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rainbowmoonstonestories · 4 months ago

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A Bounty As Boundless As The Sea | Chapter 6

Chapters: 6/? Fandom: One Piece (Liveaction 2023) Rating: Explicit Relationships Dracule Mihawk x F!Reader Characters: Dracule Mihawk, Original Characters, Akagami no Shanks, Roronoa Zoro , Perona. Warnings: Mention of blood and physical torture, violence, 18+ content (minors DNI), explicit sexual content, POV switching. Summary: Constantly evading capture due to a bounty on your head, you were forced to embrace the life of a pirate, despite your initial desire for a thrilling adventure and a simple exploration of the world. One fateful day, the Marines dispatched Dracule Mihawk to hunt you down, plunging you into a game of hide and seek with the formidable Warlord of the sea throughout the East Blue. However, to your surprise, the man proved to be less bloodthirsty and hostile than you had anticipated. His piercing, hawk-like eyes, shimmering with a deep golden hue, left an indelible impression on your mind, while his apathetic yet self-assured demeanor ignited a newfound sense of intrigue within you.

Credits: The divider was made by firefly-graphics.

Tagging: @gg-trini, @commanderfreethatdust, @canthebest1, @shakysif, @i-am-vita. If anyone else wants to be tagged in the future chapters, feel free to drop me a comment!

Read on AO3

Waking up beside Dracule Mihawk felt both unusual and entirely right. As a man of honor, with principles ingrained from a lifetime of rigorous swordsmanship training, he channeled the same passion and dedication into his relationship with you. In fact, It wasn't long before the first signs of jealousy surfaced. He made it abundantly clear that he didn't like to share, demonstrating this concept in his own, sensual way.

Author's note: This is another update that suffered severely from the heat this season. I can't really stand hot temperatures as humidity makes me physically sick. I apologize for the long wait.

Warning: Detailed NSFW content ahead!

You were immersed in absolute, utter bliss.

With the music still resonating from a distance, you were comfortably sprawled on your bed, lying on your back with your legs spread open and Dracule Mihawk nestled between them. His tongue was delivering the most exquisite pleasure you had ever savored, caressing your clit with a sensual rhythm, alternating movements from up and down to side to side. His golden eyes were locked on you, perfectly still, observing every expression, every nibble of your lower lip, every soft moan escaping your mouth.

You were captivated by his breath, steady yet slightly hastened, accompanied by the soft, tantalizing wet sounds his mouth was producing. He appeared to quicken his pace and apply more pressure whenever you ran your nails against his scalp, while his own hands were gripping your thighs, maintaining their position despite the frequent spasms of your hips.

Your eyes rolled back every time his tongue hit a particularly sensitive nerve, your chest rose and fell repeatedly, your nipples hard and rubbing against the fabric of your crop top. You were on the brink of climax, yet not quite there yet.

With an arm propped behind your pillow, you tried to stay relaxed and prolong the moment as long as possible, but he was making it exceedingly difficult for you to hold back with all the proficient moves he was performing on your body.

And then he took your clitoris between his lips, sucking on it as if it were a delectable sweet. Your knees clamped onto either side of his face, but the usual hum he emitted indicated that he didn't mind.

And he was quite torturous too. Whenever he sensed that you were teetering on the edge, he slowed down again, barely caressing your sensitive spot to keep it aroused, but not enough to push you over. You lost count of how many times you muttered curses under your breath. The anticipation was excruciating, yet simultaneously, you appreciated his measured pace, cautious not to apply excessive force and trigger your release prematurely.

As his tongue danced around your folds, you could feel the familiar buildup of heat in your lower abdomen. The tension was almost unbearable, but delicious in its own way. Your heart pounded in your chest, matching the flow of his ministrations.

Your breath hitched as the waves of pleasure intensified with each passing moment. The surroundings seemed to blur into insignificance, and all your senses were honed in on Mihawk and the exquisite stimulation he was offering you.

The sensation was escalating beyond your threshold, your clit throbbing and quaking with each tantalizing lick. His name tumbled from your lips in a breathless entreaty as the impending surge of pleasure loomed dangerously close to engulfing you. You undulated on the mattress like a gentle sea wave, his hands anchoring your lower body.

Sensing your imminent climax, he intensified his efforts, giving you tacit permission to let go. His tongue moved more quickly, circling your bundle of nerves with just the right amount of pressure and speed. The moment that familiar knot unraveled, your hand seized a fistful of his hair, while your orgasm exploded through your limbs like a powerful storm.

You convulsed uncontrollably, letting out moans and arching your back upward. He showed no mercy, persisting with his licks, sweeping his tongue through your slick lower lips before returning to your clit again. He only ceased his actions when you became overly sensitive to his touch, and you descended from your peak like a crème brûlée - your muscles gradually relaxing into a state of exhaustion.

Through your half-lidded eyes, you saw him licking his lips to savor your taste. His mustache, although a little damp, remained impeccably neat.

"I'm not done with you," he declared, moving upwards and trapping your body between his arms, his hands pushing into the mattress.

"Obviously. I wouldn't expect any less from you," you replied with a smile. "Just.... give me a moment to catch my breath.”

“Mh.”

He complied, honoring your need for a brief respite, and reclined on the bed beside you without objection. His hawk-like eyes stared unblinkingly at the ceiling.

Slowly regaining your stamina, you rolled onto your side and propped your head up on the pillow with your elbow. "Thank you for that. It felt amazing.”

"Consider it your payback.”

You laughed softly, running your fingers along his chest, feeling the heat and smoothness of his skin beneath your touch. "I didn't go down on you with the expectation of getting something in return, but I appreciate it nonetheless."

As your fingers glided over the contours of his muscles, you couldn't help but notice the prominent bulge in his trousers. For the moment, you decided to ignore it, relishing the way he seemed to unwind under your gentle caress.

Every moment spent with him—each word, contact, kiss, and intimate act—seemed to fortify the foundation of a deeper relationship. Mihawk's admission, though somewhat vague, made it clear that he didn't regard you merely as a casual diversion for his physical needs.

"No one touches what’s mine and lives to tell the tale.”

"Did I miss something?" You questioned aloud. "I wasn't aware of the fact that you considered me as yours.”

"If you see this as a game, I have no inclination to participate.”

Articulating what you shared was arduous, and the idea of openly discussing it with him was unnerving. Perhaps one day, at the right time, you would find the courage to thoroughly examine the situation.

Your heart rate gradually steadied, your breathing becoming more stable and controlled. Now that you had caught your breath and felt prepared for the next course of action, you lifted yourself up and sat astride his waist. You meticulously and patiently started to unbuckle his belt, your gaze meeting his seemingly indifferent golden eyes. A familiar glimmer lingered in his dilated pupils, giving them an intoxicated look of desire for you.

"How did you manage to persuade the World Government to revoke my bounty?" You inquired nonchalantly, setting the belt buckle aside and gently tugging his clothes downward.

"Do you seriously want to discuss that now?”

You shrugged. "Just a passing curiosity.”

His erection stood firm beneath you, swollen and veined. It lay against his stomach as you positioned yourself above it, allowing your wetness to slide over its length in a slow, deliberate motion.

"They owe me a substantial favor," he replied. "They're the ones who require my services.”

You smiled, allowing your hands to roam over his chest, grazing the sides of his cross knife. "In other words, you have the advantage. Not that I ever doubted it."

"Does that answer satisfy you?" He asked in annoyance.

Whenever he put on such an aloof and seemingly uninterested demeanor, a grin would instinctively form on your face. "For now.”

His hands drifted back to your hips, halting your movement. "Remove your top," he commanded.

You savored the irritation in his voice, as if the sight of the last piece of clothing on your body was intolerable to him.

You leaned in, your lips barely grazing his rugged, bearded cheek. "Make me," you whispered provocatively.

A low, almost inaudible growl emanated from his chest. "Do I have to tear that off?"

"I'd rather keep it intact, thank you.”

His struggle with that uncomplicated garment, which lacked the usual clasp of regular bras, underscored his impatience and desire to get straight to the point. It was absolutely hilarious.

With the grace of a vixen, you slowly took his hands and guided them to your breasts. You let them move along your belly, up to your stomach, until they reached the curves of your mounds and rested there. You positioned his fingers, holding them firmly in place until they began to move of their own accord.

"Come on. It's not like you need a knife to remove it.”

His stare was intense, quite difficult to interpret. He reached for the hem of your crop top, lifting it cautiously until your breasts were partially revealed. You raised your arms, allowing him to remove the offending piece from your torso, your nipples hardening even further as soon as they were exposed. Once the top was fully taken off, he tossed it unceremoniously onto the floor.

Being so unveiled and vulnerable under his gaze, as his piercing eyes lingered a moment longer on your breasts than he had intended, made you feel slightly self-conscious despite the times he had already seen you in your full glory. Still, you allowed him to look at you in silence, again and again, feeling your lower muscles clench with desperation.

Without uttering a word, you lifted your hips and positioned yourself over his arousal, gripping it firmly at the base. Again, Mihawk offered no opposition, but the twitch in his erection betrayed his longing for you.

You were taken aback by how effortlessly he let you take control. He appeared completely at ease, almost relaxed, as if he were evaluating your boldness and endurance. His eyes drifted downward to where your bodies connected. He observed intently as he sank into you, enveloped by your warmth, pushing deeper with each second. He absorbed every detail with meticulous attention.

The stretch was astounding, but you had become accustomed to it. He was scorching, sizable, and precise, hitting the most sensitive spot within you without any difficulty.

You felt whole, fitting seamlessly with him like a puzzle piece, as if he had been crafted specifically for you.

As you found a steady rhythm, you pressed your palms against his chest for support, using it as leverage to channel strength through your arms and legs. You moved slowly, adjusting and gaining confidence, while the Warlord remained almost unresponsive. He merely watched, impassive.

"Keep going like that," he encouraged, his golden eyes flickering and glinting in the dim light.

Clearly, with his physical resilience, he wasn't averse to gradually building up the passion. His Adam's apple bobbed, his lips pressed together in a thin line, and the wet sounds of your intimacy exquisitely filled the air.

You sighed and moaned, pressing your forearms against his chest. His warm, steady breath brushed against your face as you descended.

"Are you really in the East Blue just for me?" you asked, panting.

With an arched eyebrow, he remarked, "You certainly have a tendency to choose the most inconvenient times for these discussions, don't you?”

You found his focus on the moment, rather than anything else, both flattering and admirable. "I love to keep things interesting."

You moved your hips with a seductive allure, releasing another moan of pleasure as he answered with a deep, resonant sound.

"You don't want to tell me?”

He looked at you with an inscrutable expression, tightening his hold on your sides to steer your motions. "You have captivated my interest, though I'm sure you were already aware of that."

You smiled, kissing the corner of his mouth. "I wasn't certain about that until today, actually."

