Hawkeye Mihawk - Blog Posts

I'm really tired. I drew mihawk singing. :3

WIP

I love this autistic man uwu

Wait guys, lowkey, whoever made up Mihawk x Humanform!Yoru is actually cooking.

Remember, a sword chooses it’s swordsman👏

Okay but it would actually be cool if yoru was humanified, just like how Zoro’s swords were also made into human by Oda in an sbs

Soft Mihawk and Zoro cuz swordsmen deserve rest too <3, they are so dear to me (not a ship btw)

“You and I are the same…in that we don’t trust others” (omw to pull the fine swordsman shyt after dropping this line)

Crocodile was actually more desperate in the manga than anime. “In terms of distrust for others…we at least have one thing in common already!!”

If Zoro ever defeats Mihawk…

Ps - Mihawk is depicted as Zoro’s father figure in this text

(Not proofread)

Non-canon but…

I think when Zoro kills Mihawk in their final duel, it would be a state where he finally achieves his dream that he worked on so hard for him to be happy, yet to feel a little empty at the same time. I’d have to agree that if Zoro does kill Mihawk, he’d achieve his dream, fulfill his promise to Kuina, and put Mihawk at rest, which gives a happy ending for him, honor for his late best friend, and rest for Mihawk since he’s grown tired of life.

Though, in the lens of how I view Zoro and Mihawk’s relationship, I truly believe, from my heart of hearts, that Mihawk was somehow a parental figure to Zoro. Other viewers of One Piece might not see the vision or see the vision. In some people’s eyes, Mihawk was only Zoro’s mentor and rival, which is of course true, I am not against it, but how I view them might be a different story.

Zoro was already orphaned, he had no parental figures since both of his biological parents died when he was still very young, meaning he probably does not have much memory of them and wasn’t guided in life as much because of that. He had no parental guidance in life.

Now, during the timeskip, Mihawk played a crucial role in developing Zoro’s swordsmanship. He has provided and taken Zoro under his care to train him to defeat him all because he saw that Zoro’s actions were no longer for himself, but for his captain, that “he found a greater cause rather than his own ambition”. Surely, he isn’t the type of father figure that would coddle up Zoro and be soft around him since he plays mentor, he is supposed to make him reach a better version of himself. Though, I see the potential and why some may think he is a father figure to Zoro.

A parental figure is someone who gives guidance, care, support, etc. that resembles an absent parent’s role. Mihawk gives these to Zoro for the two years in the timeskip, he is a role model to Zoro and he teaches and guides Zoro to defeat him. Zoro, an orphan, being taken care of and taught by the world’s greatest swordsman himself. Living in his castle. Eating his food. Under his care. For two years. For once, other than the strawhats, Zoro has been taken care of, under none other than Mihawk. The castle is a training ground yet a house to him. Where he eats, showers(? Considering Mihawk’s toilet…), and sleeps, he is doing it in the same grounds where Mihawk is.

Do you think that maybe, if Zoro had killed his mentor, the one who saved his own seat of the worlds greatest swordsman for Zoro to sit on next, the one who cooked, gave him a house to live on for the next two years when he was separated from his crew, that he wouldn’t be a little sad and empty? Mihawk wouldn’t exactly be the best father figure unlike some others, but he would definitely be a memorable one to Zoro, all because the worlds greatest decided to be his mentor and care for him slightly like a father would.

So when Zoro finally sees Mihawk’s head roll before him, I would like to think that he would feel free and happy he achieved his goal, and a little empty, where he finally acknowledges that in a way, he did see him as a mentor-father type of person in his life.

This is overall subjective and what if statements which isn’t well supported, but I just wanted to share what I thought:,,)

Credits to its only blood by MissingN000 on ao3 (heartbreaking fic), it helped me write this.

uhuuu old man yaoi

My faves

Also fun fact despite these three being my favorites from their respective shows, the only one I've drawn before is Mihawk, Shikamaru and Toji I've never attempted and ngl- I love how they turned out

Decided to add the other two, it's messy, but ngl I love it

Had to sketch him from this opening... I'm totally normal about him. 100%

Seraphim Mihawk anybody?

Just recently got caught up on the One Piece anime- and by recently I mean last night at like 10pm- and when I saw Seraphim Boa and Mihawk I had to draw Mihawk, he's always been a fav of mine and honestly his Seraphim version is adorable.

Oh yea, happy birthday to these goofy goobers btw :3

I didn’t draw anything ‘cause a) i forgot… b) I was too busy drawing men kissing * ^ *

a single father working two jobs

So much for bein down bad for luffy, heres sum more doodles that my brain farted out today...

I have maybe stupid thought/question. It’s thought that changes into question. And it could be dumb so I choose anon option.

