Dawn's Archive

26, Multi-Fandom (Mainly One Piece), She/Her Obsessed with Reader Insert... Just A Tad

[dawnsarchive]

Pinned Post

Fandom Masterlist | One Piece Masterlist | AO3 | Tag List

Hello!

Welcome to what is essentially a fanfiction dumping ground for my favourite hobby. I love to write Reader Inserts and over the years have developed a bit of an addiction to them.

I write readers that utilise she/her pronouns unless otherwise specified on my posts because that's what I'm comfortable with. It's done for no reason other than that's what I'm most used to writing when it comes to this style.

Request Information

Requests will always be open on this blog but of course, I can't guarantee that I will have time to write them with a specific timeframe. There's plenty of factors but mainly, I travel over 2 months of the year usually and work can sometimes be very annoying.

Inspiration is also fickle so sometimes I can crank out thousands of words a day, other times less so.

Rules:

I'm very light on rules but there are one or two things I won't write about:

Smut/Romance Involving Children or Animals (Obvious, yes, but needs saying)

Pregnancy

I do write headcanons, drabbles, and long-form content in pretty much all formats. Smut, angst, and fluff are all welcome.

If you want something multi-chapter, I cannot accept anon asks. I want to talk it over with you properly to get an idea of what you're looking for in terms of plot and certain scenes.

The Poly Series Stuff:

I write a decent amount of poly stuff and I actually really enjoy doing it but if you're asking something with multiple characters, please specify how you want the relationship to be. Like if you have three other characters, are they also in a relationship with each other or just the reader.

Dividers From Saradika-Graphics

[dawnsarchive]

ASL Masterlist

Requests Are Open | Main Masterlist | AO3

Codes: ꨄ︎ = Smut ☾ = Angst

✧.* Ace *.✧

↬ Ghost in the Machine (50.1k) Part 1 | Part 2| Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14

✧.* Luffy *.✧

↬ Necessary Loss (9.7k) Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 ↬ Isn't It Obvious (1.3k) ↬ ꨄ︎ Lost In A Summer Haze (2.0k) ꨄ︎ ↬ Possessiveness (2.5k) ↬ Not-So-Secret (4.2k)

✧.* Sabo *.✧

↬ Just in Case (4.4k)

✧.* Ace and Sabo *.✧

↬ Fire and Flame Part 1 | Part 2 |

Dividers From Saradika-Graphics

[dawnsarchive]

Hello! My friend and I really love your izou fics and wanted to make a request if you would humble me (us) with your talents please 🙏

Could you write a smutty oneshot of izou x reader also with shibari? I think it would really fit his character and I’d love to read it

Thank you, and I hope you’re having a great day/night!!!!

One Piece | Izou | 6.5k | Masterlist

18+ Readers Only | AFAB Reader | Contains Smut + Bondage

You heard the rope tug free and grabbed it on instinct alone, hand shooting out to catch it as it flew past your head. A grating, burning pain hit you so quickly you didn’t even have a second to be proud of your reflexes. You cursed loudly.

Not the smartest catch you’d ever made.

You swung down off the rigging and shoved it toward Jozu, grumbling under your breath the entire way.

“Good catch.”

You huffed and examined your palm in the light, thoroughly disagreeing with the notion that you should have caught it at all. Somebody else could have climbed up and grabbed it later. It would have saved you the rope burn.

He retied the rope to one of the cleats before he looked over. “Take that to Marco. Before it gets infected.”

You nodded and turned on your heel, annoyed at yourself. Your palm burned as though you’d stuck it into an open flame briefly.

Though, at least, there were several ways to get to the infirmary. One of which led you past the gun deck where you happened to know the sixteenth division were busy maintaining the cannons under the watchful eye of their commander.

It smelled of gunpowder and iron down there; the smells familiar enough to draw a smile to your face automatically.

Izou looked up the moment you stopped, raising a curious eyebrow as you approached.

“I thought you’d be kept busy for most of the day,” he said.

“I’m heading to the infirmary,” you said. “But I sort of got lost on the way there and had to take the long route.”

“Is that so? What did you do?”

You held out your hand and he gently took your wrist, turning it over so he could examine your palm. The smooth leather of his glove stung where it caught on the edges of the injury.

He looked to you for an explanation and you smiled.

“I grabbed a rope that I probably should have let loose. But on the positive side, I don’t have to go scrambling up the sail to retrieve it later and I get to see you because I forgot where the infirmary is.”

“Fascinating how you somehow walked past it to reach here.”

You put a hand to your mouth in mock shock. “I didn’t even realise. I must have been distracted because I was missing you so much.”

“We saw each other this morning.”

“That was like years ago,” you complained. “I’ve aged into dust since then.”

He chuckled at the slight theatrics and caressed your cheek gently. “Quite agreeable for dust then. I’ll give you something for this if you would like?”

“Hm?” you asked.

“I’ll show you.”

He said something clipped over his shoulder to his division before he stepped past you, catching your uninjured hand smoothly and guiding you with him. You glanced back over your shoulder toward the infirmary once. You weren’t about to complain. Sacrificing actual work to spend time with Izou was a very favourable trade.

He led you to his cabin and you settled onto one of the cushions beside his low table. Izou searched among the lacquered jars and brushes arranged beside his mirror until he found a small metal box worked with an intricate pattern.

He sat beside you and took your hand. “This is made specifically for friction burns.”

You smiled, not entirely bothered even if it was. He removed one of his gloves and began to smooth a small amount over the burn while you admired him. The gentle upward curve of his lips betrayed that he knew exactly what you were doing.

“I would ask if it’s making you feel better,” he said. “But I think it’s more likely that you’ve forgotten you were hurt in favour of watching me.”

“A little bit of both,” you admitted, shameless in being called out.

You reached for the small box with your free hand, curious about the intricate design and smooth metal. It was almost entirely ornamental but you did recognise a faint mark on the side that made you curious.

“Is this from Wano?” you asked.

Izou nodded. “Yes. Although not originally for injuries earned on deck, it became quite popular amongst sailors. Not every ship has a doctor who can heal injuries with fire.”

Marco’s flames would certainly be more effective than any cream but if you had to choose, you’d take the time with Izou over the quicker treatment any day. Though you doubted you would have received healing flames for such a small injury anyway.

“What was it originally for?”

He looked humoured as he answered. “A form of bondage.”

You laughed at the unexpected response, caught entirely off guard. “Oh,” you said. “I was expecting something far more… well, not that.”

“Some areas of the kingdom are very fond of rope bondage,” he explained. “Not everywhere, of course, but certain entertainment districts were known for it. The cream became more popular throughout the docks later.”

“I didn’t think entertainment districts worried themselves about rope burn.”

“You’d be surprised how commonly friction burns occur,” he said. “Smugglers carried it beyond Wano long ago. It still turns up in port markets occasionally.”

You gave the box one last turn and put it back on the table. “It’s made it feel much better already.”

Izou reached for a thin piece of silken fabric. He wrapped it carefully around your palm, tying it in a delicate and unobtrusive knot on the back of your hand.

“It’s a pity,” he said. “With an injury like this, you’ll be pretty useless above deck. I suppose you’ll have to assist the sixteenth division with inventory for a while.”

You laughed. “You know, the fifth division has inventory tasks too.”

He hummed but said nothing else.

The injury healed quicker than you would have liked it to. You rather enjoyed the time you got to speak to Izou – definitely not distracted and entirely doing your work rather than staring at him while he organised his division.

The bandage remained neat despite several days of work and you actually found you liked it enough to dread taking it off. The beautiful azure of the fabric didn’t lose its softness even once and you found yourself playing with it as you wandered around an island days after it originally happened.

Shore leave for the fifth division had scattered most around the island and you had very little intention of being on ground for too long.

You already had a plan to find Izou after you’d spent long enough to pretend you were doing anything else. You drifted along a market and examined jewellery you did not need and weapons you would not be allowed to bring back before you found a second-hand bookstall.

The stock was piled carelessly at its sides in uneven towers and the merchant seemed thoroughly disinterested in selling anything.

She was young enough and distracted that you assumed the stall may belong to a relative. You sorted through faded covers until you recognised the familiar mark of Wano stamped into the leather at the top of a small red book.

You flipped it open with mild interest, only to pause when you saw the illustrations within. Ropes, loops, and knots were organised over the pages, growing more elaborate as the book continued. People began to get involved a third of the way in and you immediately snapped the book closed.

Alright then.

But as you did so, your eyes fell on the knot tied on the back of your bandage, painstakingly careful and deliberate.

“You going to buy that?” the merchant asked.

You handed over the beri without even really thinking and tucked it into your coat pocket. You spent the rest of the time walking around the market, wondering what you should even do with it.

It was only curiosity, you told yourself briefly. Izou mentioned it and now you had a book that showed what he meant. It was totally normal.

You pondered keeping it to yourself but by the time you stepped into his cabin, it had already occupied your mind for long enough that pretending otherwise would be foolish. Your nerves fluttered in your veins as you held it out to him.

“Look what I found.”

Izou reached for the book. He wasted no time flipping through the pages with an expression of careful disinterest that might have convinced you if his gaze had not lingered over several of the drawings. His thumb stilled against the edge of one page before he continued.

“I see I started something for you.”

“Maybe,” you agreed. “It looks interesting, doesn’t it?”

He hummed quietly. “Depends what kind of interest you’re implying.”

You took a seat next to him with a small smile. “Either,” you said, truthful despite your rapid heartbeat.

“That can’t be your answer to most things.”

“It’s true though. I find it very pretty and well…”

He breathed out a small laugh. “You’re far too readable for being coy. If you wanted to indulge in this, it would need a decent amount of rope and practice to be possible. Who would you imagine as being in charge of it?”

You blinked, not having expected the question because it was fairly obvious. “Either?”

“I’m not going to accept that as an answer anymore.”

“Izou, you’re being mean.”

“I know.”

“You’re better with knots than I am and I think you might far prefer it that way,” you relented. “But I really didn’t think it through beyond buying the book.”

He hummed and pressed a small kiss to the side of your head. “I can see. Though the problem with that is easy to identify. You would need to be quite patient.”

You gave him a small look. “Hey, I can be patient.”

“Mm.”

“You know, you’re in a bit of a rude mood today.”

“I am.” He closed the book and placed it on the table next to him, cover facing the table. “I can think on it but I won’t promise you anything more.”

He returned to the sewing he’d been doing when you entered; drew a length of thread through the eye of the needle and smoothed the fabric across his lap. It was normal but it was bordering on weird.

You watched his hands move before you looked up at him.

Izou’s expression remained carefully measured. His attention seemed very focused on the fabric rather than on you.

“You aren’t telling me something,” you said.

“There are plenty of things I don’t tell you,” he said. “Not every thought in my mind is so important that it needs to be heard.”

You crossed your arms, turning more to him. “But it’s bothering you. You know that you can say no to me, right?”

He lowered the needle to his lap. “I have no problem with the idea, in theory.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

He smiled and ran his index finger along the underside of your jaw, drawing you slightly closer so he could press a light kiss to your lips. “I appreciate your concern but it’s not as negative as you seem to be believing. I’ve simply never considered the idea. Most of my associations with what was popular in the entertainment districts of Wano are… poor. But I do not want that to be the deciding factor in my answer to you.”

You pulled a face. You didn’t know much about the entertainment districts of Wano and understood even less about Izou’s opinion of them but him being unimpressed was enough.

“We really don’t have to do it,” you said.

Izou gently rubbed the spot between your brows. “Don’t frown so hard,” he said. “You’ll give yourself a headache. I’m only thinking.”

You huffed and caught his hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles in thanks for the reassurance. “I don’t want to worry you with things like thinking.”

“Thankfully, it’s not too unusual of an activity for me. Unlike some on the ship, I’m not averse to the concept.”

You laughed. “At least you’re not being mean to me only.”

“Just more to you.”

“Why?”

“Because you look far too sweet when you’re mildly offended. Now stop worrying yourself so much about me. You are not the source of my discomfort,” he asserted. “I know what you meant by asking. I simply need the time to consider what answer I feel most right in giving.”

When you eventually left with him for dinner, the book remained on his table. He made no move to return it.

Two weeks passed without another mention of the book, and you assumed Izou had made his decision in silence and left it there. Which meant you were entirely unprepared when he appeared behind you while you were securing a practice dummy on the fifth division’s stretch of deck.

The dummy shifted beneath your hands as a tape measure slid around your chest. You startled hard enough to nearly send it toppling into the railing.

“Try not to move too much,” Izou said near your ear. “I need precise measurements.”

His arms bracketed you as he brought the ends of the tape together in front of your body. His chest pressed against your shoulders, far closer than the task required, while the fifth division continued training only a short distance away. He read the number aloud, released one end, and drew a slim notebook and pen from his sleeve.

You heard the faint scratch of the nib against paper before the tape settled around your waist.

