[Koby still has literally no idea where Mihawk is sleeping -- if he is at all, maybe he just spends the nights breaking into Koby's room to silently watch him sleep. That is...actually a shockingly likely scenario, now that he thinks about it.
The point being, he can't really send deliveries or show up unexpectedly or anything like that. He has to settle for whenever they're together (which, granted, is fairly frequent; for someone twice his age, Mihawk has incredible stamina) and for sending written messages as he thinks of them.]
It's raining outside, in case you aren't awake yet. The rain is the same here as at home. I'm telling you because I'm not sure if you actually own a shirt.
I think I've gotten better with the claws. I don't accidentally stab myself as often.
If you're coming over tonight, I'll be back late. I'm charting part of the castle, still.
(This was.............really new. Mihawk wasn't used to being this accessible. Even if Garp had a direct line to him back home, Mihawk still only vaguely entertained the man when he was bored enough to. This was different. Mihawk scoured his notebook on a regular basis in earnest to try and better understand their world.
He was also keeping tabs on the straw hats, Koby, and maybe Jennifer too. So, of course, he sees Koby's handwriting pop up. He's confused at first which means he doesn't respond for quite some time. Then he realizes what's happening.
Koby's just... Talking to him. No real motives, no requests, no questions. Checking up on him, apparently, which could make Mihawk laugh if he were the laughing sort.
One by one, he begins to respond, writing in his flourishing cursive beneath each part respectively because he figures this is how you do this whole thing.)
I fail to see the connection between rain and my choice to disregard shirts.
Have you learned to stab something else with them?
Rest then.
Something quick.
(Mihawk is too deliberate and controlled to scratch out half-formed thoughts. What he does instead is trace back over his own letters, as if emphasizing some silent message tucked between the swoops and curls of his responses.)
[Koby hadn't been expecting an answer. He's trying very hard to keep all his expectations low -- the physical aspect of this thing going on between them is fantastic, and it's strategically sound to have Mihawk as an ally. And he isn't terrible to talk to. That should be more than enough.
So he writes, mostly just to reassure his own desire to obsessively check in with everyone. And then, towards the end of the day: a response. And another, and another.
Koby's somewhere in the castle, dutifully charting and mapping, when he sees the lettering, swooping and elegant and ornate. He has to fully sit down to process this, cross-legged in a window seat, suddenly dizzy from the rush of emotion that slams into him with the force of a cannonball. It's -- a warm, pleasant feeling, a thrill that fills up Koby's chest like butterflies. It's absurd. It's ridiculous.
Oh. Oh, no. He's in so much trouble.
Eventually he responds:]
You'll get wet or sick or something, walking around in the rain.
I'm figuring it out. I think the rituals are more doable right now.
I'm not tired. If you still want to come by, I'll be awake.
(Mihawk would probably argue that he just had nothing better to do with his time in this world. Although he was now training Zoro and doing his own amount of research, it was a special kind of hell for Mihawk. He felt restless.
Koby eased that somewhat.
Quite more than Mihawk cared to admit. He realizes rather sullenly that he is actually waiting for Koby's replies when they finally come. How embarrassing.)
Koby, I might think you are concerned for my well-being if you keep talking like that.
[If it's any consolation for Mihawk (and he'd probably be very satisfied to know this), Koby has to actually force himself to stop and count to a hundred before replying. Can't seem like he's sitting and waiting for responses. Even though he fully is.]
I don't want you bringing puddles into my room, that's all.
Thank you. The healing ritual is all I know right now, but that seems like more than enough for the moment.
No. Just y Maybe more ink? I'm almost out again.
It's not because of your stupid jokes, I can tell you that much.
(When you real thirsty but you gotta play it as cool as humanly possible. Stupidest award goes to...)
I don't know if I have ever been sick a day in my life. A little rain won't do much. But if it soothes your worried soul, I can create an umbrella.
A useful skill. And have you found anyone to teach you some fighting basics yet?
(Oh, he knows what you were going to say there.)
Consider it done.
