#given liveaction

[5mind]

(( was thinking about how fivemind units wouldn't actually be able to pull off the good ol broken helmet shot since theyre not wearing helmets and all that + two of them (red, pink) already have cracked visors by default so the impact wouldn't be the same but then I tried to pinpoint the appeal of broken helmets and ok

I think the equivalent for a fivemind unit would be literally losing their head. Because theres this appeal in a helmet being cracked to reveal a human inside, behind the shiny visor and armor, yeah? So the equivalent for a machine taking on the role of a humanoid hero would be peel away the pretense, the humanoid silhouette, and like. Humans can't live without heads. But a machine remotely controlled by an AI consciousness can. It's a reveal as well. This makes sense right ?

[rainbowmoonstonestories]

A Bounty As Boundless As The Sea | Chapter 8

Chapters: 8/? 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

As time progressed, the distance between you and Mihawk became increasingly frustrating to maintain. Concurrently, despite your bounty being cancelled, potential risks from undisclosed parties may still persist.

Author's note: It's hard to believe we're in 2025 already. The story is flowing well, and I expect the first part to conclude within the next chapter or two. I had planned to include an important scene with a major OP character in this update, but space constraints prevented it. I'll incorporate it in the next chapter alongside other plot developments.

The second part shouldn't be particularly long, but I want to write about daily life on Kuraigana Island. This means readers who haven't read the manga or watched the anime will encounter some spoilers. Since we don't know how many seasons the live-action will cover, it might take years before they film that storyline.

I wish you all a wonderful 2025!

You awoke to birds chirping, their gentle whistles drawing you back to reality. When you opened your eyes, sunlight streamed directly into them, causing you to squint and roll away from the harsh rays onto the cool grass. 

Upon discovering Mihawk's departure, a sense of melancholy settled over you. His solemn promise lingered in your thoughts, accompanied by memories of ardent kisses and gentle touches. The previous evening had marked a significant development in your relationship; you had simply held each other, finding peace and contentment in a quiet embrace with no need for anything more. 

Though naturally reserved, Mihawk revealed his softer side in private through subtle gestures of intimacy and affection. His tenderness emerged in the way he welcomed your presence and left thoughtful gifts on your pillow—each action carrying the same quiet precision that defined his character.

An involuntary sigh escaped your lips as his absence weighed heavily upon your consciousness. Yet you chose to trust his resolve, hoping he would return before the ache of separation could truly take hold.

You pushed yourself up from the ground, stretching to shake off the last traces of sleep. Making your way down the hill toward the village, you noticed townspeople already bustling between the harbor and main streets. Fresh fish scented the air while seagulls wheeled overhead, and the sounds of merchants setting up their stalls echoed off the surrounding walls. You'd nearly forgotten the vitality of your homeland during these early dawn hours.

Life had a peculiar way of shifting perspectives. Not long ago, you would have given anything to return home and forget your dream of adventure, one that had twisted into a nightmare of betrayal and deceit. Now you found yourself unwilling to stay, unable to give up the life at sea you had built through hard work, determination, and sacrifice.

A life with the ocean breeze blowing through your hair, and Dracule Mihawk by your side.

Mary-Ann visited the tavern in the early afternoon, choosing the quiet lull for an intimate conversation. Since your arrival, moments alone together had been extremely rare, and she craved the kind of private chat that only two best friends, separated by time and distance, could finally have. 

The tavern was comfortably warm, wisps of steam curling up from your drinks. Mary-Ann sat in thoughtful silence, choosing her next words carefully.

"So, I heard something interesting this morning," she said, sipping her tea with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Oh? Do tell," you replied with a smile.

"Your boyfriend came all this way just to see you, didn’t he? What a shame I wasn't here to meet him in person."

You pursed your lips and cast a suspicious glance at your cousin, who was casually wiping down tables nearby. "Runa told you, didn't she?"

Mary-Ann shrugged. "You know how she is. She said he's quite the handsome fellow. And judging by those old bounty posters, I'd say she's absolutely right."

“I mean—”

"You're not going to deny it, are you?" she teased. "Go on, don't stop on my account."

A wider grin tugged at your lips as thoughts of the Warlord drifted through your mind once more. "He's gorgeous, Mary-Ann. Breathtakingly so. But that's not the main reason I care for him."

"I bet. You've always been able to look beyond the surface. When I first heard the rumors about you two, I was skeptical… after all, he has quite the reputation. And those eyes of his..."

"Trust me, I was terrified when I first realized he was pursuing me."

Mary-Ann froze with her mug suspended in mid-air, unblinking. "Wait, he was?"

“Crazy, right?”

She sighed, setting the beverage down on the table. "Damn, sweetie. You've been through quite a journey out there."

"That's putting it mildly."

Her cheerful expression faded as a shadow crossed her face, giving way to a more serious tone. "So, he was chasing you because the Marines ordered him to? How did you get from there to this?"

You chuckled. "I honestly don't know. It just... happened naturally. Mihawk was never truly interested in capturing or killing me, he was fascinated by what I'd accomplished."

Her eyebrow arched impossibly high. "Seriously? Everyone says Dracule Mihawk is heartless and a savage on the battlefield."

"That's what I thought too. But believe me, he's the very reason I'm sitting here with you today."

She nodded. "Right, because he got your bounty cancelled. Runa told me about that too."

"Can't that girl keep anything to herself?"

Mary-Ann shook her head with a smile. "Can you really blame her for being excited?"

“Not really, but…”

The atmosphere grew heavy as Mary-Ann's face tensed, her gaze holding the weight of a thousand unspoken concerns as her lips formed a straight line. 

"You disappeared for weeks, Y/N, and we had no idea where you'd gone. Then suddenly we learned the World Government wanted you dead. Can you imagine how terrified I was for you?"

“I—”

"Look, I don't mean to sound harsh," she cut in. “I know it was difficult, and I understand why you couldn't reach out to us after that. But every day, I dreaded hearing news of your execution. I would break down in tears just thinking about it."

You had feared your family and friends would see you as just another wayward criminal lost to the sea, someone who could only disappoint them for committing what seemed like an unpardonable act. You were terrified to reach out, knowing the Marines could track any communication and endanger your loved ones. Yet you had failed to consider the most crucial aspect: how intensely frightened they all would be for your safety.

Your shoulders sagged. "I'm sorry, Mary-Ann. I know I've caused you all so much worry."

"I'm not blaming you, I know it wasn’t your fault. Though I have to admit, I spent a long time being angry that you chose such a dangerous dream."

Your eyes flickered as you fidgeted with your hands in your lap. "Actually, there were times when I regretted my decision."

Mary-Ann's warm smile returned as she settled in her chair. "If I were in your shoes, I couldn't have endured that alone. The way you found the courage to stand on your own, without support… it's truly admirable. I'm just so grateful you didn't give up."

“Why?”

She looked at you thoughtfully, her face glowing in the warm sunlight. "Because I've never seen you this happy before."

Oh.

"Whatever people say about Mihawk, I trust your judgment. And seeing how much you like this guy, I'm certain he's not the mindless World Government’s lapdog that everyone makes him out to be.

Your fingers reached for the cross pendant, subconsciously toying with it. "No. He's complex and contemplative, far more than just empty words and violence. He's direct, honest, and believes in me more than I've ever believed in myself."

Mary-Ann sipped her now-cold tea with a satisfied hum. "You spent time with him last night, didn't you?"

“Yeah.”

"Are you going to tell me what happened?"

"Nothing, actually. We just slept."

She propped her elbow on the table, resting her chin in her hand. "Slept, sure."

"Is that really any of your business?" you asked with a playful smirk.

"You're my best friend, of course it is."

"Well, you're in for a disappointment; we really did just sleep. Get your mind out of the gutter."

“Mhh.” She leaned forward, lowering her voice to a whisper. "But that's not all you've done together, is it?"

"Nope, not going there."

"Come on, spill!” She exclaimed, clapping her hands enthusiastically. “With his fierce prowess in battle, I bet he's just as wild in the bedroom—"

"Oh for fuck's sake. Stop it!"

She erupted into laughter, clutching her stomach and nearly toppling backward in her chair. Her booming voice echoed through the tavern so powerfully you worried she might shake the rafters loose. 

"You should see your face right now. You're as red as your mother's tomato soup!"

"Well, who do I have to thank for that?"

"Alright, alright. My apologies. I can see you'd rather not discuss those details."

"For good reason,” you retorted, crossing your arms. “I never ask you about your husband’s performance during sex, do I?"

"Ah, I'd be happy to tell you all about it. You see, there's this special thing he does with his ton—"

You waved your hands frantically. "No, no, please. I'm perfectly fine not knowing. I'd rather be able to look him in the eye without any disturbing mental images."

Mary-Ann dissolved into uncontrollable giggling, just like in the old days. Wiping tears of joy from her eyes, she finally caught her breath and composed herself. "I didn't realize how much I've missed this."

“I missed it too.”

"But not enough to make you want to stay, right?"

You released a gentle sigh, tilting your head. "It's not that I don't want to."

"I understand. Your heart belongs to the sea now… and to Dracule Mihawk."

Lost in thought, you gazed through the window at the pristine sky above. The salty scent of the ocean had become part of your essence, clinging to your skin and dancing on your lips no matter how much you washed or what foods and drinks you tasted. And the distinctive aroma of the man you had fallen in love with, like the finest spice in a gourmet kitchen, had woven itself into your being, remaining a constant presence in your life.

"Yes," you whispered, blinking back tears before they could fall. "It does."

The seven days spent in your homeland proved transformative, offering insights into aspects of life previously overlooked. This period of reflection facilitated personal rediscovery, lending new perspective to familiar routines and emphasizing the importance of rest. The nurturing presence of family and friends served as a powerful source of rejuvenation for your spirit.

Runa struggled the most with your impending parting, retreating to her room the moment she noticed your packed belongings. After half an hour of coaxing, she finally opened the door, her face tear-stained, her breath hitching with crying. 

"Why do you have to go?" she asked, curling into a ball on her bed. "Why did you have to meet that Warlord?"

"Runa, it's not that simple," you said softly, placing a gentle hand on her knee. "I have a whole life waiting for me; a job, someone counting on my services, and so many places still to explore."

"But it's so dangerous out there!" 

"I can’t deny that, Ru. But I know you're mature enough to understand why I need to follow this path."

"No," she sniffled. "I know why you want to go, but I just can't make sense of it. Why risk your life when you could be safe and comfortable? It's not like you're planning to sail the Grand Line."

You hesitated, unable to find the right words to offer. The idea of venturing further had been growing in your mind—a chance to push beyond familiar waters. Though the East Blue was vast, you felt you had visited every corner of it, from remote islets to bustling cities. While you once dismissed the Grand Line as too risky, you now wondered if you might be ready to take on its challenges somehow.

Your silence made Runa's eyes widen in panic. "Wait… you won't go to the Grand Line, right? Please tell me you won't!"

"To be honest, Runa, I'm not sure,” you admitted. “While I haven't made any specific plans, I can't promise I won't consider that possibility someday."

"You can't do that! You may never return!"

A soft smile tugged at your lips. It seemed a flair for the dramatic truly ran in your family.

"Ru, I know I'm asking a lot. I don't expect everyone to agree with my choices. All I'm asking for is your acceptance of the journey I must take."

"Well, I refuse," she declared between hiccups, tears streaming down her face in endless rivulets.

“Ru—”

"No, I mean it. I don't want Dracule Mihawk to take you away from us. I don't want you to go to the Grand Line. I don't want you to be a pirate. And I certainly don't want you to put your life in danger every single day."

You exhaled deeply, brushing her damp hair away from her eyes. "Nobody is taking me away from you, and being a pirate doesn't mean I'm going to become a bad person."

"It's not about that. Being a pirate puts a target on your back, doesn't it?"

"I only became a target because of bad luck,” you explained. “A chain of unfortunate events forced me to do something terrible, something I would never choose unless I had no other option."

She bit her lower lip hard enough to nearly make it bleed. "And what if you find yourself in that situation again? What if you need to survive and the World Government condemns whatever means you have to use? I doubt even Mihawk can protect you from that all the time. How well do you know this man, anyway?"

Knowing there was no response that could contradict the truth of your cousin’s statements, you took her hand and gave it a light squeeze. "I can't promise you that things will be easy. All I can do is assure you that I'll be as careful as I can be, and call you at least once a week to keep you updated about my whereabouts."

"How can I be sure you won't end up with another bounty?"

"The reason I got a bounty in the first place was my inexperience."

She pouted, her throat tightening with emotion. "It's not enough, Y/N."

"I know, and I wish I could give you more reassurance."

"You're going to leave regardless of what I say, aren't you?"

“Yes.”

Her lips quivered as fresh tears soaked into her shirt. "Fine. Go ahead and do whatever you want, then."

The resentment was clear in her voice, anger and disappointment blazing in her darkened eyes. It pained you deeply to leave her this way; hurt, angry, and utterly miserable. Knowing she might hold a grudge against you made your determination waver, but abandoning your commitments and chosen destiny was simply not an option you were willing to consider.

With a gentle kiss on her forehead, you rose from your position. Maintaining your poise, you proceeded toward the door, accepting that you must once again depart from your cherished foundations in pursuit of a life that promised the fulfillment you had yet to discover in your hometown.

And of a man whose undefined role in your relationship held profound significance.

Before you could leave the room, Runa called your name, halting you mid-stride. You turned to look at your cousin one last time, as she hesitated, getting up slowly from the bed but staying a few paces away.

Finally, she ran to you for a tight hug, wrapping her arms around your neck and pulling you against her. She breathed heavily into your hair, whimpering and shaking, barely releasing you to say, "If that guy ever dares to hurt you, I swear I'll kill him with my own hands. I don't care how massive that sword of his is.”

Embracing her tightly, you felt your own tears cascade down your cheeks while a soft laugh escaped your lips. After dabbing your eyes dry, you pulled back to take in the fierce look on her face, which gave her a maturity you had never seen in her before.

"I'll take your word for it."

It had been three weeks since you'd last seen Mihawk. You dove back into your sea routine with renewed intensity, sailing tirelessly from port to port. 

Each day brought pleas to Isaiah for more assignments as you tried to outrun time's sluggish pace. While the busy schedule didn't quite ease your restlessness, it at least kept your mind from lingering too long on thoughts you'd rather avoid. 

The Warlord had returned to the Grand Line, withdrawing into his usual silence without any communication. You wanted to trust him—truly—and a part of you would never doubt his word. Yet the uncertainty of when he would return created an unbearable emptiness in your heart, one that left an aching void nothing else could fill.

Every night felt dull and meaningless, your bed suddenly becoming colder and much too spacious for you alone. The bathtub was stifling, each soak a reminder of your passionate moment with the swordsman, awakening desires you struggled to contain. Your cabin was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, and every solitary meal tasted bland and lifeless. A deep ache consumed you, for your loved ones back home, for Mihawk's presence beside you, and for companionship to fill the endless lonely days.

Though you didn't lament leaving home again, the extended isolation was beginning to take its toll.

Fueled by pent-up emotions, you began picking fights more often than necessary. You weren't actively looking for confrontations, but after the incident on Mirror Ball Island, your patience with profiteering scoundrels had worn thin. You refused to let anyone take advantage of your services again.

One day, you stood with unwavering confidence before another fool who tried to cheat you out of your fair price, methodically counting the banknotes between your fingers. The thug snarled, blood dripping from his thrice-broken nose as he twisted against the ropes binding his hands. While you preferred peaceful solutions, mercy had no place in this world.

"This is more like it," you said smugly, securing your Berries into the inside pocket of your jacket. "It was nice doing business with you."

"You damned witch," he snarled in response. "If you think this is over—"

"Oh, it is," you cut him off sharply. "I wasn't the one who violated our agreement in the first place."

"Tch."

"Smart of you to stay quiet."

You pivoted on your heels and strode down the empty hallway, your sword and pistols echoing with metallic clinks against your sides. Before you could round the corner toward the harbor, the man called out from behind, his harsh voice booming with arrogance, causing you to stop abruptly.