“Breathe normally. You’re making the measurements inaccurate.”

You weren’t even breathing at all. You forced yourself to do so, breath shaky as you inhaled. Izou moved around you, looping the tape around your hips and pulling it tight. What was he doing?

“What are the measurements for?” you asked when you met his gaze.

He held one end against your shoulder and unravelled it until it rested on your hip. “Clothing.”

“Izou,” Vista commented and you suddenly became very aware that the rest of the fifth division were staring at you. “I don’t often ask this but could you measure my division members in your own time?”

“You’ll have her back soon.”

Izou didn’t look away as he answered. He lifted your arm and measured from the shoulder down before he settled the tape over your wrists, measuring the width in a way you couldn’t possibly explain away with clothing. You were trying your hardest to look anywhere but at him, all too aware of the heat burning across your face.

He measured higher along your forearms and then, without warning crouched down in front of you in a way that made your breath catch.

He hooked the end of the tape against your hip and slowly ran it down your leg toward your ankle; his knuckles glided along the outside of your leg as he followed the path downward.

“Stand naturally.”

You were dying inside. “What do you mean?”

“Stop leaning away from me.”

“It’s because you’re kneeling in front of me,” you said, voice a sharp whisper.

“Very observant.”

He wrote down the length and then circled the tape around your calf. His fingers brushed behind your leg as he brought the ends together, contact fleeting enough to make your muscles tense up.

Izou paused, concentration slipping for a second as he looked up at you.

“Can you raise this leg slightly?”

You obeyed, awkwardly swaying for a second before your hand found his shoulder for balance as he looped the tape measure around your thigh. For a breath, Izou went still at your touch. Then his hand settled lightly against your calf as he steadied you while he drew the tape snug enough to take the measurement.

“This is very thorough for clothing,” you said in mild complaint.

“I dislike wasting material.”

The tape loosened and he remained kneeling as he wrote the final number down. Then he stood smoothly and tucked the book away, gathering the measuring tape back into his palm. He looked far too composed for what he had just done.

“Is that all?” you asked.

“For now. That dummy is off balance.”

“What?”

He reached past you to straighten the practice dummy, a faint curve to his mouth, before he stepped away. You watched him go blankly before you remembered that you were supposed to be working.

Vista frowned at you. “Clothing?”

“I don’t even know,” you admitted honestly.

Izou gave you no real answer when you found him later. He just smiled and offered you your usual seat in the dining hall. As though he hadn’t taken every measurement of your body in the middle of the deck as though that was normal behaviour.

“What was that?” you asked.

“I think,” he said. “It’ll be ready by next week. If you’ll come by my cabin.”

“Couldn’t you have asked me to come by later for measurements? Not in the middle of the deck?”

“I could have,” he said. “But then I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to see you looking so flustered.”

You groaned and leaned your shoulder against him. “This is why I say you’re mean. Do you have any idea how many questions I got?”

“I imagine enough that you’ve constructed a whole narrative that I have no plans of confirming.”

The next week was the longest one of your life. Izou was far too good at redirecting your attention whenever you asked him about it and the time dragged by at an ungodly pace. You couldn’t even find it in your brain to think about much else and earned yourself a few sharp bruises during training for it.

When Izou finally asked you to come to his cabin, you arrived far too quickly.

He was waiting beside his low table, flipping through an unrelated book. Nothing in the room suggested anything strange but you closed the door with a little more force than needed in your excitement.

He smiled and gestured for you to join him. You did so with a forced slowness, trying to keep your eyes from darting around the room.

“Try not to look as though I’m fulfilling your greatest wish when you’ve barely known of it for a few weeks,” he said, amused.

“That’s… it’s not like my greatest dream,” you defended. “I’m just curious if it means that you’ve made your choice.”

He chuckled and reached to the side to pick up a pair of very simple, elegant heels. They were gorgeous and he placed them down next to you for you to examine. They felt expensive, even as you lifted them carefully.

“You bought me shoes?”

“We’re going to start with something decorative,” he said. “And then, perhaps, we can see if we try anything more. It’s experimental for now.”

He placed the small book he had used to record your measurements in front of you. You picked it up, inspecting the page he’d opened to find something sketched that looked nothing like what you’d seen in the book before. The lines were simple to follow; a rope that looped the ankle and secured a heel in place, decorated on the outside with a truly beautiful knot.

“This wasn’t from that book I got,” you said.

“No. I wasn’t fond of the idea of following instructions,” he said. “If the goal is to be aesthetically pleasing, I’d prefer something I designed.”

Warmth curled in your stomach at an embarrassing speed and he noticed your flush immediately, chuckling softly.

“Already? I haven’t even touched you.”

“You designed something for me.”

“We haven’t seen if it works yet,” he said. He reached beneath the table and took out a coil of rope, almost navy in colour. Your heart stumbled in your chest as he slid it through his fingers. “You will tell me immediately if anything pinches, burns, or becomes numb. Don’t wait until after you’ve decided if it’s okay.”

“Yes, sir.”

He gave you a sharp look. “I’m being serious.”

“I am too. You just used your ordering voice.”

“Because you rarely listen to anything else.” He moved around the table so he sat ot the same side as you and held out one hand. “Your foot.”

Izou placed the heel on your foot and slipped the rope around it. He fixed it delicately around your ankle; took his time with perfect loops and an impeccable knot resting against your skin. Every time his fingers brushed against your skin, it sent a faint shiver through you, your mouth slightly dry as you watched his careful work.

The rope was softer than you had expected, firm without scratching. When both were done, he helped you to your feet and you shifted as you stood to try and ignore the heat that was nagging between your legs.

“Are they comfortable?”

You lifted each foot carefully and twisted your ankles. It was no different to wearing a heel with a strap although even looking at them was sending a small pulse of pleasure through you. The ropes didn’t rub against your skin at all, even as you took a small step back.

“They’re cute,” you said. “I could almost make it part of a regular outfit.”

He inclined his head faintly. “Maybe. If you chose the colour correctly. Though I imagine you would get some looks.”

You slowly sank back onto the cushions and he took a seat beside you, his smile far too pleased to be unaffected. Even seated, the ankle ropes were very comfortable. You ran your fingers over the threads and appreciated the softness.

“They took some practise,” Izou admitted. “And I obviously did not have  a great number of test subjects. Still, the visual appeal was the most difficult to get right and provided a very satisfying challenge.”

“You struggle with things?”

He chuckled. “You don’t need to praise me all the time. I don’t begin to doubt myself the moment your praises soften.”

You adjusted your seat so you were imitating his seat, resting on your knees in front of him. “You’re too perfect for me to not say it.”

“Simply because I tied rope around your shoes?”

“You did it so prettily I don’t want to ever take them off.”

He laughed, and it was such a pretty sound that you felt yourself melt at hearing it. You raised your hands and he tilted his head forward, aware of what you wanted from countless times before. You loosened his hair with careful movements, never pulling as you dismantled the elaborate style and allowed the strands to drape over his shoulders.

They were like silk under your fingers; smoother and more luxurious than any fabric he could find elsewhere.

When it was done, he raised his head again and you smiled.

“Thank you. For trying it a little.”

He inclined his head. “It took me some time to think of a true answer for you but, as much as I know this might cause you a bit too much excitement, we aren’t done yet.”

True to his warning, something in your chest stirred at the promise. “Oh?”

Izou reached out and ran his index finger very slowly across your chest. He traced imaginary lines through the fabric, crossing under your breasts and over your shoulders.

“A pair of ankle ties is hardly enough to judge by,” he said. “We won’t do much more but I’d like to try a form of harness. The purpose is to restrain your arms.” He caught your wrist and leaned forward, moving both your hands behind your back. “Like this.”

You weren’t really focusing because he was suddenly so much closer. You tilted your head toward him, heart pounding in your chest as his gaze dropped for a second to your lips.

But instead of kissing you, he released your arms and sat back.

“I’ll need an opinion,” he said.

You huffed and caught his face gently between your palms, leaning in to kiss him before he could keep teasing you. Izou made a quiet sound against your lips, surprise lasting only a moment before his hand slid around your waist and pulled you closer.

The kiss deepened with an intensity that made your fingers tighten faintly against his jaw. His mouth moved over yours with slow, deliberate pressure, patient even as you chased him for more. When your teeth caught lightly against his lower lip, his hold on you tightened and the careful control of the kiss slipped for a breath. Heat rushed through you at the soft sound he made.

He drew back before you were ready, though not far. His breath brushed over your mouth and his thumb pressed once into your side as if reminding himself to let go. The composure in his expression had thinned just enough to leave you pleased.

“I’m happy with it,” you said, slightly breathless. “What do I need to do?”

“Sit properly,” he said as he rose from his seat. “This will be far easier if you’re not shifting too much.”

You straightened your back and neck, breathed in deep and tried to relax. His hand stayed on your shoulder as he stepped around you, leaving you far too aware of his fingers against your skin. You kept your gaze forward, scanning over the bookshelves against the walls. You recognised the familiar cover sitting amongst his others and smiled.

He kept it with the rest.

Izou’s fingers caught the edge of your shirt and he paused for a second, waiting for permission.

You helped remove it; tried desperately to ignore the sharp kick of your heart as your bra followed not long after.

“Remember, I need you to breathe normally,” he warned.

“That’s not fair to ask for.”

He settled behind you and leaned forward to press a short kiss to the back of your shoulder. “Maybe not. But I still need you to try.”

It took an embarrassing amount of effort to bring your breathing under control. Your pulse beat too quickly beneath your skin, and Izou did nothing to help as he drew the rope around your chest.

The first length passed beneath your breasts, smooth and cool for only a moment before it gathered the warmth of your body. He guided it twice around your ribs, each loop settling flat against the last. The rope tightened with a quiet drag, firm enough that you felt every breath press against it without making one difficult to take.

He drew the next length up over your sternum and across your shoulders. His knuckles followed its path, brushing your skin whenever he flattened a twist or adjusted the tension. Every small correction made you more aware of him behind you, of his knees near your own and the faint shift of his kimono whenever he leaned closer.

Your seat was doing little for the heat pooling in your cunt. Every time he tightened something, it sent another small pulse through you.

When he brought your arms behind your back, your shoulders protested at the unfamiliar angle. Izou paused immediately, one hand steady around your wrist while the other adjusted the rope across your upper back. The pull eased into something firm but comfortable before he secured your wrists to the rest of the harness.

Izou ran his hands over your upper arms to check if they were in the right place before he leaned back.

“It’s done. What do you think?”

You adjusted your seat to try bringing some relief to the aching in your cunt and pulled experimentally at your arms. They were comfortable. The harness even more so. You barely noticed it until you adjusted and the rope shifted.

“I like it,” you admitted.

“Aside from the obvious.”

You turned your head around to smile at him over your shoulder and the ropes pulled gently in a way that went straight through you. “It’s the nicest way I’ve ever been tied up.”

He offered a mildly unimpressed look. “Are you referring to when you were almost arrested by the Marines?”

“Yes.”

“That’s hardly the same thing.”

“I know,” you said. “I much prefer this.”

“I would sincerely hope so.”

He reached out to adjust one of the ropes and the brief tickle of his skin against yours felt far sharper than it should have. You swallowed and tried to focus on the ropes instead and what he’d been trying.

“Have you made it pretty?” you asked.

Izou ran his fingers straight down your spine and your back arched. A small gasp escaped before you could catch it.

“I have,” he said. “This blue suits you well and the position certainly shows off your upper body well.” He traced the harness ropes around your front and moved minutely closer. “I can certainly see the aesthetic appeal of this.”

His hair was tickling your neck. You could feel his kimono shifting against your back every time he moved. He followed the ropes around your breasts and his thumb brushed over your nipple.

Your breath hitched sharply and you clenched around nothing.

“I wanted to ask if you’re enjoying this as much as you thought you would,” he mentioned. “But that would be foolish of me, wouldn’t it?”

Your tongue felt a little too heavy in your mouth. “I like it,” you agreed. “About… about as much as I thought.”

“It’s only a pity you can’t see many of the finer details yourself,” he said. “I should have considered a mirror.”

You didn’t care to admit how much you liked that idea.

Izou’s hand turned firm against your chest, guiding you back until you were leaning your back fully against his chest. Your thighs clenched hard despite yourself; the movement left you feeling far more exposed than it should have.

He trailed his fingers over the ankle bindings where they rested beneath the backs of your thighs. Gooseflesh prickled over your skin as he did so, his small hum vibrating against your shoulders.

“I considered trying one that connects these to your thighs,” he mentioned. “They would keep your legs in this position quite nicely.”

“Oh?”

It was the best you could manage and it sounded shaky even to your ears.

“I thought you might like the idea,” he continued. “But I worried the restriction might be a little too intense when you weren’t certain you’d enjoy it. Though… with what I know now, I’m certainly reconsidering it.”