Let’s go! “it channels strength, in a way that is characteristic of shanks throughout the whole manga.” This got my attention because maybe I’m an idiot but a lot of those moments are shanks mask. He is playing big bad emperor, he needs to do it to protect his fleet. We see it more recently. I understood this that way. “mihawk isn't afraid of shanks, but he's still alert while approaching him”. That also. Tbh I always saw them as two close friends who occasionally spared for the title. But this looks weird to me now? I just thought shanks face is a joke because he is just hangover but acts like something big is going on. But your interpretation seems to be more into shanks is channeling his emperor persona. And yes mihawk is dangerous but I never thought he would attack shanks? He constantly is against that. I’m not sure why, can we trust him it’s only arm or something more? Does he care about shanks that much? Not attacking luffy would point to it. So if that’s the case why is shanks like that? Putting this strength face on? Sorry if it’s stupid.

it's not stupid at all, i see your point of view and all your questions are valid to me.

i think when talking about shanks we necessarily have to split between two separate readings of his character, and look at him from two different points of view: the one of the readers and the one of the other characters.

it's obvious that shanks has two sides to him; his emperor persona is in direct opposition to his sillier, more carefree side. when we see shanks in the manga, we always look at him from the point of view of other characters, mainly luffy, buggy or, like in the case we are talking about, mihawk. as the point of view varies, so does shanks's demeanor, depending on what type of relationship he has with said character. after a brief menacing introduction, and after luffy's wanted poster is revealed, we see a side of shanks that is adjacent to the one we see in luffy's flashbacks: mihawk is an old friend of his, so he invites him for a drink and makes space for him to celebrate with his crew. the air felt thick before mihawk mentioned luffy, but only because his visit was sudden and unannounced. don't forget mihawk was a warlord at the time, so of course shanks got defensive. they weren't exactly on bad terms, it's true, but they're both two affirmed figures now, so it's fair for them to be more cautious in the presence of the other.

if we hop behind the fourth wall and look for a non-diegetic explanation, then, it's more or less what i explained in my previous post. we, as readers, have a more global understanding of shanks. we know shanks puts up a front, an armor of sorts: behind his façade lies a more solemn version of himself, one that takes his place very seriously and appears more meditative and resolved. is this side of him a travesty, too? there's no way to know as of now.

i love how puzzling shanks is, it's my favorite part of his character. he's unpredictable, sometimes basically indefinite. it's not a character flaw, though. everything we know about him passes through other characters' visions, which contributes to the confusing outline the readers have of him. it's a tool that helps us know him without ever seeing his side of the story.

Part 2!!

Sanji Playlist: (Easily one of my personal favourites. We love a good french lover boy in this household! There's a lot in here. Happy love, missing love, sad love, love, love, love. L'amour, c'est fou! I think this might be my biggest playlist. It's this or one of my Donquibros / Law.)

Usopp Playlist:

Robin Playlist: (partially very on the nose!)

Mihawk Playlist: (So hard to make playlists for enigmatic characters!)

Perona Playlist: (I have some creepy songs for her but not nearly enough to constitute a full playlist... sorry!)

Eneru Playlist: (Very small, sorry! I'll try to find more!)

Eustass Kidd Playlist: (I thought I'd shared this one on the first post already, whoopsie! I've added a few since posting this on Tumblr ^-^ But you can find all the in-depth explanations on the other post.)

Smoker Playlist: (I'm so sorry that I have barely anything yet, I'll try and find more!)

Bartolomeo Playlist: (Mostly just the creepy side to him so far. I haven't found much positive hero worship yet but I'll keep looking! I love Barto dearly, he's indescribably cute to me. I really need to write fanfiction about him too soon!! :D)

That's all I have for now! If I don't care much for a character there's little to no chance I'll be making a playlist for them so it's unlikely I'll be doing more than these playlists, but I will keep adding to them once I find fitting music! Currently scouring through a lot of musicians like Family Crest, Flying Pickets and many more!

Please enjoy listening!

Now making One Piece playlists on Spotify!

Youtube has become more and more painful with copyright in recent years and frankly while it wasn't so bad for my Eustass Kidd and Ace playlists it got a lot worse when I uploaded Killer's. I don't like listening to slowed / reverb sort of playlists myself so I won't be going that route. Maybe it's just that I used particularly problematic music for Killer?

Either way, I'll be making playlists in the form of actual playlists strung together on spotify from here on out. If I make more playlists as mp3 and mp4 I'll upload them to the drive folder above, you can find the Ace, Kidd and Killer playlists there in both versions!

And now for some good news! I do currently have a lot of playlists in the works, coming soon :D

I can only add 10 links per post, so I'll have to make 2 posts total!

Doflamingo playlist: (A LOT of these are copied over from other Doflamingo playlists!! They're such perfect fits that I could not possibly exclude them, not since I personally listen to my Doflamingo playlist a lot myself and I've become genuinely addicted to some of those :D)

Killer playlist: (Some of these feel a bit redundant but I hope you'll enjoy the playlist regardless!)

Brook playlist: (It's small but I've never seen one for him before!)

Ace playlist: (TLDL: sadness and grief)

Corazon / Rosinante playlist:

(I still haven't seen him in the anime so I hope these fit at all! I based it purely off of fan art on twitter, I'm very obsessed with him for having seen nothing of him yet ^-^ )

Crocodile Playlist: (Another small one but I feel like I hardly know this man beyond his political goals, and even those are very shrouded!)

Hancock Playlist: (she's one of the most fun to make playlists for!! such a specific style of music :D )

Zoro Playlist: (Very short as of yet too but I might add to it in the future!)

Luffy Playlist: (The one piece character I do the least content for, for sure! but at least he gets a playlist :P )

Trafalgar Law Playlist: (I have so many songs for him! This one I haven't moderated much, I just keep adding and adding more ^-^)

I hope you've enjoyed any of these, thank you for listening! Looking through what I have right now I don't have enough songs in the remaining ones to make more than one more post with these.

Characters I am working on right now:

Bartolomeo

Smoker

Apoo

Eneru

Perona

Mihawk

Robin

Usopp

Sanji (I have a ridiculous amount of love songs for him!)