"I did make myself clear.”

"You mentioned that you don't view me as a plaything, but sometimes a woman needs a little more reassurance. After all, we still don’t know each other that well."

He sighed. "What kind of reassurance are you seeking?"

"What you said earlier... is it true? Do you actually see me as yours? I don't mind, but I thought you valued your freedom.”

He contemplated briefly, his attention drifting away. When he looked back at you, his eyes were as bright and captivating as gemstones. "I am indeed a man who values freedom. But freedom isn’t all about isolation. It means choosing where and with whom I spend my time, and I have chosen you.”

If metaphors could make sounds, your current state would be like your heart dropping with a thud, rolling off the mattress, hitting the floor, knocking the door open, and leaping into the ocean with a loud splash.

Mihawk twitched inside you, his scruffy beard brushing against your cheek as you pressed your face to his once more. "Is that so?"

"Let's get one thing straight: you're not just a mere possession," he declared.

“I know that.”

“Do you?”

"You're not the type of man who would relegate someone like me. Or anyone else, for that matter. I've seen enough to know you're far too honorable for that, Mihawk.”

Mihawk’s eyes softened, a rare glimpse of vulnerability in the stoic Warlord. "You understand more than most," he conceded, his voice a low rumble.

The warmth of your body increased as you continued to flow up and down. "I want to learn more about you," you admitted. "Not just the legendary swordsman, but the man behind the blade.

"There are parts of me that you wouldn’t like to find out. But if you are truly determined to know, I won't stand in your way.”

"I'm not easily deterred.”

"Good," he said, a small grin tugging at his lips. "I need someone who can match my pace."

With a resolute gleam in your eyes, you deliberately tightened your muscles around his shaft. "I'm going to do more than just keep up."

He nodded, silently acknowledging your strength and resolve, his arousal twitching in response. "Then let's see where this journey takes us.”

His fingers returned to your chest, tenderly lifting and caressing your breasts, his middle and forefingers framing your nipples. Your clit throbbed with the exquisite friction, the pleasure from his touch sending electrigying jolts straight down.

"Harder now," he instructed. "Let's see how far you can go."

You took a deep breath, spreading your legs wider than you thought possible, allowing him to slide in nearly to the hilt. Despite the protests from your groin, you remained indifferent to it.

"Challenge accepted," you proclaimed, adjusting your stance for swifter motion while maintaining your balance.

You continued relentlessly, ignoring the fire burning in your muscles. You could see him struggling to keep his pelvis still, his knees bending and his lower abdomen hardening like marble as it contracted. You were losing yourself, eyes tightly shut, your voice becoming strained and labored. You gritted your teeth, pushing past the threshold of fatigue, focusing solely on the rhythm and the task before you.

"Don't stop," he uttered, his voice barely audible over your labored breathing. "I want to see you push past your limits.”

With one final burst of effort, you propelled yourself upward again, feeling a sense of triumph as you overcame the barriers that once seemed insurmountable. The room faded away, leaving only the two of you, locked in a shared moment of immense exertion and unyielding determination.

Finally, he intensified his motions, gripping your sides with his strong, calloused hands, his hips meeting yours halfway. Mihawk grew impossibly hard, thick, and on the verge of release inside you. Your body reacted instinctively, driven by an innate desire for pleasure and fulfillment.

He slid his right hand past your thigh directly to your unstimulated clitoris. His thumb grazed it, lifting its hood, and stroking the tip with extreme care and precision. Finally, as your limbs screamed in protest and your entire form trembled with exhaustion, you reached the pinnacle of your endeavor. Your climax left you spent, collapsing against him as your inner walls quivered, pulsed, and held onto him tightly.

His release followed just a few seconds later. Amid spasms, his fingers gripped the back of your head, entwining in your hair and drawing you closer. He didn't break a sweat or make any sounds of gratification, but the way he held you and exhaled through his nose showed just how powerful and satisfying his orgasm was.

He had just settled back against the mattress when he spoke again. "Well done. You truly have it in you.”

The bond you felt with him was unparalleled, and you couldn't bring yourself to pull away as he held you securely against him. The cross knife shifted slightly to the left, letting you rest more comfortably against his heated skin.

It was more than you could have ever imagined; each intimate encounter with Dracule Mihawk outdid the last.

He let go of your hair, his fingers trailing down your back. With a gentle touch, he traced the contours of your scars, finding a quiet comfort in the act. Somehow, Mihawk had developed a keen interest in them, never missing an opportunity to feel them.

Eventually, you disentangled yourself and rolled onto the mattress. He readjusted his clothes, pulling up his trousers and fastening his belt, restoring them to their original state. As he leaned back against the pillow with one arm behind his head, you suppressed a smile, understanding that, against all expectations, he had no intention of leaving anytime soon.

You retrieved your underwear from the floor and slipped it on, keenly aware of his scrutinizing eyes. He tried to conceal it as soon as you returned to the bed beside him— still bare from the waist up, twisting his head and diverting his attention elsewhere.

Considering how composed he typically was, you found that reaction irresistibly endearing.

You stayed there, wrapped in a silence that felt both reassuring and intimate, watching as his long eyelashes gradually drooped, shading his eyes. It didn’t take him long to fall asleep, his chest rising and falling in a slow, regular cadence, his breath soft and soothing in the quiet room.

You were exhausted, physically drained, as the accumulated tension throughout the day hit you like a ship at full speed. However, you resisted the urge to drift into the world of dreams, for all you wanted was to study his face, committing every little detail to memory before he could slip away.

Mihawk’s beauty was so mesmerizing that you couldn't help but lose yourself in it.

You anticipated Mihawk slipping away in the night, vanishing as quietly as he had appeared. To your surprise and delight, however, you awoke to find the Warlord still beside you in bed the following morning.

Perhaps you were more than just two seafarers crossing paths at inopportune moments, more than mere strangers swept up in fleeting passion. Your mind wandered, conjuring vivid images of a shared future—a life intertwined with his.

While not impossible, you chose to avoid entertaining thoughts that might lead to delusions.

During the night, your leg had draped over his and the sheets had been pulled up to your chest for modesty. Mihawk lay shirtless beside you, his dark hair slightly tousled and fanned out across the pillow.

With Mihawk appearing sound asleep, you exercised utmost caution not to rouse him. With painstaking slowness, you eased yourself off the mattress, the covers slipping to your waist. Poised on the bed's edge, you suppressed a yawn and extended your arms, the crisp morning air accentuating the pleasant ache in your muscles—a reminder of the night's passionate activities. Your fingers kneaded the nape of your neck and combed through your tousled hair as your toes grazed the cool wooden planks below.

Outside, tranquility had descended, the music now silent. Only seagulls' cries and your ship's gentle rocking pierced the quiet. Dawn's golden-orange light flooded the cabin, bathing your skin in a warm, shimmering glow.

Without your knowledge, Mihawk began to wake. As you savored the peaceful atmosphere and the sun's warmth on your face, you remained still. Behind you, the Warlord's eyes traced the outline of your partially nude form against the bed. His gaze lingered on your back, where once-deep gashes had softened into faint lines, before drifting up to your shoulder blades.

A man of few words, Mihawk rarely expressed his thoughts, especially unaccustomed to waking beside such a magnificent presence. Yet, he felt an irresistible urge to voice his feelings as they formed, naturally and genuinely, as if they were the most obvious thing in the world.

His words were like those of an art critic praising a masterpiece.

“You are breathtaking.”

His voice startled you, even more so because you had thought it a figment of your half-asleep imagination. As you turned, pivoting on your pelvis and inadvertently exposing your breasts—perfectly round and bathed in the sun's pastel backlight—you noticed his intense scrutiny. His golden eyes flicked briefly to your nipples before meeting your bewildered expression. He reclined comfortably, waiting without so much as a flinch.

Breathtaking? No one had ever described you that way before. You felt unkempt, your makeup likely smudged and your hair a tangled mess.

Seeing his evident conviction, you bashfully clutched the sheets to cover yourself, letting out a self-conscious chuckle. "Thanks, but I doubt any woman looks breathtaking first thing in the morning."

"I'm not concerned with other women. This is how I perceive you. Do you find that offensive?"

You shook your head, clutching the sheet tighter to your chest. "Not at all. It's just... unexpected."

His voice wrapped around you like a warm embrace. "I only speak the truth, and right now, it demanded to be said."

You swallowed hard, a genuine smile spreading across your face. Summoning your courage, you leaned forward on the mattress and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. You quickly retreated, not wanting to linger and risk any awkwardness.

You hesitated, apprehensive that he might regret his compliment or interpret you as becoming overly attached. Yet, he remained composed, entirely undisturbed by your gesture.

"Good morning, by the way," you said with a cheerful tone.

“Mh.”

Brimming with joy at the start of a wonderful day, you slipped out of bed, wrapping the covers around yourself. After tucking the crop top back into its drawer, you browsed your wardrobe for a fresh outfit. Your choice struck a perfect balance between comfort and style: light pants, a crisp white cotton tank top, and a supple brown leather jacket. This ensemble exuded confidence without being overly provocative—casual yet daring, it accentuated your femininity just as you intended.

At that very moment, you felt gross, sticky, and utterly unpresentable in front of him. Mihawk, however, always looked impeccable regardless of the circumstances. Even in the morning, he appeared as if he had just stepped out of the bath, presenting an exquisite blend of cologne and sea salt, while you were marked by the scents of sweat, blood, and sex.

Despite your current state, Mihawk showed no signs of revulsion or disgust. You realized you might be overthinking, conjuring problems where none existed.

As you entered the washroom and closed the door behind you, your cheeks burned with a fierce blush. You had to let the cool water run for a moment to collect yourself. Euphoria coursed through you, your heart raced wildly, and your legs trembled with growing weakness.

It was novel, peculiar, and unfamiliar, yet it felt natural and couple-like, absolutely perfect.

You cherished that feeling and wanted more—more of those moments, more of him in your life.

Emerging from the washroom, you felt refreshed in your new Loguetown attire. At the bar counter, you spotted Mihawk donning his coat and iconic hat. When you'd offered him a drink before his departure, you hadn't anticipated much. However, his prompt request for black coffee hinted that he might be, slowly but surely, beginning to let his guard down.

Wine and black coffee. It was just a grain of sand, yet undeniably a delightful way to start. You were eager to uncover his other interests, to discover what else brought him joy beyond swordsmanship and combat. You longed to delve into his depths, as if he were the most enthralling tale ever penned or a treasure chest secured by an impenetrable lock.

Sharing breakfast with Mihawk was an unprecedented experience. Between occasional exchanges, he maintained his trademark seriousness and economy of words. You both savored your drinks in comfortable silence, attuned to the distant sounds of the town stirring to life after a night of celebration. The moment felt genuine, and above all else, it felt right.