His hand moved to pull your thighs apart and you couldn’t help but whine. His hand so close to where you wanted it felt torturous.

Everything felt unbearably close. The rope holding your arms in place. His arms wrapped around you. The hand between your thighs that seemed insistent on just rubbing small circles into the flesh there and nothing else.

“Can you still breathe fine?”

“Yes,” you whimpered.

“Good.”

He took your nipple in the hand that remained on your chest, rolling it between his index and his thumb. The sound that escaped you was far louder than it should have been. Your legs shook as you fought to keep your hips from moving.

He chuckled and leaned back, just slightly, but still enough that you immediately mourned the loss of him. You tipped your head back, leaning against his shoulder.

“Lift your head.”

You did so regrettably and he let go of your nipple to tap against each of your fingers, trailing a touch alongside the rope.

“Move your fingers for me.”

You flexed your fingers as best you could and it must have been enough because he caught the harness and tugged you back against him.

“I don’t want this on you for much longer,” he said, voice low against your ear. “So, if you want something from me before I take it off, I’d like you to ask.”

“Please,” you said, the word falling from your mouth so fast you almost couldn’t catch it.

“No. Ask properly.”

You whimpered and raised your hips faintly toward his hand, hoping it would be enough. Izou tapped your thigh in response but gave you no more.

“That’s not a request.”

“You know what I want,” you huffed.

“I do.”

You rocked your hips up again and this time he removed his hand entirely, placing it firmly against your hips and pulling you back down. You groaned softly. The heels were pressing hard against your ass now.

“You’re mean,” you complained.

“As you’ve told me before.”

“Please?” you tried again.

He pressed a kiss to the back of your neck. The ache between your legs was quickly becoming impossible to ignore. You shuffled as best you could, pulling faintly against the knots.

“Izou.”

“Yes?”

He ran his fingers over your wrists and then reached toward the release knot. A spike of alarm went through you at the thought that he might genuinely stop.

“Please touch me,” you said, voice cracking your rush to get the words out. “Anything. Just please.”

Izou stopped and then he laughed against your neck. The hot air over your spine made you shiver as he finally moved off your hip, drifting past the waist of your bottoms. You fought to stay still as his palm pressed against your stomach and then slowly, languidly lower.

“You’re taking to this even better than I expected,” he mused.

His fingers brushed over your clit faintly and a desperate moan caught in your throat. He circled it twice and your hips bucked sharply up. He gave you no more pressure nor friction, teasing you with a maddening patience.

You pulled against the ropes, wishing you could drag him closer. But with him behind you, you couldn’t even plead with your eyes.

You lifted your hips again and he pulled back on the harness; the sudden force against your chest making your moan louder.

“Stay where I’ve placed you.”

He dragged his fingers over your cunt, stopping right when you thought he might give you what you wanted. You groaned after the third time and he must have taken some pity because his fingers slid into you slowly.

You clenched hard around him, broken moan catching in your throat as his mouth pressed to the curve of your shoulder. Your back tried to arch but he held you firm by the wrists.

His thumb rubbed over your clit and your hips rocked up sharply.

“Next time, I think those thigh ones are very needed,” he commented. “You struggle far too much with sitting still.”

Only he would be evaluating his design while reducing your thoughts to nothing. Your brain caught on ‘next time’ with a rush of excitement that came out as little more than a soft whimper.

Izou took up a slow, patient pace. The curl of his long fingers inside you drew embarrassing sounds from your throat; arousal so intense you could barely catch your breath. The ache between your legs sharpened until every slow movement of his hand felt impossible to endure.

It was maddening. You were so close. You could feel your orgasm lingering as he kept curling his fingers into the spot that sent stars over your vision.

But it wasn’t enough. He was taking too long between pumps, dragging you to the edge and then taking it away again. The sound that escaped you could only be called a desperate whine as his fingers shifted deeper, his thumb rolling over your clit.

“Izou,” you moaned. His name was the only part of the plea that survived.

“I suppose I cannot keep you in these forever,” he said and for a second, you heard a faint tremble in his voice.

It was deeply unfair that he could sound so pretty while staying hidden behind you. He increased his pace before you could protest, groans falling from your throat instead. You ground down against his hand and he let you now.

He released his hold on the harness and took your breast, playing with your nipple as you chased your high desperately.

His breath was catching against your shoulder and the sound dragged you closer; his hot breath fanning over your skin as he thrust his fingers deeper into you. Izou made a soft sound against your neck and your hands clenched desperately around the air.

You let out a near sob as he curled his fingers and hit every spot just right.

Your back arched away from his chest, head knocking into his shoulder as your climax hit you. It broke through you in sharp waves that made breathing seem optional, his name the only word you could manage. You clenched around his fingers, spasming as the last sparks of it jolted through your body.

Izou trailed soft kisses over your throat and back as you recovered, even the lightest of sensations making you moan softly.

He slipped his fingers from your cunt and brought them to your mouth, brushing his fingertips over the lower lip. You opened obediently, cleaning them as best you could while your breathing remained unsteady.

Only when your breathing began to settle did he reach for the release knot behind you. The tension vanished from your wrists in one smooth pull, followed by the gradual loosening across your chest as the harness slipped from your skin.

You brought your hands forward immediately and caught his forearm. Relief moved through you at the simple freedom to hold him again, your fingers tightening in the fabric of his sleeve while sensation returned fully to your shoulders. Izou covered your hand briefly with his own before he began rubbing the stiffness from your arms.

The rope gathered in soft loops beside you. He freed your ankles next, the heels making a sharp click against the floor as he set them down, and the cooler cabin air touched the places the bindings had warmed.

When he moved in front of you, he lifted each arm carefully and examined the faint red impressions around your wrists. They did not sting or burn. They were only shallow marks left by pressure, already beginning to fade.

“You look far too composed,” you mumbled, somewhat bitterly.

You stretched your legs out, knees finally protesting the angle. Izou smiled and rubbed your shins where they rested next to him.

“Good. And there’s no damage to be seen on your skin. Nothing that would even require the cream.”

“Why would there be?” you asked. “You did it perfectly.”

“You have too much faith in me.”

“Have you ever given me a reason not to have it?”

He sighed as though you were simply being stubborn but you could see the pride you stirred up glinting in his eyes. “I hope you enjoyed that as much as you thought you would.”

“More than,” you mumbled. “Did you enjoy it?”

Izou hesitated for just long enough that you began to panic before he smiled and you realised he was teasing. You huffed and he chuckled quietly.

“I liked it,” he said. “Whether I enjoy it, I’ll need more experience to decide.”

You straightened. “If you need more experience, I might be interested in helping.”

“Might?” he repeated. “Unusual choice of words when you’re staring at me like that.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Do I get to keep the shoes? They’re really comfortable.”

“I’ll consider it.” His fingers settled around your ankle, thumb passing over the place the rope had rested.

You smiled, all pretence of disappointment vanishing. Izou’s expression was far too satisfied for someone who had claimed he was still undecided.

I am very tempted to write a Part 2 to this.

[dawnsarchive]

Dawn, I need you to know that ghost in the machine has a grip on me and I’m obsessed with how you write Ace, and I’m so excited every time I get the notification of a new post hehehe <33 thank you for your service you’re the best!

Ah, that makes me so, so happy to hear! 💙 I hope you enjoyed the latest chapter!

Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story and send in such a heart-warming message! 💙 I appreciate it so much

[dawnsarchive]

Ghost In The Machine (Ace x Reader) - Part 14

One Piece | Ace | 3.9k | Masterlist « ♥ previous ♥ next ♥ »

Ace was fine. For three days, he was perfectly fine.

He didn’t show any signs of fading or greying out. He woke up. He ate. He shoved his face into your neck almost constantly because he’d somehow found that was the most comfortable way to sleep (for who was debatable). He even lit a candle when you sent him dinner.

And yet, even when you were just reading, you found yourself constantly looking down at him and watching him far too closely.

“What’s wrong?” Ace asked, voice muffled against your shoulder. “You’ve looked at me like four times in the last five minutes.”

“Just wondering if you’re asleep,” you said. You leaned your cheek against the side of his head and breathed out, trying to make that seem like all you wanted to do. “I have some stuff to do today so I can’t be trapped here for too long.”

“Are we doing another transfer?” he asked.

You considered it. It was probably a good idea. Time was slipping away and you hadn’t taken anything from him since the broken ribs. They only ached when you thought about them now, a deep remembered pressure beneath your skin that vanished the second you became distracted.

“Maybe,” you said. “I can talk to Marco about it. I don’t know what else is safe… otherwise, I suppose we can always –”

“I have a sore cheek,” he offered. “Bit it. It’s been annoying me when I eat.”

You gave him a teasing look. “You know I mean serious injuries.”

“Mm, I know what you meant. I think this is a serious enough injury if it’s going to make it impossible for me to eat again.”

You laughed, despite yourself. “Why do you ask if you’re not going to let me help?”

He moved his head so his chin rested against your chest, forcing you to look down to meet his eyes. “Kinda just wanted to talk to you. We haven’t spoken much.”

The hand you’d been using to gently tickle his back stilled. You lowered your book to the side. Hadn’t you? You supposed you had been quite caught up watching him over the past few days – so much so that you might have forgotten to do anything else.

“I guess not,” you said. “What do you want to talk about?”

“I didn’t mean you have to.”

“I want to,” you reassured firmly. “I’ve just been worried about… well, a lot of things. But it’s not because I don’t want to talk.”

His brows creased in sympathy. “Sorry. I wish I could help.”

You nudged his head up so you could see him better. He flopped onto your pillow; body pressed firmly against your side even when he wasn’t fully lounging over you.

“Don’t apologise,” you said. “You’re doing everything you need to. You’re healing your injuries to make things easier. I’m just appreciating you being here. Once you’re back, I’ll relax a whole lot more and we’ll go get dinner or something.”

“That’s not really a worthy thank you for bringing me back to life,” he scoffed.

“It’ll be enough for me.”

“I was worried it was the ribs,” he admitted. “Thought maybe they grossed you out or something.”

You moved slightly back and turned so you could look toward the injury in his torso, confused what he could mean. They were strange looking, that was true, but they were more relieving than anything else. They were a sign he was slowly growing stronger.

“I actually like them,” you said. “I find you very attractive when all your internal parts are functioning and appropriately bloody.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Ugh, don’t say it like that.”

“Although, I have noticed something now and I’m wondering about it… how are you still eating when there’s no way for the food to get to your stomach?”

Ace shrugged but he had a wide smile on his face now. “I don’t know. Maybe that’s why I’m always hungry.”

“From what I’ve heard, the two aren’t connected.”

He huffed. “I kind of wish I could see what it looked like to you. It’s a little difficult to see without any working mirrors.”

“I can try to describe it?” you offered. “But somehow, I don’t think that’s going to help much.”

“Could you try?”

He was definitely teasing but you shuffled yourself away so you could make a show of examining the injury. You hummed purposefully and tilted your head left and right.

“It looks like a hole.”

“Really?”

“A hole with some ribs in it and quite a few missing things I could steal.”

“Hey!”

You grabbed at his side playfully and he immediately caught your wrist before you could make contact. You batted your eyelashes up innocently at him and he laughed, tugging you forward as though to pull you back against him. Instead of resisting, you planted your free hand on the mattress and pushed back.

Ace made a startled sound as his back hit the bed with your momentum.

You swung one knee carefully over his thighs, avoiding the open injury where it punctured through his torso. You pulled your hand free and caught his wrist, holding it above his head. His other arm remained trapped awkwardly at his side.

“There,” you said. “Much better.” You ran your fingers down back down toward his side. “Now I can take whatever I want.”

He stared at you with exaggerated disbelief. “You attacked an injured man?”

“A temporarily dead man actually,” you corrected, squeezing his side in a way that made him jolt slightly.

Oh?

You smiled down at him, pleased with the victory and did it again, drawing a small laugh from him. His hair spread messily beneath his head, freckles bunched together in response to the tickling.

“You look very comfortable,” he said.

“I am.”

He lifted his head toward you and you laughed softly, leaning down toward the warmth of his mouth as he was so clearly asking.

He twisted beneath you. His trapped arm slipped free and circled your waist before you could tighten your hold. The mattress dipped sharply beneath your knees and the room rolled with it; a second later, your back hit the bed with a small puff of air. Ace caught your wrist above your head, his palm warm and firm around it as he grinned down at you.

You pushed playfully at his chest. “That was cheating.”

“Should have expected it from a pirate.”

“I thought you were going to kiss me.”

“I am.”

He leaned down and planted an unnecessarily loud kiss against your cheek. Then your forehead. Then your other cheek. You struggled not to laugh as he began to scatter quick kisses across every part of your face he could reach. You squirmed beneath him, giggles slipping free momentarily as he continued.

“This is revenge,” he told you between the kisses.

“I barely tickled you!”

“It was enough.”

