen books on your island’s ecology he borrowed from Robin were nothing. That the tracking down citizens from the West Blue along the Grand Line over the last few months was an easy feat. That scouring markets up and down for these ingredients wasn’t the hardest shopping he’s ever done.

But it was nothing. Not when it came to you.

“Oh my…” You moan, taking a generous bite, “It’s better than I remember!” You dig in for more, glad there isn’t Luffy to fend off for once, “I really don’t deserve you.” You groan, happily enjoying the delicious taste.

“I’d do anything for you.” He says seriously, his tone cutting through your thoughts. Your eyes widen, meeting his in surprise, “I mean.” Sanji stutters with flushed cheeks, “For any of you, of course, I’d do-”

“I’d do anything for you, too.” You repeat, just as clearly and strong as he did.

“Oh.” Sanji whispers, mouth hanging open just a bit.

You can’t even explain why you eyes flash to his lips. Just for a moment, but he doesn’t miss it because then his do the same.

It’s a back and forth, looking at each other’s mouth and thinking of pressing your lips to his. That maybe he’d be able to taste the delectable meal he put together for you. Cleary with an enormous amount of love and effort.

“Sanji.” You grab for his hand.

“(Y/N), oh.” He glances down at where your fingers are laced, “You can go.”

“No, you.” You say at the same time.

You both laugh at the repeat of phrases before the moment returns.

“(Y/N),” He clears his throat, “You’re unlike any other women I’ve ever met. And I wanted to show you that with this.” He nods at the food, “You deserve the world, and I want to try to give it to you.”

“Sanji.” You breath, tightening your hold on his hand and pulling him almost over the table. You rise out of your own seat, leaning in close to his face. So close that you can feel his breath on your lips, see the speckles in his eyes as their fluttering closed, and just close enough to-

“Fixed it!” A voice shouts as the door slams open.

You both jump back, almost knocking the table over had it not been for Sanji’s quick reflexes.

“Yay!” Luffy screams, running into the kitchen and making a bee line for the stove, “Let’s eat!”

“Hey!” Sanji yells, immediately dashing to spot Luffy from eating everything he prepared, “Don’t touch that!”

“Hope we didn’t interrupt your intimate dinner.” Nami calls from the doorway, a smirk on her face while Robin giggles behind her.

You really want to slap the smug look off her face but instead take it in stride, “No worries.” You say easily, glancing over at Sanji who’s managed to hold Luffy back with his foot, “I think I’m more looking forward to dessertanyway.”

Thankfully it wasn’t the chef, it was the other resident night owl, night phoenix you told yourself with an amused smile on your face. He looked at you with his half-lidded eyes, blinking at you, shutting the door behind him and stepping into the kitchen, setting his own mug down and glancing at the coffee you were waiting on.

“When was the last time you slept?” Marco asked as he sat next to you on the counter, his feet still able to touch the ground.

“I could ask you the same, what’s keeping you up tonight?” You asked watching as Marco slouched, hands between his legs clasped together as he stared around the kitchen before meeting your gaze.

“I have thousands of forms to check through before tomorrow yoi” he said with a sigh watching as you slipped off the counter to grab the coffee, pouring yourself a cup before picking up the zoans and pouring him some.

“Oh shit, jabs tomorrow?” He nodded with a weak chuckle “That means having to hunt down Ace for a good part of the morning huh? Should get Thatch to drug his breakfast, can’t run if he’s passed out” You suggested.

He laughed at that comment, his chuckle was always a welcome sound, so bright and soft, you adored it, adored him. Marco shrugged his shoulders and took the coffee you handed him, you simply returned to sitting on the counter next to the blond.

“Want help?”

“Really?”

“Well, yeah, I can’t sleep anyway, and it doesn’t make sense to let you do all that work by yourself when you could have an extra set of hands” You felt his arm around your shoulder, pulling you against him, feeling him kiss the side of your head.

“That would be a great help, you are too good to me yoi” his lop-sided smile seemed brighter at that moment, you tried not to blush just shrugged it off, trying to play it down, but you couldn’t help enjoy how Marco still kept you close to him.

- I think preskip Nami is more likely to need help than post skip

- You’d hear Nami cry out for help, drawing your attention to the people that were bothering her.

- She’d fall in love with your strength, your calm demeanor as you told them to leave her alone. If they didn’t comply, she’d fall in love with your ability to fight and take on multiple people.

- Nami would cheer you on as you fought them off, yelling at you if you took a hit, or someone got up after you took them down. Though she’s grateful, she’s also a harsh critique, even of people who are stronger than her

- Her love at first sight wouldn’t be head over heels love, but you’d catch her eyes on you repeatedly after the event was over.

- You wouldn’t get money as a thanks, she’ll be sure you knew that, but she would grasp your hands in her and give a beaming smile as she thanked you, and would let you take her out for food.

- ngl I cannot see Robin needing help in a situation (we love strong independent women) like this unless it was someone from her past, so let's pretend that it is

- It wouldn't be that Robin wasn't strong enough, we all know she can handle herself, but it's different in a situation that involves her life before the straw hats.

- She would fall for how you stood up for her, defended her when she was weak. Understanding that she has moments of weakness, but is not weak, is a crucial definition that you need to have for her to fall for you

- Robin I think admires strong will and character, not necessarily physical strength, and she could admire not cowering away from her enemies just because they’re strong and that you take the step to maintain order.

- A bouncer I feel like needs to keep order, and keep the customers safe and having a good time, but she knows that her enemies are particularly strong and could cause even the bravest bouncer to shy away from them out of fear

- I can’t see Robin as a fall-in-love-with-first-sight sort of person, but she’d get an attraction to you if she likes your character.

- You’d get a kiss on the cheek and a small but grateful smile as a thanks

- another strong independent woman, we love Vivi

- By the time you got to the scuffle, Vivi would already be fighting the people who started it. I think she’d be standing up for someone she cares about, or defending the name of someone she cares about if it was slandered.

- She’s very do-it-yourself, but she’d fall in love with the way you fought alongside her, without telling her to step back because she was a girl (that would get you a smack from her if you did).

- She’d fall in love with the way you defend the place from these people, and how you’re not afraid to get your hands dirty to restore order in the facility.

- I think she’d offer to buy you a drink after the scuffle was over, and would laugh with you about the whole thing.