You were hit by a surprising sense of excitement as he mirrored your actions and disappeared behind the bathroom door, leaving you to wash the empty mugs and tidy up. The soft sound of running water hinted at his comfort in sharing your personal space without pretense. He moved through your private quarters, which no other man (not even Isaiah) had entered, as if it were his own domain.

But like all enchanting fairytales, that exhilarating moment was fated to conclude.

As the sun climbed higher, painting the sky from orange to blue, you prepared to depart Mirror Ball Island for headquarters to brief Isaiah on the Neon Mirage events. Watching Mihawk about to disembark made your heart twitch, as you wished to remain with the Warlord all day, all week...

…if not forever.

Notwithstanding all the reassurances he had given you, the question slipped out spontaneously. “Will I see you again?”

"I'm not vanishing off the face of the earth," he replied casually.

“You know what I mean, but okay.”

Mihawk paused, his expression softening as he gazed at you. With fluid elegance, he stepped closer, bridging the gap between you. His fingers delicately traced your jawline before gently cupping your chin between his forefinger and middle finger.

“I will find you,” he said quietly, his voice a low, velvety rumble. “No matter where you are.”

His words carried an undeniable weight, a promise that transcended mere pleasantries. His thumb lingered a moment longer, as if committing the texture of your skin to memory, before he reluctantly withdrew his hand.

"You better," you responded, striving to keep your tone light despite the ache in your heart.

Mihawk’s lips curved into a faint smirk, a well-known countenance that expressed more than words ever could. “Until then,” he murmured, his golden eyes locking with yours one final time.

“Until then,” you echoed, lifting your head to press a quick goodbye kiss to his lips, which he accepted with a low, guttural sound from deep in his throat.

With that, he pivoted on his heels and strode toward the door, his presence commanding and unyielding even in departure. His retreating figure burned itself into your memory. You listened as the door closed and his footsteps faded into the distance, until silence once again enveloped your surroundings.

As you weighed anchor and set sail from Mirror Ball Island, you allowed the sea breeze to guide your vessel away. Mihawk's lingering touch remained a sweet affirmation of the future awaiting you both—a prospect you embraced with absolute thrill.

A week had elapsed, and you stood at a crossroads, finally resolving to reconnect with your family after much internal deliberation. You had been hesitant, wondering how they would react to the recent events involving the World Government and the bounty that had been placed on your head. Even though the charges were no longer in effect, the general public remained unaware of the circumstances behind the incident and your exoneration.

Given your parents' nature, you should have felt confident in their unwavering support and belief in you, regardless of the rumors circulating across the seas. Yet, you couldn't shake your nerves about it, fearing rejection for becoming something they might despise. After all, you had, to some degree, adopted a life akin to that of a pirate.

After several deep breaths, you finally activated your portable transponder snail. Sitting cross-legged on the bed with your back straight, you waited for what felt like an eternity until your father's familiar voice came through the receiver.

Your throat constricted, and tears you'd long held back welled in your eyes. You attempted to respond, to reveal your identity, but only managed a faint, barely audible sound.

"Hello? Is someone there?"

You had been waiting for that moment for so long. How much pain, struggle, and perseverance had it taken to reach it?

Finally, before he could hang up on you, you found the energy to speak. “Dad… it’s me.”

“…Y/N…?”

“Hi.”

"Y/N! Is that really you? My precious girl!!"

A soft chuckle escaped your lips, warmed by his enthusiasm. Despite all that had transpired, their love for you remained as strong as the day you'd left home. You chided yourself for ever doubting it, even for a second.

“I’m sorry it took so long,” you said. “I couldn’t risk putting any of you in danger.”

"I understand, sweetheart. I had a feeling that was the case. I'm just so relieved to know you're safe and sound. Thank the heavens!"

“Y/N!!!!!”

Your mother's voice came through the snail, a blend of joy and desperation. She was crying, hiccuping even.

“Hey mom!”

"What on earth happened?? Why did they put that dreadful bounty on your head?!"

You took a deep breath, carefully considering how to share your story without burdening them with distressing details. Despite your efforts to find a gentler way to explain it, the essence remained unchanged in your mind.

And so, you resolved that telling them the truth was simply the best solution. "Listen, I won't lie to you. I did something awful, and they sought to punish me for it. But I swear on everything I hold dear, I had no other choice. It was either my life or his."

You waited, but when no answer came, a wave of panic consumed you.

"You were right about one thing," you continued. "My expectations were flawed from the beginning. I was naïve, stubborn, and deaf to advice. My recklessness left me without berries and supplies. I struggled on the streets until desperation drove me to make a fateful mistake. That's when they caught me."

Your voice quivered, but you took a deep breath to center yourself, resolved not to let past frustrations overwhelm you again.

"They dismissed my account entirely and offered no assistance. For days, I endured starvation and torture until I faced an ultimate threat. Had I not acted decisively at that crucial moment, I wouldn't be alive to share this story with you now."

Just when you thought the call had been disconnected, you heard them exhale on the other end of the line.

"We believe you, sweetheart," your dad said reassuringly. "We've seen how cruel people can be, and we know you well enough to say you wouldn't harm anyone without a valid reason."

A warm smile blossomed on your face as the burden weighing on your heart finally lifted.

"Indeed, honey. And let me tell you, if those bastards dared to lay even a finger on you, then you did the right thing. Hell, if I could, I'd strangle them with my own hands," your mother declared.

"I have no doubt you would, and it would be quite a spectacle to witness."

“But the bounty has been cancelled now, hasn’t it?” she asked. “Does that mean you can come home at last? Because you will, right? It’s far too dangerous for you out there.”

"Actually, I might visit you, but... I'm not coming back home permanently."

You anticipated their disappointment but were surprised by the ease with which you dismissed it. On numerous occasions, you had contemplated abandoning everything, feeling adrift and doubting your suitability for a seafaring life.

However, everything changed dramatically in the blink of an eye.

“You won’t…? But why? You mentioned you were struggling. Are you really okay on your own?”

"Dad, I'm not the person I used to be since you last saw me."

“I suspected as much. And if you're worried that we might not accept you anymore, don't be. You're our daughter, Y/N, our flesh and blood.”

“Your father's right. Even your uncle and cousins are impatient for you to return. Please come home, sweetheart. We won't judge you.”

You sighed, shaking your head even though they couldn't see you. "It's not that. Yes, it’s been tough… but I've finally built a life for myself. One that I actually enjoy. Now that my bounty has been cancelled, I want to make the most of this opportunity.”

A brief silence hung in the air as they contemplated your words. After a moment, your father cleared his throat and spoke again. "But there's something else, isn't there?"

You pondered your options, carefully considering what to share and what to keep to yourself. While it might be too soon to call Mihawk your boyfriend, you felt compelled to express your feelings and provide a clearer picture, especially after all the worry you'd caused your parents in recent months.

Ultimately, you accepted to disclose it. “Yes. I've met someone.”

"So it is true, huh.”

“What is?”

"Well, you know," your mother interjected softly, her voice tinged with shyness. "Rumor has it you've been seen with one of the Warlords of the Sea. What was his name again? Hawk-eye?"

Your jaw dropped in astonishment. "Wait, you've heard about that over there as well?"

"The East Blue might be vast, my dear, but news travels quickly," your father joked.

How could a single sighting of the two of you spark gossip across the entire region? And most importantly, why was it such an important matter that someone felt it was vital to turn it into a worldwide rumor?

It would be pointless to lie about it, and after everything Mihawk had done for you, you had no intention of hiding your connection to him.

"His name is Dracule Mihawk. And before you say anything, you should know he's the reason my bounty was lifted."

Your mother's voice radiated relief. "Oh, truly? So, he's not such a bad lad after all, is he?"

"Do you really think I'd be interested in him if he were anything less than admirable?"

"Aye aye, we understand."

You leaned back, gazing at the ceiling, holding the snail receiver against your ear. “It’s not that I don’t want to come back, but I’ve started to find value in what I do here. And as unbelievable as it may sound, I think he’s someone worth getting to know.”

You could hear the smile in your mother's voice, its warmth resonating through the call. "Well, that's certainly intriguing."

“What do you mean?”

"That is exactly what I said about your father when I first met him."

“Really?”

"Absolutely," your father confirmed. "And look at us now. Your mother's judgment proved correct back then. We trust yours will be too."

Although you would have pursued Mihawk regardless of their stance, your family's approval meant the world to you. Their immediate blessing, based on their trust in your discernment and decision-making, deeply moved you.

“Thank you. I love you.”

“We love you too, honey. Will we see you soon? Even if it's just for a short visit?”

“Soon. I promise.”

Your intention was sincere. While you couldn't manage a trip home within your busy schedule, you were committed to making time for your family with the burden of your bounty finally removed.

Thus, you prolonged the conversation for as long as your journey permitted, treasuring the voices of your loved ones from whom you'd been apart for far too long.

Several more days passed without any sign of Mihawk. This time, however, you felt neither restless nor worried. The Warlord had assured you he would always find you, no matter where you went. You knew with certainty that he never spoke without meaning every word.

As you got ready for your dinner with Isaiah, an invitation extended to celebrate and relax after your recent achievements, you sat in front of your mirror, searching for the perfect look for the night. While you typically didn't favor elegant attires, there were moments when you enjoyed wearing dresses for a change. For this occasion, you opted for a simple gown of silky light blue fabric, featuring spaghetti straps and a mid-length skirt. While the dress offered a generous view of your chest, you made sure it provided enough coverage to maintain your dignity, as you had no desire to flaunt your assets. The skirt wasn't tight or overly large, either. It flowed gracefully as you walked or when caught by the wind, yet it remained secure enough to avoid lifting excessively and exposing anything you'd prefer to keep hidden.

After finishing your hair and makeup, you scrutinized your reflection, turning your head from side to side and nodding in satisfaction of your work. You were especially meticulous about your looks, a habit formed from frequently disguising yourself and perfecting your image.

It's not as if you were heading out on an intimate date. It was a laid-back evening with your best friend at a public restaurant, just the kind of distraction you needed once in a while. You didn't have to impress him or anyone else, you just wanted to feel good about your appearance for your own sake. It was your means of self-expression, especially now that you no longer had to conceal it in fear of a potential ambush around the corner.

Choosing the ideal jewelry to complete your outfit was your favorite part. Rummaging through your beauty box, you pulled out a few accessories and arranged them neatly on the table before you. Over the months, you had amassed an impressive collection of tokens, each one carrying a value that transcended its monetary worth.

After careful consideration, you set aside the jewelry that clashed with your dress. You closed the box and returned it to its hiding place—a secret compartment beneath the floorboards by your bed. You selected a choker made of thin, light grey chamois-like cord with a piece of sea glass, a silver chain necklace with a coin pendant featuring a wave carving, a leather wrap bracelet adorned with an aquamarine stone, a macramé band with a few iridescent pearls, and a shimmering gold cuff with swirling engraved patterns for the other wrist.