You crush my ego.
(There's a longer beat. And then, miraculously, he draws a cartoonish rendition of Yoru but with dramatic eyebrows, eyes, and a mouth, the face scowling deeply. He's not doing it to make Koby smile or anything it's just a thing to do.)
I don't have a "worried soul", I just don't like PUDDLES. So if an umbrella is going to avoid those, thank you in advance.
No, not yet. I already know basics, it's mostly getting the hang of the claws. Making fists is hard with the palm claw. I'm a little worried about stabbing myself.
[More than a smile, there's a laugh -- not witnessed, so there's absolutely no way to prove it. Still, Koby pauses to add a few little sparkles around the cartoon sword, and deepen the eyebrows. It's -- fun? Fun.
I've seen you worry a good amount. No puddles then. Any other requests while we're at it, princess?
Pick up kickboxing.
(Which actually might not be a bad idea, now that he's thinking about it properly.
When the sparkles are drawn, Mihawk makes a low noise. He's not smiling, but there is something close to softness on his face. Naturally, he draws Koby's glasses next with big eyes and a little smile.
It's not my fault I'm in a place that gives us constant things to worry about. And no, thank you. I'm heading back soon, though. A few more corridors.
I've thought about it. The only person I know who fights with their feet is Luffy's cook, though...well, he might enjoy the chance to beat the shit out of me, actually.
[He's mapping again, but he can multi-task, watching the little doodle of himself appear and laughing again, softly.] My glasses aren't THAT big! [They absolutely are.
And then -- a doodle of Mihawk, emphasis on the cheekbones and the facial hair and the bigass hat. And more sparkles, of course.]
No, you're absolutely right about that. Garp gave me a LOT to worry about, in my defense.
It's better than fumbling around and trying to figure out how to defend myself. I'd like to try another option first, if at all possible, but if that's all there is...
[Before he can stop himself:] It's how I see you. [A pause, a touch of the pen to the paper, like Koby's about to cross these words out too.
He does have a lot of ambition. Like some other people I could mention. [Pot, kettle.]
Relax. I don't think I can exactly get an updated prescription here, so I'm already planning on avoiding any punches to the face. I'd rather be a coward than blind.
You don't do that dazzling thing on purpose, then? Smoldering. Whatever. I'm too tired to find the right words. I'm heading back.
You aren't at all wrong about that. It seems to be an epidemic. [Koby, you're literally no better, you're trying to be a one-man do-good system in scary witchland.]
Zoro? Do you think he might agree? I did throw up on his shoes when I first got here.
Smoldering. [Underlined here.]
All right. I need to eat something first, if that's all right. And sleep for maybe...10 minutes? Is that okay?
Better than a world of indifferent souls, I suppose.
I think he will somehow forgive you considering I nearly killed him back in our world and now he is going to be my student. Things change. Especially here.
Look at us.
(Not that he ever attempted to kill Koby, but he can't imagine they would have ever slept together back home.)
I'll keep that in mind.
(Mihawk stares at the notebook, hesitating. So far they pretty much only saw each other to have sex, but he doesn't...mind this. He just doesn't know if he should say as much.)
Do what you want. If you are so tired, you can just go to sleep properly. I can leave.
You're swordsmen, it's different. You don't operate like normal people. [Um??? Brat.]
But I guess you're right. This is definitely one of the outcomes I least anticipated. [And you know he had allll kinds of terrible worst-case scenarios seconds after arriving here.
Koby hesitates as well before replying, seriously considering just letting Mihawk leave. But then:] What I want is to see you. If you're patient enough to wait, that is. And if you trust it'll be worth it.
You have your own sort of weird connection thing. You can almost kill each other and it's just a compliment you didn't ACTUALLY kill each other. I don't understand it at all.
[Koby has...no idea how to react to that. He'd anticipated being shot down, or at least griped at about having to wait to get laid. Something Mihawk had said -- your value is not based on what you can or can't do for others -- echoes back to him, but he shoves it away. He can't afford to think like that. It's never been true before, why would it be true now?