Skin Care

Probably would've loved this s-, like I had one too growing up 🥲

Mihawk's secret...

Twas Beauty, who killed the Beast 4

*Sorry it's been so long! Please enjoy! ❤️*

Mihawk searches your face once more before he dips his head in a matching nod. Reluctantly, he allows his hand to fall away, silently missing the cool touch of your hand against his flesh. He turns back to the approaching ship and braces himself. Shanks always knew when to show up at the worst of times.

You stay outside with Mihawk, shivering every now and then whenever a cool breeze sweeps through as the two of you wait for Shanks and his crew to drop anchor. You see Mihawk tense when a shaggy-haired redhead comes loping down the gangway, a big grin that just grows wider when he catches sight of the pretty lady standing beside his best friend.

“Well, well,” Shanks drawls and offers his hand to you when he is close enough. Once you grasp his, he tugs your hand up and kisses your knuckles, looking up at you through his bangs and sending you a teasing wink. There is a dangerous shine in his vermillion eyes, and you swear you can see a flash of long, dark horns on the top of his head, but there is nothing there when you try and focus.

“Mihawk has been holding out on me. What’s your name, sweetheart?”

@mfreedomstuff @sanjisleggy @mit-suri @nocturnalrorobin @forever-a-night-owl @sordidmusings

Link to AO3-> HERE

Mihawk is either terrible with flirting or the best there's ever been when people draw this man, and me personally, I find the idea of him being bad at it hilarious.

Also, here's the image I found that inspired this stupid idea.

Wip mihawk and I like it a lot better then the first time I drew him

Mini maybell compilation cause I love her sm. Also, I just realized I never draw her with her mouth open, so no one's knows she had a tooth gap.

All I think about when I see these pictures of Aurelio voltaire is @actuallycassidyiambusy demon buggy aus mihawk

They're finally done!!!! Mihawks isn't the best but it's better than I thought it'd be :3 also I gave up on doing maybells stripes half way through. But ye maybell and the four men she decided to let keep her company! One was kinda forced but oh well

Lots of things come up so I haven't got much time but here's an old grayscale (not much) experiment drawing I made once upon a time

Dark brooding men sometimes thinking of their green and pink younglings

Maybe I should start One Piece for this single dad

When Love Grows Quiet

Four different loves — each unraveling in its own way, where silence cuts deeper than swords and love isn't always enough to stay.

shanks x reader | zoro x reader | law x reader | mihawk x reader | ONE SHOT tags: angst, sfw, heartbreak, emotional neglect, falling out of love, hurt/no comfort, isolation, miscommunication a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ff a bit cringe, akward, and confusing word count: 2.5k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

SHANKS

The bar was loud, filled with the buzz of half-drunken laughter, tankards slamming against tables, and music that you once loved but now loathed. You sat in the farthest corner, away from the warmth of the crowd, clutching a half-empty glass of something you didn’t order. The ice was melting fast — like the slow disintegration of what used to be your heart.

Shanks was at the center of it all.

Again.

He always was.

“Another round!” he bellowed, raising his cup high in the air as the Red-Haired Pirates cheered. The crew adored him. They should — he was charismatic, fierce, warm, and generous with his attention.

Just not with you. Not anymore.

Your gaze lingered on him. His hair, a fiery halo in the dim light, his grin — that same one that once made you feel like the most important person in the world — now belonged to everyone else.

He didn’t even notice you when you walked in.

“Y/N, there you are!” Lucky Roux called from across the bar, waving at you with his usual cheer. “C’mon, join us!”

Shanks looked over his shoulder, eyes falling on you for a split second. There was recognition — maybe even guilt — but it was gone too fast. He raised his cup in your direction. No words. No movement. Just a lazy toast.

You forced a smile, then looked away.

You’d been with him for two years. It had started with stolen moments under stars, whispered promises between waves. “When this is all over, I’ll settle down. With you,” he’d say, voice dipped in warmth, hand on your cheek. You believed him.

But it never ended. And you stopped asking.

There were always more islands to visit, more allies to meet, more enemies to fight, and more nights he stumbled back to the ship reeking of rum and adrenaline, too tired to remember your name.

You stayed because you loved him.

Or maybe you stayed because you were afraid of what your life would look like without him in it.

But tonight felt different.

You pushed your glass aside and stood, your legs numb from sitting too long. You crossed the room, weaving through sailors and crewmates until you reached him.

“Shanks.”

He looked at you, surprised. Like he hadn’t expected you to speak first.

“Can we talk?”

His smile faltered. “Now? Can it wait? We’re just—”

“No,” you said, quieter, firmer. “It really can’t.”

He followed you outside without protest. The night air was cool, the moonlight bathing the ship in pale light.

You turned to him. “Do you remember what you promised me?”

He blinked. “Which one?”

You almost laughed. “That says everything, doesn’t it?”

“Y/N…”

“You told me we’d settle. That you’d come back for me. That I wasn’t just another stop along your journey. Do you even realize how long I’ve been waiting?”

“I know,” he muttered. “But it’s complicated.”

“No. It’s not. Not really. You just never made space for me.” Your voice trembled. “I don’t need riches or islands. I don’t even need peace. I just needed to know I mattered.”

He took a step forward. “You do matter.”

“Do I?” You looked up at him. “When was the last time you asked how I felt? When was the last time you chose me over adventure? Over your crew? Over another drink?”

He opened his mouth, but no answer came.