And without fail, you always wore the ring you'd taken from that island on the day you first encountered Mihawk, the moment that sparked the magic between you. Its golden band and emerald stone reminded you of the Warlord, and once you began wearing it, you found it nearly impossible to take off. It was one of those items tied to a particular memory, so rich in sentimental value that its rarity in gold and crystal seemed negligible in comparison.

You ended up parting with many of the precious belongings you had collected, as none of them ever held much significance for you. That ring was your most treasured possession, so precious that anyone attempting to take it would have to sever your finger to claim it.

As per tradition, Isaiah was punctual, never once missing an appointment or arriving late. His dedication and attention to detail were among the qualities you admired most in him. Upon seeing you, Isaiah was awestruck by your beauty, expressing his appreciation in his usual respectful and gallant manner. It was obvious that he still found you physically attractive, but he never attempted to cross the boundaries you had set.

While you couldn’t deny Isaiah's attractive features, your feelings for him remained purely platonic.

The restaurant had a bit of a crowd, though the seating was spaced well apart. He secured an outside spot, where the ocean breeze softly played with your hair, just a few miles from the shore. The ambiance felt cozy and inviting, with strings of lanterns suspended above, linked to a delicate cotton canopy.

The food was spectacular, offering a variety of meats, fish, side dishes, and some of the most incredible desserts you had ever seen or tasted. As the sun set and stars filled the sky, your conversations with Isaiah spanned from work-related topics to the silliest of jokes. You laughed and savored the joyful moment, a glass of wine in hand to cap off the wonderful dinner.

It was a relief to finally be free, no longer seeing your face plastered on posters all over the walls. You were living the life you had dreamed of when you left your hometown: earning a decent amount of money through hard work (even if the job was different from what you had envisioned), exploring various places around the East Blue (and maybe even beyond someday), meeting diverse people and races, and savoring the little things without a single worry in the world.

In the end, weathering that storm brought you more than you could have ever anticipated: a cherished friend, newfound inner strength and resilience, and an extraordinary man who occupied your thoughts constantly.

Despite your efforts to banish his image from your mind, you found yourself missing Mihawk every day. You ached for his sharpness, his cool demeanor, and those captivating golden eyes. The memory of his touch, his unique scent, and the strength of his embrace haunted your senses. His words echoed in your head, those unexpected, heartfelt compliments where he called you breathtaking—leaving an indelible mark on your heart.

You longed to know him more deeply, see him more often, engage in more conversations, and spend more time together.

If only you had known that the object of your affection was observing you from a distance, narrowing his eyes at the way you laughed and smiled with the guy across from you, even leaning in to exchange whispers. You were oblivious to the fury that consumed him, to how it rankled him to see you so carefree with someone other than himself.

Dracule Mihawk, the Warlord known for his calm and detached attitude, reduced to an impatient fool driven to disrupt it all.

Oh, things were just about to get interesting.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Isaiah ventured after a brief pause. “I hope this doesn’t sound inappropriate.”

With a warm smile, you set your half-empty glass down and settled back comfortably in your chair. "I know."

“You do…?”

"Come on, Isaiah. You've been tense for days now. This is about the rumors concerning me and Dracule Mihawk, isn't it? You were going to ask me the night before I left for Mirror Ball Island."

After a moment of surprise, Isaiah chuckled and shook his head ruefully. “Of course. I should have realized you were sharper than that.”

You gave a casual shrug. "Let's clear the air, then. The rumors you've heard are definitely true."

He choked on his wine, pounding his chest with his fist and erupting into a series of rough coughs.

“Are you okay?”

"Y-yes, I apologize," he sputtered. "I didn't expect you to confirm it so bluntly."

"Would you have believed me if I had denied it?"

“I mean, I guess?”

You closed your eyes and inhaled deeply, allowing the salty air to fill your lungs. Amid the briny scent, you detected a whiff of something unmistakable, a fragrance that could only belong to one person.

Strange. Evidently you were truly beginning to fixate too much on it.

"You deserve to know the truth, Isaiah. There's no point in deceiving you about this."

“So… you and Dracule Mihawk, hey? Are you two a couple?”

“To be honest, I’m not sure what we are. We haven’t spent much time together. The Marines sent him to hunt me down, whether I was dead or alive—it made no difference to them.”

He gulped nervously. “That would explain why the World Government let you go bounty-free overnight. You must be important to him if he managed to convince those bastards to give up on you.”

“I suppose, yeah.”

“And... I take it he’s the real reason things have changed between us?”

You nibbled on your lower lip. "Well..."

Isaiah offered a gentle smile. “No worries, I’m not upset or anything. I know I could never match up to someone like him. Honestly, I really value what we have right now.”

“Me too. It feels like we've grown even closer than we were before.”

“True, I believe that as well!”

Your relationship with Isaiah had evolved remarkably quickly. Despite your past intimate encounters, there was no awkwardness or discomfort between you. Your connection felt natural and unencumbered by expectations or possessiveness. You had seamlessly transitioned into a friendship built on mutual respect and a thriving work partnership, leaving behind any remnants of your previous physical involvement.

"I'm curious, though," Isaiah inquired. "How did he approach you? You didn't actually fight him, did you?"

"If I had, I'd be sashimi by now."

Isaiah snickered. "A very cute sashimi, I dare say."

"Ew."

"Okay, yeah, that's pretty disturbing. I swear I haven't developed any weird fetishes."

You burst into laughter, amused by the look of sudden revulsion on his face.

“Anyway, I just can't fathom how someone like him would let anyone walk away unscathed. Granted, you are a woman, but…”

You nodded. "He pursued me relentlessly. We'd cross paths frequently, and he'd chase me without fail. I'd always manage to slip away, and for a while, I found it exhilarating. But as time passed, I began to suspect there was more to this dance than met the eye."

Isaiah listened intently, a thoughtful expression on his face. "He never truly intended to capture or kill you."

You shook your head. "No. It seems he had no better way to occupy his time, and I gradually piqued his interest. He ultimately decided to let me go, completely disregarding the Marines' orders."

“It makes sense. He may be a Warlord of the Sea now, but he was once a pirate who took the lives of many authorities.”

“Yeah.”

Before leaving your island, you knew absolutely nothing about Mihawk or his reputation. You naively believed the Marines were purely benevolent, devoted to upholding peace and justice for the innocent. Consequently, you would have loathed someone like Mihawk or any pirate engaged in questionable activities. You were blissfully ignorant, trapped in an illusory world that never truly existed.

Reality wasn't simply black and white. Among pirates, one could find both villains and heroes, just as the ranks of Marines harbored numerous dubious characters.

“So, what’s it really like being involved with Dracule Mihawk? I’ve heard so many stories about him. Some say he’s as cold as ice, others claim he’s ruthlessly unforgiving. How do you even manage to deal with someone like that?”

Based on your observations, Mihawk was a formidable force in combat. He showed no quarter to those who dared challenge him or disrupt his peace. Yet, he wasn't one to take lives needlessly. At times, he would merely threaten his foes with his blade, allowing them to flee and spread tales of his prowess—a testament to his calculated approach to conflict.

While Mihawk wasn't known for his compassion, his sense of honor rivaled any act of kindness.

Then there was that hidden side only you had witnessed—his refined tastes and that romantic streak he struggled to express, yet which never failed to make your heart soar.

Your smile widened as you prepared to respond, but the moment you glanced up, your gaze locked with those unmistakable hawk-like eyes. The Warlord had materialized behind your best friend, his approach silent and stealthy.

"I mean, it must be something extraordinary if a man like that is interested in you,” Isaiah continued, oblivious to Mihawk’s imposing presence just a centimeter behind him.

Mihawk's face was partially hidden by the brim of his hat, his piercing eyes fixed on the back of Isaiah's head with such intensity it seemed as if they eyes could drill holes through it. You struggled to contain your laughter, finding the absurdity of the situation strangely amusing.

“Isaiah—”

“You’ve got to have nerves of steel to handle Dracule Mihawk. What’s he like when he’s not swinging that big sword of his around?”

Unable to respond, you covered your mouth with one hand in a futile attempt to stifle your laughter. Despite your efforts, the chuckles escaped, bubbling up irrepressibly.

Mihawk, now impossible to ignore, spoke in his characteristically calm and measured tone. "Perhaps it would be wiser to ask the man himself, wouldn't you agree?"

Isaiah froze, his eyes widening as he slowly turned to face Mihawk's imposing figure. Tension crackled in the air as the Warlord scrutinized your friend with an enigmatic stance. For a brief instant, time seemed to stand still, the two men locked in a silent, intense exchange.

And then, taken by a sudden wave of dread, Isaiah stammered. “M-Mihawk??!! I-I didn’t realize you were…”

Mihawk inclined his head slightly, a subtle smirk curling on his lips. "Clearly.”

A light, melodic laugh escaped your lips as you reached out, gently placing your hand on Mihawk's arm while rising from your seat."Relax, he's just curious. There's nothing to be concerned about."

Mihawk's eyes softened as he regarded you. The warm glow of the lanterns bathed his face in a beautiful orange hue, smoothing his features that had seemed tense upon arrival. "Curiosity can be a perilous thing," he remarked, his voice low but tinged with humor. "Especially when it involves discussing matters best kept private.”

Visibly flustered, Isaiah hastily stood up and placed some cash on the table to cover the bill. "Yes, of course. I should, uh, probably get going. It was nice catching up with you, Y/N.”

Guilt gnawed at your chest as you witnessed Isaiah's discomfort. He had graciously invited you to dinner, intending to treat you, but now felt obliged to depart due to Mihawk's imposing aura.

"No, wait, don't go."

Isaiah shot a nervous look at Mihawk before hastily retreating, offering you a shaky laugh and a wave. As he departed, he mouthed the words "Holy fucking shit," his astonishment at Mihawk’s blade unmistakable.

Even in such a situation, Isaiah still acted like his usual goofball self. You watched him leave, almost tripping over his feet, with a few more giggles shaking you up.

"Do you find this amusing?" Mihawk asked, his golden eyes boring into you with razor-sharp intensity.

“Will you hold it against me if I admit that I do?”

“I’m not accustomed to being a source of entertainment.”

“You should take it as a compliment,” you stated. “Not many people can make me laugh like this.”

"So, I’m competing with a jester now?”

“Oh, please. He’s not a jester, and there’s no contest here anyway.”

He rolled his eyes in annoyance, which heightened your joyous mood even more. “I suppose I will allow it. Just this once.”

With a satisfied sigh, you motioned for him to sit. Mihawk gracefully took the vacant seat opposite you (carefully positioning his blade to avoid any contact with the chair's back), his right hand resting on the table. "But I don’t take kindly to those who dare crossing the line.”

You frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Have you forgotten what I said?"

“Wha—”

"I have little patience for those who challenge the boundaries of what belongs to me."