Instead, he packs up his supplies and starts back towards his room, pausing to scribble:] Maybe I want to. I can want THAT as much as you can. [You aren't the only one who's horny sometimes, Mihawk.]
It is about honor and integrity. He understands that better than most I have met who ignorantly swing about pathetic sticks they have found.
(He feels deeply about swords and swordsmanship. He actually almost gets into an entire speech about it but realizes that Koby probably wouldn't have too much interest.
Mihawk never prioritized sex in his life and even though Koby was addictive, he wasn't the sort of man to sulk over not getting off. He probably would have just wound up reading while Koby slept or rested.
He stares at the notebook, at Koby's response, and he realizes that Koby is young and maybe he did want it every time they were together. It makes enough sense, really. That seemed to be their arrangement so maybe an offer of time spent without it wasn't something on Koby's mind.
But really, he doesn't mind. It's fine.)
You do know saying words like 'fuck' or 'sex' won't get you in trouble, don't you?
That's exactly what I'm talking about. Who says things like "pathetic sticks"?
[Truthfully, Koby would be interested to hear that speech -- Mihawk's twice his age and probably has hundreds of fascinating stories. But that falls solely into the dangerous "doing things that aren't sex" category, which he is trying so staunchly to avoid.
Walking with his arms full makes responding difficult, but Koby does pause long enough to doodle something in response -- a drawing of himself, glasses and all, sticking his tongue out. Mature!
Then, several minutes later:] Can you get the door?
People who have seen what others consider to be swords.
(It's so offensive sometimes, Koby. Mihawk's tragic backstory is actually just dealing with shitty fighters and a lot of people who think they knew what it meant to be a swordsman.
This might inspire the slightest smile. He doesn't respond, mostly because he's tidying up Koby's room for an excuse to pass the time.
Only a few seconds after Koby sends his message, Mihawk is at the door, swinging it open. He's without his hat and without his cloak. Loose black trousers sitting low on bare hips. Are u sure you want that nap first-)
[Yes, Mihawk, you have the insurmountable burden of being the only person who really understands swords. Koby us so sympathetic.
His room could use it -- there are books and stacks of papers everywhere, mostly map fragments and lists of things people have asked for and potential places to supply them. There's also a detailed description of the healing ritual, and the mostly-untouched wine bottle of blood.
And then Koby's back, arms full of more papers, blinking at Mihawk for a moment. He'd expected him to be there, of course, but the lack of hat or cloak is...unexpected. Maybe it's the long day and how tired he is, but there's a brief, very warm smile on Koby's face as he steps into the room.]
Hi. [None of the clothes here fit right, all either too baggy or too fitted, so Koby's settled for a loose shirt that keeps falling off one shoulder or the other, and pants he has to pin at the top to keep from falling down. Not quite as impressive as Mihawk manages to make a simple pair of pants look.]
(Mihawk winds up just staring intensely back at Koby, his jaw clenching ever so slightly at the sight of that warm smile. Things would make more sense if Koby would just stop looking at him like that.
...And also if he started to wear more fitting clothes. Mihawk doesn't respond. He follows the line of Koby's exposed shoulder and then scales down. He reaches out and takes the papers from Koby and sets them aside. Silently, he reaches out and closes the door to lock it.
Then he proceeds to just. Pick Koby up right by the hips and bring their mouths together because Koby didn't need to eat or sleep first, he needed to maybe get undressed and then some first. Though who knows. Mihawk would probably stop if he's asked to.)
[Koby is genuinely exhausted -- he's been out mapping and checking in on people since early that morning. His hands are smudged with ink, his eyes are dry from staring intently at his notes, trying to make them fit together, his feet hurt from standing and walking so much.
And then, all of a sudden, he's being swept up into Mihawk's arms and none of that matters anymore. Koby forgets about being tired, or hungry, or wanting anything beyond his mouth sealed to Mihawk's, his hands coming up to cradle the older man's face, leaving smudges of ink. He hooks both legs over Mihawk's hips, presses forward against the warmth of his bare chest, kisses him deep and eager and hungry.
