Not-So-Secret (Mihawk x Reader)
One Piece | Mihawk | 3.2k | Masterlist
When you returned home from what felt like months at sea, the last thing you expected to find was two children. Well, not real children. They were clearly far older than that but with the volume they argued at, you could think of no better term.
It was the first time the castle had greeted you with anything but stillness. Their argument bounced faintly along the vaulted ceilings and down the halls as you walked, and despite yourself, it drew a quiet smile from you.
A glass of wine waited beside your favourite chaise, set within easy reach of the fire that crackled low in the hearth. The warmth of it brushed against your skin as you passed, chasing away the lingering chill of travel. You leaned down to press a brief kiss to Mihawk’s cheek. His hand came up briefly at your wrist before you could pull away, a quiet pause more than a restraint, as though confirming you were truly there before he let you go.
You settled opposite him, the familiar weight of the room closing comfortably around you.
“Are you interested in adoption now, my love?” you asked. “I won’t complain too much but I admit, I’d have preferred to start with somebody a little younger.”
He shook his head and levelled a flat, unimpressed look toward the sound. “They’re an unasked-for gift from Kuma.”
“Kuma? He always gives us the strangest things.”
And rarely were they without meaning. You wondered what he had planned with this.
Mihawk gave you a tired look. “And never with appropriate warning. How were your travels?”
You fought the urge to sigh in exasperation. “Testing of my patience. I was – ”
The door screeched against the stone floor before you could finish your sentence and you turned, interested in the argument that had finally made its way to the table. What they were talking about was beyond you but it took them both a second to notice there was somebody else in the room.
Four ghosts drifted in during the sudden silence that followed, their forms pale against the dark stone, their faint murmuring just loud enough to be heard when the room went still. You watched them for a moment, mildly amused. The house was officially haunted then, you supposed.
“If you two are to remain here, you are to do so with far less noise,” Mihawk said sharply. “What do you want?”
They both opened their mouths to answer but it seemed your unexpected arrival had caused them to forget their argument entirely. Instead, the boy settled on speaking about something else.
“That’s a good sword.”
You followed his gaze to the side of your chaise where your weapon rested. Its plain leather scabbard said little for the quality of the blade inside. You lifted it and held it out toward him and he watched you warily before he stepped forward to take it.
“It was a gift,” you said. “I believe I recognise you. Pirate Hunter Zoro, no?”
He nodded stiffly, far more interested in the weapon than you. He looked uncomfortable. Not as though he was seriously injured but more as though he was recovering from such an ordeal and already pushing himself too hard.
You gave Mihawk a look. “You’ve always been too harsh with your training.”
He tilted his head to you. “If your skills ever fail you, then you can complain about my methods.”
“I can do both,” you said with a small chuckle. “I’ll complain and appreciate your techniques at the same time. Though at the time, I remember nothing but complaining.”
He breathed out quickly. “True. My ears rang for days at the pitch.”
Zoro drew your blade, holding it out in front of him and you turned to the girl instead whose face certainly wasn’t as common on wanted posters.
“We haven’t met,” you said and she frowned at you.
Then she propped her hands onto her hips and nodded. “I see what’s going on.”
“What’s going on?”
Mihawk gave you her name later, after she marched off to find something to eat. You also learned the ghosts were hers and they gathered around her eagerly whenever she laughed, bobbing around. They added quite nicely to the aesthetic of the place – you’d always suspected it had to be haunted by at least one spirit.
You considered it as you lounged atop the silken sheets of the four-poster bed, the fabric cool beneath your skin. The room pressed in around you with its age, stone walls holding onto a quiet that felt older than either of you, thick with a history no one had bothered to remember.
And broken by the occasional laugh echoing down the halls.
“Do they sleep?” you asked.
“Most of the time. I’m still considering putting them on a boat and letting it set sail,” Mihawk said. “If the current is merciful, they may reach land alive.”
“The boy has potential enough for you to let him stay then?”
“Some. I’ve still yet to determine it.”
You hummed softly under your breath. “But the girl has no skills to be trained.”
“No. She seems to have spent most of her life around Gecko Moira.”
“Unfortunate.”
He took his place next to you and raised a book, flicking lazily through the pages until he found his spot. You leaned closer, curious to see how far he’d gotten since you’d last seen him, only to find you remembered the page almost exactly.
“Rereading?”
“I didn’t take it with me. I thought that if you returned earlier than I did, you might want something to look at it.”
You smiled softly. “I should have arrived earlier but things turned sour on the archipelago. There was chaos enough I almost skipped the stop. Did Kuma send them when you got back?”
“I don’t know when they arrived. I found them here after my return.”
You twisted onto your side to look at him better, expression aghast. “Dracule, don’t tell me they were abandoned here for potential days. We had no food here after we left.”
He shrugged. “They survived. I’m certain there are berries or something growing outside the west wing.”
The next morning, you got up early to prepare breakfast, your brain still lingering on the berries outside. You were quite sure those weren’t edible.
