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i-am-vita · 4 months

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A Diversion Dance

A Mihawk x FemReaderOc Shortfic

👉 My Masterlist

Based on my OPLA older guysxfemreader headcanons and this inspiration right here.

It just took a month and a half but it's finally done... the first part. Writing directly in a second language is not helping.

Summary: One year ago, you came out of semi-retirement to help the Phantom Pirates infiltrate the Hacienda of a famous Wine Producer during a party to recover and destroy some information. But you had to resort to some last minute diversions to maintain certain Warlord from a business meeting at the office being robbed by your crew.

Warnings: SFW but sexy, some swearing (I managed to not used fuck that much). Use of You not y/n. Female Oc. Still probably Bad English. Consistent Time Tenses who?

Expect: White collar robbery, falling while dancing, over the top improvised dance choreography, Cinderella trope but with smooches and eventual fighting, she's falling first (and in denial) but he'll fall harder, Mask of Zorro aesthetic.

1 year ago...

The probability of a Warlord walking to any ball, specially one in honor of the local Marine Base, was low but never zero.

Especially when you knew there was a Warlord’s meeting that day somewhere else, far away enough.

Unless of course that warlord was Dracule Mihawk whom you'd soon learn never assisted to those meetings but of fucking course would assist to a party hosted by the most famous wine producer in the Grand Line. The same wine producer who was being used by some associates as a cover for intel dealings regarding the Revolutionaries secret bases. The intel your Captain was handsomely paid to acquire and destroy. The same wine producer Mihawk was so interested to strike a deal regarding a cargo of their wines to be shipped to his residence.

You hated to do diversions but there was really no other option. Your two crewmates experts in it were already working on their own targets.

Meg having the two high officers most dangerous for the mission eating from her hand thanks to her perfumes that none of them would notice a stampede in the middle of the ballroom.

Meanwhile, Raoul had just disappeared with the party's Host to a little rendezvous in his office where he would confirm their intel of the layout of the place and hide the Den Den Mushi Transmitter which will deactivate the security on the windows so your infiltrators could get inside and steal the information from the concealed drawer in the desk and other goods.

Normally it would be you leading the infiltrating team but then Carlotta, dressed as a maid, almost shouted through her Den Den Mushi Comm of HIM having just entered the hall.

And now only one decision was there to make: the red or the black dress?

"Apologies, Warlord, my boss is currently setting up some business in his office with another... interested party." Your maid-crewmate heard the Butler explain nervously. "But of course we'll escort you to his presence as soon as he's finished. Meanwhile you're very welcome to the party. There're samples of our best harvests for you to try."

Well, fuck.

That would undo all your timing and ruin the entire operation. Who knows when you will have another opportunity to infiltrate the Hacienda this easily.

Your crew is so efficient and low profile that the Marine have connected you to just a handful of the real amount of your thieveries through the years. You were sure if the World Gobernment realize how much fuck up they really were thanks to the Phantom Pirates, your bounties'd be thripled.

And neither of you wanted that.

So the red dress it was.

Mihawk will never admit it to you until years later, but he saw you the moment you set foot in the ballroom. The daring color of your dress a startling contrast with the white of the marine officers and the most tamed and proper colors of the other guests, like a drop of blood over fresh snow. The asymmetrical cut of the skirt allowed the view of a long shapely leg encased in black stocking but not up enough to show its laces. Your face partially obscured by a lace half mask over your eyes and cheekbones like most of the guests.

He averted his gaze before you had the opportunity to make eye contact with him. Giving back his attention to the sommelier who was currently presenting him a collection of sweet wines the Warlord didn’t ask for (and boring him to hell) but still followed your path with the corner of his eye. Several gentlemen being equally ensnared by your entrance and trying to draw your attention or get a dance.

But you were set to one objective: lure Dracule Mihawk enough time for your team to break in and out of the office as soon as Raoul gave them the signal after the Host returned to the party.

Fuck, you really hated diversions.

Mostly because it implied being VERY close to certain unsavory or immoral characters that you'd rather cut their throat than make polite conversation.