You turned your face into the pillow in an attempt to escape. Ace immediately made a pleased sound and began to press kisses down your neck instead, littering them over your shoulder and your collarbone despite your best attempts to nudge him away.

He found a particularly ticklish spot and kissed it again, slower this time and you finally managed to catch his jaw with your free hand, holding him in place. His grin softened around the edges and his next attempted kiss landed crookedly.

“You owe me a proper one at least,” you said through fast breaths.

“I’ll think about it.”

You pulled him down properly. His smile remained against your mouth for a few seconds, the kiss clumsy and warm. But then he let go of your wrist, playfulness melting away into something gentler.

Your fingers moved into his hair, holding him close while his thumb brushed against your side. He was careful with his weight, balanced above you without letting the damaged part of his chest press against yours but the heat still radiated over your body.

When he finally moved away, he remained close enough that his nose brushed yours.

“I won,” he hummed.

“Won what?” you laughed.

He shrugged without an answer and fell back to your side, immediately curling back against your body. His arm fell across your chest and his face buried comfortably into the space beneath your jaw as though personal space was a suggestion.

“We still have somewhere to be today,” you mentioned.

“How long?”

“An hour.”

“Good enough for a nap.”

You ran your fingers through his hair and sighed, reaching for your book. You had a feeling this wasn’t going to stop when he was alive. Yet, you found you didn’t really mind the idea of it.

Ace was very tired that day. The library was warm and close, sunlight lying in pale bars across the carpet while dust drifted lazily between the shelves. Instead of even trying to discuss the next steps after Akainu, he dropped his head into your lap the moment you sat down, sprawling onto his back with his hair tickling your legs.

“Are you sure you don’t want a chair?” Robin asked from her seat at the table. “It might make discussions easier.”

“Not for somebody else,” you mentioned. “Who wants to sleep.”

“Oh, I see,” she said. “Well, I suppose there’s nothing else to it.”

She sat down beside you and you laughed. There was a perfectly good table and chairs.

Marco sighed and stood up, moving to sit beside you too with a wince. “You’re enabling a bad habit by letting him sleep on you all the time, yoi. He’s going to start expecting it whenever he feels tired.”

But despite the faint reprimand, his smile remained genuine.

“Start?” you said. “That’s not his default?”

“Only when you allow it to be.”

Somebody caught your wrist.

You glanced down with the smile still on your face, expecting to find Ace’s fingers curled there.

Both of his hands lay loose at his sides.

Nothing touched you, and yet the grip tightened and wrenched your arm forward hard enough for your palm to strike his forehead. Cold bit through your skin. It was not the ordinary chill of a room or a breeze but something deep and lifeless, cold enough to ache in the bones of your hand.

The unseen grip stopped mattering. You pressed your palm to his cheek and found the same terrible cold there.

“Ace?”

You ran your fingers through his hair, hoping desperately to stir him from his sleep. When it didn’t work the first time, you tried it again. Twice. He remained unmoving, eyes resting firmly closed.

“Hey, Ace?”

Had his head always been this heavy?

You pushed at his shoulders and found them unyielding. When you slid both hands beneath his skull and tried to lift him, the full weight of him dragged against your arms, dense and wrong. His head pressed so heavily into your thighs that your legs had begun to ache beneath it.

“What’s wrong?” Robin asked.

“He’s not moving,” you said. “Ace. Ace, come on. Please wake up.”

“What do you mean not moving, yoi?” Marco asked. Blue flames came to his hands seemingly on instinct, even with nothing to heal.

“He fell asleep,” you said. “But now he’s cold and he’s not responding. Ace! Baby, I really need you to open your eyes.”

You pulled your legs back and his head thumped too heavily on the ground. He didn’t even stir. You moved past Robin, swinging to his side instead to grab his upper arms and try shaking him.

“Has this happened before?” Marco asked.

“Once,” you said. “In the middle of the night. I woke up and he was on fire and… Ace, come on! Please. He woke up the first time. I grabbed his arms like this and he came back. But he was on fire then.”

For just a second, the hand you had on his arm started to slip through.

Your fingers sank through his body before it suddenly reformed and went back to normal. Your heart just about stopped. No. No. No. No. He wasn’t slipping away from you. That was not something that was happening.

The hand on your wrist tightened and you looked to your side for a second, finding nothing there.

“What?” you hissed through your teeth. “I’m trying.”

You reached up and brushed the hair from his face, tapping his cheek. He had to wake up. You were not about to let him fade away.

“Please,” you said. “Ace. You can sleep more later. Just wake up now.”

Marco clearly didn’t like being useless. You could see his fingers clenching and unclenching at his sides, the blue flames creeping brighter as he looked between your hands. “Do you know what caused it the first time?”

“No,” you said desperately. “He’s been fine. It’s been days and… this is the longest it’s happened for.”

“Is he showing any responsiveness? Eyelid fluttering?”

“Nothing,” you said. “He’s not moving at all and he’s cold.”

“Is his body resisting when you try to move him?”

“I don’t know.”

How would you possibly know that? Maybe there was an injury causing it? You looked toward the hole in his chest. Was there something worse? If you could find what was causing it then you just had to take it for him to wake up.

Robin had taken your journal. You could hear the rapid rustle of paper but you couldn’t bring yourself to take your eyes off him. Maybe food? Food always woke him up.

“Ace,” you said, his name a wounded plea. “Ace.”

You were probably strong enough to take the chest injury, right? Marco could heal it. He was right there. If you grabbed the whole thing… you reached without thinking and pulled.

Warmth blossomed beneath your fingers, hot enough to burn.

Then Ace gasped.

The sound came out wet and strangled, blood catching somewhere inside it.

Robin jerked hard enough for the journal to tumble from her lap and Marco’s flames flared bright across the room.

Ace’s eyes flew open. He gave a desperate, retching gasp for air; as though he was choking on the sound itself. His mouth worked around another desperate breath that would not come, fingers clawing at empty air.

Then his chest hitched. He bolted upright, both hands flying to his throat as one breath chased another too quickly as he tipped toward hyperventilation. You hovered, uncertain if you could touch him.

“What the hell?” he coughed.

Relief hit like a cannon blast, rattling through your ribs and leaving your limbs weak. You threw yourself at him and he caught you on instinct, arms locking around your sides.

Your knee landed in something warm and wet.

You flinched and looked down. Blood had soaked into the carpet where he had been lying, bright red between the fibres and spreading slowly beneath your leg. You froze. When you lifted one hand from his shoulder, blood shone wetly across your palm.

“That hurt,” Ace muttered. “What happened?”

He raised a hand past you and wiped at his mouth. You leaned back just in time to see him looking at the bright red smear on his skin in confusion. The corners of his mouth stained faintly.

“Where did that come from?” he muttered.

You looked toward Marco whose flames flickered uselessly at his arms. He stared at the blood on the ground, his face paler than you thought was possible for anybody. “Was…” he swallowed roughly around nothing. “Did you just… was that actually Ace?”

“Yes,” Robin said behind you, her voice surprisingly shaking. “I saw him too.”

Ace’s attention snapped toward Marco. For a second, he simply stared at him, taking in the pallor of his face and the blue flames trembling uselessly around his hands. Something shifted in Ace’s expression, the confusion softening into a startled, fragile sort of hope.

“Did I miss something?”

He was looking to you for an answer, but your throat had closed around every word. Blood was pooling on the carpet. Real blood, thick with the smell of iron until it coated the back of your tongue. He had sounded as though he was choking on actual air. None of it should have been possible.

He touched your cheek and you startled, drawing in a quick, sharp breath at the familiar warmth smoothing against your skin.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

“I…”

It was the best you could do. He followed your gaze and startled at the blood on the floor, eyes flicking to your leg in momentary panic before he looked to Marco.

“Are you hurt?”

“No,” you said softly. “You were hurt.”

“What?”

Robin cleared her throat and her voice sounded as though it was coming to you through a wall. “Perhaps all the items you gather make it easier to focus, but the ability itself lies inside the fruit. Most devil fruit don’t require external assistance, after all.”

You glanced down at your leg and warily dragged a single finger through the blood. It smudged into your skin.

“He was actually here.”

Ace turned his head like an owl, looking at each of you before he reached around his back. His palm came away bright red and he stared at it blankly. “I can bleed?”

“You were slipping,” you said to him. “Fading away and I was trying to grab onto you and I think… I think I tried to pull too much because for a second, you were right in front of us. Like breathing.”

“Fading?” he repeated.

You reached out and took his upper arm in your hand, thumb brushing over his tattoo slowly as you tried to push through and found yourself happy there was no give.

“You were asleep and when I tried to touch you, I passed through just a little. I was panicking really badly.”

He frowned. “What? I wasn’t asleep… I don’t think so anyway. I knew where I was but everything was kind of quiet. I just thought everybody wasn’t talking.”

“We’re certainly going to need to replace the carpet, regardless,” Robin said. “But this is interesting, don’t you think? If you were trying to just bring him back a little and you broke the boundary for a few seconds… well, it’s good to know.”

“I can transfer injuries and items,” you said. “Not people.”

“Clearly you can do both,” Marco said and his voice was sharp.

You settled back onto the carpet, one hand still clamped around Ace’s arm. You forced yourself to notice how solid he felt beneath your fingers and how warm his skin was even without flames curling over it. Anything was easier than remembering the terrible weight of his head in your lap or the moment your hand had begun to pass through him.

Were you running out of time? There was probably a limit to how long you could have a spirit but in all the past accounts, the danger should have been to you.

And you… you looked down at your arm, untouched.

Something had knocked you into Ace’s head to feel that he was slipping away. You ran a hand over your forearm but found nothing.

Ace’s hand fell over yours and you glanced up at him. Concern shone deeply in his eyes and you let out a shaking breath. He was still here. Even if he had been fading, you’d managed to bring him back for now. Anxiety scratched at your brain as you watched him.

“I’m alright,” he said and you weren’t entirely sure you could believe him. “But did you seriously do that? It felt like I was choking.”

You swallowed. “I pulled you through. Fully.”

“His injuries aren’t healed enough,” Marco said. “He couldn’t breathe.”

“And you bled,” you said.

Ace stared at the blood coating his palm. His smile arrived slowly, uncertain around the edges. “They really saw me?”

“Yes,” you said.

His eyes flicked toward Marco. “That’s… kind of amazing.” He swallowed and looked back at you. “Still don’t know how I feel about you going through me.”

You shook your head. “It was a one-time thing,” you said, as firmly as you could. “Just proof that we can’t keep waiting. Then it’ll be fine.”

“What are you still waiting on?” Robin asked. “Perhaps we can source the supplies elsewhere.”

If you could pull him through here with desperation alone, you didn’t know if you even needed more than one conduit. Maybe even just the location would be enough? Maybe not even that. You could probably do it. Sure, the risk would be higher but it was possible.

“If I did it once without, maybe I can do it again,” you suggested.

“Do you know what you did?” Marco asked.

“I know what it felt like,” you said. “I think I could find it again.”

You remembered the snag. The wrong thing you grabbed. And though you could feel exhaustion seeping into your bones, you felt certain you should be able to do that again. Maybe. Most likely.

Ace rubbed absently at the edges of the wound and gave you a small smile. It was too gentle, too settled, and something in your chest pulled tight at the sight of it. He looped an arm around your shoulders and dragged you into a firm hug, squeezing you against him while the flames along his skin guttered and caught again. You breathed out and let yourself relax into the heat.

“It’ll be okay,” he said. “Either way.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to disappear,” he said quickly. “I’m not saying that. I just… I saw the grave. I know people came back. I know they cared. That’s more than I thought I’d get.”

“Ace…”

“So don’t look like everything’s already over. I’m not scared.”

You didn’t have words to respond to him with because the problem was creeping into your throat as the realisation settled. Was he moving on? Unknowingly, sure, but he was coming to peace with the idea of being dead.

Marco drew a slow breath and when he spoke again, his voice had taken on the clipped steadiness of a doctor faced with an injury he could treat.

“Can you check the wound?” he asked. “Tell me if it looks smaller than you remember? If he was alive, even if for a second, his fruit may have been trying to fix it.”

You focused on his tone. On his logic because if you let yourself think about what Ace said for too long, you worried you might panic again.

You didn’t meet Ace’s eyes. You shifted behind him instead, using the broken lines of his tattoo to judge the wound. The scorched edges no longer cut as deeply through the symbol. The hole had drawn inward, leaving a little more of the tattoo intact than there had been before.

“It’s smaller,” you said.

“Really?” Ace asked, sounding far too excited for a man who just told you he wanted to move on. Or that he was okay with it.

“Not again today,” Marco said. Something fierce had settled over his face. “But if we can determine how long he was alive and control the next crossing, his fruit and mine may be able to repair the wound in stages.”

“So we do it again?” you asked.

“After we plan it, yoi. We test the shortest possible interval. We don’t gamble.”