"Must be real nice having that infamous Warlord watching your back and cleaning up your messes."

Your jaw clenched at the insult, striking a raw nerve. You turned menacingly, boots grinding against the dirt as you stalked back to where the man lay sprawled, each step deliberate and radiating malice. The man's smug expression wavered under your piercing gaze, but his words hung irretrievably in the air. 

You crouched down, your voice lowering to a deadly whisper that carried the same bone-chilling edge as Mihawk's infamous demeanor. "If you think he's my babysitter, you're dangerously mistaken."

The thug’s breath hitched, but you didn’t stop there. Your hand shot out, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and yanking him closer. “I fight my own battles. I settle my own scores. And I certainly don’t need anyone to clean up after me. So, unless you want me to show you just how much I don’t rely on him, you’ll keep your mouth shut.”

You let him go with a forceful shove, standing tall as you dusted off your hands. The scammer scrambled backward, his face pale as he muttered half-hearted apologies. But then, under his breath, emboldened by the distance between you, he sneered, "Figures a brute like him would choose someone just as savage. Warlord or not, he's still a glorified pirate.”

The muscles in your shoulders tensed visibly, your expression cold and unyielding as a storm brewing on the horizon. “What did you just say?”

His bravado faltered again, but he pressed on, perhaps out of misplaced courage or sheer stupidity. “I’m just saying, someone like him thinks he’s above the law because he waves a giant sword around and terrorizes everyone who crosses his path. It’s pathetic. You’re both—”

He didn’t get the chance to finish. In a blur of movement, you grabbed him by the collar and yanked him to his feet with surprising strength. “Listen closely,” you hissed, your face inches from his. “You don’t get to speak his name, let alone insult him.”

Your grip tightened, and the scammer squirmed, realizing too late that he had pushed far beyond the limits of your tolerance.

“That ‘glorified pirate’ could destroy you and everything you’ve ever known with a flick of his wrist. Do you know why he doesn’t?”

The thug shook his head frantically.

“Because unlike you,” you spat, “he has honor. He got strength you couldn’t even begin to understand, and he doesn’t waste it on cowards who can’t even win a simple scam. Next time you even think about speaking ill of him, ask yourself—are you prepared to deal with the consequences of your actions?”

You dropped him to the ground like a sack of bricks, leaving him gasping for air. "You are the only pathetic one here."

Without another word, you strode back toward your ship, your blood still boiling with rage. As you disappeared into the crowd, you grumbled curses and complaints under your breath, uncaring about the passersby who eyed you as if you had lost your sanity.

Heavens above, you longed desperately to see Mihawk again.

Weeks had turned into months, and it had become overwhelmingly unbearable. 

The Warlord's extended absence had created a palpable void across the East Blue region and in your personal life. Despite your resolute exterior, the question gnawed at you: would he honor his promise and return, proving his commitment to the bond you'd forged together? Though you wanted to believe in his reappearance, doubt crept in like an unwelcome shadow. You waited for any indication of presence, whether through reported sightings or even a single communication via transponder snail—none of which had materialized.

It unsettled you to realize how deeply he had influenced your thoughts, each day without him intensifying the craving that consumed both your soul and flesh. Even self-gratification brought no relief to your nerves, feeling hollow and incomparable to his touch. 

Missing him was truly maddening, but you could only wait and hold fast to his promise.

Meanwhile, your dealing job continued with more excursions and fruitful exchanges, immersing you in dynamic expeditions that provided just the right balance of stability and excitement. It was a good consolation, something that brought joy and gave your days purpose when you woke each morning with the sun rising. This was exactly what you'd always wanted; a life you wholeheartedly enjoyed, one you had chosen regardless of its lurking dangers over the comfort and security of your hometown. 

Still, as months went by, it became clear that the East Blue's opportunities were growing scarce. The region's limitations had become increasingly apparent, with Isaiah himself noticing the declining quality of your acquisitions. Though he was understanding about it, you both recognized that your finds were now predictable and less remarkable than before.

In hindsight, you should have anticipated his proposal.

"Wait, are you serious?" you asked, knitting your eyebrows.

"I know this is sudden, but honestly... I've been considering it for a while now."

"I thought you preferred avoiding the Grand Line," you remarked. "How are you planning to get there?"

He drew in a deep breath, folding his hands on the lantern-lit table. "I haven't the faintest idea."

"That's quite the plan to start with."

He laughed. "I know. I have no means to cross the Reverse Mountain, and I'd rather take the other route if I could."

"You can't simply sail through the Calm Belts in an ordinary ship."

"I'm aware. At minimum, I'd need one with a Seastone-lined hull,” he said firmly.

"Isaiah, let's be realistic. Seastone is an extremely rare mineral that only the Marines and World Government have access to."

He massaged his temples. "Yeah, that's the problem."

"So, you're only speaking hypothetically here."

"I am and I’m not. Look, I've always said I was content living here, but I'm getting tired of seeing the same faces and following this mundane routine. Even you know the East Blue has its limits. Sooner or later, there won't be anything left for us here."

Your eyes narrowed. “Maybe. But why are you speaking in plural?"

"Because this isn't just about me, Y/N. I want you to be part of this."

A heavy silence fell as you turned his words over in your mind, trying to make sense of them.

“Isaiah, what—”

"I know I don't have the means right now, but I've got connections. People who could help us form the crew we need and obtain some Seastone."

You exhaled. "Isaiah, listen to me for a second. While I've considered reaching the Grand Line someday, even a Seastone-lined ship wouldn't fully protect us from Sea Kings. They can still spot ships from the surface and attack any areas not protected by the mineral."

Isaiah nodded. "Exactly, we need to gather skilled people. Sailors with real talent and experience navigating the Calm Belts."

You sat in contemplation, weighing the risks against the potential rewards.

"Think about it. You could benefit too; after all, doesn't Mihawk have a residence in the Grand Line?"

“He does, but…”

"If we bypass Reverse Mountain, we could travel through the Calm Belts and establish the most efficient route."

"Come on, the Grand Line is vast. Some parts of it take years to reach."

"And it could take us years just to leave the East Blue anyway. I'm only asking you to consider the possibility."

This thought had been weighing on your mind more and more. If your relationship with Mihawk deepened further, you knew he couldn't simply abandon his duties to visit you in the East Blue. It would be unreasonable to expect him to give up his title and retire, reducing Yoru to a mere wall decoration. 

And certainly, enstablishing a long-distance relationship simply wasn't an option you could accept.

Yet, could you and Isaiah realistically cross the Calm Belts without being thrown overboard and devoured by a Sea King? While Reverse Mountain seemed like the better alternative in theory, it came with its own deadly risks. Put simply, neither path seemed safe enough for you to attempt at this time.

"I will, of course," you replied. "But I can't make any promises."

"That's fine. I would love to have you as part of my crew, Y/N, but I won't pressure you into it."

A smile crossed your face as he left his seat, bid you goodnight, and retreated to his room with measured steps. Your thoughts swirled in disarray as you stared at the lantern's glow—your mind adrift in possibilities— transfixed by its golden hues. 

Like the mesmerizing amber glow of Mihawk's piercing eyes.

Four long months had passed without a glimpse of the Warlord. From time to time, you asked Isaiah whether his contacts had heard any news of Mihawk's location or caught wind of rumors from across the four seas. So far, no significant news had emerged—his activities in the Grand Line had been unusually quiet and uneventful, nothing noteworthy enough to stir up any gossip.

As disappointing as it was, you had long since accepted it. Your faith in him remained unshaken, as you knew in your heart he would honor his promise and return to the East Blue for you, without fail. The ache of separation endured, but your strength of character carried you through each day, bolstered by your independence and resilience in your work.

However, nothing could have prepared you for what would become the most terrifying, life-threatening experience of your maritime career.

Notwithstanding prior experience and better judgment, you found yourself venturing once again into potentially hostile territory. 

The initial contact seemed legitimate and innocent enough: a potential client at a local tavern presented what appeared to be a straightforward business transaction of modest scale. The rendezvous point was on an inhabited island, with nothing outwardly suspicious about the arrangement. Red flags immediately went up when you arrived to find the meeting site was an isolated warehouse, completely cut off from civilization with no nearby buildings. The deal's questionable legality didn't faze you, that was normal in your line of work. But the circumstances raised significant concerns that warranted immediate withdrawal rather than merely exercising heightened vigilance.

No matter how capable you had become, certain battles were not meant to be fought alone.

You crept forward with caution, one hand resting on the sword at your hip while the other hovered near your holstered pistol. The decrepit wooden structure loomed ahead, its unstable frame making your skin crawl in alarm. 

A prudent course of action would have been to withdraw to your vessel without engagement. Still, something compelled you onward as you pushed open the door with a disturbing creak. The interior was dim and barren, containing nothing but scattered hay and broken planks, with decaying support beams that somehow still held the structure upright. 

The vast space had only a single entrance; the doorway you had just passed through. Though the contractor might simply be running late, your mind filled with darker possibilities, drowning out any optimistic thoughts. Before you could return outside to wait, the door slammed shut with a thunderous bang that echoed through the hollow chamber, making you jump and gasp.

An eerie silence descended, with no indication of activity outside. Upon attempting to exit, you discovered the door was immovable, refusing to yield even a fraction despite applying considerable force against the deteriorating structure.

You slammed against it repeatedly with your shoulder, until the acrid smell of smoke filled the air. Dark wisps curled up from beneath the door frame, forcing you to stumble backward as flames suddenly erupted in an incandescent blaze. You stared in horror at the advancing inferno, your eyes wide as the temperature soared with each lick of fire.

You spun around, desperately searching for another escape route, but found none. The wood greedily absorbed the flames, swallowing you into a scorching circle. You ran from one side to another, pounding your feet against the planks in hopes of creating an opening to slip through. Unfortunately, by the time you managed to make cracks and fracture pieces, the fire had effectively blocked your way to freedom.

The gravity of the situation took a moment to sink in. Your breath shortened as you panted and coughed, the smoke burning through your nose and filling your lungs. Sweat trickled from your hairline down your face as pieces of wood broke and fell from the roof. 

You leaped aside to dodge a massive girder crashing to the ground, but the sudden movement sent you reeling back toward the flames. A tongue of fire lashed out and caught your neck, searing pain shooting through you as your skin blistered and tore. You screamed in agony, clutching the burn with trembling hands as tears welled up, both from the excruciating sting and the dire reality of your predicament.

Though your smoke-filled lungs struggled for air, you refused to accept defeat. Your vision blurred as you climbed along the remaining foundations, only to slip and lose your balance, crashing onto your back. Your life flashed before your eyes, memories of childhood, faces of loved ones, and recalled Runa's distressed countenance as she implored you to reconsider your departure.

“This isn't just about me, Y/N. I want you to be part of this."

A heavy silence fell as you turned his words over in your mind, trying to make sense of them.

“Isaiah, what—”

"I know I don't have the means right now, but I've got connections. People who could help us form the crew we need and obtain some Seastone."

You pictured Isaiah's determined expression as he shared his aspirations of venturing to the Grand Line, an ambitious journey he envisioned undertaking together.

"This isn't farewell."

"Really?"

With a sigh, Mihawk sat up straight, facing you. His expression was serious and resolute. "You ought to have more faith in what I say."

Although his repeated assurances and actions could prove his sincerity, a persistent doubt was rooted in the recesses of your psyche. His motives were clearly not a pretense, yet that skeptical inner voice refused to be silenced completely.

"What further proof do you require from me?"

You pressed your lips together, contemplating the most appropriate response to give him. As silence lingered, Mihawk reached for the golden pendant hanging around your neck. "I don't give meaningless gifts. This necklace is more than mere decoration."

“I know.”

"If you do, then cease doubting my will to see you again."

Your thoughts turned to Mihawk, and you were gripped by a crushing despair. The bitter realization dawned that he would return to find only ashes where your life had been claimed by these merciless flames.

"I'm just wondering if I should start shopping for a wedding outfit," Micah teased. "I don't want to miss out.”

A bitter laugh escaped between your sobs as you struck the ground with your fist. Life held so much more in store for you, so many experiences yet to come, so many reasons to keep fighting and survive. 

“I don’t have the patience to constantly remind you of your worth, Y/N.”

Your grin vanished instantly, replaced by an expression of utter shock. Countless thoughts raced through your mind, but you couldn't focus on any of them. All you could process was the sound of your name, spoken aloud by Mihawk for the very first time since you'd known him.

And it felt exquisite, resonating in your ears like a perfectly struck chord.

“What did you just say…?”

"Has your hearing suddenly failed you?"

"No, I mean—" You touched his warm cheek with trembling fingers, his sideburns gently prickling your sensitive skin. "You said my name. You've never done that before."

"Unless you prefer I address you as 'Cutthroat' instead."

With a rapid intake of breath, you grasped the lapels of his coat and pulled him into another, fervent kiss. "Don't you fucking dare."

A guttural wail erupted from your throat, straining your vocal cords as your eyes burned with the same intensity as the surrounding blaze. Clutching the golden necklace with your hand, you hoped for a miracle to occur, for anyone in the distant villages to notice the rising smoke and come to your rescue before the flames consumed you. Digging your nails into the dirt, you prayed between choked weeping, casting your pride aside as the fire advanced.

Then, like a mirage, a possible route to salvation appeared in front of you. The fallen rafter had created an acute angle against one of the last standing supports. Above it, an opening in the roof revealed the sky, so blue and beautiful it seemed like divine intervention. You assessed the situation methodically, mapping out each critical point along the potential trajectory, your heart hammering in your chest. It was perilous, considering you could easily lose your footing once more and plunge into the flames below. 

With the limited alternatives available, this presented a more viable choice than remaining passive and succumbing to the inevitable.

Inhaling deeply, as far as your body allowed, you forced yourself to your feet and took a running start, racing along the rafter and leaping onto the support before it could collapse. You clung to it with your arms and legs like a monkey on a tree, carefully sliding up toward the roof as holes and tears formed in your jacket from the crackling flames. The heat was unbearable, the smoke rising so high it seemed to chase you to the top. Your right boot slid from the wooden pillar, but you maintained your grip by channeling all your strength into your arms. 

You were so close now, reaching for the ceiling boards and twisting your torso, your legs painfully crossed around the foundation piece. Gritting your teeth, you fought against your blurring vision and fading focus, summoning one final burst of willpower to propel yourself upward and slam against the edge of the broken roof. Your feet swung precariously close to the flames as your hands clawed frantically ahead, dragging you to safety. 

Finally, you were outside, gulping in fresh air between violent coughs that expelled ash from your airways. As you lifted your head, you caught sight of a small vessel in the distance, its Marine flag billowing, sailing away from the island's port. 

Whether that meant anything in relation to the arson or not, there was no time to dwell on it. The warehouse was on the verge of collapse, with parts of the roof crumbling and melting away. You made it back to the ground through unsteady movements and collisions with the walls, managing to limp away mere seconds before the building exploded. The force of the blast sent you flying, leaving you rolling across the grass with groans of pain.

Voices approached from the woods as townspeople rushed toward the unexpected explosion. Fighting through the sharp pain in your neck and the various aches throughout your body, you dragged yourself up without pause. You quickly retreated from the scene to avoid potential misconceptions about your involvement. Given your history, being discovered at the site could result in unwarranted accusations and legal complications, particularly concerning an incident that  posed significant risk to the surrounding area. No authority would consider your injuries with a lack of evidence against the real perpetrators, given your prior status as a fugitive in international law enforcement records.

As you walked, you discarded your ruined jacket and wrapped your belt scarf around your burned neck for protection. Brushing off as much soot as possible from your face, hair, and clothes, you forced a natural gait to reach your ship without garnering unwanted attention.

"Isaiah," you rasped through the portable transponder, collapsing onto your bed as the island faded behind you. The burn on your neck throbbed and stained your scarf with blood, your muscles and joints throbbing and creaking as though you had been crushed by a ship at full speed. 

"I need your help."

"Y/N, I've got just one question for you: what the actual fuck?"

You winced as Isaiah tended to your burn, carefully cleaning and disinfecting the wound.