You continued, softer now, each word heavy. “I used to believe I was lucky to be loved by you. But now I realize… maybe I was just convenient. Someone to come back to when the world wasn’t enough.”

“That’s not fair,” he said, jaw clenched.

“Neither is loving someone who only loves you when it suits them.”

A silence settled. Heavy. Final.

He looked away. “What are you saying?”

You took a shaky breath. “I’m leaving.”

His eyes snapped to yours. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do. I have to. Because if I don’t now, I never will.” You paused. “I loved you so much, Shanks. But I’m tired of waiting for you to love me back in the way I deserve.”

You turned before he could say more, before the tears spilled.

The crew watched you go. No one stopped you. Maybe they knew too.

Shanks didn’t follow.

Maybe he couldn’t.

Maybe deep down, he knew you were already gone.

And this time, no promise would bring you back.

ZORO

The clatter of blades in the training room echoed through the ship like thunder.

Again.

You stood outside the door, hand hovering just above the wood, listening. Zoro had been in there since sunrise. The sun was beginning to set.

You pressed your palm flat against the door. It was warm.

He didn’t hear you. He never did when he was training.

You opened the door anyway.

He stood in the center, shirtless, sweat clinging to his skin, his chest rising and falling with exertion. His swords were laid neatly on the rack nearby, save for the one still in his hand — his favorite. Wado Ichimonji. His first love.

You didn’t speak right away.

He noticed you after a few seconds, green hair clinging to his face. “Oh. Hey.”

“That all you’ve got for me?” you asked, arms crossed.

He shrugged. “Been training.”

“You were supposed to meet me. Two hours ago.”

Zoro blinked. “Shit. Was that today?”

A beat passed. You tried not to let the disappointment crack through your voice. “Yeah. It was today.”

It wasn’t the first time.

Zoro wasn’t cruel. He wasn’t dismissive in the way that most would notice. He was just… focused. Sharpened, like his blades, honed only for one goal: to become the strongest swordsman in the world.

And you had once admired that. Loved it, even.

But lately, it felt like you were always chasing his shadow, always making room for his dreams, even if it meant shrinking your own.

You walked into the room, picking up the cloth he used to wipe his sweat, tossing it to him. “You forgot again.”

“I didn’t mean to,” he said, running it over his forehead.

“I know,” you whispered.

And maybe that’s what hurt the most.

The days blurred.

Dinner conversations turned into one-sided stories from you. Nights became silent, save for the occasional grunt as Zoro collapsed into bed, already half asleep. You missed the way he used to fall asleep beside you — not just near you — like you were a harbor in his storm. Now, he drifted in and out like a ghost, always just beyond reach.

You finally snapped one quiet night.

“Zoro, do you even love me?”

He looked up from cleaning his blade, brow furrowed. “What kind of question is that?”

You sat on the bed, fingers twisting in your lap. “One I keep asking myself.”

He stood up, face unreadable. “Of course I love you.”

“Then why don’t I feel it?”

The silence that followed was thick. Not awkward — just empty. Like a room without furniture.

“I’m doing this for us,” he finally said. “Everything. My training. My dream.”

“No, you’re doing it for you. And that’s okay, Zoro.” Your voice broke. “But stop pretending I’m part of that dream when I’m just an afterthought.”

“That’s not fair,” he said.

“I used to think that too,” you whispered. “But you keep showing me otherwise.”

The next morning, you packed.

Not everything — just what you needed. You didn’t want to make a scene.

When you turned to leave, he was there. Leaning against the doorframe, arms folded.

“You’re leaving?” he asked, voice rough with sleep and disbelief.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

He stared for a long time. “Why now?”

“Because if I stay, I’ll start hating you. And I don’t want to hate you.”

Zoro opened his mouth, then closed it again. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know.”

He took a step forward. “Don’t I get a chance to fix it?”

“You’ve had a hundred chances,” you said, gently. “I gave you all of them.”

He looked down, the tension in his body visible.

You moved past him. He didn’t stop you.

Not physically.

But god, you wished he would.

You heard the sound of blades again as you walked down the corridor, echoing from the training room.

Zoro was already back at it.

Maybe it was easier for him to fight with steel than with words.

And maybe that’s why you couldn’t stay — because you needed someone who could choose you the way you kept choosing him.

Even if it broke your heart.

LAW

The Polar Tang was quiet at night.

Most of the crew had gone to sleep, their laughter faded into distant echoes through the metal halls. You sat alone in the infirmary, the light above flickering in tired pulses, casting shadows across the empty bed beside you.

It used to be your place. Your shared space.

Now it was just another cold room.

The door slid open with a mechanical hiss. Law stepped inside, coat trailing, his presence commanding — but not unkind. His face was the same as always. Calm. Collected. Impenetrable.

You didn’t turn to greet him.

“You’re still awake,” he said, voice low.

“So are you.”

He paused. “Long day.”

“Every day is a long day with you.”

That made him pause longer than usual. You saw it — the subtle twitch of his hand, the way his gaze lingered on you before shifting to the medical charts on the wall, as if reading them gave him a reason not to face you.

You finally stood, arms crossed. “You didn’t even ask how I’m doing.”

“You’re not injured,” he replied, like that explained everything.

You laughed bitterly. “You think that’s all that matters?”

He looked at you now. Really looked.

“You’re not bleeding,” he said, “so I assumed you were fine.”