You nodded and then threw your arms around Ace, buried your face into his shoulders and squeezed him hard enough to get a small cough from him.

It felt wrong for you to be upset that he had come to peace with his death.

It felt even worse that you were upset with yourself for helping him get there.

Tag List: @miwn8 ; @infinitely-creative ; @grapeboom ; @baa3baa3 ; @isabelleslastwords ; @sukiraterhouse ; @vicky-minaj ; @thesleepinglion ; @literallyjustvibin23 ; @uroldall ; @urbbyfacedangel ; @aceincase ; @kyomiforest ; @doljjongsmom ; @kermitprime ; @lawpetitemort ; @vvyeislazzy ; @littlebear423 ; @chaebeads ; @itsmugiwarasfault ; @imjustbored02 ; @britheteenagewitch ; @vann3ska ; @iorveth-scoiatael ; @shin-ahmonroll ; @kaidarasu ; @i-need-wafflessss ; @loserbee14 ; @aceidentallyinlove ; @ilovedreming

[dawnsarchive]

You know Marco will get his wish to have reader all to himself cuz izou, ace, and tatch are dead

I'm not sure if he'd count that as a win 😅

But not to worry, there are definitely some canon adjustments coming in Kissing the Commanders 💙

[dawnsarchive]

Kissing the Commanders (Whitebeard Pirates x Reader) - Part 9

One Piece | Marco, Ace, Izou, Thatch | 6.3k | Masterlist « ♥ previous ♥ next ♥ »

Ace looked beyond smug.

He stretched out over your bed as though he belonged there, smile casual and loose, and arms tucked beneath his head. Yet, you noticed, he was still firmly above the covers and staying almost as far from you as he could get.

“I’m not sure how much of a win you can consider this,” you commented. “I think Izou decided you should be here because he’s more worried you’re going to start an argument with Marco.”

Ace shrugged. “I wouldn’t have but I’m not going to tell him that.”

You hummed in disbelief and slid beneath the covers, extinguishing the lantern beside your bed. Darkness folded over the room, swallowing the narrow walls and the few familiar shapes within them. Usually, it made the space feel smaller, every creak of the hull a reminder that there was nobody else awake to hear it. Tonight, the mattress dipped beneath Ace’s weight and his breathing filled the quiet beside you. The room was still cramped, but it no longer felt empty.

“I’ve actually grown rather used to your snoring from when you used to follow me around,” you said. “So, don’t worry about it.”

“Yeah?” Ace said with a half-laugh. “I only followed you around sometimes.”

“It was pretty often.”

“It was,” he agreed. “But I don’t move much in my sleep so you should be safe now.”

He already sounded like he was drifting off slightly and you honestly weren’t surprised. He always passed out quickly but he was still above the covers.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” you reassured. “It’s not like I’ve never touched you before.”

“But this is your bed,” he mumbled around a yawn.

“It’s yours too tonight. Are you really going to spend it all the way over there?”

Ace didn’t respond for a second and you imagined he might have fallen asleep. Then there was shuffling and the covers raised and you felt the heat push much closer, body radiating warmth like a furnace. His hand found yours, fingers lacing together as his arm pressed to your side.

The tension in his fingers eased only after you squeezed them. For all his earlier confidence, it seemed he had still been waiting for proof that you truly wanted him there.

You found a pleased relief in your heart about a bedroom that was no longer quite so empty.

“Your devil fruit,” he muttered, his voice very on the edge of asleep now. “It’s why we’re doing all of this, right?”

“It is,” you agreed. “It’s a vitality fruit. I need to steal some life essence from people that I can bring back. It’s normally pretty easy but I think Whitebeard had other reasons for sending everybody with me.”

Ace snorted. “Yeah, it’s pretty obvious he wants everybody to get along better.”

You chuckled. “This is probably the nicer way he could have done it. I wouldn’t be surprised if he shoved us all in a room and locked the door.”

“Sounds like something Pops would do.”

Ace moved minutely closer and you chuckled. You had a vague suspicion that he wasn’t nearly as good at keeping to his own side as he claimed. Not that you minded. The warmth was actually a lovely contrast to just how cold this ship normally got. Especially in the nights when you used to pile at least four blankets on the bed for any semblance of heat.

“I need to tell Marco still,” you said. “Do you think he’s going to react well when I tell him? Or is he going to be upset at me?”

“Probably both.”

“How could he do both?”

“He’ll be upset at first and then relax,” Ace commented as though that made it so much better. “He doesn’t actually hate you.”

“He could have fooled me,” you said, mostly to yourself.  

“Or you could just kiss him,” Ace mumbled, his breathing dipping toward a slight snore. “It worked on the rest of us.”

“What?”

You didn’t get an answer. His head dropped closer to your shoulder, hair tickling your skin as you stared up at the dark ceiling and tried to process what you were even meant to do with advice like that. That was possibly the dumbest idea you could imagine.

Ace’s warmth made sleeping far easier and it was a battle to wake up the next morning, let alone drag yourself from bed. It was far more tempting to stay, wrapped in warmth.

You’d been right. He was an octopus in his sleep. By the time you woke up, he was sprawled half over you, his face pressing into your collarbone. You’d laughed and nudged him off, mourning the comfort especially when you finally dragged yourself up.

The cold struck the moment you stepped into the hall. It seeped through the thin floorboards and caught painfully in your first breath, sharpening the inside of your nose. By the time you followed the clatter of a pan toward the kitchen, your fingers were already stiff and you were reconsidering every decision that had dragged you out of bed.

“You don’t have to be up this early when there’s just five of us,” you mumbled, not bothering with maintaining a decent distance when it was so chilly.

Thankfully, Thatch was standing far enough from the stove that you could slide against his side and bury your face against his far-too-cold coat. He smiled fondly when you did so and adjusted only faintly to continue with whatever he had sizzling in the pan.

“No,” he acknowledged. “But it’s a habit now. Do you want something to drink?”

You nodded and he stepped away, handing you a spoon and asking you to just keep stirring. You accepted it with cold fingers and inched closer to the stove and what little warmth burned off the flames. It was the best you could do.

“Just be careful with your sleeves,” he warned. “You survived one evening cuddling a wildfire. I don’t want you to catch fire now.”

“The wildfire was cuddling me,” you muttered.

“At least it kept you warm. Air’s gotten very cold.”

You hummed and gratefully accepted the warm drink he offered, not moving from your place at the stove. “The island I charted to has a pretty cold climate. We’re probably getting close.”

Thatch brushed his fingers over your cheeks, the warmth of them almost stinging against your chilled skin. His frown deepened. “You look frozen,” he commented. “Just make sure you dress in something warm when you head out today.”

You nodded, leaning into the touch. “I will.”

Before he could suggest much else though, you heard a familiar gait beyond the door and Ace stepped in, his hair still mussed beneath his hat and still not wearing a shirt. You were quite convinced he didn’t own one.

You put down your drink and immediately moved toward him, slid your arms around his middle and just buried your face into his chest.

It felt like you were defrosting and you sighed softly. “You’re the best.”

Heat rolled from him as he laughed, arms wrapping around you in a way that engulfed you with the warmth. “Did you miss me?”

“It’s cold,” Thatch told him, sounding far too amused by the situation.

Ace leaned back slightly to grin at you. “Wow, so you’re just using me for my heat and not because you want a hug? That’s kind of mean.”

He gave you opportunities far too easily. You leaned your chin against his chest and smiled up at him, tracing patterns slowly over his shoulders and spine. A small flicker of flame ran over his neck as you did so.

“You’re right,” you admitted. “Do you want something in return?”

He stiffened slightly. “Sorry?”

You brought one hand around to run it over his muscles slowly, tracing the outline of his abdomen. “Payment,” you clarified. “For keeping me warm today. It’s a very difficult task, no?”

“I… it’s not that hard.”

He was looking over your shoulder toward Thatch, his heart thudding loudly. You tried to stifle a small laugh. The same man who could kiss you in front of Marco while in the middle of an argument seemed to be panicking from Thatch being there.

“You know, I think I owe you an apology,” Thatch hummed. “She does target you. I’ve never gotten a proposition half as forward as that.”

Or maybe it was for a different reason, you thought. You hadn’t been flirting with him on that beach. That he had noticed.

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Ace implored.

You laughed and stepped back, missing the warmth immediately. He huffed and pulled his hat slightly lower down on his face though it did little to hide the red that crept down the sides of his neck.

“Sugar,” Thatch said, half-laughing as he slid a warm arm over your shoulders. “Lay off the kid a little, hm? You’re going to burn him out before we even get to the island and then you’re going to end up freezing.”

“Hey, that’s not what I meant,” Ace complained. “I wasn’t saying you should stop. Just pointing out that you do it to me way more.”

Thatch laughed and you looked toward him, finding his smile far too smug for a man who had directly given away his weakness the day before. You turned under his arm, tilted your head up and smiled gently at him.

“If you’re trying to steal my attention, there are easier ways to get it.”

He chuckled and let you go as though planning on moving back to breakfast. “I know. I just thought I’d give Ace a second to breathe.”

You stepped around Thatch before he could escape and reached for the foulard he wore over his shoulders. He let you untie it with deft fingers, smile curious but willing. You didn’t take it off though, instead using both sides to pull him closer, holding him playfully in place.

“But what if I want your attention?” you asked.

He chuckled, hands sliding to your hips naturally. “I’ve been told asking is a great way to start. Learned that lesson pretty recently too.”

You hummed. “I can ask. Do you want the easy one or the hard one first?”

“Oh? There are layers?”

“There are.”

He made a show of stopping and thinking about it and you recognised his attempts at buying himself some time. You tugged on the foulard lightly with a huff of indignation that made him laugh. He leaned in closer.

“Point taken,” he teased. “Let’s do the easy one first. What can I do for you?”

“Give me your attention.”

“It’s already yours. Always has been.”

“No,” you corrected. “No looking elsewhere. No cooking or cleaning.”

“Just because you like to come visit when I’m working doesn’t mean I’m not giving you attention,” he promised, thumbs moving idly against your hips. “You’re always on my mind.”

“But for the second request, you’re going to have to focus more on me.”

He grinned. “Should I worry about this request? Or at least remind you that we have an audience?”

You looked over your shoulder toward Ace who was standing beside the narrow counter, colour burning even hotter on his cheeks despite his best attempts at looking unaffected.

“I don’t mind,” he said immediately.

“See,” you said. “He doesn’t mind.”

Thatch nodded, smile gentle. “I’m just saying that if this ship catches fire, we’re going to lose a lot of good equipment.”

“Worthwhile risk,” you said. “Want to know what I want from you then?”

“Of course.”

“I want you to fu –”

He kissed you before the word could escape, request muffled against his mouth before it could reach his ears. You laughed despite yourself and he pecked your lips twice, squeezing your hips.

“Okay, okay,” he said. “You win. Save the hard request for later. I’d hate to give you a disappointing answer because breakfast needs supervising. You can go back to tormenting Ace in peace.”

You frowned. No, Thatch wasn’t getting rid of you that easily.

You gathered both ends of the foulard in one hand before he could move more than half a step and turned toward Ace whose blush really hadn’t gotten any better.

“Hi?” he said and you smiled innocently, using your free hand to gesture him closer.

He took a small step forward, gaze briefly flicking over your shoulder toward Thatch whose hands were still resting firmly on your hips.

“Hi,” you said before you caught the back of his neck and pulled him into a kiss.

A startled sound escaped him against your mouth before his arms wrapped around you, one slipping around your waist while the other caught awkwardly at your shoulder. Flames flickered along his collarbones, bright enough to throw dancing light over the walls.

The heat surged against you; it rolled off him in waves until the cold that had driven you into his arms earlier disappeared entirely.

Somewhere close beside you, Thatch gave a breathless laugh. The hand at your side had gone completely still. His laugh sounded easy, but his fingers tightened against you when Ace pulled you closer.

“You’re going to set the cupboards alight.”

Ace attempted to respond without moving his mouth from yours which made Thatch laugh harder.

You tightened your grip on the foulard and Thatch stepped closer, drawn into the space until his hip rested against your own, one palm settled at your side as though he’d forgotten what he was meant to be doing. Neither man tried to pull you away from the other. The realisation sent a warm thrill through you, sharper than Ace’s heat against your skin.

The galley door opened and a blade of cold air cut through the heat.

You assumed it was Izou and pulled back from Ace, already preparing to defend the flames curling far too close to his teas.

Marco stopped so sharply that the door clipped his shoulder.

For one long second, nobody moved. Ace still had an arm locked around your waist, the last of his flames flickering over his collarbones. Your hand remained at the back of his neck, while Thatch stood pressed against your other side with his loosened foulard wrapped around your fist. Marco’s gaze caught on the fabric first, then moved to Ace’s hand at your waist.

You loosened your grip on both men and tried your hardest to put on an air of casualness. “Good morning.”

“No,” Marco said flatly. “I don’t think it is.”

