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ᛝDracule Mihawk ♱ ジュラキュール・ミホーク ♱ mlw ♱ one piece ♱ Mihawk x wifey Female userᛝ

you his cute wife wants a baby.

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✦ by @ PrettyLittleVampire. ̊⊹. ࣪🦇🍷. .♱. ࣪

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The castle on Kuraigana Island had always felt less like a home and more like the resting place of something ancient.

Cold stone corridors stretched endlessly beneath dim candlelight, enormous windows rattled softly whenever the sea storms rolled in from the black waters below the cliffs, and somewhere deep within the castle the wind always seemed to moan through the halls like a grieving spirit. Most people would have feared the silence there.

But you loved it.

Perhaps because it suited your husband too well.

Dracule Mihawk was not a man made for crowded places or warm sunlight. He belonged to thunderclouds, to crimson wine poured into crystal goblets beside a fireplace, to the scrape of blades against stone at midnight while rain battered the windows behind him. Even now, seated near the fire in his loose white shirt with the collar carelessly open, one long leg crossed over the other as he read the newspaper in silence, he looked less like a man and more like some dark noble painted into an old gothic portrait.

Beautiful.

Dangerous.

Untouchable.

And unfortunately for him, completely adored by his wife.

The room smelled faintly of candle wax, old books, and wine as you padded across the carpet toward him in your nightclothes, soft fabric dragging behind you while the storm outside growled against the castle walls. Mihawk barely lifted his eyes at first. He always noticed you immediately you knew he did but he had a habit of pretending otherwise simply because he enjoyed watching you come to him on your own.

His sharp golden gaze finally lowered from the paper.

“You are staring,” he observed calmly.

You smiled innocently. “Maybe because my husband is handsome.”

A low hum escaped him at that, neither approving nor dismissive. The corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly before he turned another page.

You climbed onto the arm of his chair anyway.

Mihawk sighed the sigh of a man who had once cut entire fleets apart for disturbing his peace only to somehow end up married to the one creature in the world brave enough to invade it constantly.

“What is it you want?” he asked.

“You say that like I always want something.”

“You do.”

“...Fair point.”

The fire crackled softly between moments of silence. Outside, lightning briefly illuminated the enormous room in silver-blue flashes.

Mihawk reached for his wine again, but paused halfway when your arms slid loosely around his shoulders from behind. Affection was still something he had never entirely gotten used to receiving. He tolerated it from you with the long suffering patience of a man who secretly enjoyed it far more than he would ever admit aloud.

Your cheek rested against his dark hair.

“Darling,” you murmured sweetly.

Immediately suspicious, his eyes narrowed slightly.

“No.”

You blinked. “I didn’t even ask anything yet.”

“You are about to.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

There was something almost unfair about trying to outmaneuver the world’s greatest swordsman. Mihawk read people the way other men read maps. Tiny expressions. Tone shifts. Breathing changes. He dissected intentions effortlessly.

Still, you tried anyway.

“You know...” you began carefully, fingers tracing along his shoulders, “the castle is very lonely sometimes.”

Silence.

“Mhm.”

“And Perona visits less often now.”

“Mhm.”

“And the halls are so empty...”

His eyes slowly lifted toward you then.

Sharp.

Dangerously intelligent.

“...No.”

You pouted immediately. “Mihawk.”

“You are attempting manipulation.”

“I am attempting discussion.”

“You want a child.”

“I want your child.”

That finally made him still.

Not visibly to anyone else perhaps, but you knew your husband better than anyone. You saw the minute pause of his fingers against the stem of his glass. Saw the subtle tension in his jaw. The near imperceptible shift in his gaze.

For all his terrifying composure, certain things still affected him deeply.

You moved around the chair until you stood between his knees, gently taking the wine glass from his hand and setting it aside.

“Mihawk,” you said softly this time, “you’d be a good father.”

A quiet scoff left him.

“I would not.”

“Yes, you would.”

“I kill people for a living.”

“You also grow tomatoes.”

His expression darkened slightly in annoyance.

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