"I didn't exactly plan on getting trapped in a burning building," you retorted.

"Oh please, don't clutch at straws now. You've got to stop charging headfirst into dangerous situations like this."

“I don’t.”

"No? Didn't I warn you that the Mirror Ball invitation might be a trap?"

“You did.”

"But you went anyway. And you ended up in serious trouble there too."

You clenched your teeth and gripped your thighs as he dried the injury, dabbing gently at the damaged skin. "What are you trying to get at?"

"All I'm saying is that you should be more mindful of yourself," he explained. "Mihawk isn’t even in this part of the sea now. He won't always be there for you."

"You think I don't realize that? I saved myself today, in case you hadn't noticed."

Isaiah let out a deep sigh as he set aside the bloodied cloth and washed his hands. "Don't get angry, I'm not trying to diminish your abilities."

"No, you're just implying that I rely on Mihawk for my safety."

"That's not what I meant at all," he said softly, applying a big plaster to your burn. "Y/N, you don't need to prove your strength, we both know how capable you are. But when your instincts warn you of danger, you need to take precautions instead of walking blindly into the unknown. What will you accomplish besides getting yourself killed?"

Though difficult to acknowledge, Isaiah's assessment was accurate. Perhaps you had subconsciously anticipated that Mihawk would sense your peril and arrive in time to rescue you from the flames. With him being on the far side of Reverse Mountain, such wishful thinking was absurd.

Your shoulders slumped in defeat. "Yeah, I get it. I don't know why I still went to that warehouse."

"You're lucky the burn isn't too severe. I'm not a doctor, but with time, the scar should fade."

You gently brushed your fingertips along the bandage, flinching as your skin still stung beneath it.

"Yes, ah, maybe don't touch it and make it worse now."

You chuckled, pouring quality rum into your empty glasses. "I'm sorry for snapping at you, by the way."

"No worries, I understand. That must have been absolutely terrifying."

"I truly thought I was done for, Isaiah."

He nodded, clinking his glass against yours in a silent toast. "I bet. But who would want to do something like that? Is there anyone there with a grudge against you?"

You shook your head. "You're the one with all the connections, I barely know anyone in the East Blue."

Suddenly, you remembered the Marine vessel you had observed from your elevated position. Through the thick smoke, you could clearly discern their official flag with its characteristic, simplified seagull emblem and "MARINE" inscription, billowing against the horizon. 

"Although..."

“Yeah?”

You hesitated, downing your rum in one swift motion and recoiling at its bitter taste. "I'm not entirely sure, but... I think I've noticed something."

"What did you notice?"

Could the World Government truly be pursuing you still, despite Mihawk's influence and intervention on your behalf? Or was this the work of an independent group, operating covertly for their own agenda?

"After escaping, I saw a Marine vessel leaving the island. A small one, unlike their usual ships."

"Seriously? And you think they were behind this?"

You shrugged. "I don't really know. They could have been there for completely different reasons, leaving on their own by the time the warehouse exploded. There's no way to prove whether the World Government or Marines are behind my attempted murder."

Isaiah slammed his glass onto the table. "Well, if you ask me, you've got quite a clue."

"You don't trust them at all, do you?"

"Like hell I do. Y/N, we know how corrupt these people are. Most Marines are rotten to the core, they rarely do things properly or care about our interests and safety. The World Government can easily keep its hands clean by having their lower-ranking pawns do the dirty work."

You pursed your lips thoughtfully. "If you're right, then not having a bounty doesn't mean I'm safe from trouble."

"I'm not trying to alarm you. No hunters have come after you since your bounty was removed. But if we're right about this and the Marines are still targeting you, it means even Dracule Mihawk doesn't wield the authority over them that we assumed he did."

The mere mention of his name sent your heart fluttering and your stomach twisting. "This is completely messed up."

“The whole world is, my dear. If I can give you some advice, maybe try to lay low for a while. Forget about work and stay vigilant. I can reach out to my contacts and see if they've heard anything suspicious.”

You couldn't bear the thought of idleness, which likely explained your reckless decision to enter the warehouse even though your instincts warned against it. You sought professional engagement to occupy your thoughts, finding it preferable to focusing on Mihawk's inaction and how much you missed him. You let your feelings take control, consuming and commanding you. Your promise to Runa about self-preservation remained unfulfilled as you continued falling into familiar patterns of risky behavior. While your devotion to the Warlord ran deep, managing these impulsive tendencies required immediate attention. 

For your own wellbeing, your family's peace of mind, and for Isaiah, whose steadfast support had guided you through countless challenges.

And above all, for Mihawk himself, who recognized and nurtured your inherent capabilities, preserving your life with the expectation that you would value and protect it accordingly.

"Thank you, Isaiah. I'll actually follow your advice this time."

The subsequent week passed in relative tranquility as you kept to strict isolation to facilitate proper healing of your neck injury. Isaiah diligently managed your recovery, performing regular bandaid changes every 48-72 hours while following thorough antiseptic protocols for the affected area. Though the recovery process remained uncomfortable, the wound showed gradual improvement with diminishing inflammation and more manageable pain levels.

While Isaiah's network had begun investigating the attack, their findings proved inconclusive. Rumors suggested Marine officials were unhappy about the removal of your bounty, but no concrete evidence could be established linking them directly to the incident. Dismissing the matter without further probe could potentially expose you to similar risks in the future.

"No word in the newspapers or on the streets about your death," Isaiah observed. "My guess is that someone inspected the scene, and they've reported the absence of your body to the mastermind behind this attempt."

"Well, at least my family won't be panicking for nothing."

"Yeah, that's not something any parent should ever have to endure."

"Or uncles, cousins, and friends."

Isaiah offered a smile, but his tense posture and unfocused gaze betrayed his underlying concern.

“Are you okay?”

"Yes, I'm just worried about you, that's all."

"I appreciate your concern, but please don't worry too much."

He scoffed. "How can I not? Y/N, you could've died!"

"I was there. I know exactly what happened. Thank you."

"Then please, stop pretending this isn't serious."

You swallowed hard and looked down, absently twirling the pen between your fingers as the open journal rested in your lap. "Someone has to. Otherwise, those images will haunt me day and night."

“Y/N…”

"I see the fire whenever I close my eyes. I feel the heat on my skin, and the smell of smoke follows me everywhere; in every corner of this place, on every piece of clothing I wear, even in my hair. I've showered twice today, yet it doesn’t go away."

Isaiah ran his fingers through his hair as your voice cracked. You could no longer keep up the façade of being strong and unshakeable.

"I can't stop thinking about how my family wouldn't even have had a body to mourn if I had failed."

"I get it, I really do. But—"

“And the truth is... I miss him, Isaiah. I miss him so much it hurts."

Isaiah remained silent, pursing his lips and clearing his throat as he straightened his posture. His eyes darted back and forth, suggesting he knew something you had yet to realize.

"Well... about that..."

You wiped your eyes, fighting back tears. "You must think I'm being ridiculous."

"No, not at all. I'd never mock someone who's in love. Actually, there's something else I need to tell you."

Your body stiffened as the journal and pen tumbled from your lap, your attention suddenly focused. "Did you hear something?"

"Indeed. And it's quite interesting," he replied with a grin.

"Well, might as well keep me in suspense for a moment," you remarked sarcastically.

Isaiah's smile widened. "I could, but I'm not that cruel."

"Oh, just tell me already!"

“Sorry! Okay. He's here in the East Blue."

Your breath escaped just as it had in the fire, constricting your chest and draining the blood from your face at this sudden revelation.

“What?!”

"From what I've heard, he was pursuing Don Krieg and his fleet. Needless to say that he succeeded effortlessly in his task."

"Uh-huh..."

"He was last spotted at the Baratie restaurant. Apparently, he's carrying out some mission for Vice Admiral Garp, though the specifics remain unclear."

“Oh…”

So, Mihawk's presence in the East Blue stemmed from his official duties rather than any personal motivations regarding your whereabouts.

"Where is he right now?"

"I'm afraid I don't know his exact location. He's constantly on the move. But from what I understand, he's always been the one to find you, hasn't he?"

“Yes…”

He settled more comfortably on the couch, stretching his legs out. "Just relax then."

"That's easier said than done, you know."

He groaned, tipping his head backwards with a loud grunt. "Look, I love you, but sometimes you really drive me insane."

"I'm sorry, it's just hard to control my feelings."

"Listen, Y/N. That man is crazy about you."

"What makes you say that all of a sudden?"

"You look and act like a beaten puppy just because he's busy elsewhere instead of coming straight to you."

Indignant, you lifted your chin with a scowl. "That's not true."

"Yes, it absolutely is," he countered firmly. “Sweetheart, have you noticed how he practically burned holes through me with his glare? I've never seen anyone look more jealous. How could a man show such possessiveness if he didn't truly care about you?"

"Logically, I understand what you're saying. Still, here he is sailing through the East Blue, and I knew nothing about it."

"He likely has his reasons. Being a Warlord comes with privileges, but it also requires following orders from the World Government. That's the agreement these pirates made with the higher ups.”

Exhaling softly, you contemplated his words. "I know that. But Isaiah, there's still nothing official between us yet."

"That doesn't mean anything. What happened to your faith and conviction? You were so sure he would come back to you. That necklace he gave you must mean something, right?"

"It's not that I've lost faith, but it's been months. Words and gifts can be fleeting—what holds meaning today might lose its value tomorrow. Now that he's back in these waters, am I supposed to just sit here waiting?"

Isaiah scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Unless you want to wander aimlessly across the East Blue searching for him. And frankly, I'd rather know you're safe."

"I can't stay here indefinitely. We may never find the perpetrator."

He pressed his lips into a tight line, clasping his hands as he leaned forward on his elbows. "You might have a point there. It's just..."

"You're worried about me."

"I really care about you, Y/N. You're my best friend. I couldn't bear the thought of losing you."

Over time, Isaiah had transformed from a trusted professional contact into an essential part of your life at sea. What began as mutual respect had deepened into an unshakeable bond of friendship that you treasured above all else, along with a brief romantic connection that had naturally run its course.

Your love for Mihawk had become unshakable, but the camaraderie you had formed with Isaiah was timeless.

You extended your hand with a warm smile, and he gently clasped it in his own without a moment's pause. "You won't lose me, Isaiah. I know this might sound like an empty vow, but I swear I'll be more careful from now on."

"It's not just about being careful. When someone wants you dead, they'll keep trying until they succeed. Every place you go could turn into a battleground."

"So what's the solution then? Should I just lock myself away in your headquarters?"

"No, of course not."

"You have a good network of contacts. Now we know what we're up against."

"Perhaps. But there's only so much I or my informants can do."

You shook your head. "It's more than I could ask for."

Isaiah released your hand with a composed chortle, looking at you with pride in his eyes. "I do believe Mihawk knows how lucky he is to have your heart. But if he doesn't, I should probably remind him of how amazing you are."

"Just be careful not to become minced meat."

“So comforting, thanks," he groaned with exasperation.

As you burst into a hearty laughter, Isaiah joined in, the tension dissipating from the room as your shared mirth echoed through the space like a cheerful melody.

The peaceful rhythm of waves against the vessel's hull provided a serene backdrop to the bustling activity of Marines aboard, who diligently attended to their duties - tending to the sails, securing rigging, swabbing decks, and servicing artillery.

As the Vice Admiral proceeded to his office, his face betrayed mounting ire at reports confirming your continued survival and evasion of capture. Evidently, he had significantly underestimated your capabilities, regardless of whether fortune had played a role in your survival. His hasty plan had proven insufficient to eliminate someone so tough, he required something smarter, something that even your determination couldn't withstand.

Upon entering his private quarters in the late hours, he was met with minimal illumination from a solitary desk lamp. As he proceeded to loosen his collar, his expression etched with weariness, he suddenly froze at an unexpected presence in the room.

He blinked repeatedly, attempting to dismiss the apparition, but his heart rate accelerated upon realizing the figure seated comfortably in his chair was indeed real.

Right there before him was Hawk-Eyes Mihawk. His legs were propped on the desk, crossed at the ankles, while his trademark hat cast a shadow over his piercing, unyielding eyes. Yoru, his colossal black blade, rested across the table, its edge gleaming ominously in the lamplight.

The officer's hand instinctively moved toward his sword, but Mihawk's low, velvety voice stopped him cold. "That would be unwise," the Warlord drawled, his tone deceptively calm yet brimming with malice.

He remained motionless, not even sparing a glance at the man's weapon. The air in the room grew thick and heavy, weighed down by the sheer force of his aura.

“How did you—” the officer stammered, his words faltering.

Mihawk moved forward deliberately, his boots landing heavily on the floor. His right forearm came to rest on the desk as his fingers drummed a quiet rhythm against the wood. "The how is irrelevant," he said. "What matters is why I'm here."

The Vice Admiral swallowed hard, trying to mask his fear. “I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

"You set a trap," Mihawk interrupted, his voice cutting like Yoru's blade. His golden eyes narrowed, their intensity rooting the man to the spot. "You failed," he said simply. "But not from lack of effort. And for that..." His voice dropped to a whisper that carried the weight of an executioner's blade. "You will pay."

The officer staggered backward, his knees threatening to give way beneath him. "I... I was following orders," he croaked, his voice thick with desperation.

"Oh no," Mihawk replied coldly. "It was personal."

"That—that bitch slaughtered my father like a pig! Of course it was bloody personal!!!"

Mihawk stood slowly, his movement unhurried yet reminiscent of a predator coiling to strike. He loomed over the desk, Yoru's hilt within easy reach. "You chose her as your target. You attempted an ambush, imprisoned her, and set the flames. A coward's approach befitting your mediocrity. This matter has become... very personal indeed."

His suffocating presence dominated the room as he towered over the officer, who trembled in fear. "I could end you now," Mihawk murmured, his fingers grazing the blade's hilt. "It would be easier than drawing breath."

The man recoiled, his eyes darting to the sword, but Mihawk made no motion to take it. Instead, he straightened to his full height, his stare as cold and impenetrable as steel.

"But that would be too merciful for someone like you," Mihawk continued, his voice dripping with venom. "You will live. And every moment of your existence will be haunted by my presence."

The officer’s eyes widened in terror, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

"You'll look over your shoulder at every sound, at every shadow," Mihawk continued, his tone unnervingly silken. "You'll wonder if today is the day I choose to end this. You will not sleep. You will not know peace. You will live in constant fear, knowing that I can—and will—appear when you least expect it."

With fluid grace, Mihawk lifted Yoru from the desk as if the massive blade were weightless. He secured it to his back in one practiced, graceful maneuver, his predatory stare fixed unwaveringly on the trembling Marine.

"Consider this your punishment," he said, turning toward the door. "A life spent waiting for the inevitable."

With that, the Warlord strode out, his coat sweeping behind him like a dark omen. In the suffocating silence of his office, the man crumpled to the floor, face drained of color, hands quaking uncontrollably. Calling for backup would be futile against an opponent like Mihawk, who could easily split the entire ship in half, just as he had done with Don Krieg's fleet.

From that night forward, every creak, every gust of wind, every flicker of shadow became a harbinger of doom. He would wake in cold sweats, feeling the phantom weight of Mihawk's oppressive glare weighing down on him.

Isaiah thoroughly analyzed his collection of notes, books, and maps, trying to devise a strategic plan. Now that you had returned to your vessel and resumed maritime operations, he was particularly concerned with assembling a qualified crew capable of ensuring your safety.

Reaching the Grand Line through the Calm Belts had become an increasingly tangible goal, but the time wasn't right. Isaiah insisted on thorough preparation, ensuring every detail was in place before such a momentous undertaking.

Engrossed in his analysis, Isaiah methodically traversed the room while reviewing documents, failing to notice the presence of a figure who had silently entered and now observed him from just a few paces away. He spoke to himself, alternating between nods of approval and whispered curses.

Upon turning around, he nearly collided with the unexpected visitor. His eyes widened in recognition as he found himself face-to-face with those distinctive, piercing golden hawk-like eyes, dropping his papers as he let out a startled gasp.