Thatch pressed a small kiss to your cheek. “Doll, why don’t you go find Izou? Breakfast is almost ready.”

You nodded, tilting your head to him in appreciation. “Sure.”

“He’s up on the deck,” Marco said.

“Thanks.”

He stepped to the side as you hurried past him and up the stairs into the frigid air.

The cold was vicious on deck. Wind snapped through the rigging and drove fine flakes of snow across the boards, finding every opening in your jacket. Izou stood at the railing with his back to the stairs, dark hair loose around his shoulders and shifting restlessly in the wind.

You made your way there, shivering faintly even through your jacket as you approached.

You’d seen his hair down before but it never failed to make you faintly envious of how beautiful it was. You caught a strand of it and he smiled faintly as you ran it between your fingers.

“This is going to be a very cold trip,” he said. “Could you not have plotted us for somewhere warmer?”

You shrugged and let go of the strand. “I tried but it’s actually an unofficial trading hub. There’s plenty of guards and men for hire. When I planned to come alone, I chose the easiest place rather than the most pleasant. And just packed a coat.”

“A rather ugly one.”

“Hey,” you complained. Then, softer, you asked. “Why aren’t you coming to breakfast?”

“No particular reason. I just felt more inclined to take some time up here.”

You leaned into his shoulder and, instead of accepting the weight as he usually would, Izou settled against you in return, shoulders pressing together. You frowned curiously but he said little else; his breath misting in front of his face.

You watched it disperse into the air before you sighed. “Did you sleep fine?”

“I did. I would much rather have been selfish and allowed the argument to continue but I felt it was a poor way to start the day. Although, I now have to handle being the last to share your bed.”

“You’ve been very selfless of late,” you mentioned.

“I’m well aware. I’m not certain I’m very fond of it.”

Perhaps you should try and get Marco and Ace to speak to each other. Though after what had happened a few minutes ago, you saw little chance of that ending successfully right now… although he hadn’t seemed particularly upset. Annoyed more? But you had to admit you’d hurried out too fast to see his expression.

“I’m sure I can find a way to stop the two of them from arguing,” you said. “Or, at least, ask Ace to maybe not provoke. Then maybe you can join me.”

Izou gave you a sharp look. “Do not arrange your attention as though I am waiting for whatever time remains.”

“I wasn’t meaning it that way.”

He looked toward you. His face was composed, but the usual softness around his eyes had disappeared, leaving nothing you knew how to read. A snowflake drifted from the sky and landed on his shoulder. He brushed it off immediately, distaste for it obvious in his brow.

“Argument or not, you need to speak to Marco before we make land,” he said. “But I implore of you to not continue dragging this out. He isn’t obligated to remain here. If he finds issue with your devil fruit, he is free to fly back to the Moby Dick at any time.”

You nodded. “I will but are you alright?”

Izou leaned down to kiss you briefly, his lips frozen like ice where they touched your own. “We can discuss it later.”

You reached for his hand, taking it before he could move too far away. “I’d rather speak to you first. You know otherwise I will worry myself sick over what’s upsetting you and be unable to think of anything else.”

“One conversation is more important to the outcome of this outing.”

“One conversation is more important to me.”

There was a flicker of appreciation in his smile at that. His thumb moved once across your knuckles. It was the smallest response he could have given, but you felt the tension in his hand ease.

You weren’t critically low. You could sail your ship to the docks and wait, if need be. You doubted Whitebeard would hold it against you if you took a few days more than you had planned but you wouldn’t let Izou lament these problems on his own.

“I admit to it mainly stemming from a bit of jealousy,” he said. “Perhaps, a desire for understanding, too. Why did you go to Thatch when you were struggling to sleep?”

That… hadn’t been what you expected at all. You frowned, slowly realising that perhaps his annoyance when he found you there hadn’t been pure indignation for being summoned but something more lingering.

“I didn’t want to talk about it,” you admitted. “The thing that was upsetting me… I didn’t want to say it because I knew how stupid it was to worry about. And if I had gone to you, I would have told you everything and more.”

He didn’t even need to ask. There was just something to Izou that drew information from you like water from the ocean.

“After so long, there are still things you don’t want to tell me?”

“Only when I know they’re pointless,” you said. “It was about Marco.”

The grip on your hand tightened minutely and Izou looked over your head as though he expected the name alone to summon the man. You didn’t miss the flash of annoyance that crossed his face.

“What did he do to upset you so much?”

“Nothing. It was more something that was said about him.”

“By who?”

You shook your head at the foolishness of it. “Teach. You know how he can be with his crude jokes. He made a comment about Marco being able to die and for some reason, I realised that he could. I just… never thought of him as able to before.”

Izou stared at you for a second. Then he brought your hand up and pressed a kiss against your knuckles, a little too firmly.

“Everybody can die. Marco is not immortal.”

“I know. It was just the first time I thought of it that way.”

“Then speak to him. You’ve allowed the thought to sit with you long enough, and I have no desire to watch it grow heavier.”

You nodded and leaned against the railing. Izou was right. You should speak to him so it could stop being this dragging weight against your shoulders, even though the thought alone was enough to make you feel slightly nauseous.

Not because you couldn’t handle Marco. But because you were starting to get the feeling that you handling Marco was driving a wedge somewhere it shouldn’t.

“I don’t know how he’ll react,” you said.

“Then find out. I’ll be here to speak with you about it after.”

“I’ll do it after breakfast,” you conceded. “I think he might need some time to calm down because, well…”

Izou looked amused. “I imagined you might be terrorising Ace again when I heard such loud fire downstairs. It’s another reason we should not put both of them in a room together. Two flames so close together will start a bonfire.”

“They’re together now.”

“Thatch is a brilliant mediator.”

“Is he?”

“I certainly hope so. Else we might not make it to land.”

You glanced toward the stairs and Izou laughed. “Perhaps we should join them?”

“Probably,” you agreed. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Being here.”

Izou smiled. “I’ve been here for years. I’m hardly about to disappear now.”

The reassurance was appreciated but there was still something bothering him. You knew it but you couldn’t put your finger on what and he didn’t seem inclined to share. You followed him back to the kitchen, hoping against all hope that you weren’t going to start an argument later.

On a ship the size of yours, you had very limited options for privacy.

The only place you could even think of was your room which felt very awkward to invite Marco into. But he accepted, warily and now he stood basically at the closed door, his arms firmly crossed and looking around cautiously.

You became painfully aware of how little room there was between you.

The raised bed consumed most of one wall, its frame leaving only a narrow strip of floor between the mattress and the wardrobe. The small window in the corner had long since been blocked by furniture, leaving the room dim even in daylight.

Above you, footsteps crossed the deck. The others had taken their conversation outside, but their muffled laughter still travelled through the boards, near enough to remind you that you were not truly alone and distant enough that nobody would interrupt.

Marco folded his arms more tightly and you sat at the edge of the bed.

Where did you even start? Apologise for the morning? Tell him about the devil fruit? It had felt a lot more manageable before Izou gave you a look to tell you that your stalling hour was up.

“The thing I asked about the sea stone,” you said. “Wasn’t from nowhere. After talking about it, I was scared because it was the first time I realised you could die.”

Marco raised an eyebrow. “How does that even come up in conversation?”

“Teach, you know how he is, asked what devil fruit I would want if I could choose.”

“You want the phoenix fruit?”

You shook your head. “No, no. I just said the first one that came to mind and you’d just been there and you looked so beautiful flying in… it was a dumb comment but then he joked that you would have to die first. Obviously, he didn’t know I already have one because nobody really knew but, I just got worried.”

Marco’s expression made your rant fall apart slightly, his eyes narrowing faintly. You probably should have mentioned the devil fruit thing first actually. Or spoken about which fruit you had and then moved to sea stone.

“Beautiful?” he repeated.

Okay. Maybe he wasn’t concerned about that.

“Objectively,” you defended. “You are. I mean. You’re a phoenix.”

“Observant.”

“And they are, objectively, very beautiful birds.”

“I’m the only phoenix.”

Maybe you should have rehearsed this more. Because this really wasn’t the part of the conversation you wanted to get hung up on yet.

“True which is why I said it but I guess I could have said, I don’t know, the peacock fruit or something. I wasn’t meaning I want it from you. I like you with it.”

“Right?”

“But like if they were all lined up in front of me… you know what, this isn’t the important part. I have the Vitality-Vitality Fruit. I can transfer life energy.”

The silence that fell immediately after your words was heavy; made worse by the fact that you seemed to have blindsided Marco a little by switching from your rambling directly into an admission.

Below you, the ship creaked against the waves.

“Life energy?”

You gestured in front of you though you couldn’t show anything. “It’s not very visible. But I can take energy from one life form and then move it into another. It doesn’t heal or repair anything but it strengthens the body. Makes somebody stronger physically. Combined with your healing –”

“You’ve been doing this for Pops?”

You winced at the accusation in his voice. “Yes.”

“For how long?”

“Since I first came aboard.”

You could see the anger in Marco now, rising as he straightened and took one step further into the room. The room had never felt smaller. With him no longer guarding the door, there was barely enough space between you to pretend the argument was impersonal.

“And of all the people you thought to tell, it never crossed your mind that you should speak to the person in charge of his care?”

“He asked me not to.”

“Then you should have told me he was the one keeping it from me.”

“He’s the captain.”

“Not yours.” Marco raised one hand to rub the bridge of his nose. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been trying to figure out why sometimes he’s more receptive to care? I’ve gone over everything. Medications, foods, my own powers… and the whole time, the answer was simply something nobody had told me existed.”

You straightened. “I would have told you in the beginning if he let me.”

“Yet you told the others?”

“Not at first. Izou knew I had a fruit. Namur knew enough to pull me from the water if something happened. Thatch found out later, and I told Ace last night.”

“Last night.”

“Yes.”

“But telling me still required an invitation and a closed door.”

You had no true defence for it because he was right. You could have done that. Maybe you should have.

“You’re not exactly the most welcoming person to approach.”

He gave you a look that confirmed your words exactly. “Should I apologise for interrupting you in the kitchen?” he asked. “Perhaps if I’d joined in, you might have remembered I’m the one responsible for Pops’ care.”

You stood from the bed. “You know that has nothing to do with my devil fruit.”

He chose to ignore it despite him being the one that brought it up. “Have you even considered the effects this could have? Devil fruits are often far from linear. It could have been dangerous to combine with my healing. What if it made things worse rather than better?”

“Whitebeard said –”

“Pops is not a doctor.”

“Yes, but his main doctor was too busy accusing me of destroying his family to let me even think about talking to him!”

For a second, Marco said nothing and when he spoke again, it felt as though he’d somehow managed to gather the cold from outside into his tone. “You grow weak before you leave,” he said. “Which is when your reserves are low?”

You pressed your lips together. “Yes.”

“Then what are the other symptoms of your powers waning? Is it lethargy alone or are there other factors?”

“If I used all of the excess, I would use my own life instead,” you admitted. “And then there would be more than just exhaustion. But I’ve only done that once and it was long before I arrived on your ship.”

“Which means that if you overuse it, it could kill you?”

“Potentially. If I pushed it too far.”

He didn’t say a word. There was a long, aching silence that you didn’t know how to fill. Guilt curled angrily in your chest as you looked at him without having an actual solution to offer because he hadn’t made it easier… but maybe you should have explained more when you had your initial doubts.

His earlier accusation remained between you, ugly and unresolved beneath the medical questions.

“I’m not trading affection for secrets,” you finally said. “That’s not what you saw upstairs.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“Yes,” he said, voice far sharper than it needed to be. “There was no way I could walk in on that and believe you were even thinking clearly enough to trade information. You were practically causing two separate kitchen fires by distracting the chef and fanning Ace’s flames.”

“Why does it bother you so much?” you asked. “You’re worried about them being hurt but they didn’t seem very hurt to me.”

His jaw tightened. It was a minute movement but one you spotted regardless; a faint twitch in his jaw. You moved closer slowly, trying to figure out what could have caused it. Trying to find some kind of hint in his posture or expression.

“Stop theorising.”

“What?”

“You look like you’re making up some kind of answer for yourself.”

“You haven’t given me much to work with,” you defended yourself. “If I don’t know what specifically is upsetting you, how will I avoid causing a worse divide? Once I know what the problem is, I can fix it.”

“I don’t want you to fix it,” he said. “This isn’t something… I don’t even know what you would begin to fix.”

“Fine, then tell me what you want and we’ll start there,” you said. “Do you want me to leave and to never come back?”

“No.”

“Then do you want me to choose one of them? Choose none of them? Does it even have anything to do with them at all or is that just the most obvious sore spot?”

“It’s not your job to solve every issue.”

“No,” you agreed. “But the ones that are my fault. And I know this one has something to do with me so tell me what it is.”