Even when they pull apart to breathe, Koby doesn't think about sleeping or eating. He takes a shaky breath, hands sliding down to rest on Mihawk's shoulders. There are dark shadows under his eyes, and he looks tired, but he's still got that warm, happy little smile on his face.
Again, softer:] Hi. [Unspoken: I missed you. I'm glad you stayed.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
written at random throughout the day (u can ignore me, i'm deranged)
The point being, he can't really send deliveries or show up unexpectedly or anything like that. He has to settle for whenever they're together (which, granted, is fairly frequent; for someone twice his age, Mihawk has incredible stamina) and for sending written messages as he thinks of them.]
It's raining outside, in case you aren't awake yet. The rain is the same here as at home. I'm telling you because I'm not sure if you actually own a shirt.
I think I've gotten better with the claws. I don't accidentally stab myself as often.
If you're coming over tonight, I'll be back late. I'm charting part of the castle, still.
I hopePlease tell me thatI missSend something quick so I know you're alive.
i am incapable of ignoring u actually!!
He was also keeping tabs on the straw hats, Koby, and maybe Jennifer too. So, of course, he sees Koby's handwriting pop up. He's confused at first which means he doesn't respond for quite some time. Then he realizes what's happening.
Koby's just... Talking to him. No real motives, no requests, no questions. Checking up on him, apparently, which could make Mihawk laugh if he were the laughing sort.
One by one, he begins to respond, writing in his flourishing cursive beneath each part respectively because he figures this is how you do this whole thing.)
I fail to see the connection between rain and my choice to disregard shirts.
Have you learned to stab something else with them?
Rest then.
Something quick.
(Mihawk is too deliberate and controlled to scratch out half-formed thoughts. What he does instead is trace back over his own letters, as if emphasizing some silent message tucked between the swoops and curls of his responses.)
i am truly blessed we are so normal abt them
So he writes, mostly just to reassure his own desire to obsessively check in with everyone. And then, towards the end of the day: a response. And another, and another.
Koby's somewhere in the castle, dutifully charting and mapping, when he sees the lettering, swooping and elegant and ornate. He has to fully sit down to process this, cross-legged in a window seat, suddenly dizzy from the rush of emotion that slams into him with the force of a cannonball. It's -- a warm, pleasant feeling, a thrill that fills up Koby's chest like butterflies. It's absurd. It's ridiculous.
Oh. Oh, no. He's in so much trouble.
Eventually he responds:]
You'll get wet or sick or something, walking around in the rain.
I'm figuring it out. I think the rituals are more doable right now.
I'm not tired. If you still want to come by, I'll be awake.
You aren't funny at all.
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Koby eased that somewhat.
Quite more than Mihawk cared to admit. He realizes rather sullenly that he is actually waiting for Koby's replies when they finally come. How embarrassing.)
Koby, I might think you are concerned for my well-being if you keep talking like that.
Good. You'll be a quick study, I'm sure.
Okay. Do you need anything then for when I come?
Yet I seem to amuse you just fine.
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I don't want you bringing puddles into my room, that's all.
Thank you. The healing ritual is all I know right now, but that seems like more than enough for the moment.
No.
Just yMaybe more ink? I'm almost out again.It's not because of your stupid jokes, I can tell you that much.
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I don't know if I have ever been sick a day in my life. A little rain won't do much. But if it soothes your worried soul, I can create an umbrella.
A useful skill. And have you found anyone to teach you some fighting basics yet?
(Oh, he knows what you were going to say there.)
Consider it done.
You crush my ego.
(There's a longer beat. And then, miraculously, he draws a cartoonish rendition of Yoru but with dramatic eyebrows, eyes, and a mouth, the face scowling deeply. He's not doing it to make Koby smile or anything it's just a thing to do.)
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No, not yet. I already know basics, it's mostly getting the hang of the claws. Making fists is hard with the palm claw. I'm a little worried about stabbing myself.