"No one touches what’s mine and lives to tell the tale.”

“No one touches what’s mine.”

Could it be that he interpreted your outing as a date behind his back? Was Dracule Mihawk actually feeling jealous over a man he had completely misjudged?

You tilted your head, studying him. The protective tone in his words was both endearing and slightly concerning. "Mihawk," you began softly, "Isaiah is a good friend and an important merchant for my deals. He means no harm, and he definitely poses no threat to you or our relationship.”

His eyes met yours, searching intently as if probing the depths of your sincerity. "Perhaps," he acquiesced, though a trace of skepticism lingered in his voice. "But I’m not someone who likes to share.”

His words struck you with the force of a tempest, churning your stomach into knots. You found yourself swallowing hard, bracing for a follow-up that never came.

You reached out and gently clasped his hand, your touch tender and affectionate. Mihawk, however, remained motionless, neither returning the gesture nor pulling away."And what makes you think that I’d want to be shared?"

A profound silence settled between you, laden with unspoken thoughts. His hand remained stationary beneath yours, mirroring the very essence of the man himself.

After a momentous pause, his voice emerged. "That wasn't my implication."

You squeezed his hand. "Honestly, no one could ever replace you, and I have no desire to let anyone even try."

His fingers twitched subtly, his thumb grazing the emerald embedded in your ring. Mihawk's stoic nature often made him difficult to read, yet his inscrutable persona was an integral part of his charm.

Eventually, Mihawk withdrew his hand and stood up. "We should continue this discussion in a more private setting," he suggested, his voice carrying a hint of urgency.

Perplexed, you watched as he moved closer, firmly grasping your upper arm to assist you in standing.

"What are you doing?”

“Follow me.”

You had little choice but to accompany him as he led you decisively, his grip controlled yet insistent. An indescribable air surrounded him, compelling your compliance. Your heels clicked on the pavement as you traversed the streets, until he guided you around a corner.

His push was somewhat unsettling, hinting at a degree of frustration. The alley was cloaked in shadows, with only a few dim lights scattered around. You found yourself pressed against a wall, palms flat on its warm, rough surface. Mihawk drew closer, enveloping you with his arms, his hand gliding along your hip from behind.

It was uncharacteristic for him. Mihawk had always exuded composure, so why did it now appear as though he was unveiling a side of himself that seemed foreign?

"What's come over you?"

Mihawk exhaled softly, his warm breath caressing your ear as he whispered, "Did you truly believe I wouldn't notice the way you were looking at him?"

His question hung in the air, its razor-sharp edge sending a shiver down your spine. The alley seemed to constrict around you, shadows pressing closer as his words echoed in your mind.

"What? I wasn't looking at him that way at all."

“Is that so?”

His hold on your hip intensified, a gentle reminder of his strength without inflicting any discomfort. "Is this how you dress when you're meeting him?"

"No, and I'll tell you straight up; I dressed like this for myself, not for anyone else."

His warm breath ghosted over your skin. "Are you suggesting there was never anything between you two?"

“I—”

"Be truthful with me."

Denying or dismissing everything would have been futile; Mihawk wouldn't have believed you. You worried he might think you had been deceitful from the beginning, even though there was no reason to conceal something that happened long ago. Mihawk was the sole man who truly enthralled you, and you longed for him to understand this with absolute certainty.

"Okay, I'll be honest. There was something between us in the past. But Mihawk, whatever I had with Isaiah is long over and done with."

His fingers curled around the fabric of your dress, slowly lifting the hem as his hand grasped the light material. For a moment, he remained silent, the atmosphere heavy as you tried to decipher his thoughts. Your skirt inched higher up your thighs under his touch, and Mihawk finally released a low, contemplative hum. Despite his usual air of unwavering confidence and absolute control, a flicker of uncertainty now rippled through his calmness.

"You have an uncanny ability to catch me off guard," he admitted, his voice softer now, though a hint of anger could still be preceived. "It's... disconcerting."

While part of you felt anxious about him exposing your body on a public street where anyone could appear at any moment, you couldn't deny that the risk added an exhilarating thrill to the situation.

“Me? Catching Dracule Mihawk off guard? Now that's a tale worth telling.”

Mihawk's eyes narrowed, a little smile tugging at his lips despite the persisting trace of resentment. "Don’t be too proud of yourself. It’s not a common occurrence.”

"Well, maybe I should write it down for posterity.”

"Careful there," he warned playfully. "I might just make sure that tale never leaves your lips.”

You chuckled, feeling the tension melt away, replaced by a warm intimacy. "I wouldn't dream of it," you teased, tilting your head to meet his eyes. "But in all seriousness, Mihawk, I like keeping you on your toes.”

His hand traversed from your side to your front, deftly slipping beneath your dress and into your underwear. The unexpected touch sent a shiver of bliss through you, eliciting a soft gasp as his fingers circled your clit with gentle precision.

"Don’t push your luck too far. Even I have my limits.”

“L-limits? You?”

“They may be harder to reach than most.”

Your eyelids fluttered shut as his fingers caressed your nub, intensifying their strokes before moving down to your entrance. They slid inside, expertly locating that sensitive spot just behind your front wall, pressing and scissoring. You felt his unmistakable hardness against you through his trousers as he ground himself against your body, seeking a moment's relief.

"Well, there's certainly something harder right now."

Despite your best efforts, you found yourself unable to resist blurting out such awkward lines.

“You’re serious.”

"I know, that was awful," you admitted with a sheepish smile. "But you can't deny its accuracy."

"You may have a point," he acknowledged, pulling you closer as his warmth enveloped your back. "But let's attend to more pressing matters now, shall we?"

At that moment, you realized that Dracule Mihawk was capable, in very rare instances, of indulging in similarly dreadful humor.

"And here I thought my jokes were bad. It seems I'm rubbing off on you in all the wrong ways."

"You've underestimated your influence on me," he replied, his tone dry as ever yet infused with languidness. "It seems even the world's greatest swordsman can't fully resist your wit."

His fingers moved again, sliding in and out, creating a symphony of indecent sounds that you hoped wouldn't carry too far.

"Ah—So, you're saying I've corrupted you?" you managed, your voice breathy.

"You've merely unveiled a side of me that few have ever seen, myself included."

A warm flutter filled your chest at his words, recognizing the rarity of such lighthearted moments from the Warlord.

His coat was long and ample, draping forward to shield you from watchful eyes. The alley seemed utterly deserted, with the distant sounds of locals and tourists drifting in from the restaurant, nearby houses, or the beach. You jolted with unease whenever footsteps approached, only for them to fade away elsewhere.

Despite the risqué aspect of the situation, you yearned for him to escalate things further. It echoed the events on Mirror Ball Island, but with roles reversed and an added surge of adrenaline.

You strained your neck, reaching over to press your lips against his. This time, Mihawk returned the gesture, his tongue tracing the seam of your mouth as he deepened the kiss.

His distinctive scent wafted through the air moments before he appeared behind Isaiah. It was unclear how long Mihawk had been waiting to reveal himself, but there he stood, watching you—the woman who had captured his interest—as you laughed and chatted with another man.

If you had seen Mihawk with a different woman, you would have been blindly furious and struggled to control your impulses. You would have charged in with all the subtlety of an elephant, yanked the lady out of her seat by her hair, and disregarded her or anyone else's reaction. In hindsight, Mihawk had displayed far more politeness and restraint than you ever could have mustered.

"I'm being completely honest with you," you emphasized. "There's absolutely nothing going on between Isaiah and me."

Mihawk's scrutiny returned, now devoid of any annoyance. "I don't doubt your loyalty," he clarified.

Your forefinger delicately traced the contours of his face, traversing as his coarse beard bristled against your skin.“Really? Because It's very important to me that you don't.”

"My concern isn't with you," he assured you. "But he would do well not to test my patience on this matter."

You smiled, brushing your forehead against the bridge of his nose. “He won’t. He’s not that type of man. Besides, I’m sure he got the message loud and clear tonight.”

"I can make it even more effective."

“Absolutely, but please don't. He's a decent guy and not really one for fighting.”

“Mh.”

His hand resumed its earlier motion, his fingertips now tracing your clit with fervor. The slick friction felt even more exquisite this time, quickening your breath and making your legs tremble.

The urgency of the situation, combined with his evident arousal, made it clear you wouldn't last much longer. It was remarkable how quickly he could undo you, setting your pulse racing and igniting every nerve, making your your body come alive.

You reached behind his head, arching your back slightly to convey your intention. "This is great, but why don't you take me now?"

With a raised eyebrow, he gazed deeply into your eyes, his own smoldering with recognition of your growing desire. "Are you really that eager for me?"

"You're the one who initiated this."

He took his fingers out and spread your wetness, assessing your readiness. "Hmm. You're certainly primed," he observed.

Without hesitation, you slid your hand down to his pants, slipping it into the narrow space between his front and your backside. You gently squeezed, feeling his hardness as your fingers encircled the base, still constrained by his clothing.

As was his custom, Mihawk released a quiet breath through his nose. The metallic click of his belt unbuckling reached your ears, followed by the soft rustle of his trousers sliding down his hips. You guided your touch without sight, bringing your fingers up until they met the smooth, heated skin of his tip. A wave of stiffness swept through the nerves in your neck and shoulders, twisting your bent elbow and wrist. You anticipated the next day's soreness, yet felt no regret for your current actions.

Mihawk's passion commanded as he guided your hand along his length in a slow, measured stroke. His fingers left your core, trailing downward to grasp the edge of your panties.

It was a dangerous game, yet you were powerless to resist its enticement.

“Please, hurry," you pleaded, widening your stance to grant him better access.

You had never envisioned yourself engaging in such intimate acts in public, vulnerable to potential onlookers. Yet with Mihawk, even the most inconceivable scenarios blossomed into extraordinary escapades.

"If you want me to continue, be aware that I won't stop, no matter what happens."

Were you truly ready to be intimate like this, knowing he would persist even if passersby appeared?

Undoubtedly.

"It’s fine, go ahead. I'm ready. Just make it quick."

Silence fell between you as Mihawk shifted your undergarments, exposing you beneath the partially lifted dress. With a strong pull, he guided you into position, angling your body for optimal alignment. He entered you in one fluid motion, causing you to squirm with your palms pressed firmly against the wall.

The sensation was divine. He filled you entirely, his perfect fit stimulating every sensitive spot inside you. You let out a sigh as you kept yourself from moaning out loud, clenching your inner muscles whenever he thrust in and out of your body.

This time, however, there was a change in Mihawk's movements—a nuance absent from previous encounters. Though barely noticeable, a trace of suppressed irritation seemed to drive his actions, as if he were expressing his discontent through the act in his own sophisticated way.

And that dynamic perfectly matched with your needs.