Marco looked toward the door for a second. “I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do,” you said. “Or at least you suspect it. Whitebeard demanded you tell everybody before we left and even if that wasn’t the time to say it, you can’t avoid the problem forever. Not when I’m going to be staying around more.”

Marco’s expression shifted. “You are?”

“I’m trying to.”

He met your eyes. “I didn’t ask you to get involved that night with Pops but maybe you’ve found the problem. You can’t promise you’ll come back. You leave, sometimes for months at a time, and until now, nobody knew if you’d bother returning.”

“I have more reasons to stay now than I did before.”

“You always had a place. Pops offered you a home on our ship each time you left.”

You forced your shoulders to relax because they were beginning to ache. “I couldn’t accept an offer like that,” you said. “Not when I knew you weren’t okay with it. The Moby Dick is your home first. It’s your family.”

A strange guilt curled through his eyes, quickly replaced by annoyance. “If you had to ask any of the three up there to choose, I’m not certain they’d share your opinions.”

“Nobody has to choose.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is.”

“I couldn’t possibly be the reason you didn’t choose to stay,” he said. “You’ve barely cared about my opinions on matters from the start.”

“That’s bullshit. I couldn’t sleep because I was so stressed about a joke related to you.”

Marco looked toward the door again, as though he was considering leaving. But instead, he unfolded his arms from over his chest and sighed. “I never meant to make you feel as though I didn’t want you there, yoi. I just wanted to know what you were doing.”

“Sometimes I don’t even know what I’m doing,” you admitted. “I’m just as lost as everybody else. I can’t explain what I don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand?”

“So much,” you said. “Like Izou is upset about something today and I have no idea how to figure out what. I don’t know how to be soft around Ace because I always feel like he views me as so much more than I am. Like I know how to flirt and chase but not what he expects from me when I’m quieter. I don’t know why Thatch always deflects. And I don’t know why I keep trying with you.”

“You don’t have to try with me.”

“Yes, but I want to. And I’m nothing if not selfish with my wants.”

Marco snorted slightly and the sound softened you a little more.

“What do you want from me?” he asked.

Ace’s late-night words arrived before you could reasonably make your brain think of anything else. An uncomfortable desire you’d never publicly acknowledged and yet couldn’t deny as you tried to find some other answer.

“A conversation,” you offered. “Without arguing. To have you relax around me for once. To… to know how you’d react if I asked to kiss you.”

Marco blinked. “Is that your solution to every problem in your life?”

“No,” you said. “It’s not a solution. It won’t solve any problems or change anything but you asked me what I wanted and I gave you the answer.”

“You already have three men waiting upstairs. Why would you want anything from me?”

You gave him a blank look. “It’s not a number thing,” you said. “It’s a person thing. See, I always thought I knew how you’d react. It was obvious, I told myself but now… now I’m not so certain anymore.”

He didn’t move away from where he was standing and neither did you. You looked toward the door yourself, expecting him to leave.

“What if you don’t like the answer you get?” he asked.

“The answer is what I want. I’d respect whatever it is.”

He stared at you for long enough that the silence began to feel like a rejection on its own. His gaze didn’t shift; not even as you stepped forward to close the distance faintly, lifted your hand to brush your fingers gently over the edge of his jaw.

Marco went completely still beneath your touch. His gaze dropped to your mouth, lingering there for a second too long.

You leaned in before you could lose your nerve.

The first brush of your lips against his was painfully careful. He didn’t move and fear twisted in your chest for a second as you leaned away. Then he kissed you back.

His restraint disappeared so quickly that your breath caught. His hand found your waist and he pulled you closer, firm enough that the distance between you disappeared. The wall pressed against his back as you stumbled into him, fingers sliding from his jaw to the back of his neck.

Marco made a quiet sound against your mouth, rough and frustrated. It was like he was fighting himself with every movement.

Every time you thought he might draw away, his mouth returned harder, hand tightening at your waist. The kiss deepened before either of you could think better of it.

It felt less like discovering something new and more like finally recognising what had been there all along. The certainty of it left you dizzy.

When you finally pulled back, he followed without seeming to realise it, only stopping himself mere breaths away from you. You stared into his eyes as your breathing slowly returned to normal, heart pounding in your ears.

“That’s not the answer I expected,” you admitted softly.

“I’m sure.”

He let you go and stepped around you. The cold reached you almost immediately where his body had been. Your hand remained half-raised for a second, still expecting the warmth of his neck beneath your fingers. The door opened and closed while you stared at the wall, thoughts still catching up.

Izou was seated near the railing when you found him, his hair perfectly arranged and a cup of tea waiting for you.

You said nothing. You simply dropped into the space beside him and buried your face against his shoulder.

For a moment, he sat perfectly still.

Then he hummed, low and deeply unimpressed. He wrapped an arm around you and rested his cheek against the top of your head.

Tags: @miwn8 ; @rubyninja1 ; @etherealroguedrifter ; @mugiiwara-ya ; @mochiclouds ; @aceincase ; @chaeisrichnow ; @justchaoticwhispers ; @traummaedchen ; @rae-xoxo ; @pagdayeg ; @gylfie109 ; @kiberrymatcha

[dawnsarchive]

HELLO STAR HERE CAN I JUST SAYY I LOVEEE YOUR WRITING SM!!! Especially the luffy ones GRRRRR!!!! THEY'RE SOOOO IN CHARACTER!! OH! AND I'd like to ask if I could get permission to draw some more scenes in your fic ❤️❤️❤️

Hey!!

I really appreciate that so so much! 💙 Writing Luffy is honestly such a pleasure because he has such a distinct voice so I really enjoy doing it!

And absolutely! In fact, I would truly be beyond honoured! Knowing my story inspired artwork is such a massive compliment 💙

Thank you so much and I hope you have a phenomenal day!

[dawnsarchive]

Your Kids (Rayleigh x Reader)

One Piece | Rayleigh | 3.6k | Masterlist

“Rayleigh.”

“Mm?”

“Your children are being unbearably loud again.”

He shifted in the bed, tucking you closer to his chest as though that would help at all to soften the argument from outside. “My children?” he repeated, voice thick with sleep.

You huffed and shifted around in his arms, giving him a look that he probably couldn’t even see in the dark room. “They’re in the hall,” you pointed out. “And it’s the middle of the night.”

“And what do you want me to do about that, love?”

“Make them quieten down.”

He grumbled something under his breath but pushed himself upright, taking most of the warmth with him. You immediately stole his side of the bed, pressing your feet into the heat he’d left behind.

The door creaked open and a strip of lantern light stretched across the floorboards. Two familiar voices rose with it, Buggy sharp and indignant and Shanks whispering just loudly enough to make everything worse, before Rayleigh cleared his throat and the hall went blissfully quiet.

“Can you two go fight outside the captain’s room instead? His snores will drown all this nonsense out.”

“But he was in my bed!”

“Buggy said –”

“If it’s not life-threatening, I don’t particularly care. Somebody else in this room is still a little sick and doesn’t appreciate being woken up.”

“Fuck off,” you muttered. “I got over that cold last week.”

Two heads emerged around the cracked-open door a second later, expressions carefully quiet as they peeked toward your bed. You sighed and lifted your head slightly from the pillow to look at both of them.

They both cautiously tiptoed over and Rayleigh, like the traitor he was, let them both in.

“Are you dying?” Buggy asked.

“Yup,” Rayleigh said with a smile you knew meant trouble. “She’s developed a chronic allergy to loud noises. Too many and she’ll just drop.”

You rolled your eyes but unfortunately, the two young boys were far too tired to distinguish lies from truth and both of their expressions fell.

“What?” Buggy exploded. “But we live on a pirate ship! Old man, you better take her off right now before the Marines attack again! She’s going to die from the first cannon going off!”

“Buggy!” Shanks whispered, still far too loud. “You’re shouting!”

“I am not!”

You groaned and reached out to catch Buggy by the wrist. He squirmed like an angry cat as you dragged him onto the mattress and tucked him beneath your left arm, pulling the blanket up around him before he could wriggle free.

“There,” you said. “Now sleep. Shanks won’t bother you.”

Rayleigh cleared his throat. “Love, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but you’re bringing the noise source into our bed.”

Buggy was settling though, still muttering under his breath about angry old women, but quieter. It was the easiest way to stop him from flopping around like a dead fish.

“I know,” you said. “But it took you too long to make them quiet so I’ll do it. Go to sleep.”

“I don’t want to sleep in your stupid bed!” Buggy barked even though he’d stopped squirming and was now lying deathly still.

“Allergic to loud noises,” you mumbled.

You glanced toward the edge of the bed to find Shanks staring at you, a small smile on his face. You sighed and shuffled closer to the wall, moving to your back.

“Fine.”

He immediately scrambled over both of you, causing another round of protests from Buggy that you hushed with a sharp pinch to his cheek. Shanks tucked himself between you and the wall, clearly smug and you put a hand on his head before he started anything.

Rayleigh closed the door to the hall, sending the room into the darkness. “My kids, hm?”

“Loud noises,” you told him even though he was, by far, the quietest person in this room. “Buggy, if you don’t stop kicking, we’re all going to sleep on the floor. Shanks, stop antagonising him.”

“I’m not!”

“You are. Sleep facing the other way.”

“But I don’t like sleeping that way!”

“Too bad.”

Rayleigh chuckled softly. “I’m not sure there’s space for me anymore.”

“There is. Just don’t squish one of them.”

You didn’t remember exactly when you fell asleep but the next morning, you woke up to find Buggy snoring half across your chest, both arms wrapped around Shanks. You grumbled at the weight, moving him to the side so they were lying together before you shifted closer to the warm chest next to you.

Rayleigh brought an arm around you, pulling you closer to him. “I don’t like having kids in our bed,” he mumbled. “They move around too much.”

“They’re your kids,” you said.

“Roger found them. They’re technically his.”

“Roger couldn’t keep a fish alive if he tossed it in the ocean.”

Rayleigh chuckled softly and moved you slightly more onto his chest, pressing a lazy kiss to the top of your head. “Is this a one-time thing or do you plan on kidnapping them every time they fight at night?”

“It shut them up quickly,” you pointed out. “Faster than you did it.”

“You could have given me a minute before snatching one.”

“A minute was too long for them to still be talking.”

Of course, your peace could hardly last forever because no sooner had they woken up than they started arguing again. Though thankfully Rayleigh handled it with a warning tone that had them both scrambling for the door even if that meant you got stepped on a little.

You’d almost forgotten about his tease from the previous evening until you reached the breakfast table. Roger was already laughing heartily but the moment they saw you, both kids launched at him, angrily hushing him.

He caught them on instinct, freezing up at their insistence. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re going to kill her!” Buggy snapped. “She’s allergic to loud noises!”

“You have to laugh quieter,” Shanks implored.

Roger looked over to you and you shrugged.

“Can’t be helped, can it doc?” you asked, looking at Crocus. “Just came upon me last night when I heard some yelling in the hall.”

He scoffed. “Sounds more like a hangover. But if you want an allergy, have an allergy.”

Buggy pointed at you. “You can’t be hungover! You weren’t drinking yesterday!”

“No,” you confirmed.

“See!” he implored Roger, shaking the captain’s coat.

Roger was trying his hardest to hold in his laughter, chest shaking with the effort that only redoubled when he met Rayleigh’s eyes. That did nothing to soothe the children’s panic as they looked toward the first mate.

“I do prefer her alive,” he acknowledged.

“Boys,” you said before one started getting properly upset. “Get off the captain. You can climb all over him again when you’ve eaten your breakfast.”

They listened, despite their glares.

You put their plates down a good distance apart and Shanks immediately tried to move his closer to Buggy’s. You sighed and sat between them on the bench before that could turn into a fight. They’d really been riling each other up something awful lately.

Rayleigh leaned over you to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Should I get you something to eat, darling?”

“I would appreciate it.”

He hummed in a way that said far more than words. You gave him a look and he smiled placatingly as he stepped away.

“Are we docking today, Captain?” you asked.

Roger was slowly turning red in the face from his desperate attempts not to laugh. The moment you looked at him, a half-stopped chuckle managed to break through, loud enough that Buggy immediately jumped up and tried to cover your ears. Shanks did the same a second later and that broke every ounce of self-restraint left.

Roger laughed louder than you’d heard him before, a deep, belly-aching sound that bounced around the dining hall. Both kids pushed harder against your ears to try and stop you from hearing it.

You sighed and took your plate from Rayleigh as he sat across from you, smile amused. You mouthed your thanks and waited for the captain to be done, wondering if you should stop this little deception or if it would turn out useful.

By the time he’d managed to calm down, the children were complaining almost as loudly as he had been laughing, something you could absolutely still hear through their tiny hands.

“Boys,” you said and they both quietened. “Breakfast. Now.”

They both glared at the rest of the crew before they let you go. Rayleigh held out a napkin and you used it to wipe some food from your cheek. You caught Shanks’ hand before he could go back to his plate and cleaned off his fingers.