Although, if there was a time for you to finally have to divert someone, there were worse options than the infamous Dracule Mihawk.

Your crew tends to keep his distance from the Warlords as the Phantom Pirates, your captain preferring to maintain any contact with the World Government and its associates through his real identity as a noble.

But thanks to Shanks, you may know a thing or two about the World’s Best Swordsman.

He’s a somber son of a gun. Gettin’ a smile out of that guy is like pulling out teeth. It’s all that stuffy dry red wine he likes. He’d totally like you! You two would hit it off!

How would you pull that off? You have no idea but if the Redhead wasn't right about his former rival, you were going to scrag him the next time you see him.

The Warlord certainly has the look of someone who you wouldn’t mind being approached by. His old bounty posters failed to state the real air of elegance he exudes, even from afar. His clothes, while stylish, didn’t seem appropriate for an up class ball. An open white ruffle shirt that showed off his muscled chest almost as much as if he weren’t wearing it, a golden cross pendant glowing in the candle lights. Black pants tucked in pristine tall black boots. His signature hat and coat were missing but a dark long cape hung from his shoulders embracing his figure in more darkness. Not helping with his look of power and danger. Certainly the great sword at his back added to it, the most famous Yoru. Does he ever take it off?

You arrived at the bar with as much nonchalance as you were capable and was immediately invited by the sommelier to have some of their product, who seemed to be so much into his exposition of sweet reds to not notice the growing irritation of his patron.

"Madam, would you care for a taste of our Starlight Night. The passing of a comet that year gave us a unique harvest like never before." And proceed to explain to you the importance of the stars’ position while harvesting. You like wine as much as the next person but your knowledge was limited to the type you liked and disliked. The man didn’t even bother to ask your preference and all his verbiage was making you a little edgy.

You have a job to do and this newbie was getting on your nerves, not to mention Mihawk looked like walking away any second, glass of his preferred wine be damned. You smiled broadly and gave an exaggerated gesture with a shoulder that you knew enhanced the line of your neck.

"Ohh, how thoughtful, sir. We've heard wonders of this exact method." You said with fake affectation accepting the glass. "Perhaps you'll be so kind as to explain it to my colleagues." You pointed to a group of guests at the other side of the ballroom.

The employee didn't take long to follow your suggestion and left with a trail of glasses and bottle for his next marketing victim.

With the useless fool finally out of his sight (really, what was doing such an amateur attending potential customers?), he took one of the bottles whose label convinced him the most and served himself a glass to finally have a taste of dryness and spices in his tongue to try to get rid of the bitterness of having to wait in this forsaken party of social climbers.

A loud sight from you got him out of his musings.

"I hate nothing more than an overseller.” You tested giving a side glance to the Warlord. “If their product is that good they wouldn't need such storytelling, would they?"

That got you Dracule's attention who turned his golden gaze towards you and raised an eyebrow. You could feel a not so unpleasant chill down your back at his intensity.

"Clever technique. I was considering just cutting the fool in half to shut him up." You couldn't hide a smirk at his dry humor, although unclear if it was a joke at all.

You took a sip of the dark liquid in your glass, getting a taste of unexpected sweetness, fruity and floral flavors.

"Well, our mutual wasn't as full of shit as I thought." You mentioned giving another sip to the sweet wine. By the Warlord's expression, you knew he totally differed. "Not keen on sweet wine, are you, my Lord?"

He gave you a little smirk and a side glance. You took another sip in defiance.

"I'm keen on red wine not berries juice."

This time you did have to control yourself to not let out a laugh and spit the wine still in your mouth, it coming out as a very undignified snort. You gave the man a playful killing glare over your glass that had the effect of widen his smirk.

Ha! Take that, Redhead!

Mihawk was feeling... surprisingly amused by this little interaction.

The amount of people capable of holding his gaze, let alone daring to joke with him was less than the fingers of one hand. Still, he could recognize an attempt at seduction no matter how subtle but the even fewer women who dared to approach him usually played a more submissive role.