He quickened his pace, undulating his pelvis more aggressively, precision giving way to frenzy. Your eyes closed as the salty breeze carried the mingled scents of the town and Mihawk's distinctive aroma to your lungs.

His fingers found your sensitive bud once more, caressing and teasing it just how you both savored it. Waves of pleasure traveled along your body, causing your hand to fly from the wall to his elbow.

His voice dropped to a husky whisper. "Tell me, has anyone else ever made you feel this way?"

"What's brought this on?" you asked, breathless.

His possessive streak surfaced. "Has your precious Isaiah ever satisfied you like this?"

“Jeez, Mihawk. I don’t—”

“Answer my question.”

Who could have predicted that a casual dinner with a friend would spark such an emotional journey?

You hesitated to compare two such different men, but Mihawk's persistence left you no alternative. It was clear he expected a specific response, and wouldn't accept your reluctance to answer.

Finally, you yielded. "No, he hasn't. No man ever has."

"Excellent. Keep that in mind."

A tingling sensation spread through your limbs as your entire form surrendered to his touch. Rushes of pure euphoria radiated from your belly, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge of ecstasy.

His impressive size and raw power were utterly disarming. The constant sounds of skin meeting skin, the wet noises of intimacy, and the symphony of heavy breaths and soft groans created the most exquisite melody you'd ever heard. Mihawk was unparalleled, and you couldn't envision a future with anyone else but him.

Just as you thought you could hold on, a precise pinch to your clit shattered your resolve. Your climax erupted, shaking you from head to toe as you struggled to stay upright. A moan escaped your lips, echoing off the alley walls, but you were beyond caring at that point. The only thing that mattered was your absolute rapture.

Mihawk continued, his fingers never ceasing their massage of your clit as his hips maintained their ravenous pace.

He reached his release only after a few more thrusts, joining you at the pinnacle of pleasure. With each pulse, he exhaled softly into your hair, and his well-honed physique exhibited faint tremors.

And then it was over, your face flushed from the exertion, the air around you feeling hotter and more stifling. As he withdrew, straightening your back felt like you were a nonagenarian, with your joints creaking and muscles protesting in agony.

You took a moment to catch your breath and compose yourself, while Mihawk adjusted his attire with his usual nonchalance. You fixed your undergarments and smoothed your dress back into place, your gestures discreet yet elegant. Your hair had become slightly disheveled, so you ran your fingers through it, sweeping it back and away from your face.

Once you finished tidying yourself, looking somewhat more presentable, you pivoted on your heels and leaned against the wall, folding your arms across your chest. Mihawk gave the lapels of his coat a light tug, meeting your eyes once more with a smoldering ardor you hadn't seen before. His hat stayed perfectly positioned atop his head, its white feather still impeccably in place.

The simple exchange of glances held an undeniable magnetism. Your lips curved into a mischievous grin, your breathing still quickened from the passionate interlude. Decisively, you pushed yourself off the wall and grasped the strings of his golden cross knife, using them to pull him forcefully towards you, his body yielding to your bold impulse.

As your eyes landed on the emerald adorning your ring, you were struck by its uncanny resemblance to the stone set at the end of Yoru's hilt. It was purely coincidental, yet the fact that you could associate this precious finding with him in multiple ways didn't surprise you.

Some connections are forged by fate, as if preordained by the universe itself. Though it might have been overly sentimental or an exaggeration, Mihawk was giving you every reason to believe you could wish for more.

“I hope this goes both ways. Because I'm not one for sharing either,” you asserted. "After all, I doubt anyone else could handle you quite like I do."

Mihawk repositioned one of your dress straps, sliding it back into place as it had partially slipped off your shoulder. It was simple and spontaneous, likely done without much deliberation. Yet, you found it incredibly heartwarming.

"Your assessment is correct," he stated. "And I have no interest in pursuing this elsewhere."

"Then we're on the same page."

A ghost of a smirk played at the corners of Mihawk's lips as his hand settled back on your waist.

"Though maybe next time, let’s not scare my friend half to death,” you suggested.

"I make no guarantees," he replied, his tone unapologetic.

Your lips found his in a soft kiss that spoke volumes without a single word—a silent vow from which Mihawk was unable to break away.

Ultimately, the Warlord had effectively succeeded in his task; you had fallen irrevocably into his grasp, never to be relinquished.

And unbeknownst to you, there was so much more to come, in ways you could only glimpse in your wildest imagination.

Author's final note: Phew, this one was quite spicy. The next chapter will include less smut and some more relationship development. Also, unless something else comes to mind, chapter 8 should align with the events from the liveaction/anime/manga.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 (currently reading) Go to Chapter 7 (coming soon) ->

#Hone piece liveaction #one piece #opla #dracule mihawk x reader #mihawk x reader #opla mihawk #opla mihawk x reader

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rainbowmoonstonestories · 1 year ago

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A Bounty As Boundless As The Sea | Chapter 1

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: One Piece (Liveaction 2023) Rating: Explicit Relationships Dracule Mihawk x F!Reader Characters: Dracule Mihawk, Original Characters, Akagami no Shanks, Roronoa Zoro , Perona. Warnings: Mention of blood and physical torture, violence, 18+ content (minors DNI), explicit sexual content, POV switching. Summary: Constantly evading capture due to a bounty on your head, you were forced to embrace the life of a pirate, despite your initial desire for a thrilling adventure and a simple exploration of the world. One fateful day, the Marines dispatched Dracule Mihawk to hunt you down, plunging you into a game of hide and seek with the formidable Warlord of the sea throughout the East Blue. However, to your surprise, the man proved to be less bloodthirsty and hostile than you had anticipated. His piercing, hawk-like eyes, shimmering with a deep golden hue, left an indelible impression on your mind, while his apathetic yet self-assured demeanor ignited a newfound sense of intrigue within you.

Note: This story will eventually include bits from the Anime, so you should expect some Spoilers if you haven't watched it. However, everything written here is purely based on the liveaction adaptation.

Please consider that Mihawk is 41 when he first appears in One Piece, which means that the Reader is supposed to be in her thirties at best, even if the age isn't mentioned.

Credits: The divider was made by firefly-graphics.

Read on AO3.

CHAPTER 1

The day you headed out to sea from your place of origin, you didn't anticipate the course of your life to take a turn for the worse. Of course, in a world infested by piracy, riots, and wars, you were conscious of the potential perils that lurked in the horizon. However, you did not foresee that you would end up with a bounty on your head for taking the life of a Marine Admiral, who had put you through numerous days of torment and barbarism.

If anyone had conveyed to you about a similar possibilty, you would have deemed it to be a matter beyond your wildest imagination. You? A wanted criminal with the blood of another person on your hands? You were renowned for your compassion in your hometown. You could never harm a fly, no matter how hard you tried. And yet, the time you spent incarcerated for a minor food theft in the East Blue brought forth a substantial change in the person you used to be.

You had no desire of becoming a pirate, least of all taking someone's life the way you did. The legendary treasure, the One Piece, didn't entice you in the slightest, as it could very well be a falsehood concocted to unleash disorder on the world. You were seeking nothing but an outing, a break from the monotonous cycle that had exhausted you for quite a long time. You yearned to be on an adventure, to observe the marvels of the ocean, and to gain your financial stability through ethical methods.

You were once the pride of your family, and the thought of how profoundly disappointed they must have felt for your sullied repute overflowed you with mortification.

For a while, everything was as normal as it could be. You worked from one tavern to another, gathering information about the most formidable pirates setting their sights on the Grand Line. You heard several tales from inhabitants and wayfarers, even from the Marines themselves. You were thoroughly pleased with the experience and the wisdom you were acquiring for your own good during your travels.

Unfortunately, things started to deteriorate when your ship developed a massive leak, to the point where you barely managed to reach the next harbor before capsizing and sinking down. The funds available to you weren’t nearly enough to buy a new one, and thus you had to depend on occasional fishermen or merchants for transportation, still paying them handsomely for their help.

On a day when misfortune struck, you were robbed of all your Berries and supplies due to your naivety. You were unable to report the incident to the authorities as the culprits fled as soon as you set foot on land, leaving you without a single coin in your pockets and no food to sustain you during your wanderings. Without money, you could no longer afford passage by ship or meals at local taverns. You were obliged to begin from the outset, tracking down employment opportunities that seemed increasingly difficult to come by.

And then the harassment began, with unscrupulous dealers or pirates demanding a certain type of payment in exchange for their services, which you naturally rejected. As time passed, you had to resort to adopting a defensive stance the hard way, procuring blades and handguns via questionable channels.

You were tired, demoralized, and desperately hungry. Your suffering clouded your judgment, pushing you towards a path you never thought you would accept as your only option.

And then, you had the not-so-brilliant idea of stealing a piece of bread from a market, thinking that just one time wouldn't really be the end of the world. Little did you know, you were about to seal your own fate, as the Marines happened to walk by just as you committed the act, completely unaware of their presence.

You begged for your freedom, spelling out justifications in the hope that they would provide you with the considerate treatment that innocent citizens were supposed to receive. You were gravely mistaken.

The discovery of two sharp daggers and a fully loaded pistol in your backpack certainly did not aid your predicament. Despite numerous attempts to convince them that you were not a pirate, they refused to listen to your reasoning and brought you directly to the Marine base, where a cold cell awaited your arrival.

They left you there without food and barely any water for three days, until the Admiral in charge finally decided to acknowledge your presence. You had hoped that they would recognize their grave misinterpretation and offer you the justice you were due, but you were astonished to find that the conditions of the enstablishment were just as oppressive as the enclosure of your prison.

The commander wished to gain knowledge pertaining to certain fugitive pirates, whose heads were carrying substantial rewards for their crimes against the Government. In view of this, the man put forth an offer that he reckoned would be difficult for you to refuse; join forces with him in return for your liberty.

The hitch was that, besides knowing their names, you were not well-informed concerning these outlaws. The Admiral was convinced that you were withholding more than you wanted to disclose, referring to you as a member of those despicable parasites. The Marines didn’t even put in the effort to corroborate your innocence prior to deeming you officially guilty, using their prestige as a weapon and exerting power over those who were vulnerable.

Ultimately, after realizing you were unwilling to cooperate, the Admiral employed brute force in a bid to extract any secret you were keeping to yourself. In the confines of your cell, you were left to starve and decay as your body continued to weaken. The man would make daily visits, sadistically using his blade to inflict deep wounds on your back, your shirt being ripped in the process. One slit progressed to two, then three, and then ten, until you were unable to keep track of the number. The persistent agony was compounded by the dripping blood, which formed a revolting pool on the floor and stained your uncomfortable bed.

He was a sadist, twisted by madness, using your body as his canvas.

On the brink of abandoning all your hope and acquiescing into rotting in that prison, a guard entered to release you, apprising you that the Admiral had a final proposal ready for you. By then, you had already lost a considerable amount of weight, and you could barely remain standing on your enfeebled legs. The oldest scars on your back itched as they recovered, though the fresh ones were still moist and soaked with blood.