Mihawk stood motionless, his head tilted slightly as he observed the scene. His gaze swept over Isaiah with calculating intensity, causing the latter to swallow nervously and take a cautious step backward.

"Damn, a warning would've been nice," he stuttered. "If you're looking for her, she's not here."

"That is not the purpose of my visit," Mihawk responded.

"No..? Then... what can I do for you?"

Mihawk stepped forward, his sword gliding with a metallic clink against his back. "I have something for you. And in return, you will do something for me."

Isaiah exhaled a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. When Mihawk dropped the large bag he was carrying, which looked far too heavy for casual transport, Isaiah tentatively reached for the thick cord keeping it closed.

When he opened it, a blue glow emanated from the pile of minerals inside. The stones looked almost otherworldly, encapsulating all the color, magic, and translucency of the ocean.

Isaiah was transfixed, momentarily speechless at the contents before him. The bag contained an extensive collection of premium Seastone crystals, meticulously extracted and of exceptional purity—a treasure of immense value and rarity.

Isaiah looked up to meet Mihawk’s stoic expression, the Warlord standing watchful in absolute silence. "Holy hell, man."

Upon disembarking from your vessel, the familiar atmosphere of the island struck you with immediate recognition. Isaiah had maintained an unusually upbeat demeanor while being deliberately cryptic, selecting this location as the meeting point for a prospective arrangement with one of his trusted associates.

When you inquired about this contact, Isaiah maintained an enigmatic air of mystery, offering only reassurances about their reliability. He arranged your travel to the location with complete confidence, his usual concerns notably absent.

The scene was precisely as it had been etched in your memory: the shadowed entrance of the cave where you had discovered the emerald ring—now a permanent fixture on your finger—the soft yet distinct sound of sand shifting beneath your footfalls, and the subtle tropical fragrance of palm trees and coconut carried on the breeze. Mihawk's voice seemed to echo in your mind, though you stood alone in this familiar place.

You walked along the shore at a leisurely pace, placing one foot in front of the other. You kicked a few rocks as you went, watching them roll away and come to rest in the distance. You waited in the tranquil oasis, touching your stomach as a sudden twinge made its presence felt.

The physical proximity yet distance between you and Mihawk was excruciating. Reports from Isaiah's network indicated that the Warlord remained within the East Blue region, having not yet returned for the Grand Line. Were his duties truly so demanding that he couldn't spare a moment to find you? During your first encounter there, he had made it clear that he operated on his own terms, refusing to be bound by orders that conflicted with his personal interests or convictions.

You snorted, gazing at the horizon while the coastal wind whispered past. At the sound of approaching footsteps, you steadied yourself, smoothing your hair back and relaxing your shoulders. However, when an unexpected voice cut through the peaceful ambience, you felt your heart freeze and swell in your ribcage.

“You are quite challenging to track down.”

Mihawk stood mere inches behind you, echoing his words from your first conversation. His proximity was palpable, his breath ghosting against your hair as warmth emanated from his form.

Your lower lip quivered as words caught in your throat, refusing to emerge. Your fingers curled into fists at your sides as your eyes squeezed shut, then fluttered open.

Finally, when you found your voice again, you were able to speak. “Not that much for you, apparently,” you repeated softly, a gentle smile spreading across your face. "Took you long enough," you added.

"I had urgent matters to attend to," he replied. "Affairs that could not wait."

You swiveled on your feet, meeting his eyes again after what felt like an eternity. His keen attention was captured by the large plaster on your neck, his golden irises following its line along your skin as darkness clouded his gaze.

"Ah, this," you said, brushing your fingers against the fabric covering your wound. "Just another scar to add to my collection, I guess. It should fade eventually."

"I hope so," he responded, his tone stern.

“Does it disturb you that much?" you asked.

"The mark itself doesn't trouble me."

You reached for the front of his coat, sliding your hand along its lapel until it hovered over his cross knife. "Have you heard what happened?"

Mihawk’s eyes met yours once more. "I’ve heard enough.”

A deafening silence hung between you, filled with tension and anticipation.

“And?” you pressed. "Do you know who was responsible?"

He didn't reply immediately. Instead, he closed his hand over yours, stilling your restless movements against his coat and chest. He was calm, yet carried an unmistakable edge, like a perfectly honed blade. "The answer should be quite evident."

"You do, of course," you concluded. "So the World Government wants me dead?" 

"No. Just one arrogant fool who believed himself clever enough to evade my notice."

"And who might that be?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“The identity of that person no longer matters. I ensured he understands what it means to make a mistake of such magnitude. That lesson will haunt him for the rest of his life.”

There was no need to ask for details, you knew Mihawk well enough to understand that his vengeance would be methodical, calculated, and as terrifying as the man himself.

"I shouldn't have expected anything less," you whispered.

Though Mihawk's countenance remained impassive, he moved his hand to rest delicately upon your waist. He pulled you nearer with effortless precision, his face inclining until his nose gently grazed yours. "What is mine shall remain safeguarded. Without exception."

His words reverberated powerfully, each one sinking into you like an anchor, grounding you in the depths of his devotion and commitment. Unable to resist any longer, you gripped his collar, pressing your lips against his in a fiery collision. You savored their salty taste as if starved, the kiss searing and desperate, completely unrestrained.

For a moment, Mihawk was still, caught off guard by the force of your passion. His response was controlled yet equally consuming as his tongue darted forward, seeking yours in an entwining dance.

When you finally parted, your breath came in ragged gasps, your chest heaving as you stared up at him. His eyes now held an unmistakable warmth, a quiet acknowledgment of both your fervor and his own.

"You've been holding onto that for a while," he remarked, the faintest hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

"I missed you too," you said teasingly. "No need to be so maddeningly composed."

"Someone has to keep balance when you're set on tipping the scales.”

"Then it’s a good thing you’re mine to tip.”

The storm between you had been unleashed, surging like wildfire in the aftermath of your kiss.

His lips quirked ever so slightly, his golden eyes steady as they locked with yours. "That much has never been in question.”

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 (currently reading) Go to Chapter 9 (coming soon) ->

[redrikki]

Watching the spirit world episode goes a long way towards explaining why Katara and Sokka are so different in the live action than they are in the cartoon.

Cartoon!Katara is, at heart, a protector. She won't turn her back on someone who needs her, no matter how much trouble that causes. She fights and steals in order to improve her bending and even resents that it's just so easy for Aang to learn it while she struggles. And the reason for all this is that, when the firebenders came, her mother told her to run for help and, when she got back, mom was dead. It isn't until the Southern Raiders that she learns the firebenders were there looking for her and her mother literally died to protect her.

LiveAction!Katara, on the other hand, is afraid of her bending. It literally gives her PTSD flashbacks. And this episode explains why. Not only did she witness her mom's death in a way cartoon!Katara didn't, she indirectly caused her mom's death by attempting to waterbend in front of a firebender. For her, her attempting to waterbend very much equals people dying for her. No wonder she's so different!

Sokka's flashback is sad in a different sort of way. In the cartoon, he never gets a chance to perform ice dodge and graduate to adulthood because everyone who could have given him the test is gone. Cartoon!Sokka is trying to cosplay as a man with minimal guidance as to what that even is and that's why he's so insecure about his masculinity in a pretty misogynistic way. LiveAction!Sokka took the test and only "passed" because Bato stepped in and his father couldn't bare to fail him. He is 100% aware that he is a failure as a man and an adult and that his father is disappointed in him and that's why he was left behind. That's why he's so insecure about, not his masculinity, but about his warrior and leadership skills and why he cringed when Sai said his dad must be proud of his engineering abilities. What this version of Sokka has isn't valued by his community and he knows it.

[lumiidragon]

How do you feel about the new toothless, given everyone else in the HTTYD community here seems mostly negative?

^reference image directly from the trailer^ Personally i dont like it given it has more of a headshape from THW toothless and Homecoming, especially on the side view of the head when he opens his eyes

just sorta gives me less of a wild animal look and more of a "yes this is dog" look, and tbf even the Huge puppet for 2010's Liveaction play with the egg biter looked better imo.

but wanted to hear your thoughts on the matter :0

I ain't gonna lie, I HATE how the Toothless in the play looks. It's just...not right. XD I was actually worried the whole time before the trailer was released that the live action Toothless would look like that, so I'm very relieved.

As for what I think, I'm frankly half-half. I don't have many issues tbh (yeah, I know more unpopular opinions from Lumii) and how Toothless looks in it isn't a deal-breaker for me. If I handled how the....night lights of TNRs looked through watching it, Live Action Toothless isn't going to bother me.

I DO wish that they stuck closer to the first movie's model because this version does look a little too "domesticated' to me, but once again, I don't lose sleep over it.

Just...gd anything is better than TNR's night lights...

And I also actually like the live action Toothless's skin texture. I very much want to smoosh it with my hand and I can almost picture what it feels like.

[bunnymajo]

Wing Girls: An early example of an all female transforming hero team

We've all heard the take that in 1992 Sailor Moon is the first anime to focus on an all-female super heroine show akin to "Super Sentei" or "Saint Seiya", aimed at girls, and that is true. But I want to talk about another very early example I've never seen mentioned: The Wing Girls, a plot element that shows up about midway of the 1984 shonen anime "Yume Senshi Wingman"

Yume Senshi Wingman is a show very aimed at teenage boys. It focuses on Hirono Kenta, a huge tokusatsu nerd with his own hero persona, Wingman. He's chosen and gifted with the Dream Note that can make anything he draws in it come true so he can become Wingman for real and defeat and evil organization from taking over his world. Another big point about Wingman is it's focus on love triangles and fanservice, between Kenta's ladylike classmate Miku and the more bold and flirtatious Aoi, who is a resident from the world that the Dream Note came from

The opening visually explains I think what kind of dynamic they were going for here: (also if nothing else, the music in this show is really good)

In episode 33, Airing on November 13, 1984 - Kenta and his classmates are visiting a shoot of a liveaction henshin hero episode. Agents from the evil organization are rumored to be part of the cast and Kenta's not able to focus his attention on it, so the female classmates who know his secret are given their own special forms in case something goes wrong and they need to step in

Enter the Wing Girls, consisting of Aoi, Miku, along with his other classmates Momoko and Kumiko

More of a backup squad to Wingman himself, they're still given similar abilities to instantly change forms with the power of the dream note and enhanced physical abilities for punching and kicking

They make a few other appearances throughout the show but this is their big solo moment. They even get their own theme song on one of the drama CDs, and figure merch in 2009.

I just think they're a neat little part of magical girl history.

Side mg history in case someone brings it up:

The idea of female super-hero magical girls as main characters goes as far back as the early 1970s with "Suki! Suki! Majo-sensei" and "Cutey Honey" and continues to sporadically appear through the decades. But these only focus on one heroine compared to an entire team.

Another early cited example of a mg team is the Studio Pierrot crossover special "Majokko Club Quartet: Alien X from A Zone" a direct-to-video special from 1987 that shows the heroines from Pierrot's line of magical girls: Creamy Mami, Magical Emi, Fairy Persia and Pastel Yumi, team up against alien invaders and parodies sci-fi tokusatsu tropes in the process. While the original TV series are all aimed at children, and the special is still within the realm of SFW, I would argue this OVA is more aimed at adult fans of the series due to its content and release format. So that's why I tend to not think of it on the same level as Sailor Moon.

[yoursincalendricalheresy]

I have many feelings about a murderbot liveaction adaptation (I still think anime style would have been a better choice) and from the trailer alone I haven’t quite given up hope, but I just… I don’t think they should have shown its face

[dosai-maavu]

finished the atla live action (even tho i literally have a chem final tomorrow LOL) and i've got some thoughts.

visually it looked incredible. when i saw the first images, i kinda felt that that costumes seemed too cosplay-ish but it actually blended quite well with the backgrounds. bending was very well done and looked natural for the most part. but at times the water bending felt kinda weak? like it felt like there was no force behind the movements. this might be nitpicking tho.

the acting was very good for the most part. dallas liu is FANTASTIC. gordon cormier was very cute. kiawentiio and ian ousley were really good too and i think they did the best w what they were given. i wasn't too sure of lizzy yu was the best choice as azula but she really proved me wrong - definitely think she has the potential to shine in the later seasons (if they get made). my fav out of the younger cast definitely has to be sebastian amoruso tho; he was PERFECT as jet. the older actors were amazing too, but that's was pretty much a given

the writing really let the show down imo. wayyy too many exposition dumps. the pacing was also kinda weird and it felt like we were being given TOO much information at times. sometimes it was boring. liveaction!katara is like a watered down version of the og katara. kiawentiio did her best, but she felt like a less cringey version of the ember island players katara. aang is more preachy than he is goofy. sokka delivers a few laughs, but it didnt have the same charm the og sokka did. also, why did aang learn no waterbending throughout the season?

episode 6 was a masterpiece. easily the BEST episode of the season. zuko's backstory somehow became even more heartbreaking.

overall. i'd give it a solid 6.5/10. maybe a 7 if i'm being generous.

[fabcreature]

a thing that bothers me about people complaining about the minecraft movie is the loads and loads of people saying "this doesn't look like minecraft" or "why didn't they just use the models/textures from the game" etc etc.

i mean don't get me wrong, i don't like the visuals of the movie. they range from boring to bad, and i do think it's true and kind of an issue that it doesn't feel like minecraft. but come on, the solution can't be to copy the game to make it look the exact same just with raytracing??

we already have something that looks like minecraft. it's minecraft. if you want something that looks exactly like the game, play the game. there's no point to making something new if you're not gonna actually make it new.

complaints about the plot have been similar "why not just make it a movie about a guy who tries to survive and builds stuff" we already have that, it's the game. once again i hate the route they're taking with the actual movie, but this idea is idea isn't much better. this one i do understand a little bit more, but i don't think it's worth making a feature length film about, i think that could maybe work more as like a miniseries of shorts or something.

my hot take? if i was given the task of directing a minecraft movie? it wouldn't be blocky. at all. it would be fully animated, but it wouldn't be blocky. i find it much more interesting to interpret how all these things, the caves, the nether portals, the endermen, etc, would look when Not confined to being made only out of blocks.

i think a minecraft movie would be most fruitful as just an original story set in the world of minecraft, without acknowledgement of its existence as a game, and without blockyness. we already know what it looks like as a blocky game. i want something new.

BUUUUUT in the end i'm not the slightest bit surprised by the movie we're getting. of course it was gonna be half liveaction and half animated, of course it was gonna be about real kids going inside the game, of course it was gonna have silly goofy animals and jack black screaming. of course it was gonna be a generic, loud, colourful kids' movie with no understanding of the point, essence, and spirit of minecraft. they wanted to make a minecraft movie because nostalgic video game movies are hot right now and minecraft is the best selling game of all time. it's hollywood. it's about money, not passion.

[ghostygremlin]

as someone who absolutely devoured the pjo series growing up (i still own most of the books and reread them sporadically every couple months) i *need* people to know how important the new series is

we were already given movies and they were DEVASTATING. riordan has virtually no input on how that adaptation went down, and though i love them as their own separate entity, when they were viewed through the lens of being THE liveaction adaptations of pjo it was absolutely heartbreaking.

the new show is so IMPORTANT. the cast are much closer to the age theyre supposed to be portraying. the things that make percy an interesting and compelling character are still there! the witty dialogue, the evocative imagery, the CAMP! its truly like seeing the books ive loved and adored for years brought to life straight from my imagination.

i watched the two episode premiere and i was so excited by the show that i had to physically stand up and run around my house. the casting so far has been phenomenal, and the characterization has been so amazing, to the point where i started getting excited about seeing characters that wont be introduced for seasons.

i was so wary of this show, expecting it to be another "PJO Movie Incident", and i have never been so happy to be completely wrong.

tldr; WATCH THE NEW PERCY JACKSON AND THE OLYMPIANS SERIES I AM BEGGING

[digitaldoeslmk]

Hello there! I hope your month has been kind to you. This is the blog that deal with LMK, right? There's a theory floating around that MK is gonna shatter Wukong's staff in the middle of their predicted fight or at the start of it in the canon show. How do you feel about that?