He liked your boldness.

And the fact you look exactly like his type of woman with perfect golden tan skin, long legs and curvaceous figure… A shame he has no time for a rendezvous tonight, eager to get his business done and go on his merry way away from this Marine reeking party.

"So... What brings a man of your notoriety to this gathering, my Lord. Certainly not the honorable guests or the sparkling conversations." You said pointing with your head to the surrounding Marines who gave distasteful looks at his direction between murmurs and sips of wine.

Another raised eyebrow and what you hoped was an interested stare. So you did know about his status and reputation and yet were completely unafraid of approaching him.

"Only business. I wasn't aware of this little gathering." He said pointing at the ballroom with distaste in his voice. "Not my favorite type of... companionship. Although, the conversation may be... improving. Even if you have an abysmal taste in wine, my Lady."

Well, you didn't completely suck at this, you thought while still siping the sweet red with a challenging smirk of your own.

With the corner of your eye, you managed to catch a glimpse of Raoul coming inside the room, the Host mere steps behind with his Butler whispering in his ear. Your eyes found those of your maid-disguised crewmate, Carlotta, who gave you a small nod.

The clock was running from now on.

Several couples had just started to dance to the new song of the orchestra when you were hit by a burst of inspiration.

"May I have this dance, my Lord. Kill some time before your business meeting?"

You know you’re not the best at small talk and pretending attraction for someone but you love to dance… and you’d rather not think of the small pull you felt towards the Warlord as attraction at all.

"... Why not?" He answered by raising his hand in an inviting gesture. You couldn’t hide a small smile of relief and parted with your glass of wine to reciprocate his gesture.

Mihawk seized the moment to take your hand towards his mouth to place a light kiss. His yellow irises catched a small flush on your cheeks and an intake of air through your half parted lips.

He guided you to the dancefloor into a perfect waltz stance before leading you through it with long strides and wide swirls following the lively tempo created by the strings of guitars and mandolins.

The familiar dance steps lured you into a comfort state. It took you a few seconds to realize how was it possible, being in the arms of one of the most dangerous men in the world and any misstep in this heist potentially leading to a catastrophe to your crew, until it dawned on you.

Dracule Mihawk was an excellent dancer.

It wasn’t just the proper following of the steps but his gracefulness and fluidity and how he guided your body through it like an extension of his own.

What kind of swordsman would I be if I didn’t have perfect stance and footing? A memory came from so far away. Of the intense dark eyes of another man deep in your past, of that first time you set foot in a ballroom. How much you despised the process of it all until that young gentleman asked for your first dance…

"Something on your mind, my Lady?" Mihawk’s voice brought you back to the present and to the intensity of his own golden eyes.

"Apologies, my Lord, my mind wandered for a second."

"Oh? To whom may I ask?"

"Jealous, Lord Dracule?" You teased smirking playfully. You were aware you couldn't just lie to his face. One didn't come as high as him by taking any bullshit. So half truths it was. "Just... I was thinking how much I missed certain things in this life. I can go without all the pomp and small talk of these gatherings but I did miss... this."

Mihawk didn't expect such a candid answer. He could tell by the subtle change in your voice that your yearning was sincere.

"This...?"

"A good dance partner..." The thrill of the chase, the adrenaline of the lurking danger, your traitorous mind offered while starting to get lost in the eyes of one of the most powerful men in all the Blues.

"Have you been apart from this life for a while?"

"Certain responsibilities have kept me away from... indulging these past years. This is an extraordinary occasion."

"Extraordinary indeed..."

Who were you? He wondered while resisting the desire to bring you nearer to him and inhale that subtle fruity and flowery scent from your hair, much like that awful sweet wine you seemed so fond of. Certainly not a debutante seeking a match. Your beauty more akin to full maturity, probably closer to his own age.

Nor a widow, especially those of the upper class who tended to show off more of their riches on their bodies yet you were mostly unadorned save for a modest dark lace with a rose pendant on your neck. The same dark lace that adorned more than hid the upper half of your face. No earrings or bracelets. Although, were those steel rings on each of your middle fingers? Not gold or silver.