You busied yourself around the far-too-big kitchen, your footsteps echoing faintly against the stone as you moved between counters. Pots and pans hung where they had been left months ago, a thin layer of dust settled over some of them as you reached up to pull them down.
Something shifted behind you, light but noticeable in the quiet, and you turned with a small smile already forming. “Good morning.”
Perona gave you a look you didn’t quite understand. “Men are rather stupid,” she said. “You have to do something more obvious, especially with men like him who are more interested in swords.”
You frowned, a little confused by the morning’s topic but happy to accept it. “I imagine it depends on the man. Would you like some pancakes?”
“Sure. I’m just saying that it doesn’t matter how big you make your ‘I love you’ eyes because he won’t even notice,” she said.
“Are you talking about Dracule?” you asked.
She blinked at you. “First names are a bit too forward.”
Perona clearly enjoyed cuter things so you took a little more time to decorate her pancakes, making two small bear faces surrounded by (edible) berries and a little bit of chocolate you’d carried back with you. It wasn’t the best creation you’d ever made but it was adorable enough that you held out the plate to her.
“He’s never minded what I call him,” you said. “Dracule is a lot less formal than – are you alright?”
She stared at the plate for a moment too long, eyes brightening. You froze for a second, still holding the plate out. You flipped the pancakes cooking with your free hand, not sure what to do now. Had you offended her?
Then she flicked her head up to look at you and nodded, grabbing the plate. “These aren’t that impressive but fine, I’ll help you organise a date with him,” she said. “Not because these look like Kumashi or anything but you know, because you look sad and he needs to mope less.”
You had no idea what a Kumashi was but you assumed it meant she liked them. You could have corrected her then but the determined tilt of her chin made the misunderstanding too charming to ruin.
“I wouldn’t say he mopes,” you said. “Though he can be a bit miserable when he hasn’t slept enough.”
“It’s probably also because this place is depressing,” she huffed. “It’s so gloomy and… cold.”
“It does need a good clean,” you admitted to yourself, looking up to the ceiling where cobwebs stretched between the beams and gathered in corners that had not seen a broom in years. “It’s just a bit of a pain to get up there. The last time I climbed into the rafters, I was attacked by a ridiculously sized bug so I’d rather not do it again.”
“Perhaps you should take your sword with you,” Mihawk said as he stepped in. “You could easily kill one insect.”
“It’s far harder to clean with a blade,” you defended yourself though you remembered him getting rid of that very bug not long after it scared you. “Do you want some breakfast?”
Perona held up her pancakes for him to see. “She’s very good at making cute meals. You should get her to move in so she can bring some more life to this place. It’s got a good creepy castle vibe but it could use more colour.”
Mihawk stared at the plate for a second. “That’s not a reason to ask somebody to move in?”
You handed him a plate of his own bear pancakes. His fingers brushed yours as he took the plate, lingering just a fraction longer than necessary before he withdrew. “I was considering adding something brighter to a few rooms. Maybe a lighter red for the curtains.”
“Do as you wish,” he said. “Why bears?”
“I saw one while I was out. Technically a mink but just as cute.”
He left to wake up the younger swordsman after breakfast, telling you to leave the kitchen mess for him to clean later. Perona nodded approvingly the whole time; her ghosts peering their heads around the corner to watch him leave.
“You’re doing well,” she said. “Next you have to dress up for him. What kind of outfits do you think he likes?”
You looked around yourself at the grandiose kitchen with its dark oak cabinets, intricately designed gothic fittings, and gold-tinted décor. “I think his preferred aesthetic is obvious,” you admitted. “Do you want to look at the clothing I have already?”
She shook her head fiercely. “No. No. I think you need to look a lot cuter. We’ll set up a date for both of you tonight.”
“Alright,” you said, bemused. “I’d never say no to a date.”
It turned out that when Kuma banished her onto this ‘vacation’, he hadn’t sent many of her things with her. She started to try planning with what little she had until you offered to take her to a nearby island with much better stores. It was no grand marketplace, just a narrow stretch of shops pressed close together near the docks, but her excitement still had her bouncing on her heels as she looked from window to window.
She adored the colour pink – that you learned quickly – and she had a withering tongue when she came across something that was ugly.
You took the time to grab a few items for the pirate alongside all that Perona wanted which… was honestly a lot. You watched her with faint entertainment as she gathered everything for this dinner date of yours, intervening only to point her toward a wine you knew Mihawk preferred.
“Alright, so you should cook him something cute for dinner,” she insisted. “Try and focus on heart shapes where you can.”
“He cooks more often than I do,” you said. “But I should know what he likes to eat.”
“See? You’re not hopeless.”
You couldn’t help but laugh softly at that. “Have you ever done this for a man before, Perona? You seem very confident in it.”
“Ew, no,” she said with a wrinkled tongue. “Why would I want to make food for somebody who smells bad?”
It was an answer younger than her years but you were starting to get the feeling that she may not have met many outside her home island. And from what little you knew of Moira – admittedly, you had avoided the man since the first time you met him – he’d always kept questionable company.