On an unrelated note, what are your thoughts on the staff that Wukong uses? I'd say it's name but fear incorrectly saying it Have you watched the Netflix Monkey King movie? In that movie the staff is shown to be very obviously sentient with its own thoughts and options, and isn't shy about vibrating, humming about them. Do you consider this with your thoughts on Wukong and his staff too?

Have a good month, do not skip your meals and enjoy them, drink plenty of water and sleep early regularly.

this is the blog indeed! :3

hmmmm I'm not sure how I feel about that, exactly. I'm not much a fan of destroying such an iconic (and basically indestructible) weapon for the sake of shock value, since I don't really see any other reason for such a narrative decision. same about FFM being destroyed; its literally glazed over and, I kind of hate that /gen

you gotta keep in mind that yes this is just an inspired story but, FFM is a sacred mountain. in jttw its described in a way that it could easily be Mt Sumeru, the axis that sits on the center of the world and holds up the Heavenly realms. its, A Big Fucking Deal. same for the Ruyi Jingu Bang, it's the rod of celestial iron that held down the oceans by the Great Yu, it prevented floods during a time where those almost ruined the middle kingdom (China).

destroying them brings nothing to the story imo besides maybe Lego gaining the window to showcase another locations so they can sell more toy models. which, yes is the entire reason the show exists, to sell toys, but also..... eugh. in my ideal scenario, we gets to see FFM being restored and fixed up, thanks to everybody's efforts.

as for the second question, yes I've watched it though i gotta say, i am very much not the target audience x.x besides the first few minutes in Huaguoshan and the 2D sequence, i didnt like much about it. That said, im a sucker for sentient weapons hwbdhshbsbe

in the 1996 liveaction series of Journey to the West, Jingu Bang is also sentient and despite the dated graphics, it's some fun sequences when the staff gets to to its antics! plus 96 Xiyouji is just, such an emotional and genuinely good time of a series, I def recommend it to folks even if it changes A Lot about the canon and narrative. that's one adaptation that i think did the whole changes to the book source INCREDIBLY right.

while the staff is not much given sentience in the book, it does seem to Know that Wukong is its fated wielder and responds to him exclusively, which does give some credence to sentient weapons interpretations. that said, i do view the staff as an extension of Wukong rather than i suppose you could call a partner in arms. it's his signature weapon, what defines him as Him in iconography and depictions. same goes for Nezha with his artillery sash, fire-wind wheels, and fire-tipped spear!

thank you for the ask, and a good month to you too!!

[tomswifty-fr]

tv monitor vista! what kind of shows do you think the dragons have. is there a dragon walt disney making some steamboat willie ass animations

...I can't believe I have two (2) entire movie studios and not one animator. One sec.

His name is Oscar :) Mostly does touchups + special effects to liveaction stuff but makes his little cartoons on the side. Probably more Fantasmagorie than Steamboat Willie though.

This is cribbing from my longass reply to that ask I got a week ago about technology levels in Sorneith but - I am honestly surprised and thrilled that we got a TV vista given how staff keeps saying that Sorneith is at 1920s technology levels. Technically television existed in the 20s but it was pretty crude and definitely not widespread. I guess time is moving on!

In my lore at least television mostly isn't a thing - infrastructure in Sorneith is spotty at best due to a lack of interflight cooperation + lack of intraflight coordination + generally hostile geology where anything that isn't supervised constantly is prone to getting hit by lightning or set aflame by a volcano or stomped by Luminax. Even radio coverage can be unreliable in a lot of areas, and it's common for stations to be run by individuals or small groups with no real oversight or coordination. The SSMC has a broadcast wing with stations in Fire, Lightning, and Ice and they are constantly dealing with yahoos trying to bust in on their frequencies.

Where it does exist, it's used as a tool for public announcements and government news. Monitors are set up in public places and you have to go out to see the broadcast. Only very wealthy or very important dragons would have their own sets. This mostly happens in Arcane territory, which is relatively urbanized/has a semi-functional central government, as well as having high levels of ambient magic to power everything. It is exclusively cable, however - that high magic level also causes crazy interference with any kind of broadcast. Part of the reason they have this system is because local radio gets really messed up.

Which is to say, dragon TV shows are either like "Severe Thunderstorm Warning - Take Cover" or CSPAN (OculusSPAN?). Not that exciting, unfortunately.

Hypothetical fun Sorneith would have reality TV with the deities though.

[rainbowmoonstonestories]

A Bounty As Boundless As The Sea | Chapter 7

Chapters: 7/? 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

Although your relationship with Mihawk took unexpected turns for the better, your inner doubts and fears continued to resurface. After a year-long absence, a short break in your hometown might be just what you needed.

Author's note: Hey everyone! I'm finally back with a new chapter. I know waiting almost two months between updates can be a bit tiring, but I can't write these stories any faster. Unfortunately, I caught COVID last week, which slowed everything down due to the cold and persistent headaches. 😔 Please bear with me! ♥♥

This chapter is LONG, and while relatively calm, it holds significant meaning while marking a crucial turning point in Reader's relationship with Mihawk. The next chapter promises to be even better in this regard. Also, there's a bit of spice in the beginning! 🌶

Warning: There's a bit of detailed NSFW content in the beginning.

Your relationship with Dracule Mihawk had truly transformed into an unprecedented adventure. Despite your established job as a dealer and Mihawk's free-spirited nature, more encounters followed in the subsequent weeks, spontaneous and unpredictable.

It remained a mystery whether Mihawk regularly traveled between the Grand Line and the East Blue, effortlessly navigating the Reverse Mountain and Calm Belts. Nonetheless, it wouldn't have been surprising, given his extraordinary abilities and the enigmatic aura that surrounded him.

As time passed, you noticed Mihawk gradually revealing more of himself around you. He displayed a subtle appreciation for certain things—refined food with rare cuts of meat, exotic fruit, philosophy, and golden jewelry. You often found yourself engaging in deep discussions about history and battle strategy, topics other women might find awfully soporific, but that you thoroughly enjoyed exploring with him. His subtle compliments on your appearance and accessories revealed his appreciation for elegance and refinement, his keen eye for even the smallest details underscoring his profound interest in you.

Mihawk wasn't a particularly romantic man. Though well-mannered and generally polite, he eschewed traditional courtship rituals involving loving words or flowers. He was direct, saying only what he meant, and didn't concern himself with public displays of affection like holding hands in the streets. Yet, you grew fond of even this seemingly detached side of him, finding your intimacy more expressive than any other gesture.

In bed, when his guard lowered, he displayed a noticeably softer side. His piercing golden eyes, firm touch, and strong embrace conveyed the depth of his growing devotion to you. It was something that transcended ordinary relationships, surpassing anything you had ever imagined possible.

You weren't opposed to romance per se, but you gave little importance to red roses or serenades. You had always been rebellious at heart, longingly staring at the ocean with hopes of one day setting sail for grander aspirations. Certainly, it hadn't been an easy journey, and countless times you'd felt like giving up on everythng you had tried to build for yourself. Your serendipitous meeting with Dracule Mihawk, however, proved to be a turning point, completely transforming your perspective and the familiar world around you.

His presence was electrifying, awakening your senses and unveiling emotions you had never before fathomed. Even during your separations, which could span days or weeks as you pursued your missions and explorations, his scent lingered in your memory, and you could still feel the warmth of his hands on your skin.

Time with Mihawk was a luxury beyond words, his presence exuding a serenity akin to unintentional meditation. The only drawback was the intensifying longing you felt for the Warlord during his absence, a bittersweet consequence of your increasingly enchanting rendezvous.

With each meeting, your desire to be with him grew stronger, stirring feelings you were reluctant to acknowledge. He was ever elusive, wild, easily coming and going—a lightning bolt in the wind. For all you knew, he might grow weary of your company at any point in the future, vanishing without a trace, never to return for you.

Yet, there were those small, unexpected actions that arose unexpectedly, validating his commitment and genuine dedication to your relationship.

One day, Mihawk visited your cabin without reservation, moving through it with confident familiarity. By then, his presence there felt as natural as welcoming him home, a cozy sanctuary that had become your shared haven. It was meant to be a simple distraction, really; a moment to enjoy a drink and conversation, with no real intention of engaging in sexual activities. You should have anticipated that your interaction would inevitably evolve into playful banter, culminating into something more.

However, this time, it was new. A shared soak in your private tub filled with warm, steaming water, your clothes fallen away piece by piece and strewn casually across the wooden planks. Even his golden cross knife lay scattered among the pile.

It was an impromptu idea, offered with a mischievous smile amid your exchange without much forethought. You'd expected him to dismiss it offhandedly, returning his attention to the wine and lounging elegantly on your couch for the rest of the night.

When he took the initiative without a word, easing into the confined space and establishing an intimate closeness—skin against skin—saying you were absolutely dumbfounded would be an understatement. Nestled together in the water, Mihawk sat behind you, his strong chest offering support as your legs bent slightly upward. His muscular thighs enveloped your body like a protective cocoon as his elbows rested on the tub's edge, his head reclined and pressed absently against his hand.

The lanterns surrounding you had all been lit, casting an orange glow onto your figures. The amber and lavender scents in the air intoxicated your heightened senses, as soft mist from the steam enveloped you in a cloud of oceanic beauty. Subtle notes of sandalwood and sea salt wafted through the air, mingling with Mihawk's distinctive scent.

Taking long baths in beautiful atmospheres was something you had learned to savor by yourself on most days. However, having Mihawk's body pressed against yours was an addition you didn't realize you needed, as essential as oxygen.

You set out more wine, carefully arranging a small wooden table with filled glasses and decorative black orchids. These flowers seemed to suit his personality, and Mihawk didn't object to your choices. In fact, he seemed quite pleased with the ambiance you'd created, breathing slowly and watching your hand delicately trace invisible circles on the water's surface.

Soft ripples echoed off the walls, as a smile formed on your lips. “You know, for someone who claims to enjoy his solitude, you’re surprisingly good at this,” you declared.

Mihawk raised an eyebrow, though you couldn’t see it. “Good at what, exactly? Bathing?”

His tone was flat, but the sarcasm was unmistakable.

You chuckled, tilting your head back slightly to look up at him. “Good at sharing your space with someone else.”

You seductively ran your foot along his calf beneath the water, a coy grin spreading across your face.

“I could still lock myself out, if you’re asking for it,” he replied dryly.

You laughed, splashing a little water in his direction. "Oh, come now. I suggested this arrangement, after all. I half-expected you to decline."

"Yet, I can defy expectations."

"Totally. And frankly, I think you would have missed me if you'd stayed outside."

“Miss the sound of you splashing water and interrupting my peace? Hardly.”

His eyes gleamed with amusement as he watched your reaction.

You narrowed your eyes impishly, your smirk widening. "You're fortunate I'm so fond of you. Otherwise, you'd be dreadfully bored without me around."

Mihawk hummed softly, his arms encircling your waist as he tilted his head to press a feather-light kiss against your damp hair. The gesture caught you off guard, revealing a sweeter side of him you hadn't expected to emerge.

“I suppose there is some merit in having company... occasionally.” His voice carried a more serious tone, yet still held that underlying hint of amusement. “But only because it’s you.”

You smiled at that, resting your head against his shoulder and closing your eyes. The warmth of the water and Mihawk's steady presence enveloped you, creating an oasis of comfort and intimacy.

“Only because it’s me, huh?” You exhaled contentedly. "Good. Because right now, we’re stuck together."

A rare, tiny smile curved Mihawk's lips, hidden from your view but undeniably present.

His hands glided along your sides, reaching your thighs and gently coaxing them to part at his touch. "You do have a penchant for that sharp tongue of yours."

As you complied, opening your legs and allowing his fingers to skim towards your center, your breasts tantalizingly floated, peeking from the water. "Well, you know I can put it to good use."

He inhaled sharply at your remark, a low rumble resonating in his chest. "Indeed you can. But at this moment, I'd prefer to hear your voice in a more... enthralling manner."

You swallowed, pressing your lips together as his fingers reached your sensitive folds, while his other palm slid back up, cupping and lifting your breast. "Well," you breathed, "you certainly know how to unravel me."

“Mmh.”

Without preamble, his fingers slipped inside, sliding sensually through your inner walls and immediately curling to reach the right spot behind your pubic bone. His thumb swept across your nipple, causing it to harden into a taut peak.

“Ah!”

"That's right. This is a sound I like coming from you."

You were left speechless and breathless within seconds, your hips rising unconsciously as he established an insistent "come-hither" motion, the heel of his palm stroking your clit in the process. He held your breast firmly in his hand, pinching its tip and using it to intensify your mounting gratification. His every move was calculated, his knowledge of your body as precise as his understanding of any adversary in combat.

"Bold words. But unless you've managed to fit Yoru into this tub, I'd say you're not exactly unaffected either."

“I never said I was.”

As his arousal became evident against your back, you gripped the tub's edges for leverage. "Had you claimed differently, I'd say you're a poor liar."

"Shall I make myself more explicit?"

Your breathing quickened, your hips bucking with each deft movement of his fingers inside you. Your clit pulsed against his hand, sending waves of ecstasy through your entire form.

"No need," you replied, turning your head to find his lips mere inches from your face. His golden eyes studied you intently, never blinking once. "But, if you wish to do so, I certainly won't stop you."

Before you could even lean forward, his lips crashed against yours, his mustache and beard tickling your skin delightfully. His tongue was fiery and passionate, his mouth soft yet salty with hints of wine. His actions grew more fervent, the escalating stimulation causing an exquisite tension to build in your lower abdomen.

You gasped and moaned, your attempts to grind against his hardness thwarted by your position. Your hips rose out of the water, supported by your legs, while his skilled touch worked its magic on you. The sight of his fingers' deft movements, the muscles and tendons in his hand flexing and undulating, created one of the most erotic scenes you had ever witnessed.

As you climaxed, water splashed everywhere, your orgasm shattering your self-control and sending you into a frenzy of writhing and spasms. Mihawk continued to stimulate you until your walls stopped clenching, withdrawing from your core and letting go of your breast simultaneously. You panted against his lips, the Warlord savoring your pleasure and breathless sighs.

Your release arrived so quickly that you felt a fleeting sense of embarrassment at your apparent lack of restraint. However, Mihawk's proud expression quickly dispelled any notion that he was displeased. "Magnificent," he breathed, his voice a low, appreciative purr.

"You're quite the sly one," you murmured, finally regaining your composure. "And here I thought we were just going to unwind together."

"You didn't seem particularly opposed," he retorted, his voice laced with amusement. "We both knew this was inevitable."

"Are you implying I'm powerless against your charm?"

"Isn't that the undeniable truth?" Mihawk replied, his voice tinged with a hint of cocky arrogance.

"I can't really deny it," you said, turning on your side and guiding your hand to his neck. "But isn't the feeling mutual?"

"I must confess, you're the only one with whom I can truly lower my guard."

"Ah, so I am irresistible to you as well."

"That's not precisely what I said."

"Aw."

"But you're already well aware of the answer to that."

You smiled, submerging your hand once more and reaching for his arousal, which persistently pressed against your bodies. Your fingers encircled his tip, sensing its firmness and the intensity of his desire for you. "Well, if this isn't evidence enough..."

His grip tightened around your back, his reaction imperceptible, yet undeniably noticeable through the slightest shift. "Perhaps you should take matters into your own hands, then."

You sniggered. "Oh, back to the puns, eh? I see I've really influenced you with that."

You let your palm move, the water slowing down your motion, stroking from tip to base and back up again in a leisurely rhythm.

"It was more of a directive, but interpret it as you wish."

You nuzzled his cheek, your breath warm against his skin. "Any other requests, mister?"

"Just one."

“Yeah?”

He grasped your thigh, lifting it as high as the confined tub space allowed. "Be a good girl and indulge me for as long as I please."

A laugh escaped you as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. "I mean, sure. But 'good girl'? Really? I’m almost as old as you are."

"Define 'old,'" he challenged.

"Hey, I didn't mean that as an insu—ah!"

The penetration was swift and precise, his manhood sheathing in you like a sword slipping into its scabbard.

"Care to finish your sentence?"