“And that’s the problem, Law,” you snapped, “you only know how to fix things you can see. But what about everything else?”

He was always distant. He didn’t mean to be — it was just how he survived. You knew that going in. Law was brilliant, brave, and wounded in ways most couldn’t see. He didn’t wear his pain on his sleeve; he buried it deep, under layers of strategy and silence.

You once thought love could bring him peace.

Instead, it made you feel invisible.

He sat on the edge of the bed, removing his gloves with surgical precision. “If you’re upset, just say it.”

“I’m always saying it,” you said. “I say it in every look you don’t return, every time you walk out without a word. I’m screaming it, Law, and you don’t hear me.”

His brow furrowed. “I’m trying.”

“No, you’re managing. There’s a difference.”

You took a step forward, throat tight. “Do you even want me here?”

He didn’t answer.

Not for a long time.

When he did, it was quiet. “I don’t know what I’d be without you.”

“That’s not the same as wanting me.”

You turned away, swallowing the burn behind your eyes. “I need more than this. I need to be seen. Heard. Held.”

“I’m not good at that.”

“I know,” you whispered. “And I’ve been patient. God, I’ve been so patient.”

He stood. “Then what do you want from me?”

You turned back to him, tears finally slipping down your cheek.

“I want to stop being the person waiting for you to feel something.”

There were so many things he could have said. So many things he didn’t.

No promises. No pleas. Just silence.

You left the room, footsteps echoing down the corridor. He didn’t follow. You didn’t expect him to.

Law wasn’t cruel. He was just… unreachable.

And you couldn’t keep drowning in his silence.

Later that night, he stood in the infirmary, alone, looking at the chair where you always sat.

He didn’t cry. He didn’t break.

But he whispered your name once — as if it would echo back.

It didn’t.

MIHAWK

Perched on the windowsill of Kuraigana Island's cold, stone castle, you watched the sun slip beneath the horizon. Even the sunset here felt distant — as if the colors were afraid to bloom fully, like the love you once thought lived within these walls.

Behind you, the quiet hum of Mihawk’s sword being cleaned was the only sound.

You didn’t turn. You didn’t speak.

Neither did he.

You’d once thought the silence between you was peaceful — now it felt suffocating.

When you first arrived, you mistook his quiet for serenity. Mihawk was a man of discipline, of stillness, and you found comfort in his control. He didn’t make empty promises, didn’t raise his voice, didn’t falter. It made you feel safe.

Until the days stretched long and the silence became unbearable.

You would speak to him at dinner, only to be met with the clink of cutlery. You would try to initiate conversation, only to find him more engrossed in wine than words.

You once thought you were an oasis for his loneliness.

Now you realized you were just another presence he tolerated.

“You haven’t looked at me once today,” you said finally, staring out at the orange light dying over the sea.

Mihawk paused, the cloth in his hand stilling on Yoru’s blade. “I saw you this morning.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

No response.

You stood slowly, turning to face him. He was sitting in that grand, throne-like chair by the fireplace. His posture was perfect. Controlled. Remote.

“Do you even care that I’m unhappy?”

“I care,” he replied after a beat. “But unhappiness is inevitable.”

You blinked. “That’s your answer?”

“I do not pretend to be something I’m not,” he said, voice even. “You knew who I was when you came here.”

“I knew who you seemed to be,” you said sharply. “But I thought — I hoped — that underneath all of this control, you might want to be known. That you might let me in.”

“I have let you in.”

“To your house. Not your heart.”

The air crackled.

Mihawk stood, moving with quiet authority. “I do not offer affection like others. I offer stability. Loyalty.”

“I never wanted gifts. Or flattery. I just wanted to feel chosen.” You laughed, bitter. “But all I’ve felt is... tolerated. Like I’m just another item in your collection of things that don’t rust or change.”

He said nothing.

You stepped closer. “You haven’t said you love me. Not once.”

“I do not speak lightly,” he said, almost offended.

“I’m not asking for flowery words. I’m asking for anything that tells me you feel something when you look at me.”

He stared at you — intense, golden eyes sharp as any blade.

“I would not have allowed you to stay if I did not value you.”

A pause. And then your voice, quiet, almost broken:

“That’s not love, Mihawk. That’s possession.”

The silence that followed was vast.

And it said everything.

You turned away, heading for the door.

“You’re leaving.”

“Yes.”

“You may find no comfort in the world beyond this place.”

“Maybe not,” you whispered. “But at least I’ll feel something.”

He did not follow. He did not stop you.

And that hurt worse than any goodbye.

Later, long after you’d gone, Mihawk stood alone in the great hall, Yoru resting silently on the stone altar. A storm gathered beyond the window, wind rushing over the sea like a howl.

He did not weep.

But he looked at the spot where your chair had been pulled out, slightly askew — and he didn’t move it back.

CLINGY MUCH? | ONE SHOT

Shanks x GN!Reader

Zoro x GN!Reader

Mihawk x GN!Reader

a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only so expect this ff cringe and oc

tags: sfw, fluff, soft, ooc(?)

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

SHANKS

You were many things aboard the Red Force—calm, sharp-tongued, and painfully unbothered by Shanks’ endless antics.

You were also completely unaware of the fact that the most feared (and flirted-with) captain in the New World couldn’t seem to stop touching you.

Not in a creepy way. Not even in a romantic way… at least, not that you noticed.

He’d toss an arm around your shoulders like it was a habit. Rest his hand on your waist when laughing. Tug you into his side when something “dangerous” happened, like a slightly aggressive breeze or a seagull flying too low.