“Thankfully, Dracule rarely smells bad,” you admitted. “Though he does have his own questionable habits from time to time.”
“How long have you been in love with him?”
You smiled to yourself. How long had it been now? The years had passed before you even noticed them going.
“A while.”
“Good. That means you’re not going to change your mind.”
“Most certainly not.”
Perona eventually found a very frilly choice for you. A ridiculously frilly thing that you would never wear for yourself but she insisted would suit you well. Part of you wondered if she was using you to play dolls with but you’d entertain her for now. Especially because it seemed to make her very happy to do so.
She set up the dining hall while you cooked that evening, before either swordsman returned from their training. Candles flickered above you, their light shifting softly across the walls as you sat and allowed her to do your makeup, her hands tugging gently at your hair until you caught your reflection and found you did indeed resemble a doll.
You touched your lips delicately with your ring finger as you considered yourself.
The pink tablecloth hung unevenly over the long table, one side slipping lower than the other, and the heart-shaped placemats sat bright against the dark wood. It was gaudy by any standard, but she seemed to be having fun, so you left her to it;
“Why are you making four plates?” she asked.
“You two still need to eat,” you reminded her.
“Okay but leave it here then. If you let Zoro in, he’ll ruin everything by talking about swords.”
“I rather like talking about swords,” you said.
She groaned. “No but it’s every night! They never talk about anything else!”
If you had planned this dinner by yourself, it would have been very different to what Perona suggested. The décor would have featured fewer horizontal stripes at least. You poured two glasses and settled into your favourite chair at the table while she waited with her head out into the hallway.
“He’s coming,” she hissed. “Don’t ruin it by looking nervous.”
“I’ll try my hardest.”
Mihawk stepped into the room and paused, his gaze moving slowly over the table, the candles, the colour that did not belong. The curtain so clearly hiding a woman. His gaze settled on you after only a moment, the rest of the room dismissed as quickly as it had been assessed.
“This seems like you had fun today,” he said.
“We went shopping,” you said. “And Perona curated us a lovely date.”
“No,” she hissed. “You’re meant to take credit for it.”
You looked toward the curtain. She’d stuck her head out to stare at you and you laughed softly.
“Honey, I would love to claim it but I think it’s quite obvious you were responsible for all of this. Whenever I set up for dinner, I do it quite differently.”
Mihawk raised an eyebrow and you gestured for him to take his usual seat. “A date?” he repeated. There was the faintest shift in his tone of something quieter beneath the question.
“She thinks we would make a very cute couple.”
He looked at the girl with a deadpan expression. “I did too. That was why I asked you to be my wife.”
You tilted your head slightly at that, amused by how easily he said it. Always so certain.
You laughed softly behind your hand. “Was that the only reason?”
“Among others.”
“But isn’t this sweet?” you asked as you took a sip of your wine. “It reminds me of the first time you made me dinner though… perhaps with less pink.”
“Wife?!” Perona exploded, seemingly having caught up. She stepped out from behind the curtain with an accusing stare. “You’re not wearing a ring!”
You reached behind you and touched the scabbard of your sword where it rested against your chair. Attached to the hilt by woven leather, your ring glinted gold. “It gets in the way if I’m wearing it while wielding a sword,” you admitted.
“Why didn’t you tell me this morning when I said something?!”
“Because I found it sweet how you wanted to help me win his heart,” you said. “I think the best thing I did for that was when I stole his hat and didn’t give it back until he kissed me.”
Mihawk gave you a look. “I had already taken you out several times before then.”
“But that’s the moment you fell in love with me.”
He neither confirmed nor denied anything; simply breathed out and held his glass toward you. You clinked yours to his gently, the soft chime of crystal familiar in a way few other sounds could be.
“Why don’t you join us, Perona?” you asked. “It’s not quite the date you wanted it to be but we can enjoy dinner right?”
Zoro appeared in the doorway, looked from the pink tablecloth to Mihawk’s expression, and frowned. “Did I interrupt something weird?”
She huffed and crossed her arms but she was smiling. “Alright fine. I guess I can but at least get him to say you’re pretty or something.” She grabbed Zoro’s arm and practically hauled him from the door. “Come get your food.”
“Don’t drag me!”
You watched them go, stifling your laugh the entire time.
“She chose your outfit too?” Mihawk asked.
“Mm, do you like it?”
“There’s very little I wouldn’t like if you’re the one wearing it.”
You rested your hand over his own, squeezing slightly. “I like your new children,” you told him. “They’re very sweet.”
“They’re most certainly not mine,” he said. “But I suppose they’re tolerable.”
“That’s what you said about me the first time we met.”
He shook his head but you caught the faintest hint of a smile before you heard arguing start up in the hallway again. Zoro must have returned then. You had to admit, it may have only been a day, but the castle felt different already, less hollow than it had and you were growing quite fond of having them here. And though he would never admit it, they’d definitely won a little favour from your forever-stern husband.