"Damn it, Mihawk. You've got to stop cutting me off like that."

"As you once put it yourself: I do enjoy keeping you on your toes."

You groaned and tightened around him, your lips brushing his jaw with a tender kiss. “Oh, you incorrigible rogue."

“Mmh.”

The position was awkward yet provocative—your left leg bent and raised high, sending tingles through your knee, while your right foot pushed against the tub for stability. Even Mihawk, with his formidable strength, found it challenging to maintain steady thrusts. Through shared determination and mounting skill, you both found the perfect cadence, settling into a slow, sensual pace.

More water sloshed over the sides of the tub, the thought of drying the floor later far from your mind. Mihawk remained perfectly silent, his controlled breathing through his nostrils the only sound audible besides the water sloshing rhythmically against the tub's sides and your moans. His focus on the act was as disciplined as his swordsmanship training, the way his fingers dug into your thigh sending heavy jolts along your spine.

Your voice reverberated through the room, restrained yet distinct. Mihawk escalated his tempo, his arousal throbbing within you as your fingers sought out your clit, hypersensitive yet yearning for more. You stroked it gently, once, then twice, the lingering electricity from your previous orgasm making it quiver. As you bit your lower lip, savoring the pleasure, your fingertips deliberately grazed his shaft with each calculated motion.

His breath finally quickened, and his pupils dilated so much that it became difficult to discern the golden hue of his eyes. “Keep going.”

"Lucky for you, I have no plans to stop."

Your movements intensified, fingers dancing faster across your tender nub while brushing his length with each powerful thrust. The dual stimulation amplified your ecstasy, building towards a fantastic crescendo.

You cherished each moment, pausing whenever you felt the edge of climax approaching, your body clenching and trembling around him. Then, with measured patience, you'd resume, your fingers tracing sensuous circles, until the craving for release became nearly irresistible.

“Mihawk—”

"Let go," he commanded, his tone husky and demanding. "Don't hold back on my behalf."

You ramped up your stimulation, losing all capacity to speak as your eyes rolled back. You surrendered everything your body had to offer, more water splashing out as your inner walls convulsed and your clit pulsed against your fingertips.

Mihawk's endurance proved more formidable this time, but when he finally surrendered to his pleasure, you relished his subtle groans with a deep, final kiss. Cradling his face, you gently raked your nails through his beard, your ragged breaths intertwining with his.

The heated room and your physical exertion left your muscles melting into a puddle of bliss. You sank contentedly against his chest, resting and relaxing, as he possessively draped an arm around your waist.

"Was that unwinding enough for you?" he inquired.

"Mmm, yes. I'd say that was more than sufficient," you replied with another satisfied smile.

"I have to say, this was an excellent suggestion."

You cacked. “See? I always have great ideas.”

He grasped the wine glass, taking a generous sip of the crimson liquid. "Don't get cocky now."

You delicately traced the corner of his mouth, collecting a stray drop of wine with your thumb. With a impish glint in your eye, you brought it to your lips, tasting the rich flavor on your tongue. "I wouldn't dare."

For a moment, he regarded you with the blankest of expressions, only to have it transform into one of surprise, followed by a smile—small, yet more genuine than any you had seen before.

"I might have another idea, actually," you expressed.

“Oh?”

You exhaled, adjusting your position to snuggle more comfortably against him. "Would you stay the night?"

"Aren't you becoming quite the daring one?"

"Well, it's a straightforward yes or no question, isn't it?"

"Is it your desire that I remain?"

You bit your lower lip, drawing your knees to your chest in the water. With a blend of hope and vulnerability, you answered. "Yes."

His response came promptly, outpacing your ability to process the situation.

"Then I shall stay until the break of dawn."

A warm glow blossomed in your chest, spreading outward to your stomach and suffusing your entire body. Your smile broadened as you fought to suppress a genuine squeal of delight threatening to burst from your heart.

“Right. You shall.”

As the first rays of sunlight caressed your back, the thin strap of your top slipping slightly off your shoulder, your eyes fluttered open. Instinctively, your hand wandered acrosss the sheets, reaching forward, only to discover the spot beside you was cold and vacant.

You pouted silently, yet you couldn't truly be surprised. It was a privilege that Dracule Mihawk accepted your company to such an extent; expecting him to change his habits for you would be unreasonable.

In truth, you found it exhilarating. The spontaneity of your encounters, with the Warlord seeking you out solely for your company, surpassed any fictional romance in its thrill and authenticity.

You yawned, stretching your limbs and sinking into the mattress. Blinking a few times, you dispelled the grogginess and blurriness from your eyes, listening to the gentle lapping of waves against your ship.

As your vision cleared in the soft morning glow, you noticed a dark object resting on the empty pillow in front of you. Rubbing your eyes in disbelief, you glanced away and back again, ensuring your mind wasn't playing tricks on you. There, perched atop the soft cotton cloud, sat a black, velvety square box. There was no note or hint of its contents, just the simple item placed there like a silent gift.

Carefully lifting the box, you turned it over in your hands, examining it as you pushed yourself into a sitting position. The velvety material felt soft and light against your skin, its luxurious texture rivaling Mihawk's own refined presence. As you opened it, the top lid coming off without resistance, the item within made your heart skip a beat.

Inside the box rested a delicate golden cross necklace, its elegant design gleaming against a small, dark cushion. With trembling fingers, you carefully extracted it from its velvet cradle, the chain composed of delicate links, as sparkling as starlight. The cross was beautifully simple, its surface smooth and unadorned.

A gift from Mihawk—for you.

In that moment, a realization struck you. Mihawk hadn't simply given you a jewel as a token of appreciation; he'd chosen the one symbol that truly represented him. The shape mirrored both the ornate dagger he wore on his chest and the cross-guard of Yoru on his back. It was a thoughtful gesture, meant to keep you connected even when apart, a meaningful memento he had evidently prepared in advance of his visit.

Mihawk might not have been one for traditional romantic courtship, but he certainly knew how to impress you in his own distinctive way.

Without hesitation, you fastened the necklace around your neck, a lump forming in your throat as the cool metal settled against your skin. You sprang from the bed with unbridled excitement, darting to the mirror to admire your new adornment. The pendant rested comfortably against your collarbones, its minimalist design exuding luxury. This small yet sophisticated addition transformed even your simple tank top and shorts into a stylish ensemble, illuminating your face with its radiance, enhanced by the morning sunlight.

Your face lit up with a bright smile, soft laughter bubbled from your lips, and tears of happiness glistened in your eyes. While the future of your relationship with him remained uncertain, his thoughtful present sparked a daring hope for something more profound.

In that moment, as you gazed at your reflection, fingers gently clasping the delicate golden cross, the true nature of your feelings for the Warlord finally crystallized. Despite your attempts to deny it, even to yourself, you had fallen utterly, desperately, and completely in love with Dracule Mihawk.

With this newfound clarity, you embraced the future fearlessly for the first time, as Mihawk had given you a compelling reason to forge a path alongside him.

Passing through your hometown's main arch triggered a surreal sense of déjà vu, blurring the boundary between past and present. The familiar sights evoked conflicting emotions; an uncanny feeling of never having left, intertwined with the stark realization of returning after a prolonged absence.

Your grip tightened on your bag's strap, its weight seemingly multiplying tenfold. The impulsiveness of your visit—conceived mere hours ago without warning—left you acutely aware that no one expected your arrival.

As you walked through the streets, whispers from some passersby who recognized you drifted to your ears. In contrast, the town's regular shopkeepers and residents greeted you warmly, their genuine smiles devoid of any underlying judgment. You waved back enthusiastically, returning their greetings without breaking your stride.

The journey to your family's establishment seemed interminable, stretching far beyond your recollection. Each step became a laborious effort, your feet growing heavier as if trudging through thick syrup. Though born and raised here, this place now felt foreign, as if you no longer belonged.

As your mind wandered, a voice you recognized suddenly called out from behind, catching your attention and prompting you to turn around. “Y/N…? Is that really you?”

There stood your childhood friend, her eyes wide and jaw slack with utter disbelief.

A genuine smile lit up your face. "Mary-Ann!"

Mary-Ann's grocery bag hit the ground with a thud, miraculously remaining upright without spilling its contents. She let out an ear-piercing squeal that echoed through the streets, then flung herself at you. Her arms wrapped tightly around your neck as she collided with you, the impact nearly dislodging your bag and sending you stumbling back a few steps.

"I can't believe it's you! You have no idea how much I've missed you!!!"

You laughed, pulling her into a tight embrace. "I've missed you too! It's wonderful to see you. How have you been?"

She reluctantly pulled away, her hands still gripping your upper arms. "I can't complain. Though the kids do test my patience something fierce at times. You'd think they'd mellow out as they mature, but no such luck."

"Some things never change, huh?"

"No, but that's the charm of it all."

She retrieved her groceries, sweeping her hair out of her eyes. "But what about you, lady? Are you okay? I was worried sick when I saw that bounty poster."

You shrugged, offering a wry smile. "Still kicking and breathing, as you can see. It's all settled now."

"I can see that. I mean, look at you! You're so... different. You look gorgeous."

“Aw, thank you.”

"I'm serious! Look at those killer abs. What on earth have you been doing?"

You flinched as she playfully ran her nails along your abdomen, the ticklish sensation penetrating through your shirt. "Well, life on the open sea really puts your physical endurance to the test."

"I swear, if I didn't have children and a husband at home, I'd join you in a heartbeat. Speaking of which, are you planning to stay or...?"

You shook your head. "I'm just passing through. There are some matters I need to attend to elsewhere."

She raised an eyebrow. "’Some matters’, hm? Do they have anything to do with a certain Warlord I've heard about?"

"Wow, gossip really travels fast in this town, doesn't it?"

"That's just how it is here. You should be used to it by now."

Shaking your head, you exhaled softly. "Yeah, I should've seen that coming."

"Oh, you simply must dish out all the juicy details later! Are you heading to the tavern? I bet everyone there will be over the moon to see you again."

"I am. Why don't you join us tonight? Bring your family along too, of course."

Mary-Ann nodded enthusiastically, flashing a toothy grin. "Count on it! Want me to spread the word to the others?"

"Absolutely! I'd be thrilled to catch up with everyone."

"I bet you've got some incredible tales to share. I won't hold you up any longer, though. Go see your family and get some rest. When are you planning to set off again?"

Adjusting the strap of your bag, you hummed contemplatively. "In a week or so."

"Really? That's fantastic! I can't wait to relive the good old times with you."

You watched her with amusement as she bounced on her toes, eyes sparkling at the thought of hearing your thrilling stories.

"Me too. Say hi to your family for me, and I'll see you all in a few hours."

She kissed your cheek, then crossed the street with the graceful bearing uniquely hers, a quintessential Mary-Ann trait. "I can't wait!"

As her figure disappeared around a distant corner near her house, you felt your body finally relax. As a recent high-profile fugitive, you couldn't help but wonder what rumors might have spread during your absence.

Finding that your longtime friends remained steadfast in their support, despite not knowing the full extent of your circumstances, provided a profound sense of reassurance.

With renewed confidence, you quickened your pace towards your destination. Arriving at the tavern, you skirted the main entrance and headed for the back door. Your heart raced with anticipation, memories flooding back of countless times you'd longed to come home without the opportunity to return.

At last, the moment had arrived. Your fingers trembled as you grasped the handle, stepping inside with bated breath. The kitchen was quiet, yet filled with a nostalgic tapestry of aromas you had almost forgotten: freshly baked bread, sweet jam, grilled fish, sizzling steak, and crispy fried potatoes.

The atmosphere was as warm and inviting as you remembered, with golden lanterns and fairy lights scattered throughout. Scented candles flickered in a distant corner, safely away from the stove and any flammable objects.

Tucked away in the separate pantry, someone was rummaging through the stocked items and ingredients, muttering soft curses and rummaging through supplies. It took you no more than two seconds to recognize the person, your lips spreading into a wide smile once again.

Quietly, you set your bag on an empty chair before stealthily approaching the pantry entrance. Leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms, you shifted your weight to one foot. Your cousin caught your attention as she scratched her head in frustration, low grunts escaping her lips. Her gentle locks became slightly tousled and disheveled with each movement.

"Ugh! Where the hell did they put the pink salt?!"

Suppressing a chuckle, you bit your lip. The thought of remaining hidden to see how long it would take her to notice crossed your mind, but you decided to be merciful and end your cousin's fruitless search. "Second shelf on the right, bottom compartment."

Momentarily oblivious to who had spoken, she reached for the suggested location and discovered the salt jar tucked away behind the pickles and olives.

"Ah, there it is! Thanks, you're a lifesaver. I was about to lose my mind searching for it."

"You're welcome," you replied with a casual smirk. "Though I must say, it's not the most logical spot for it."

Suddenly, she froze, the jar suspended in midair, her body stiffening as if struck by lightning. Slowly, she placed the salt on a shelf before her, whispering in disbelief, "Wait a minute."

You remained motionless as she turned to face you, her expression morphing into a mix of shock and confusion. Her features had matured noticeably during your year-long absence, and you couldn't help but notice she seemed to have grown at least two centimeters taller.

"Y/N...?" She stammered, her eyes wide. "What—how—when did you...?"

"Easy now, I promise I'm not some spectral apparition come to haunt you."

Her shoulders sagged as tears welled up in her eyes. She pressed her hands against her mouth, stifling a sob.

"It's wonderful to see you, Runa. You look we—"

Before you could finish your sentence, Runa dashed towards you, launching herself into the air. She clung to you like an excited little monkey, wrapping her arms around your neck and legs around your waist.

As she began sobbing into your hair and shoulder, your heart completely shattered. With newfound strength, you effortlessly adjusted her position, supporting her weight as if it were nothing.

"Y/N!!! You're home!!" Runa exclaimed through her tears.

"I'm not staying long, but yes. I'm home, sweetie."

To Runa, you were more than just a cousin; you were the big sister she'd never had. Having lost her mother at a young age, she found in you a mentor and role model who provided both protection and inspiration. Evidently, neither your bounty nor the swirling rumors about your reputation had been enough to shake her faith in you.

Runa's sobs echoed through the kitchen, reverberating off the walls and reaching the ears of your other family members. The door flew open as your parents, uncle, and other cousins rushed in, their worried expressions quickly transforming into looks of astonishment and unbridled joy.

Again, your name resounded like a chorus as they all rushed towards you, nearly toppling you over in their excitement. Runa clung tightly as you lost your balance, your quick reflexes allowing you to use your legs as leverage, preventing a hard fall onto your lower back.

Your heart swelled with warmth at their elation. Embracing each loved one felt surreal, an experience you had doubted would ever happen again, given the countless perils you'd faced on the open sea.

Laughter and tears intermingled as you embraced them, over and over again, savoring each precious moment of reunion. They clung to you tightly, unwilling to let go, their hands tenderly caressing your face and hair.

And so, in the tranquil atmosphere of the nearly empty tavern, you immersed yourself into the early afternoon's exhilarating happiness. As you savored your mother's famous apple pie—one of the things you'd missed most while away—you regaled your family with tales of your adventures. Navigating the conversation proved delicate, as you carefully omitted certain details and steered clear of mentioning Mihawk. Despite Runa's keen interest in your maritime exploits, your family maintained a respectful distance, allowing you to share only what you felt comfortable disclosing.

Inevitably, the topic of Mihawk arose during the discussion. The precise nature of your connection to the Warlord remained ambiguous to those present, as the gossip circulating throughout the East Blue varied wildly and lacked credibility. You offered intentionally vague responses, only acknowledging your romantic connection with Mihawk. You stressed his willingness to disobey government directives for your protection, emphasizing how he safeguarded you from both bounty hunters and marines.

Fortunately, the gifts and mementos you brought served as an effective distraction, steering the conversation away from matters you preferred to keep confidential. Though you had no intention of hiding your personal life from your family, you exercised caution in sharing details about a relationship that was still taking shape.

Yet, a mother's intuition often surpasses all others, and your unconscious fidgeting with your necklace spoke volumes to yours, more than words ever could.