You just chalked it up to him being Shanks.

Until, one bright morning, the crew decided enough was enough.

It started with Benn Beckman sighing dramatically as he walked onto the deck.

“Do you two need a room or something?”

You blinked from where you stood, arms crossed. “We’re not even doing anything.”

Benn pointed. “His hand has been on your lower back for ten minutes.”

Shanks blinked down at his own hand like it betrayed him. “Huh. Didn’t even notice.”

You raised a brow. “Are you okay? Do you have tactile issues?”

Lucky Roux snorted as he passed by with a turkey leg. “Yeah, it’s called ‘falling for someone and not knowing what to do with your hands.’”

Shanks turned red. You remained… utterly unaffected.

“Touch-starved pirate disease,” Lime Juice muttered, jotting fake notes like a doctor. “Tragic. Symptoms include: prolonged physical contact, excessive grinning, and spontaneous cuddling in public.”

Hongo popped his head out of the crow’s nest. “I saw him brush your hair behind your ear during the storm last week.”

“That was because it got in their face,” Shanks defended.

You nodded. “He didn’t want me to get stabbed by my own bangs. Very heroic.”

“You’re wearing a braid,” Yasopp called from the helm.

A long pause.

“…Okay, I’m not good with excuses,” Shanks muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. His hand bumped yours in the process.

You tilted your head, eyes narrowing. “Captain.”

“Yes?”

“You’re touching me again.”

“...I genuinely didn’t notice DAHAHAHA.”

The crew erupted into laughter.

You blinked slowly and glanced down at your joined hands, then back up at him. “You’ve been holding my hand for a minute now. You good?”

“Maybe.”

You stared.

He stared.

“…You’re kinda warm,” he added, grinning.

“I’m wearing gloves.”

“Exactly. Impressive.”

You didn’t smile, but your voice was flat with dry humor. “You wanna marry me, too? Get it over with?”

Shanks choked. “Whoa—what?”

“You’re already touching me like I’m your lover. Might as well commit.”

The crew howled.

“I’m starting to like them more than you, Cap,” Benn said, lighting a cigar.

“They’ve got more bite,” Lime Juice grinned.

Lucky Roux offered you a celebratory turkey leg like a sword. “You just proposed better than he ever could.”

You calmly took it, giving a single nod. “Thanks. I accept my own proposal.”

Shanks was still frozen. “Wait, are we actually engaged now?”

You took a slow bite of the turkey leg, deadpan. “Keep touching me like that, and you’ll owe me alimony.”

ZORO

You were minding your own business—arms crossed, eyes half-lidded, back leaned slightly against the Sunny’s railing—when a familiar weight thunked into your side.

Again.

You didn’t flinch, didn’t glance, didn’t even blink. Just spoke.

“Zoro.”

“What.”

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what.”

“Treating me like a living chair.”

He grunted. “You’re stable. And not annoying.”

“That’s a compliment?” you asked, still deadpan.

“Take it or leave it.”

The crew had noticed. Of course they had. This was the sixth day in a row Zoro had casually latched onto you like a sleepy barnacle.

“Oi, mosshead!” Sanji snapped, appearing from the galley with smoke swirling and a righteous fury in his eyes. “Get off them, you clingy cucumber!”

Zoro cracked open an eye. “Make me.”

“Oh, I will!” Sanji stomped over dramatically. “Y/N-chwaann shouldn’t have to carry your freeloading swordsman body weight! If anyone deserves to be close to them, it’s me!”

You raised an eyebrow. “You literally tripped into my lap yesterday trying to ‘tie your shoe.’ You were barefoot.”

“It was a metaphor!” Sanji cried. “For falling head over heels!”

Zoro scoffed. “That was the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Says the mossy limpet glued to their side like a touchy fungus!”

Zoro didn’t move. “Jealousy’s not a good look, curly.”

“You—!!”

“Guys,” Nami sighed, “can’t we go one day without turning affection into a shouting match?”

Brook leaned on his cane, chuckling. “Yohohoho! Young love… or something!”

Usopp squinted. “Wait. Has Zoro always been this clingy with Y/N?”

Robin smiled mysteriously. “Since thriller bark, at least.”

Franky nodded solemnly. “Saw him fall asleep on their shoulder mid-battle once. SUPER unconscious.”

“I thought he was dead,” Chopper added, horrified. “Turns out he was just really comfy.”

Zoro’s grip on your shoulder tightened very slightly, and you finally glanced sideways at him.

“Do you know you’re this touchy?” you asked.

He looked like he wanted to evaporate into the deck. “I… just don’t mind you being close.”

You blinked slowly. “Is that samurai code for ‘I like you’?”

Sanji audibly gagged. “Oi! Don’t flirt in front of me!”

“We’re not flirting,” you said.

Zoro mumbled, “Might be.”

Sanji died inside.

“Y/N-chwann” he said gravely, dropping to one knee. “I beg of you—pick me instead! I would never lean on you like a sweaty tree log!”

Zoro growled. “Because you’d faint from being close.”

“AT LEAST I’D DIE HANDSOME!”

You looked between the two of them and sighed.

“I just want to drink my tea without being fought over,” you muttered, walking off—Zoro immediately following, like a shadow with swords.

“You’re still touching me,” you noted.

“Didn’t say I’d stop,” he replied casually.

You stopped walking, turned, and looked him square in the eye.