Or were you one of those unattached women who seek the protection of powerful men? No, you had mentioned certain responsibilities keeping you from indulging. The fact you have forgone gloves was telling. Your hands, while elegant, weren’t those of an upper class lady, with short and practical manicured nails, skin lightly calloused in certain places more akin to someone who worked with certain instruments. A business woman looking for some distraction?

Whatever of the above, at this stage most women were already trying their best tricks to lure him. Eyelash shakes, sultry smiles, casual intimate touches. Mostly pathetic and boring. Or were you so sure of your beauty to take this more neutral stance and wait until your natural allure and witt worked on him?

And then getting lost in your thoughts in the middle of dancing after being the one to ask him. Was what you said all you were looking for? A good dance partner or a dance partner?

Certainly he was so full of himself as to feel a little insulted that the first woman who caught his eye in years wasn’t actively seducing him by now even if he had no intention of letting himself be seduced that night and would walk away after this little distraction.

The waltz came to its end with both of you maintaining a proper pose and distance despite the intensity of his stare awakening a desire for nearness. The couples undid their poses to applaud the orchestra, giving you a moment to break contact with the deep golden gaze of the Warlord to collect yourself.

Over the shoulder of your dance partner, you saw Raoul making a circular move with his hand, signing you to keep going.

You noticed the Warlord's eyes scanning the crowd, no doubt looking for the Butler who would take him to his meeting at the office currently being robbed by your crewmates.

Time for the big guns.

"Would you care to try something more... robust, my Lord?"

That had the power to hold Mihawk's attention back to you. That spark of challenge in your eyes again. He had seen that same spark in many others who sought to duel with him.

So intriguing.

"Do you feel an equal to the task, my Lady?"

You gave him a wink and signal for a maid who approached you, whispered something to her and sent her to the small orchestra near the corner.

You guided Dracule to the center of the emptying dance floor, your arm extended to his with only your hands touching... until the first strings of guitar and brass wind instruments started.

Mihawk took your hand with firmness and drew you to his body. You let him guide you into a dip over his arm and then the other but then raised yourself meeting him face to face in defiance. Both started to dance around without looking away from each other's eyes, arms intertwining and departing, following the lively rhythm of the strings like swords in a battle.

His right hand finally caught yours and led you gracefully in a series of spins, making your dress flutter around your legs, before pulling you towards him until being face to face again. Your lips almost gracing. You tilt your head backward feeling Mihawk’s breath making a path to your neck and dangerously close to your cleavage.

That single motion had the power to leave you more breathless than the intense performance.

You back away playfully, arms raised as if in denial of his advance. Mihawk smiled despite himself, eager to bring you back to himself by trying some footing to approach you and catch your waist but you avoided him with a poise and grace he had yet to see in most swordsmen that had dared to duel him.

The dramatic twirl half undid your updo and left your back to him. You gave him a daring look over your shoulder between locks of dark wavy hair, arms extended as in invitation that he took by taking you again in his arms, your back to his chest, and sweeping with you across the dance floor. You could feel the warmth of his skin against yours through the back opening of your dress along with the cold of the golden pendant.

He stopped a moment to guide your hand to his neck, your fingers tangling in his dark curls, while his other hand wandered to your abdomen and just below your breasts, tightening his embrace and grazing his lips on your neck for a small second before a last crescendo of the music made you twirl away from him, like running from his attention towards you. But the Warlord was relentless in his pursuit, catching your hand and pulling you fiercely back to him, the momentum making you lift your leg around his waist where he took it to bring you even closer to him. The asymmetrical cut of your skirt allowed him to feel the texture of your stocking. His wide palm traced a path from your knee up to your tight. Almost grazing the satchel hiding your short dagger and small assortment of knives still hide under the fabric.

His free hand traveled to your waist leading your body in a low dip with the last strings of the song. You hold to his broad shoulders, one of your hands tangled in his dark curls guiding his bowed head up your abdomen, over your breasts and neck, lips mouthing the rose pendant in his wander, to almost touch his lips with yours as he lifted you back.