The day unfolded with a rhythm of friendly banter and tavern service. You seamlessly pitched in, handling kitchen duties and bartending as if you'd never left. While the place remained unchanged, your confidence had soared. Your interactions with customers flowed naturally, and you promoted the family's products with newfound finesse.

As evening fell, Mary-Ann joined the festivities with her family in tow. Your friend group also gathered at the tavern, creating a warm and bustling ambiance brimming with heartfelt toasts and genuine gleemerriment.

You loved every second of it, relishing the old flavors of home and treasuring the company of those who would always welcome you with open arms, no matter how far your journeys carried you.

Sinking into your old bed again felt nostalgically comforting, your room untouched as if frozen in time. Sleep eluded you, as the abrupt change in environment and the tumultuous emotions swirling within kept your mind wide awake.

Twirling the cross pendant between your fingers, your thoughts drifted to Mihawk and his considerate gift. True to his reserved nature, Mihawk hadn't mentioned it. Instead, he'd simply placed the box on your pillow as you slept, allowing you to discover it upon waking. His subtle approach didn't bother you, however, as it perfectly aligned with his distant and reticent personality.

You couldn't pinpoint exactly when your feelings had grown so strong, perhaps you had loved him since your first conversation, or maybe you were already smitten when he began pursuing you across the East Blue. His piercing eyes, seemingly cold demeanor that masked surprising gentleness, and the high regard he held for you, all contributed to his magnetic allure. Moreover, his casual praise, sincere compliments, and willingness to defy the World Government to free you from their clutches only deepened your affection.

At last, you drifted into slumber, Mihawk's visage imprinted in your mind. His piercing, hawk-like gaze seemed to watch over your very soul from a distant shore.

In truth, he was a lot closer than you realized.

The following days passed blissfully, as you delved into in the cherished rhythms of family life: crafting beloved recipes, guiding Runa through kitchen mishaps, engaging patrons at the bar, and sharing hearty laughs with relatives and friends. Your parents were overjoyed, praising your acquired strength and fortitude, marveling at the way you maneuvered yourself around the place. For the first time, you truly felt the magic of the tavern, creating memories that would last a lifetime.

The irony wasn't lost on you. You had once desperately wanted to escape this very routine, longing to break free from your constraints and an existence filled with monotonous, mundane experiences. Now, after a transformative year at sea, you found yourself completely changed beyond recognition, fully refreshed and more attuned to life's subtle pleasures.

Yet, a piece of your heart remained on the open waters, in whichever corner of the world Mihawk currently explored.

The old adage rings true: once a pirate, always a pirate. While you couldn't consider yourself one in the strictest sense, you had embraced many aspects unique to the world of piracy. Your past insecurities had faded, replaced by a deep sense of self-acceptance and pride in your growth.

With the frenetic pace of sailing between islands for deals and deliveries now paused, time seemed to flow at a more measured tempo. Your culinary passion took a backseat during your travels, fatigue and inadequate equipment often prevented you from creating the dishes you once enjoyed. Although you hadn't cooked a full meal in quite some time, you were pleased to find your expertise remained intact.

Inevitably, you envisioned sharing a homemade meal with Mihawk, a welcome change from the hastily warmed dishes you recently resorted to during your makeshift dates. He never voiced any complaints, why would he? The quality of the food ranked among the best in the East Blue, with its exceptional taste evident in every bite. Nevertheless, you wanted to invest more effort, aspiring to present the Warlord with a more sophisticated creation that showcased your creativity and personal touch.

Distracted by your musings, you nearly overcooked the eggs in the pan. You removed them from the heat just in time, saving the meal from becoming a charred mess stuck to the bottom of the cookware.

As you were plating the final dishes for the dining room customers, your mother rushed into the kitchen, slightly out of breath. Her face was a mix of excitement and urgency, her expression hinting at pressing news she was eager to disclose.

"What is it?" you asked, your curiosity piqued.

"Y/N, why didn't you tell us?" your mother exclaimed, her eyes wide with excitement.

"Uh... tell you what?"

"Oh, come now, dear. I'm talking about your boyfriend! If you had notified me of his arrival, I would have prepared something special."

You froze, your hands suspended in midair. "Wait, what?"

While Mihawk had an uncanny ability to track you down, it seemed unlikely he'd show up in the heart of your family's territory.

Right?

"That Hawk-Eye fellow. He's sitting at the main counter right now."

It couldn't be. Could it?

"He's here? Really?" you asked, your voice a mixture of disbelief and exhilaration.

"Oh? You mean you didn't invite him?" she asked, her eyebrows raised in surprise.

"I most certainly did not," you replied.

"Well, what are you doing standing here? Go on, go to him! I'll finish up in here."

You watched as she gently removed the plates from your hands, ushering you out of the kitchen with the widest grin you'd ever seen on her face.

"Did he even ask for me?"

"Who cares? If he's here, it's obviously not to meet any of us. Now, stop dawdling and go! Hop to it!"

"Okay, okay!"

The kitchen door swung shut behind you, and you shook your head with a smile. Having Mihawk in your hometown was astonishing enough, but the fact that he was actually seated at your family's tavern seemed even more unbelievable.

To confirm your mother's words and rule out any mistaken identity, you scanned the dining room from a distance. There was no room for doubt; Mihawk's imposing aura set him apart, even in the bustling atmosphere.

Indeed, he sat elegantly at the main counter, an empty plate before him and a glass of wine in hand. His hat cast a shadow over his face, while Yoru, securely fastened to his back, emanated its ever-present, majestic dominance.

There he was, mere steps away, his figure a tangible reality. Though seemingly at ease in his solitude, his very arrival suggested an unspoken anticipation for something more.

As you made your way down the corridor, your older cousin suddenly appeared, leaning against the wall with a playful smirk and blocking your path. Mihawk disappeared behind his tall frame, and you resisted the urge to nudge your relative aside—gently, or perhaps not so gently.

"So," he began with a mischievous wink. "Are you finally going to spill the beans?"

"Come on, really? You're choosing this moment to interrogate me?"

"It's a simple question, really."

"I have no idea what kind of answer you're fishing for."

"I'm just wondering if I should start shopping for a wedding outfit," he teased. "I don't want to miss out."

You let out a snort. "Wedding? Micah, we're not even officially a couple yet."

"Are you sure? Because I doubt any man would come all this way if you weren't important to him."

Mulling over your cousin's words, you acknowledged their merit. It was unlike Mihawk to seek family approval, particularly at this early stage when your relationship was still evolving and finding its footing.

He was quite mysterious, not your typical man who comes with a comprehensive instruction manual.

"Look, whatever's going on, I need to figure it out for myself.”

Micah nodded, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Naturally. I just wouldn't have pegged you as someone who'd fall for a guy like that."

You crossed your arms. "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"

"Isn't he rather intimidating? That sword of his is enormous, don’t you think?"

A devilish glint appeared in your eyes. Ready to play Micah's game, you had the perfect retort up your sleeve. "It depends on which sword you're referring to.”

Your cousin’s face contorted, shock and revulsion etching across his features. "Tell me you didn't just say that."

"Well, you did ask."

"I didn't ask about his personal attributes, thank you very much. But I get it, I should mind my own business, right? Message received."

While you appreciated the humorous exchange, a more urgent concern beckoned, one you were eager to address. “So, are you planning to stand here all night, or will you let me pass?"

Micah raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, go ahead. I wouldn't want to be on your bad side."

"Good, because I could flip you upside down without breaking a sweat now."

“Aye aye.”

He walked past you, tightening the knot of his apron as he headed to the kitchen. "Just do me a favor and don't bring him to your room tonight. I value my sleep."

As Micah retreated behind the door, your heart suddenly raced, leaving you alone with a flutter of nervous excitement. The Warlord's effect on you was remarkable, causing your knees to weaken even without a glance or gesture from him.

The limited privacy in your family home heightened your awareness of your constrained interactions. You felt compelled to maintain proper decorum, which certainly ruled out inviting Mihawk to your bedroom for a night of passionate indulgence.

Steadying your breath, you approached the counter with poise, positioning yourself behind it as though welcoming a distinguished guest. Mihawk remained still, deftly rotating the wine glass in his hand and sampling its contents with the finesse of a connoisseur.

He was absolutely gorgeous, a breathtaking sight that evoked emotions far deeper than you had ever imagined possible.

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on the wooden surface and clasping your hands together. "I didn't realize you'd miss me quite so much."

Mihawk looked up, his golden eyes briefly lingering on the necklace dangling from your neck before meeting your gaze. "I merely sought a quiet place to drink."

"Ah, and here I thought you'd traveled all this way just for me."

Mihawk's eyes narrowed slightly, though a ghost of a smirk played at the corner of his mouth. "Don't flatter yourself," he replied, his voice smooth as silk.

Your fingers grazed the table as you stood before him, allowing a charged silence to hang between you. "Well," you said, straightening up. "Since you're here, I might as well ensure you're properly taken care of."

“I’ll have another drink then.”

"Is that all? Have you sampled my mother's world-renowned apple pie yet?"

“The wine will suffice,” he replied coolly. "I require nothing more."

Undeterred, you offered him a genuine smile. "Oh, I highly recommend a slice. It’s divine. Besides, if you don't order it yourself, my mom will likely insist on serving you some. Trust me, you don't want to risk offending her."

Mihawk's lips tightened in contemplation. "I've faced far graver perils."

You laughed. "I'm not sure any of those compare to my mother's persistence. I'll bring you some wine, and a slice of apple pie, just in case."

As you departed, Mihawk let out a subtle exhalation. He had come to learn that arguing with you was futile, as your stubbornness rivaled the relentless force of a stormy sea.

Upon your return, you presented him with a slice of pie that was unexpectedly generous in size, bordering on excessive. He regarded it with a neutral expression as you topped off his wine glass, carefully filling it to a level that allowed for optimal enjoyment. Without comment, he grasped the fork and gently pressed it into the pie's airy consistency. He examined it meticulously, assessing its texture and density. To his silent admiration, the cake maintained its perfect form, not a single crumb out of place.

As Mihawk tasted his dessert, you occupied yourself with cleaning the counter and organizing the area. From his post at the entrance, your father kept casting furtive looks in your direction. Runa, busy with table service and final orders, openly scrutinized the scene at the counter, her expression hinting at some devious plan brewing in her mind.

You opted to disregard her, aware that paying her too much attention would only encourage her to put her chaotic schemes into motion.

Polishing glasses and aligning wine bottles, you fought to keep a professional demeanor, even as the object of your affection sat tantalizingly close, just an arm's length away. You should have known, however, that your cousin wouldn't let it drop.

Full of energy and exuberance, Runa bounced over to the counter where Mihawk perched, completely unfazed by his intimidating presence. Being young and boisterous, she seldom contained her reactions, often acting on impulse with little consideration for consequences. As Runa took the seat next to him, a discordant note rang out from your uncle's guitar. His younger son continued singing, while the rest of the patrons paid no attention to the brief musical mishap. The boy’s voice had grown noticeably harsh, betraying his clear frustration with his sister's brazen attitude.

Alas, there was no deterring her irrepressible spirit.

Without hesitation, Runa wrapped her arm around Mihawk's, leaning in with a teasing smile. Your face drained of color, and you shot her a deadly glare, which she blithely ignored.

"Hey, sir, you're treating Y/N well, aren't you?"

Mihawk tensed, his usual composure briefly faltering. He cast a fleeting glance at the young girl, barely turning his head, clearly unaccustomed to such bold familiarity.

Before he could respond, you quickly intervened, driven by an unbearable amount of embarrassment and annoyance. "Runa, mind your manners. You can't just latch onto strangers like that."

As you gave her another pointed look, her lips twitched. Still brimming with her usual cheerfulness and keeping her hold, she replied, “Come on, he’s family now, right?”

You wished the ground would open up and swallow you whole, dragging you into oblivion. The last thing you wanted was for Mihawk to think you'd been blabbing about him and whatever was blossoming between you two, precisely what you had carefully avoided discussing until now.

Mihawk remained stoic, though a hint of exasperation crossed his countenance. He fixed you with a piercing stare, his raised eyebrow silently conveying the question, ���Is this what I've gotten myself into?”

Oh, she had really done it this time.

"Mihawk isn't part of our family, Runa. And he certainly didn't come here to be bothered while eating. Could you please be a dear and let go of him?"

With a dramatic pout, Runa finally released the Warlord’s arm. "Oh, alright. He's quite well-built though. Nice catch!"

Your eye twitched as she hopped off the stool with carefree abandon, skipping away like a carefree child.

You adored your young cousin, but her antics occasionally gave you quite the headache.

"I’m sorry," you said with a resigned sigh. "She clearly needs to work on her boundaries and social etiquette."

Bracing for a sharp retort, you were surprised when Mihawk simply relaxed his posture and took another bite of pie. "Your family is... spirited," he remarked, his tone flat but his eyes showing a glimmer of intrigue.

You chuckled softly, leaning closer to him again. His intoxicating scent mingled with the sweetness of cinnamon-spiced apples and caramelized sugar.

Your fingers grazed his, eliciting a subtle twitch in response. "Trust me. You haven't seen the half of it."

Exposing Mihawk to the full extent of your family's eccentricities was not high on your list of priorities. Nevertheless, his willingness to stay despite Runa’s quirks gave you hope that he still held you in high esteem, evidently unfazed by your relatives' shenanigans.

The night progressed with a lively mix of music, sumptuous meals, and cheerful conversation. Throughout the evening, Mihawk remained nearly motionless in his seat, seemingly lost in quiet contemplation while nursing his wine, taking measured sips at leisurely intervals.

You wished you could just whisk the Warlord away from prying eyes, but your duties at the tavern kept you tethered. Having been absent from home for so long, sneaking off with your romantic interest without explanation would be questionable at best.

As the hours slipped by and the last patrons trickled out, your family members gradually retired to their rooms. It was only then that you noticed Mihawk's disappearance; he had vanished from the main counter and was nowhere to be found.

Deflated, you sank into Mihawk's vacated stool with a heavy sigh, finding yourself distractedly tracing the freshly polished counter. Meanwhile, Runa moved briskly around the dining room, tucking chairs under tables and switching off lights as she went.

Noticing your glum expression, she tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Why the long face?"

"What long face?" you snapped, your voice sharper than intended.

"You look like someone just stole your favorite dessert right off your plate."

She sauntered behind the counter, crossing her arms and flashing a knowing smile, as if privy to a secret you hadn't yet discovered.

"I'm just tired," you replied, the lie tasting bitter on your tongue.

"Oh, come on. I'm not naive. If you're upset because your gentleman friend left, I might know where he went."

Your eyes widened, and your head snapped up as if jolted by an electric current. "Wait, you do?"

Her grin stretched impossibly, teeth gleaming in the dimly lit tavern. "Maaaayyybeee."

"And how exactly would you know that?" you asked, squinting suspiciously at her.

She waved one hand dismissively. "Relax, I'm not trying to pull a prank on you. He asked me about the quietest place in town, so I told him about that nice little hill you've always loved."

Your town was small and close-knit, where solitude was a rare commodity. Situated above the village, the hill served as your personal retreat before embarking on your journey, a quiet sanctuary away from the everyday hustle and bustle.

A smile tugged at your lips, impossible to conceal. "And here I thought you'd scared him off."

"Hey! Give me some credit," she protested.

"All right, sorry."

Runa slouched against the counter, tilting her head. "You really like that guy, don't you?"

"I could deny it, but I doubt any of you would believe me."

"Nope. Your eyes lit up like fireworks the moment you spotted him seated over here."

Had your reactions to Mihawk been so transparent, despite your best efforts to maintain a facade of casual indifference?

"You should go," Runa urged. "We're all wrapped up here anyway. And honestly, I'm about ready to collapse into bed."

You laughed warmly, ruffling her hair affectionately. "Thanks, you little troublemaker."

"Stop it!" she exclaimed, grinning despite herself.

As you rose from the counter, your cousin extinguished the remaining lanterns, plunging the tavern into darkness.

"Don't wait up for me."

"I don't plan to," she replied. "You grown-ups do your thing."