“You’re aware this is very couple-coded, right?”

He blinked, then grunted. “Guess we should make it official then.”

You blinked right back. “That was fast.”

“Why waste time.”

You smirked just a little. “Romantic.”

He shrugged. “You’re warm. And you don’t talk too much.”

“That’s your idea of a proposal?”

“Worked, didn’t it?”

From behind you, Sanji dramatically screamed into the ocean.

MIHAWK

Kuraigana Island was a wasteland of stone, wind, and uncomfortable silences. You didn’t mind. You were the type to thrive in eerie places — quiet, observant, and allergic to nonsense.

Which is probably why Mihawk didn’t bother with small talk.

Or... so you thought.

Lately, the world’s greatest swordsman had developed a habit of materializing wherever you were. You’d be cleaning a blade — and there he was, pouring tea. You’d sit on the crumbling stone wall for some air — and there he’d be, suddenly trimming the overgrown vines right next to you.

At first, you thought it was coincidence.

Until today.

“...You know you don’t have to sharpen every one of my knives,” you said flatly, watching him work silently at the bench beside you.

“I didn’t,” Mihawk replied, still honing the blade. “Only the dull ones.”

You blinked. “That was my butter knife.”

“Then it was very dull.”

From the far side of the ruins, Zoro grunted as he finished a set of squats. “He refilled their canteen twice this morning.”

“Once,” Mihawk corrected, still not looking up.

“Twice,” Zoro insisted. “Once after breakfast. Then again after they just looked at the sink.”

Perona floated down with a snort. “He also folded their coat. While they were still wearing it.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Wait. Is that why my sleeves were shorter for a second?”

“You had a wrinkle.”

“I always have a wrinkle.”

Mihawk looked up with that unreadable expression. “And now you don’t.”

Zoro huffed. “What even is this? He acts like a butler. But like, a scary one.”

Mihawk narrowed his eyes at him. “I’m not a butler.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Perona muttered, arms crossed. “You fixed the strap on their satchel too.”

Mihawk didn’t respond to that.

Perona raised a brow. “You gonna deny it?”

“No,” Mihawk said coolly, “because it was crooked.”

Zoro leaned against a stone pillar, towel around his neck. “He also moved your seat at the dining table.”

“That was my seat,” you said.

Mihawk finally gave you a long, side glance. “You’ve sat on the left for the past four mornings. I simply ensured it remained consistent.”

You deadpanned. “You rearranged the furniture.”

“Briefly.”

Zoro stared. “And when they tripped over that vine—”

“I cut the vine before they fell,” Mihawk snapped with a tone just shy of defensive.

“Bro. You lunged across the courtyard.”

Mihawk sipped his wine calmly. “It was in the way.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And when you pulled me by the hood into the shade the other day?”

“You were overheating.”

“I wasn’t sweating.”

“You were blinking slowly.”

You stared. “That’s just how I blink.”

There was a long pause.

Then Perona gasped. “Wait, wait — you also fixed the strap on their scabbard!”

“I adjusted it. The weight distribution was uneven.”

Zoro clapped once, grinning. “So you are clingy.”

Mihawk’s eyes narrowed, the glint in them sharp and dangerous. “I am not.”

You leaned your chin on your hand, amused. “Then what would you call this?”

He paused. “Awareness.”

Perona lost it. “You mean hyper-awareness. Of one (1) person.”

Mihawk ignored her. “It’s strategic. I simply ensure you're at your most efficient.”

“That’s not efficiency,” Zoro said, wiping his forehead. “That’s doting.”

Mihawk arched a brow. “You think a swordsman cannot be observant?”

“You folded their laundry in order of fabric weight.”

“They prefer it that way.”

You blinked. “I never said that.”

He side-eyed you, expression cool. “You didn’t need to.”

You blinked again.

Zoro grunted. “You see? He’s acting like we’re all weird for noticing.”

Perona jabbed a finger toward him. “He's totally doing the ‘if I act calm, no one will notice I'm obsessed’ thing.”

Mihawk finally gave a soft, tired sigh — the kind that said you people are exhausting.

Then, turning to you, he asked, “Would you like tea?”

“I haven’t said I was thirsty.”

He didn’t blink. “You will be.”

You stared. “Are you psychic?”

“No,” he said simply. “You’re predictable.”

You squinted. “...That sounds like flirting.”

Mihawk blinked slowly. “I don’t flirt.”

Perona groaned. “OH MY GOD—”

Mihawk stood up, cloak sweeping behind him, expression unreadable as always. He held out the canteen like he’d already won this conversation.

You took it with narrowed eyes, muttering, “Thanks... I guess.”

He nodded, calm as ever. “You’re welcome.”

Zoro crossed his arms. “Still denying it?”

Mihawk looked at all of them — then at you — and with perfect poise said,

“I’m just efficient.”

And with that, he turned and walked away.

You stared after him, took a sip from the canteen, and sighed.

“…Efficiently annoying.”

Perfect pair

Y/n lands on the forsaken island of Kuraigana, crossing paths with the world’s greatest swordsman, Dracule Mihawk.

PART 1 OF READER WHO CAN USE THE INFINITY STONES

dracule mihawk x reader ౨ৎ💗 ONE SHOT

main characters: mihawk

tags: fluff, sfw, soft, lots of v!ol3nce

a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only so expect this ff cringe and oc

words count: 968

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

Kuraigana Island was a corpse of a land.