You were forcefully shoved into the office as the guard closed the door behind you, leaving you on your knees, alone with your jailer. Once again, the Admiral attempted to coerce you with promises of salvation, threatening a proper execution the following day if you didn't comply.

It was evident that he had grown tired of toying with you. The Admiral's obsession with pirates seemed to be a severe mental illness, as he saw evil lurking in every corner, when in reality, he was the only monster in front of you.

The moment he turned his back to you and placed his arms across his torso while looking at the window, you became aware of an opening directly upon his desk. There was an empty plate sitting there, with a fork and knife neatly arranged upon it.

A knife, sharp enough to effortlessly cut through a thick steak.

Your heart pounded loudly in your ears as you swallowed hard. Time was of the essence and you needed to act swiftly, without any hesitation whatsoever. Summoning every ounce of energy left in your frail body, you stood up from the polished floor, careful to make minimal noise with your tattered boots. Advancing at a steady pace and with a calculated gait, you went up to the large table, your eyes fixed on the back of the Admiral's head.

Ignoring his eccentric speech, you stealthily grasped the knife by its handle, slowly leading it away from the dish and carefully concealing it inside the sleeve of the meager garment you were still wearing.

You could barely take a couple of steps back before he turned to face you once more, a malicious grin spreading across his lips. He taunted you, expressing his pity for your miserable state and remarking how much fun the two of you could have if only you were smart enough to choose his side.

He walked past the table, extending his big hand to touch your shoulder. You acted on pure instinct as the hunger, resentment, pain, and fear that had consumed you for the longest days of your life surged to the surface all at once. You let the knife slip from your sleeve, tightly gripping it in your hand before delivering a quick and effective stab to his neck, slicing it open.

For a brief moment, you felt nothing. With cold, deadpan eyes, you stared at him as he gurgled and collapsed to the floor. It was only when you saw the blood pouring forth around him that you abruptly snapped back to reality, realizing the gravity of what you had just done.

Panic surged through you when you heard the guard knocking at the door, and from there, everything happened in a blur of rapid movements. As the knob turned, you ran to hide behind the door, seizing the opportunity to slip away when the guard discovered the Admiral's lifeless body in the room. In a rush of agitation, you escaped through the halls and stumbled upon a Marine uniform that was slightly oversized. Fright filled your heart as the shrieking alarm carried on blaring through the base, until at last you managed to end up outside as a disguised cadet.

You discovered an unattended boat moored at the port, which you promptly took control of. Embarking on a journey to an unknown destination, you discarded the stolen uniform in the middle of the ocean, allowing yourself to finally collapse and rest.

The more you pondered on it, the less determined you felt to adhere to the regulations. You believed that the laws and policies of the world were established to serve a better code, but those who worked for the government, meant to become an example to admire and strive to imitate, turned out to be even more despicable than the scum they vilified.

Whenever your scars itched, or someone asked about them to satiate their curiosity, you were reminded of the little trust you could bestow on anyone in your proximity. In the event that even a senior official had the power to pronounce fatal verdicts and physically torment a civilian without carrying out an adequate examination, to whom could you turn for protection?

Ultimately, you realized that the most logical option available for you was to return to your hometown. But then, as you began preparing to leave your life at sea, a wanted poster bearing an image of your disraught face was displayed on the walls.

In that moment, you felt as if you had been shattered into a thousand pieces. You were now persecuted like any other pirate the Marines wanted to capture, and you could no longer travel to your island for the sake of your family and friends. You were alone, lost, on the run from the authorities and bounty hunters.

If they were going to treat you like a pirate, then you would just become one. And so you learned, fought, stole, cheated, and fled, over and over again. As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, you found yourself living in a way that would prevent you from falling and drowning, training extensively and gaining muscle. You became adept at disguising yourself on the spot, and acquired a set of skills that you never imagined would be fitting for your old, innocent self.

All you could do was endure and survive.

Between your shady deals and overheard conversations, you learned about a certain Warlord of the Sea, and none other than the strongest swordman in the world. A man whom you, with your existing notoriety, should have never dared to cross paths with.

And yet, you did.

Dracule Mihawk, once a dangerous pirate known as the Marine Hunter, had now formed an alliance with the World Government, allowing him to carry out his questionable deeds while putting on a facade of indifference. The first time you laid eyes on him, you were casually strolling down a bustling street. He leaned against a stack of wooden crates, seemingly at ease as he carefully surveyed his surroundings.

You could only identify him based on an outdated, revoked bounty poster that could still be spotted here and there on walls or scattered in the streets. However, at the outset, you didn’t know that he was specifically targeting you of all people.

It became increasingly clear to you that he had been dispatched by the Marines to pursue you relentlessly, as you began to notice his presence wherever you went. You couldn't comprehend how he managed to track your every move, as you were confident that no one was tailing you. Yet, he displayed the stealthiness of a bird of prey, meticulously observing your actions before launching his ultimate assault. You couldn't help but feel intimidated, especially in the presence of his colossal sword and menacing yellow hawk-like eyes, albeit beautiful and captivating.

He didn't even pay you any evident attention until you met his gaze by chance, sparking an electric and unsettling connection between the two of you. Despite his detachment, showing little interest in his surroundings, you couldn't help but notice that the more you tried to hide, the closer he seemed to lurk nearby.

One day, as you hastened your pace, you arrived at a bustling village market, with Mihawk still trailing a few steps behind. You quickly veered towards a clothing stall, feigning fascination in the assortment of hats and dresses on display. The merchant, a friendly middle-aged man with long hair and a sumptuous beard, warmly urged you to explore more of his wares in the privacy of a fitting booth.

In order to alter your appearance, you donned a voluminous, frilly red dress that gracefully swept the floor, effectively hiding your outfit underneath. To further conceal yourself, you completed the look with a matching hat that kept your hair securely tucked away.

As Mihawk strolled by the stall, you caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror before you. Maintaining your composure, you intentionally raised the pitch of your voice, exclaiming with exaggerated enthusiasm about the vibrant colors and exquisite materials of the dresses, even altering your accent.

The merchant's genuine excitement warmed your heart despite your act. After paying for the clothing, you bid the man farewell with a gentle wave and walked in the opposite direction, leaving the stall and stealing a final glance behind.

You caught sight of the Warlord’s sword and the white feather of his hat vanishing amidst the crowd. With a satisfied smile grazing your lips, you turned on your heels and dashed towards the docks where your new boat awaited you.

Just over a month later, you found yourself once again face-to-face with the swordman, this time at a tavern in a different part of the East Blue. Despite his distance from your position at the bar, the frequent glances you exchanged with each other evoked a completely different sensation.

In a peculiar manner, he seemed to be savoring the chase, never resorting to his strength or speed to corner you. Instead, he engaged in a game of hide and seek, seemingly finding amusement in the pursuit.

Naturally, you weren't foolish enough to approach his table and engage in conversation with a man who was likely plotting to hand you over to the authorities. After emptying your glass, you rose from the bar and made your way outside into the open air. Without bothering to check if he was following, you skillfully maneuvered yourself through corners and darted down alleys, searching for the most efficient shortcut you could find. Finally, you arrived at your vessel and embarked on another voyage, mustering the courage to look at the docks as the boat moved further away.

Mihawk stood there, unmoving, his expression void of any emotion, his golden eyes piercing into you without a single blink.

And just as it had happened before, a grin spread across your face. It was a triumphant gesture, a deliberate provocation to show him that you were also thoroughly enjoying the game. Mihawk remained unfazed, turning away and retracing his steps without making any attempt to pursue you by sea.

This pattern continued for quite some time, with more encounters scattered all over the East Blue. Each one of them ended with your successful escape, leaving his intense gaze fixed upon you. At some point, you began to suspect that he was intentionally letting you get away. It seemed unbelievable that a skilled fighter with his reputation would consistently be defeated by a novice like yourself.

While it was initially exhilarating and you liked the thrill of the challenge, in the end, it left you with a profound emptiness in your heart. Dracule Mihawk was undeniably a handsome man, but his attention proved incapable of filling the void that lingered within you. This was primarily due to his unfriendly intentions, as he solely aimed to capture you eventually. The truth was that you deeply missed your family, friends, and the mundane life that you could no longer reclaim. Ever since obtaining that bounty, you had to sever all contact with your loved ones for their safety. The overwhelming sense of loneliness and the feeling of being trapped in an endless cycle weighed heavily on you, leaving an intense craving for a definitive way out that appeared impossible to find at the time.

Your reasoning led you to the conclusion that if Mihawk's true intention was to hand you over to the Marines, he would have to kill you in the process.

While you didn't necessarily desire death to befall you, the life of a pirate had its limitations when it came to joy and fulfillment. It simply wasn't the path meant for you, and you couldn't help but wish you had known what awaited you beyond your familiar surroundings before leaving behind everything and everyone you held dear.

You were utterly exhausted, drained both physically and emotionally. The scars on your back had fully healed and partially faded, but they still left behind a collection of unsightly, rough marks that marred your skin. You were so desperate to avoid setting foot in another Marine base that you would have willingly allowed Mihawk to annihilate you.

And so, the next time you saw him, it was meant to be the very last.

Voices reached your ears, hinting at the existence of a cave brimming with wonders on a small, inhabited piece of land. Given the prevalence of pirates eager to seize anything valuable, you didn't have high expectations for what you might discover. fueled by curiosity and with no pressing obligations, you made the bold choice to embark on this adventure, inspect the cave and fearlessly delve into its depths.

As you had anticipated, there were footprints marking the sandy and muddy terrain within the cave. Empty treasure chests were scattered about, their contents long since plundered. You could only salvage a few scattered pieces of gold and jewelry that had been left behind in various locations.

Though the loot may not have been plentiful, it was still a satisfying outcome after such a long journey. Your focus was captivated by a ring that could have easily been overlooked, partially buried in the sand with only a corner of its metallic surface peeking out. It was a stunning golden band embellished with a raw emerald gemstone, a piece that felt perfectly suited for you and one that you eagerly anticipated wearing once it had been thoroughly cleaned.

Silver chains, leather strings, sparkling gemstones, and ethnic rings. You cherished collecting these pieces from your travels as mementos, a way to etch every experience into your memory, symbolize your personal growth, and serve as a reminder that you were alive and thriving.

With your bag partially filled with your newly discovered treasures, you gracefully emerged from the cave, feeling the gentle breeze caress your hair. Lost in contemplation, you strolled along the shoreline, your eyes set upon your boots as they sank into the sand, making a satisfying sound with each step.

It took a moment for you to realize that you were no longer alone on the island. Someone stood just a few feet away, observing your approaching figure with a composed expression.

As you finally raised your gaze, your heart started pounding, and a sense of unease coiled in your stomach. Standing before you was Dracule Mihawk, his piercing golden eyes locked on you.