Driven by mounting impatience, you exited the tavern and strode along the road, taking your old shortcut and inhaling the crisp night air. The streets were nearly deserted, with only a handful of people visible—some huddled in corners, chatting and drinking, while others leaned unsteadily against walls, swaying in their drunken stupor.

Mihawk's presence in such a small town could only be attributed to you. A man of his stature and skill would find little to occupy himself in a place that offered no challenges worthy of his talents.

His decision to visit your family's workplace was undoubtedly deliberate and well-considered. Any astute individual would recognize that entering such an intimate setting would inevitably lead to curiosity and assumptions about your relationship.

“I doubt any man would come all this way if you weren't important to him."

With each step towards the hill where Mihawk awaited, your pulse quickened, a mix of hope and trepidation filling your veins. You worried you might find the spot empty, with the swordsman having already set sail for his next destination without giving you a second thought.

You knew it was irrational. You should have placed more trust in him, even as persistent self-doubt gnawed at you like a shark on its prey

You ascended the familiar path, winding through bushes and towering trees, leaving the rural outskirts behind. Your footsteps echoed in the stillness, the uphill trek feeling unexpectedly effortless compared to times past.

As you crested the hill, your worries vanished at the sight of Mihawk’s unmistakable silhouette lounging on the grass. His formidable sword lay at his side, while his hat rested casually over his face, creating a scene of unexpected tranquility.

With a gentle smile, you approached Mihawk silently, careful not to disrupt his serene state. You eased yourself onto the grass beside him, tilting your head back to admire the celestial canvas stretching endlessly above.

Though he remained motionless, you sensed his alertness, fully aware of your presence without needing to stir.

"I see you've discovered my secret retreat," you remarked with a lighthearted chuckle. "I don't mind sharing it with you, though."

His voice emerged from beneath the hat, cool and composed as ever. "Generous of you."

"Is that a nice way to tell me I'm interrupting your rest?"

“If that were the case, you’d already know,” he replied, his voice laced with subtle amusement.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no,’ then.”

After a brief pause, Mihawk added, "The quiet feels different with you around."

“Different how?”

Mihawk finally lifted his hat, just enough to cast a sidelong look at you. "Neither better nor worse," he mused. "Simply distinct."

Your smile broadened, appreciating the warmth in his words. "Is that a compliment?” You teased, gently nudging his side.

"If it pleases you to think of it that way."

You shifted closer, angling your body to face him directly. "Admit it. You can hardly stand to be without me now."

Mihawk arched an eyebrow, his eyes seemingly impassive, but the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips told a different story. "Not particularly," he drawled.

You propped yourself on an elbow, gently pushing his hat away. His golden irises instantly locked onto you, magnetic and mesmerizing.

"You can say it, you know. That you've gotten used to having me around."

He didn't reply immediately. His gaze flicked from you to the starry sky, where the moon cast a faint, silvery glow. Finally, with a feigned grimace, he murmured, "You're tolerable."

"Tolerable?” You tapped his side again, the gesture more akin to a gentle caress. “Is that what we're calling it now? Do you give a necklace to just anyone you find 'tolerable'?"

He let out a quiet huff, unaffected by your impish provocation. "Don't read too much into it. It suits you, that is all."

You laughed, seeing through his attempt to downplay the act. "Oh, of course, because that's such a casual thing for you to do." You moved in closer, eyes twinkling with mischief. "I suppose next you'll tell me you didn't sail all this way because you wanted to see me."

For a moment, his expression was inscrutable. Then, after a brief hesitation, he spoke in his characteristic measured tone, "Why would I? I'm accustomed to silence."

"Yet you prefer my company to break it?"

"I never claimed that."

You poked his side repeatedly, hoping to coax a proper reaction from the stoic swordsman. "Come on, admit it; you did miss me. There's no shame in it."

Mihawk's lips quirked into a hint of a smile as he deftly encircled your waist with his arm, drawing you near. With a touch of mirthful frustration, he placed his hand over your eyes, guiding your head to rest on his shoulder. Your laughter intensified, resonating with genuine joy in the serene night, as your fingers instinctively grasped the thick fabric of his coat.

With a fluid motion, Mihawk bent forward, closing the distance between you. His lips met yours in a sudden, intense kiss that left you breathless, silencing you with his sensual embrace and holding you entranced. As your mouth parted in surprise, his tongue gently explored, brushing against yours with the confident grace of a skilled hunter.

A soft moan of pleasure escaped you. Your fingers threaded through his hair while his hand remained over your eyes, creating an indescribable intimacy that redefined your understanding of romance. Whenever you thought he had reached the pinnacle of excellence, he consistently found innovative ways to amaze you.

When he finally broke the kiss, he reclined on the grass once more, his fingertips tracing delicate patterns on your eyelids absentmindedly. You savored the sensation of his touch, allowing him to continue until his hand slowly drifted down to rest on your shoulder.

Consumed by the love you nurtured for him, you nestled your face against his chest. "I really love it, you know."

"What is it you love?" Mihawk inquired.

"The necklace you gifted me."

He hummed in response. "I thought it would complement your style."

"It does, surely. And also..." You trailed off, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. Swallowing hard, you paused, holding back words that might lead to regret. “Well…”

Unfortunately, the die was cast.

"What is it?" he prompted, his voice a gentle encouragement.

Could you truly express the depth of your feelings, laying bare your emotions for him to see? Though he had made more than one bold move, Mihawk remained an enigma; his thoughts still a mystery to unravel, his intentions inscrutable.

Ultimately, you realized you had crossed a point of no return. Lying about it was pointless with him, it wasn't as though you had never expressed yourself aloud before.

"I was the one who truly missed you," you admitted innocently.

Mihawk's quietness was unnerving, almost deafening. But before you could reproach yourself for your lack of self-control, you felt the heat of his breath against your forehead. "What am I to do with you?"

It wasn't a question born of exasperation. His tone exuded something else, a warmth akin to fondness, despite the apparent indifference of his sentiments.

“Anything you want, really,” you declared.

"Careful with those words.”

You shook your head. "You know how it is, Mihawk. If I had to choose someone to end my life, I'd prefer it to be you."

"Nobody will end your life while I still breathe. And I certainly won't be the one to do it."

You closed your eyes as your hand glided across his skin. When your palm settled over his heart, you noticed something unexpected; though its rhythm remained steady, his heartbeat was quicker than you'd ever felt it before, throbbing powerfully beneath your fingertips.

It could be interpreted in various ways, from trivial to deeply consequential.

"If I were to die, would you mourn my loss?"

You nearly bit your tongue as that absurd idea flooded in you like a raging river. Try as you might, you couldn't sweep it away as quickly as it had come.

As you looked up, you caught sight of Mihawk's eyes rolling in mild annoyance. "What's with this morbid talk all of a sudden?"

"I don't know. It just crossed my mind. But I suppose I shouldn't expect too much, should I? It's not as if you need me."

"Don't underestimate my interest in you. I've already made it clear that I wouldn't invest my time in you if you weren't significant.”

As a whirlwind of emotions inundated you, a fresh burst of laughter erupted from your chest. "I really have to coax these truths from you."

"I don’t deal in meaningless words," he replied. "But you seem to have a habit of pulling them out of me.”

"I like hearing you express them, even if they're rare."

He observed you intently, his golden eyes gleaming like twin precious gemstones. “You’d rather I tell you than show you?”

"I appreciate both," you said thoughtfully. "But I must admit, hearing you express yourself so openly is particularly gratifying."

Mihawk adjusted his position, his arm still wrapped securely around you. "Then let me make this clear; your absence would not go unnoticed."

You lifted yourself, brushing your index finger along his jawline. "My, my. That almost sounded romantic."

Mihawk’s lips twitched. “Don’t push it.” His comment lacked its usual sharpness, instead tinged with an unprecedented tenderness.

You pressed a gentle kiss to his lips before curling back against his chest. "Fine, fine."

Your nails traced the bottom of his cross-shaped pendant, exploring its smooth metal surface and defined contours. Relaxing, you immersed yourself in the soothing symphony of nature, from the gentle rustle of leaves to the crickets' melodious chorus. In the distance, you could hear the murmur of townsfolk still awake, the occasional bark of a dog, and the rhythmic crash of waves against the shoreline.

Mihawk's chest rose and fell with regular breaths, creating a calming cadence that transported your senses to a world of your own. You felt yourself drifting, suspended between reality and dreams, as weightless as a feather floating on the breeze.

Just as sleep was about to claim you, his low voice rumbled through the night. "There's something you should know."

Your eyelids felt heavy, and your mind was growing foggy with drowsiness. “Mh?”

When he didn't respond, you dismissed it as a hypnagogic illusion, a trick of your sleep-addled state. But then his voice resonated again, revealing something you had never wanted to hear.

“I’ll be gone for some time.”

At those words, you jolted upright, your eyes wide as you stared down at his unruffled form. Your sleepiness evaporated in an instant. "What do you mean?"

"I have some matters that require my attention. It may be a while before I can return."

Your stomach twisted into knots, and for a moment, your breath caught painfully in your throat. "Oh."

Was that the true purpose of his visit? Had he journeyed all the way to your village to personally inform you of his impending departure from the East Blue, rather than disappearing without a trace?

It was noble, and you certainly found that rather complaisant. Still, it didn't change the fact that you felt the ground crumbling around you.

“So you came to say goodbye.”

"This isn't farewell."

"Really?"

With a sigh, Mihawk sat up straight, facing you. His expression was serious and resolute. "You ought to have more faith in what I say."

Although his repeated assurances and actions could prove his sincerity, a persistent doubt was rooted in the recesses of your psyche. His motives were clearly not a pretense, yet that skeptical inner voice refused to be silenced completely.

"What further proof do you require from me?"

You pressed your lips together, contemplating the most appropriate response to give him. As silence lingered, Mihawk reached for the golden pendant hanging around your neck. "I don't give meaningless gifts. This necklace is more than mere decoration."

“I know.”

"If you do, then cease doubting my will to see you again."

His fingers withdrew, but just as you were about to lift your head, they gently cupped your chin, guiding it upward.

"One moment you're full of confidence, even bordering on arrogance. And the next, you're second-guessing everything over some imaginary fear you've conjured up in your head."

Undoubtedly, he was right. You often exuded braveness, freely engaging in witty banter without restraint. However, beneath that exterior lay a persistent insecurity, the deep-seated anxiety of becoming unwanted or irrelevant, overshadowed by a lifestyle you might never attain.

Mihawk was a Warlord of the Sea. His residence was located somewhere in the Grand Line, a realm beyond the familiar waters of the East Blue that you likely lacked the courage to venture into.

"I've given you my word that I will return. That should suffice. The real question is whether you're interested enough to wait for me."

Your eyes stung, but you stubbornly blinked the forming tears away. You had attained the life you always dreamed of—an endless string of thrilling adventures that, while dangerous, filled your blood with just the right amount of adrenaline. Waiting for Mihawk to reappear had become increasingly difficult, yet you held an unwavering certainty that he would find his way back to you sooner rather than later.

Yet, the duration of Mihawk's absence remained uncertain now. His duties might keep him away for weeks, and your separation could stretch into months or even extend to years.

You acknowledged your tendency to dramatize the situation, and the thought of giving up on Mihawk was inconceivable. If maintaining your relationship meant enduring an extended period apart, you were determined to persevere.

You were a resilient adult who had weathered harrowing experiences. Surely, a prolonged separation paled in comparison to those trials, if you could trust in the authenticity of his promises.

Slipping back into your characteristic self-assured stance, you tilted your head with a smile. "Well, that goes without saying, doesn't it?"

Mihawk grunted under his breath, letthing his hand drop. "Has anyone ever told you that you can be quite vexing?"

You chuckled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Sorry. I suppose that was a bit childish of me."

Mihawk's sharp features etched in shadow by the moonlight. “Childish, perhaps. But more than that, unnecessary. You know where you stand with me.”

"I do,” you murmured with a nod. “And that's precisely why I'm afraid of losing you."

His expression remained stoic, yet you perceived a gentle transformation in his features. “I don’t have the patience to constantly remind you of your worth, Y/N.”

Your grin vanished instantly, replaced by an expression of utter shock. Countless thoughts raced through your mind, but you couldn't focus on any of them. All you could process was the sound of your name, spoken aloud by Mihawk for the very first time since you'd known him.

And it felt exquisite, resonating in your ears like a perfectly struck chord.

“What did you just say…?”

"Has your hearing suddenly failed you?"

"No, I mean—" You touched his warm cheek with trembling fingers, his sideburns gently prickling your sensitive skin. "You said my name. You've never done that before."

"Unless you prefer I address you as 'Cutthroat' instead."

With a rapid intake of breath, you grasped the lapels of his coat and pulled him into another, fervent kiss. "Don't you fucking dare."

His right hand cupped your nape, holding you firmly in place as he deepened the kiss. With deliberate slowness, he lowered you onto the grass, his body pinning you down and pressing against yours. His mouth claimed yours hungrily, swallowing every enticing moan that escaped your lips.

And just like that, any residual doubts, fears, or personal insecurities you might have harbored finally dissolved, scattered like grains of sand in the wind, giving way to a clear path forward.

You silently hoped the wait wouldn't be long enough for time to leave its mark on your face.

Author's final note: Keeping Mihawk in character is a real struggle, especially when things become a bit more romantic. I swear, though, he's unique way of loving her is driving me crazy, in a good way. ♥

I might bring back some action in the next chapter, because I miss writing combat scenes. Also, I am considering to add another OPLA character, though I need to figure out the proper way to implement that specific idea.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 (currently reading) Go to Chapter 8 ->

[cat-dragron]

Man I miss the days where season of tv were like 20 episodes. It just gives the story so much room to breathe that 8 episodes simply does not. That's not to say that the 8 episode formula doesn't work, in some cases it works really well! I'm just like... I want that variety ya know. In the age of streaming it's so hard to find shows that are longer/slower paced.

Idk maybe I'm not looking in the right places. I'm rewatching Fringe and it's like man I missed long form liveaction tv shows like this.

Wait actually second thought, the 8 episode formula would be fixed so much by it not dropping all at once. That is my firm belief and I know that's a sentiment I've seen on this site before. I think the human brain does best when we aren't given everything at once and that's coming from someone with ADHD that craves stuff 24/7.

[fandom-rpfinder]

It/Itself, 25! I'm looking for 22+ partners. My search is specific but I'm looking to create and develop original characters based in the Hannibal setting together. M/M, NB/M, NB/NB preferred. Given the nature of the series, dark and horror themes may apply but ultimately the type of characters we make depend on the kind of plot or dynamics we want to do. I am searching for someone who is willing and would be open to devoting themselves to this. In regards to faceclaims; I have no real preference but know I am likely to draw/use drawn resources but you aren't obligated too. I don't mind liveaction or otherwise. If you have a pre-existing character; that too is fine but do note I am looking to create a new character myself so my OC will be fresh. Smut is not a priority in this search and is something more to be earned. I am looking for eventual longcon romance but we can determine the specifics after divulging character details. I'm ultimately looking for someone to further flesh and bounce out ideas around while simultaneously having fun with writing. I comfortably write anywhere between 200-600 but can go upwards to 800-1000 if i am inspired/motivated enough. My preferred means to writing is through discord. Please note daily responses are likely to be incosistent. I also am hoping to meet someone who is okay with chatting ooc/is patient with me but i'd love to throw fanfics, make pinterest boards, talk about music associated to characters, etc. Please give this post a like if you would be interested and I'll reach out.

🔪

[cybz]

Are you guys feel me?!? 😭

You cant wait for this too!! So, how about kissing scenes? Omg! 💙

#GIVEN #LIVEACTION

#MAFUYU #UENOYAMA

#HARUKI #AKIHIKO

[caffeled]

i Am still reeling from laughter from when i listed my star trek favs as being, in descending order of most (altho theyre all closely tied for the top3), spock, q, & data, & one of my friends said spock n data being two of my most fav st characters was Very autistic of me, & i want the record to show im absolutely Delighted whenever sb points out smth abt me Reeks of tism. anyway they Are just like me fr & i will bbgify them into oblivion