Fog hung like a wet cloth. Gnarled trees clawed at a grey sky. Castles lay in ruin. Crows perched on broken battlements, staring like tiny, judgmental gods. The humandrills lurked in the shadows, half-watching, half-measuring you with the unsettling intelligence of creatures that knew too much and bowed to nothing.

You arrived with no fanfare — a split in space, a ripple in air, and there you stood.

The swordsman was already waiting.

Golden eyes sharp as his blade, Dracule Mihawk took you in without surprise. Just a flick of his gaze, the briefest narrowing of lids.

“You’re not from here.”

“...”

A beat. Then a faint smirk.

“State your business.”

You glanced around. The entire island radiated don’t bother, but you liked the silence.

“Needed a place to land.”

Mihawk regarded you a moment longer, then turned away.

“Don’t get in my way.”

You didn’t answer. You never did.

There he stood, placing the wine aside. Up close, he was taller than you expected, broad-shouldered and impossibly composed, moving like liquid death. The sort of man who didn’t need to raise his voice to command a room.

“I don’t know where you came from,” he said, approaching with unhurried grace, “but I can tell you this island is no place for a traveler. It devours the weak.”

“I’m not weak.”

Something in his eyes sharpened. “Prove it.”

A sword materialized in his hand—a black-bladed cross almost as tall as you were.

You didn’t blink.

He smirked, and in a blur of movement, brought the blade down.

You raised a hand.

The world stuttered. Time hiccupped.

His strike slowed to a crawl, the blade inches from your face.

“Cute,” you murmured, tilting your head. You could feel the hum of cosmic power rising within you.

With a flick of your wrist, you stepped out of sync with the moment. Time resumed, his blade cleaving harmlessly through empty air.

You were leaning against a column now.

“Done?” you asked, voice flat.

Mihawk turned, eye narrowing. A slow, dangerous smile curved his mouth.

“Well, Aren’t you interesting.”

Days bled together.

Mihawk didn’t ask you to leave, and you didn’t offer. He trained in the ruins. You wandered. A routine of unspoken tolerance.

Occasionally, the hum of his blade slicing the mist would pause as you flexed space to pluck fruit from high branches, reversed time to catch a falling stone before it shattered, or made entire sections of the crumbling wall rebuild themselves just for fun.

Once, a particularly bold baboon lunged at you. Mihawk turned just in time to see it dissolve into stardust.

You held its still-beating heart in your palm for a moment, then let it fall.

The humandrills kept their distance after that.

He said nothing, but his eyes followed you longer after that.

He asked about your powers one evening, rare curiosity threading his tone.

You sat by a fire you didn’t need, lazily manipulating the flame into twisting shapes.

“Are you a god?”

You considered it. “Complicated.”

He hummed. “Good. I hate gods.”

The corner of your mouth twitched. “Noted.”

Tension hung between you like fine wire. Neither speaking it. Neither breaking it.

When pirates landed, drunk on courage and legends of Mihawk’s title, you watched from a stone wall.

Twenty men.

They charged.

Mihawk moved like death made flesh, blade a dark glimmer. He cut through them like wind through leaves.

One survivor crawled toward you, gasping, reaching.

You tilted your head.

The man froze. His body peeled apart into strings of light, unraveling like an old tapestry.

Mihawk watched, bloodied and silent.

You met his gaze. “Messy work.”

He smirked. “Efficient.”

Weeks later, a storm hit.

Lightning split the sky. Waves devoured the shore.

A galleon, unfamiliar flag, shattered against the cliffs.

Mihawk and you stood at the shore. Bodies in the water. Survivors clinging to wreckage.

“Yours?” you asked.

He shook his head.

A captain, foolish and loud, cursed and called Mihawk out by name.

Mihawk’s blade lifted — but you stepped past him.

A simple gesture. A ripple in reality.

The ocean bent, swallowing the survivors. The ship’s remains vanished, leaving only empty, perfect water.

Silence.

“You stole my kill,” Mihawk said.

You shrugged. “They bored me.”

He stared at you a long moment, then laughed. Low, rare.

“Stay,” he said.

You did.

Because for once, you weren’t bored.

One dusky evening, Mihawk invited you on a hunt.

“A nuisance on a nearby island,” he said. “A former Warlord pretending to hold dominion.”

You quirked a brow. “And you need me?”

“I don’t need anyone,” he replied smoothly. “But you might amuse me.”

You smirked and stepped through a portal, Mihawk following.

The island was a lush jungle, overrun with hostile fauna and even more hostile men.

They expected Mihawk. They didn’t expect you.

One tried to cleave your head from behind.

You stopped time.

Walked around the frozen scene, plucking the man’s weapon away, rewinding his attempted strike into a trip and face-first fall into mud.

When time resumed, Mihawk didn’t flinch, but you caught the slight twitch of his lip.

“You enjoy showing off.”

“I enjoy being alive.”

You flicked a finger. Space warped around a group of enemies, their bodies crushed into a single, compacted orb of air before disappearing.

Mihawk cut down the rest, his precise strikes a sharp contrast to your cosmic chaos.

Afterward, the island was silent save for the wind and the cawing of carrion birds.

Mihawk sheathed his sword.

“You might be dangerous company.”

“You might be boring,” you countered.

Another smirk. “Then we’ll keep testing that.”

You stepped back into Kuraigana’s misty air together.

The humandrills stared harder than usual.

And you, for the first time in centuries, considered the notion of staying.