[More than a smile, there's a laugh -- not witnessed, so there's absolutely no way to prove it. Still, Koby pauses to add a few little sparkles around the cartoon sword, and deepen the eyebrows. It's -- fun? Fun.
He can't remember the last time he had fun.]
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Pick up kickboxing.
(Which actually might not be a bad idea, now that he's thinking about it properly.
When the sparkles are drawn, Mihawk makes a low noise. He's not smiling, but there is something close to softness on his face. Naturally, he draws Koby's glasses next with big eyes and a little smile.
He might be having fun too.)
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I've thought about it. The only person I know who fights with their feet is Luffy's cook, though...well, he might enjoy the chance to beat the shit out of me, actually.
[He's mapping again, but he can multi-task, watching the little doodle of himself appear and laughing again, softly.] My glasses aren't THAT big! [They absolutely are.
And then -- a doodle of Mihawk, emphasis on the cheekbones and the facial hair and the bigass hat. And more sparkles, of course.]
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(The idea of anyone beating the shit out of Koby sure makes him feel a way.)
That is not training. And I would prefer it if you did not just flippantly go around letting yourself get beat up.
Debatable.
(It's okay, he wore a big hat and carried even a bigger sword. Men liked big things it was just their idiotic way.
He snorts at the picture of himself.)
Is that you how you see the world? Covered in glitter?
(TEASING...)
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It's better than fumbling around and trying to figure out how to defend myself. I'd like to try another option first, if at all possible, but if that's all there is...
[Before he can stop himself:] It's how I see you. [A pause, a touch of the pen to the paper, like Koby's about to cross these words out too.
But he doesn't.]
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Allow me to be clearer: do not go around and ask to be beaten up. I would prefer to spend our evenings doing other things rather than nursing you.
(...............That's............almost as cute as it is concerning. Not that he finds it cute.)
You have a peculiar way of looking at me.
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Relax. I don't think I can exactly get an updated prescription here, so I'm already planning on avoiding any punches to the face. I'd rather be a coward than blind.
You don't do that dazzling thing on purpose, then? Smoldering. Whatever. I'm too tired to find the right words. I'm heading back.
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I'm only ever relaxed. Perhaps I can ask Zoro to offer you some guidance.
Smoldering? (Another snort.)
I'll be here.
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Zoro? Do you think he might agree? I did throw up on his shoes when I first got here.
Smoldering. [Underlined here.]
All right. I need to eat something first, if that's all right. And sleep for maybe...10 minutes? Is that okay?
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I think he will somehow forgive you considering I nearly killed him back in our world and now he is going to be my student. Things change. Especially here.
Look at us.
(Not that he ever attempted to kill Koby, but he can't imagine they would have ever slept together back home.)
I'll keep that in mind.
(Mihawk stares at the notebook, hesitating. So far they pretty much only saw each other to have sex, but he doesn't...mind this. He just doesn't know if he should say as much.)
Do what you want. If you are so tired, you can just go to sleep properly. I can leave.
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But I guess you're right. This is definitely one of the outcomes I least anticipated. [And you know he had allll kinds of terrible worst-case scenarios seconds after arriving here.
Koby hesitates as well before replying, seriously considering just letting Mihawk leave. But then:] What I want is to see you. If you're patient enough to wait, that is. And if you trust it'll be worth it.
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(He definitely knows. He might not have known Koby for long, but he knew him well enough to figure it wasn't the easiest transition.
Ah.
Maybe this shouldn't be so surprising after all their shared messages.)
I can stay. It is worth it well enough on its own. You don't need to do anything additional.
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[Koby has...no idea how to react to that. He'd anticipated being shot down, or at least griped at about having to wait to get laid. Something Mihawk had said -- your value is not based on what you can or can't do for others -- echoes back to him, but he shoves it away. He can't afford to think like that. It's never been true before, why would it be true now?
Instead, he packs up his supplies and starts back towards his room, pausing to scribble:] Maybe I want to. I can want THAT as much as you can. [You aren't the only one who's horny sometimes, Mihawk.]