Gradually, your movements slowed until you finally came to a halt. Despite the noticeable distance separating the two of you, he made no attempt to close the gap. His stance exhibited no hint of malice; his hands rested calmly at his sides as he observed you, not even reaching for his sword.

The longer you locked eyes with him, the less inclined you felt to leave. With a subtle smile, you displayed unwavering determination and proceeded to walk forward with confidence. Mihawk remained motionless, offering no indication of initiating combat as you drew nearer, leaving his intentions cloaked in enigma.

You walked past him, deliberately avoiding eye contact and redirecting your attention to the path ahead. Your ears remained vigilant, attuned to the surrounding sounds, making sure that he wasn't closely trailing behind you.

However, shattering the silence, his voice suddenly reached your ears, and you heard him speak for the first time since it all began.

"You are quite challenging to track down.”

You stopped abruptly, clutching the bag tightly on your shoulder. Swallowing hard, you fought to suppress the lump that formed in your throat. His voice, like liquid honey, flowed effortlessly, captivating your attention and exuding a calmness that instantly alleviated your nerves.

You took a deep breath, reluctantly acknowledging that the sound of his voice was stirring emotions within you that you weren't ready to confront at this moment.

You turned around, meeting his golden eyes once again. “Not that much for you, apparently,” you retorted, your words laced with a hint of defiance.

For a brief moment, you caught a fleeting glimpse of the corners of his lips twitching, as if hinting at a smile. However, it immediately disappeared, leaving only a trace of its presence.

"Now what?" you asked him. "Are you finally going to capture me and hand me over? If that's the case, then you'll have to kill me. I won't put up any resistance.”

“Is that so?”

No matter how much you strained to interpret his expression, he appeared remarkably disinterested, showing no signs of engagement or emotion.

You shrugged, "We both know that I wouldn't stand a chance against your sword. The bounty poster states 'dead or alive,' and I doubt they would be concerned about the state I'm in as long as I'm eliminated.”

Casting a fleeting glance at the sword at your hip, he emitted a curious hum, tilting his head slightly to the side, almost imperceptibly. Silence settled between the two of you, accompanied only by the gentle rhythm of the waves, creating a soothing melody that enveloped the atmosphere.

You waited patiently, but he made no indication of taking any action against you.

"Well, that was quite the delightful conversation," you remarked sarcastically, pivoting on your heels and resuming your stride.

As your eyes landed on your boat in the distance, you suddenly realized that the urge to hasten your steps had dissipated. The weariness of constantly running away had taken root in you, leaving you with a profound sense of homelessness, unable to find a place where you truly belonged.

To your surprise, you heard him steadily moving behind you, his footsteps synchronizing with your own in a deliberate and unhurried rhythm. You continued along your path, maintaining silence, a part of you anticipating a powerful strike that would bring you down. However, to your relief, the enigmatic man made no attempt to impede you. Not even a hint of hostility could be sensed.

As your nervousness heightened, you made a deliberate choice to pause, silently inviting him to draw nearer. With caution, your hand moved to release the dagger from its secure holster on your belt. A quick glance at the subtle shadows cast on the sand confirmed that he was now mere inches away, in your immediate proximity.

In one seamless motion, you spun around, positioning your blade against his throat without applying any pressure. It served as a warning, your glare speaking volumes without the need for words.

Mihawk remained unaffected, appearing to disregard the presence of the dagger entirely. Frustration surged, causing you to tighten your grip on the hilt of the knife, your eyebrows furrowing in annoyance.

"Are you seriously planning to follow me around without making a move?" you demanded, your voice tinged with exasperation. "How much longer do you think I can endure this game of cat and mouse?"

"You can lower that knife," he replied, his tone filled with discontent. "I have no intention of causing you any harm.”

As you observed him up close for the first time, you couldn't help but feel a slight infatuation with his striking appearance. His eyes held a captivating allure, his face partially shadowed by the wide brim of his hat, and his dark hair cascading in soft curls at the nape of his neck.

In an effort to regain composure, you cautiously withdrew the blade from his throat, though you kept your hand poised and prepared.

"Didn't the Marines send you after me?" you asked.

"Oh, they certainly did."

"And you're not going to obey the orders?"

Mihawk let out a quiet scoff, looking away from you and briefly gazing upward. "I don't take orders," he stated firmly.

You instinctively took a step back, regarding him with suspicion as your eyes carefully scanned him from head to toe. "They say that the Warlords of the Sea are nothing more than lapdogs of the Government.”

His golden irises locked onto you once more, seemingly a threatening gesture. However, undeterred, you pressed on. "Enlighten me, then. What should I believe? What other purpose could you possibly have in relation to me?”

You allowed your hand to fall to your side, although with a tight grip on the hilt of the dagger. Mihawk contemplated his response, ultimately giving you the most nonchalant look imaginable.

“I’m just killing some time.”

You took a moment to process what he had told you. "I'm sorry, what?" you responded, seeking clarification.

"Although I do find you intriguing,” he added.

You were left speechless, your mouth hanging open. "You don't even know me," you replied with incredulity.

"I’ve seen enough. And I am aware of your reputation.”

Crossing your arms, you took care not to accidentally cut the leather sleeve of your jacket in the process. "What's so intriguing about my reputation?”

Mihawk pressed his lips together before responding, "A woman escaping a base full of Marines, completely unarmed? That's not something you hear every day.”

You rolled your eyes. "Don't tell me you're one of those sexist bastards who think women can't handle themselves.”

"Quite the contrary. Not even most men would be able to escape that situation unscathed.”

You stood there, a smug grin adorning your face as you watched him. It would be a lie to say that it didn't give your ego a significant boost.

But deep down, the memories of those days still twisted your insides. "Who said I came out unscathed?" you retorted. "And this doesn't explain much either. You said you have no intention of handing me over, so what's your motive, Warlord?”

"Perhaps I wanted to personally verify your worth.”

Unable to contain yourself, you let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head in amusement. "In other words, you were bored.”

"I can become quite laidback when I don't have anything interesting to occupy my time," he said casually.

A part of you found him entertaining, but at the same time, his way of speaking to you continued to irritate you. "Well, at least you can afford to be laidback now that your bounty has been cancelled.”

Your retort was filled with venom and resentment, yet once again, Mihawk appeared unfazed by it. "With or without a bounty, I wouldn't do anything differently.”

You started to question the authenticity of the rumors surrounding this man, considering how different he was from your initial expectations. The fact that he hadn't made any aggressive moves towards you made you wonder if there was more to him than met the eye.

Evidently, his immunity with the Government held little importance to him. He exhibited a keenness to discover something, anything, that could captivate his time and attention, disregarding any orders he may have received. He pursued his own interests, driven by personal motivations above all else.

"That's a shame," you murmured. "I'm afraid I'm not as interesting as you may have assumed. The only thing I excel at is disguising myself.”

"You are underestimating yourself.”

"How so?”

"You mercilessly killed a Marine Admiral. You managed to evade all pirate hunters who pursued you and successfully escaped from me multiple times.”

"All I did was survive.”

"And you have been successful in that, so far.”

A heavy sigh escaped your lips as a gust of wind swept through your hair. "Do you know what it's like? To be separated from your family, unable to even reach out to them because you're constantly being chased wherever you go?”

Mihawk remained silent, attentively observing your reaction.

And then, he spoke. "Such are the perils of a life on the open seas, I'm afraid.”

"I made one mistake, and I've been punished in the harshest way possible. How is that fair? They left me with no other choice. I had to do what I did.”

"You don't need to justify yourself to me," he replied calmly, his tone devoid of judgment.

"You say that, yet here you stand. No offense, but why should I place my trust in you?”

As your heart raced in your chest, its strong beats reverberating through your body, you took deep breaths in an attempt to calm yourself down. Meanwhile, Mihawk remained as calm and serene as ever.

"Do as you wish," he said with a casual shrug. "But I must say, you are quite unrefined. Your movements are predictable, and unless you learn to control them, you won't last much longer.”

You raised an eyebrow at his statement, letting out a laugh that was a mix of amusement and surprise. It seemed like a blend of criticism and advice, leaving you intrigued by his words.

"What's this? Now you suddenly want to offer me your help?" you questioned skeptically. "I never asked for your guidance. Whether I live or die is my own concern," you declared firmly.

Mihawk's eyes narrowed, his gaze intensifying as if he were scrutinizing you closely, studying every detail.

"Unless," you continued, leaning forward and bringing your face dangerously close to his, exuding confidence, almost brushing his lips with yours. "-you want to be the one to push me to my limits," you added, your words carrying a daring challenge.

His typically stoic expression, always composed and unwavering, appeared to subtly shift in response to your audacious gesture. You could catch a whiff of his captivating scent, a blend of cologne, sea salt, and earth, filling your senses.

You had to quickly pull away from his taller figure, concealing the faint blush that was starting to creep onto your cheeks.

"What's the final verdict, Warlord?" you taunted. "After all, you were given explicit orders to capture me.”

Your blade made contact with the golden cross he wore around his neck and pressed against his chest, the sound of metal against metal resonating in the air. The open coat he wore left little to the imagination, revealing that he had indeed chosen not to wear a shirt underneath.

You returned to your serious and sincere demeanor, looking up to meet his hawk-like eyes once more. Your stern and courageous facade was starting to waver, but you were determined not to let a stranger see your vulnerability, especially when your life was on the line and his intentions remained uncertain.

You chuckled with amusement as you securely placed the knife back into its holster. What am I supposed to do?" you pondered aloud, more to yourself than to him.

“Grow strong and keep fighting,” he declared. "If you don’t wish to die sooner rather than later. Certainly, it won't be by my hand.”

His words left you speechless, leaving you without a proper answer as he walked past you, now the one departing. You turned around, staring at the intricate details and embroideries adorning his coat. With each step he took, his sword lightly swayed on his back, creating a graceful and mesmerizing motion.

"They won't be pleased with that," you raised your voice, ensuring that he could hear you. This prompted him to pause and briefly turn his head, acknowledging your words.

"They never are," he replied with a tone of resignation before resuming his journey, leaving you behind.

A smile of relief and respect formed on your lips as you reflected on the man who had relentlessly chased you, only to ultimately allow you to go free. Somehow, he perceived something valuable and worthy in you that led him to defy the orders of the Marines, opting for a confrontation that didn't resort to physical violence.

As he became a tiny speck in the distance, you readjusted the bag on your shoulders and set off towards your own ship. A newfound sense of confidence coursed through your veins like never before, propelling you forward into the unknown.

Yes, you had firmly believed that seeing him at that moment would undoubtedly be the ultimate encounter.

Except that it wasn’t.

Go to Chapter 2 ->

#one piece #dracule mihawk #one piece liveaction #opla mihawk #dracule mihawk x reader #mihawk x reader #opla fanfiction

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