For a wild second, Mihawk considered taking your lips with his own, eager to know if they taste as sweet as the red you sampled. The sound of applause brought him out of his reverie, reminding him of his stubbornness of not letting himself be seduced that night, not matter his own pursuit of you during your enthralling dance. His sharp eyes focused on your glazed gaze, like you were waking up from a dream. He wondered if that would be your sight after rapture. Your eyes cleared after a second, opening in surprise as you were just aware of the position you had ended.

The sound of a clearing throat broke the moment.

"Ejem... Warlord, we've been looking for you. I was told you were interested in a purchase. Should we discuss it at my office?" Spoke a gentleman whom you recognized as the Host of the ball.

No fucking way!

"Of course." Mihawk answered, letting you go gently until you recovered your footing and finally breaking your eye contact to turn around to the newcomer. "In a moment."

Your eyes found the panicked sight of Carlotta shaking her head.

You still needed more time!

"Can't I convince you to extend your stay, my lord?” You asked, hoping not to sound as out of breath as you felt for what you were suggesting. “Surely, any other affair can wait until the morning..."

The hawk-like golden eyes of the swordsman wandered back to you and over your form, from the half undone updo, the free locks of hair falling in waves framing your slightly flushed face, to your red lips parted like begging to be kissed. Have you finally decided you want a partner for another kind of dance? You looked like temptation incarnated for him but it had been a time since he had let himself be distracted by temptations, no matter how captivating.

"Not today, my lady." He took your hand to his lips in a goodbye kiss that had no business being so sensual.

You'll lie to yourself all you wanted for the next year, but the idea of bringing that same hand to his cheek to draw his face to an actual kiss so you could steal his gold cross came after. In that moment you were desperate to scratch just one more second with him and taking a taste of his lips didn’t sound as bad as ten minutes ago.

You immediately felt his lips moving against yours and his hands at your hips drawing you to him. Your breasts pressed against his strong torso when you felt the cross and the idea hit your mind. You sneak your hand behind his neck to undo the clasp of the necklace in a swift movement, disguising it as a caress to his hairline and playing with the short curls there. Your other hand roamed his chest to collect the valuable item, being able to feel his warm skin and the defined muscles twitching under your fingers.

You were barely pulling apart when his lips started leaving a trail of kisses to your cheek and your neck. One of his hands moving up your back to the cutout of your dress to caress the skin there, the other getting tangled in your hair. You were unable to hold a small moan that had you almost dropping the gold cross but managed to hold onto it and hide it between the folds of your dress.

Mihawk had thought you bold before but daring to steal a kiss from him was a level not an individual had ever ventured. Your lips did taste of the sweet red wine from before, but infinitely better. And why on all the Blues was he resisting you? He wondered while inhaling the sweet scent of flowers and fruits in your hair. Whatever foul mood that plagued him upon entering this residence had melted away upon your first approach to him.

He was about to just whisper in your ear to fuck with his business and take you to his ship when another throat clearing was heard. With a hand still caressing your back, Mihawk turned to the Host, ready to dismiss the man until the next morning.

Before being able to express his change of plans, the Warlord felt two things at the same time. Or more like the absence of them. Your skin under his hand and the familiar weight of his heavy pendant hanging from his neck.

Dracule Mihawk turned around just to see you disappear through the doors leading outside… in such a swift movement almost invisible to the naked eye and just possible by an expert haki user.

You moved as fast as you could to the wide opening that led to the vineyards without drawing as much attention as you already had. You passed near a stunned Carlotta and murmured your only-emergency word.

“Cauliflower.”

Which was code for “don’t wait for me and get the hell out”. Last time you had to resort to it was 10 years ago and ended with a bounty poster with the byname “The Ghost Rose”. No image but the drawing of the rose carved knife you left behind.

This time, with a Warlord of the Seas after your trail you may have no such luck. Your only hope was being as fast as your abilities allow you.

Part 2 soon.

Kudos to those who get the cauliflower reference.

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