Be back in twenty minutes.
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(He feels deeply about swords and swordsmanship. He actually almost gets into an entire speech about it but realizes that Koby probably wouldn't have too much interest.
Mihawk never prioritized sex in his life and even though Koby was addictive, he wasn't the sort of man to sulk over not getting off. He probably would have just wound up reading while Koby slept or rested.
He stares at the notebook, at Koby's response, and he realizes that Koby is young and maybe he did want it every time they were together. It makes enough sense, really. That seemed to be their arrangement so maybe an offer of time spent without it wasn't something on Koby's mind.
But really, he doesn't mind. It's fine.)
You do know saying words like 'fuck' or 'sex' won't get you in trouble, don't you?
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[Truthfully, Koby would be interested to hear that speech -- Mihawk's twice his age and probably has hundreds of fascinating stories. But that falls solely into the dangerous "doing things that aren't sex" category, which he is trying so staunchly to avoid.
Walking with his arms full makes responding difficult, but Koby does pause long enough to doodle something in response -- a drawing of himself, glasses and all, sticking his tongue out. Mature!
Then, several minutes later:] Can you get the door?
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(It's so offensive sometimes, Koby. Mihawk's tragic backstory is actually just dealing with shitty fighters and a lot of people who think they knew what it meant to be a swordsman.
This might inspire the slightest smile. He doesn't respond, mostly because he's tidying up Koby's room for an excuse to pass the time.
Only a few seconds after Koby sends his message, Mihawk is at the door, swinging it open. He's without his hat and without his cloak. Loose black trousers sitting low on bare hips. Are u sure you want that nap first-)
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His room could use it -- there are books and stacks of papers everywhere, mostly map fragments and lists of things people have asked for and potential places to supply them. There's also a detailed description of the healing ritual, and the mostly-untouched wine bottle of blood.
And then Koby's back, arms full of more papers, blinking at Mihawk for a moment. He'd expected him to be there, of course, but the lack of hat or cloak is...unexpected. Maybe it's the long day and how tired he is, but there's a brief, very warm smile on Koby's face as he steps into the room.]
Hi. [None of the clothes here fit right, all either too baggy or too fitted, so Koby's settled for a loose shirt that keeps falling off one shoulder or the other, and pants he has to pin at the top to keep from falling down. Not quite as impressive as Mihawk manages to make a simple pair of pants look.]
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...And also if he started to wear more fitting clothes. Mihawk doesn't respond. He follows the line of Koby's exposed shoulder and then scales down. He reaches out and takes the papers from Koby and sets them aside. Silently, he reaches out and closes the door to lock it.
Then he proceeds to just. Pick Koby up right by the hips and bring their mouths together because Koby didn't need to eat or sleep first, he needed to maybe get undressed and then some first. Though who knows. Mihawk would probably stop if he's asked to.)
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And then, all of a sudden, he's being swept up into Mihawk's arms and none of that matters anymore. Koby forgets about being tired, or hungry, or wanting anything beyond his mouth sealed to Mihawk's, his hands coming up to cradle the older man's face, leaving smudges of ink. He hooks both legs over Mihawk's hips, presses forward against the warmth of his bare chest, kisses him deep and eager and hungry.
Even when they pull apart to breathe, Koby doesn't think about sleeping or eating. He takes a shaky breath, hands sliding down to rest on Mihawk's shoulders. There are dark shadows under his eyes, and he looks tired, but he's still got that warm, happy little smile on his face.
Again, softer:] Hi. [Unspoken: I missed you. I'm glad you stayed.]
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flees 2 this at last
EMBRACES
cw: probably themes of transphobia and gender stuff moving forward
DEFS lmao
Re: DEFS lmao
cw: very vague assault allusions
Re: cw: very vague assault allusions
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i can't believe they invented love
LITERALLY i'm literally feral abt them
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a mile long of pining lmao
put that tag in the moma tbqh
Re: put that tag in the moma tbqh
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