“So, land today?” you repeated.

Roger’s grin looked almost painful. “Yes, we’ll dock,” he said. “Think we need to restock on some good drinks. All we got left in the hold is that swill from two islands ago.”

“She’ll be staying on the island,” Buggy said confidently. “Because pirate ships are too loud. Especially with you here!”

“Is she now?” Rayleigh asked. “My bed’s going to be awful cold then. Maybe I should see if I can win myself some company for the night.”

You gave him a sharp look. “Not without me there, you won’t.”

He smiled. “That would be even better.”

“You’re staying on land?” Shanks asked. “But you belong on the ship. You can’t just stay here.”

“I’m not staying on a random island,” you corrected him. “I’m just going shopping. And I’m taking you two with me because you’re needing new clothes. Look at the tear in your shirt.”

“Just keep an eye out,” Roger noted, a slight seriousness bleeding into his tone despite his smile. “We’re expecting you-know-who to try again soon.”

Your lips twisted into a slight grimace but you nodded.

“Who?” Buggy asked. “If it’s that stupid Marine again, I’m not scared. He doesn’t stand a chance!”

You didn’t answer, just pulled Shanks a little closer and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. He frowned up at you, clearly confused by the sudden affection. You squeezed his shoulders and made as though you were untangling a knot from his hair.

“Nothing you two should worry about.” You looked up at Rayleigh. “Are you coming with?”

He nodded. “Of course. I can’t expect you to watch both of them by yourself.”

That reassured you considerably. Managing two seven-year-olds was easier with him there, but it was more than that. He carried himself with such unhurried confidence that most people with sense knew better than to come too close.

By the time the Oro Jackson eased against the dock, the afternoon sun had turned the harbour bright enough to sting your eyes. You caught the straw hat before the wind could carry it into the water during the squabble on deck and planted it on the wrong child’s head as you walked past, ordering both of them to follow you.

Shanks snatched it back immediately, glaring at Buggy as though the theft was his fault.

“How loud is too loud anyway?” he asked as he hurried to catch up to you on the gangplank. “Because it’s really loud here. And one of the ships blew its horn.”

“I’ll tell you when it’s too loud.”

Rayleigh caught your arm before a porter shouldered past with a crate and guided you to his other side, placing himself between you and the busiest part of the dock. The boys fell into line at your heels, still yapping at each other over who had nearly lost the hat as Rayleigh’s hand settled warm and steady over your lower back.

“Thank you,” you hummed, leaning slightly into his touch.

“I don’t see why they’re only mine,” he said, voice low against your ear in a very distracting way. “The rest of the crew deserves some of the blame.”

You leaned slightly against him. “Are you this scared of fatherly responsibility, love?”

“All I’m saying is they haven’t learned their poor manners from me.”

“Are you certain? Because that hand of yours seems to be forgetting we’re in public.”

“Hm?” He hummed innocently and made no move to remove it from where it was slipping further down your spine.

You checked over your shoulders to make sure the boys were still following and hadn’t been distracted by anything. It would have to be an early night for them if everybody was going to go out drinking.

You found yourself rather looking forward to it when Rayleigh was touching you like that.

“Want to flip a coin for Buggy?” you asked. “Then we’ll meet for an early dinner afterward.”

“I’ll take heads.”

It was tails. Sometimes you really benefited from his gambling luck. You smiled innocently and tucked the coin back into your pocket.

“Shanks, you’re coming with me, okay? Buggy, you’re going with Rayleigh.”

“What? Why?” Buggy complained loudly. “I don’t even need new clothes!”

“Yes, you do and because I said so.”

Shanks smirked proudly. “It’s because I’m quieter.”

“No! You’re way louder than me!”

“Funny,” Rayleigh chuckled. “Seems neither of my kids want to go with me.”

“For the same reason the others don’t go shopping with you,” you pointed out. “You get too distracted when you find things you want me to wear. Although, I’d save your money for this evening. You’re not getting anything more when you blow it.”

He leaned closer, stubble tickling your cheek as he kissed the corner of your mouth. “I shouldn’t have wasted all my luck getting you. I have none left for the tables.”

You laughed at the flattery. “Still a no, but with such nice words, you may get lucky tonight no matter what the cards say.”

“Is that so?”

There was a shout and you sighed, looking over at the two boys before they got into a proper fight. “Come,” you said. “The faster this is over with, the faster we can go find something to eat.”

Shanks was a delight to shop for most of the time. Mainly because he didn’t really care about clothes as long as they were loose enough. You were just grateful that you didn’t have to shop with Buggy who was an absolute menace. Still, Rayleigh had a bag and a sulking child when you met up with them again, which was the best possible result.

The boys didn’t seem too interested in eating though as they both immediately fixated on a group of children playing in the square outside.

“They’re racing,” Shanks said excitedly.

You looked over and hummed, taking a seat at one of the tables. “They are. Don’t start any fights.”

The two of them grinned at each other in a way that made you severely doubt your request would be followed but they both bolted before you could give them further orders. You shook your head and Rayleigh settled into the seat next to you.

“They’re going to start a fight.”

“At least it will be over there,” you said. “I’m not responsible when they’re over there.”

You nudged his knee with your own and he caught it before you could pull it back, thumb brushing idly over your thigh as his hand slid higher.

“Behave,” you warned.

“I’m doing nothing.”

“That hand moving on its own?”

He looked down as though surprised to find it there. “Strange.”

You tried not to smile too obviously when your drinks were brought. Beyond the server, you spotted the boys both arguing over positions on the starting line and you sighed, raising your voice just so before they began elbowing.

“If you don’t behave, you’re not allowed to race anymore!”

They both immediately froze, looking over at you and slowly lowering their arms. They didn’t answer, but their argument dissolved into quiet muttering instead. You shook your head and thanked the server for your drink.

“Those two yours?” she asked, amusement warming her expression.

“They are,” you agreed.

She laughed and moved away.

The race began and you left them to it, deciding that you could handle the problems that came when one won later. They were considerably faster than most of the other children so you had no doubt it would be one of them.

You looked back toward Rayleigh when he lightly squeezed your thigh, his smile small but unbearably pleased.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re smiling far too smugly for it to be nothing.”

“I’m having lunch with a beautiful woman. Surely, I can enjoy myself.”

You shifted closer, catching his jaw to bring him in for a quick kiss before you grabbed his hand and slid it back down to a much more appropriate spot on your knee.

The racing continued far longer than it had any right to. Shanks kept edging ahead of the starting line whenever nobody was looking and Buggy blocked anyone who came close enough to pass him, both of them shouting accusations the moment another child returned the favour. They were pirates. You could hardly expect anything better.

By the time your food arrived, they were red-faced and dusty. One of the parents who had organised it called them over for a small prize and you laughed, watching as they ran back at full force to where you were sitting, each gripping one side of something fluffy.

“We won!” Shanks announced.

“I won!” Buggy corrected.

“I helped!”

You nodded to their plates. “Eat now. You can fight later.”

They looked at each other and then, with matching pride, they held out their prize toward you. A pair of thick, fluffy earmuffs.

“They block noise,” Buggy said.

“For your allergy,” Shanks added.

Rayleigh snorted next to you and you kicked his ankle. “Were there no other prizes?” you asked.

“They were the only good ones,” Buggy huffed.

You took the earmuffs carefully. They were a little too large for you and the fur was an alarming shade of purple but both boys were grinning as though they’d just brought back the best treasure across the Grand Line.

“You won these for me?” you asked.

“You need them,” Shanks said.

You put them on. They were more for keeping your ears warm than they were for blocking sound but you smiled at both of them.

“Perfect.”

Shanks beamed and Buggy’s chest puffed up. You caught both of them before they could escape and pressed a kiss to the top of their dusty heads.

“They’re sweaty,” Rayleigh commented.

“They’ll just have to bathe later.”

Buggy immediately started protesting the idea of him being sweaty while Shanks stayed exactly where he was, clearly pleased with himself. They both settled in to eat and you were certain it wouldn’t be long until they were far too tired.

Your assumption proved true before you’d even finished paying. Buggy’s chin kept dipping toward his chest between bites while Shanks had gone boneless against the back of his chair, one dusty hand still curled around the edge of the table.

You looked at Rayleigh and he only shook his head, already amused. It took more effort than you expected to lift Shanks from his chair. His legs hung lower against yours now, his weight settling solidly into your arms in a way it never used to, and a faint sadness pressed beneath your ribs. You weren’t going to be able to carry him like this for much longer.

He curled into your chest on instinct, his cheek warm against your shoulder, asleep before you had properly settled him. Rayleigh tucked Buggy beneath one arm and gathered the shopping with the other, the boy’s soft snores almost lost beneath the noise of the square.

“They absolutely cheated,” you mentioned as you walked back.

“Of course. They’re pirates and they’re yours. You always cheat at cards.”

You shifted Shanks a little higher against your chest and smiled. “Oh, do I now? Or is that just you being distracted when I wear something low-cut enough?”

“I can’t help what I’m weak to,” he said. “But they didn’t learn to play dirty from me.”

You brushed some dirt from Shanks’ cheek as best you could because they probably weren’t going to be awake enough to bathe that evening.

“At least it’ll make them good pirates,” you said. “Though they are ours. I wouldn’t expect anything different.”

“Thought they were mine.”

“They are.”

Rayleigh chuckled softly. “Alright. As long as you’re not wanting a third, I think I can accept it.”

“No,” you said. “But I wouldn’t mind practising.”

Tags: @miwn8 ; @aceincase ; @chaeisrichnow ; @aceidentallyinlove ; @ilovedreming

[dawnsarchive]

Hi, I'm kinda new to your blog. Loooove your stuff btw! But I wanted to ask if you have like a posting schedule or anything like that?

Hola!

Thank you, I'm so glad you enjoy it 💙

I do have a sort of posting schedule that I follow but it's more of a posting loop than anything strictly day-based. It normally looks sort of like this:

Kissing the Commanders → One Shot → Ghost in the Machine → One Shot → Necessary Loss → One Shot → To Catch a Phoenix → One Shot → Fire and Flame → One Shot

Then that loops. I write less on weekends because most of my writing time is during working hours but if I can, I just loosely follow the pattern.

Sometimes, I might skip a one shot or shuffle the order a little. I normally choose requests to fulfil based on inspiration.

If a new multi-part story starts, it'll slot in at the end of the loop. Then if one story finishes like Ghost in the Machine is going to soonish, it'll get replaced by a new one in the order (In that story's case, it's being replaced by another Ace story with the working title of Divine Flame).

But yes, thank you for taking the time to ask and I hope this answered your question! 💙

[dawnsarchive]

hhiiiiii, how are you? I just wanna let you know that I love all your writing! Really I've just found your account a few days ago and I'm in love!❤️ I'd read all your Law's fic and I fell like I've fallen in love with that character again and again (he's op my man). I would ask you if you can add me to your tag list for every story you'll write especially for the One Piece tag list. I love the way you write the various characters, I think you really nailed their personalities!

Hope you have a nice day❤️🫶

Hey!

Oh my word, that's honestly so sweet! Thank you so, so much 💙 I'm really glad you enjoy the way I write Law! I sometimes get a little uncertain of his character so that's super reassuring!

And I would be genuinely honoured to do so. That's such a phenomenal compliment 💙

I hope you have a lovely day too! And thank you so much for taking the time to send such a lovely message!

[dawnsarchive]

Im curious - what’s your favourite one piece arc and character? Are you up to date or are you taking your time getting through it? What first got you into one piece and were you hooked from the start?

Hola!

Ah, I got excited when I saw this ask because I just adore answering questions and chatting! I'm just going to put it under a read more so that if it does turn into a long post, it's easier to manage 😂

Fav Arc

G-8, by far. Though Water 7/Enies Lobby are a close second💙

Fav Character

Killer. Though I will say, it's not easy to choose; I have an ever-shuffling top list that jumps around depending on the day but mainly consists of Killer, Izou, Thatch, Marco, Sabo, Robin, and Bepo (though he's mainly because I adore bears)

Up-To-Date

Yup. I've read the manga all the way to the latest chapter but I haven't caught up fully with the anime. I'm about 10 episodes behind on that.

And I'm only half-way done with Season 2 of the live action.

Getting Into One Piece

It's a very funny story, actually.

My fiancé loves One Piece, and I love Jojos so shortly after we first got together, we played a game where we randomised an episode from our favourite animes and watched them together.

So, my first introduction to One Piece was episode 627 with the Pet-Pet Fruit. Needless to say, I was very confused 😂. Then when we travelled to Japan together like a month later, and I ended up getting a matching pair of chopsticks with him that were One Piece themed, visited all the statues, got an autograph from Luffy's VA, and bought a bunch of trading cards - still without having seen the show at all. Just because he was enjoying himself, I was too.

Then my best friend asked us to join a One Piece TTRPG and I had to look up so much to make my character so I gave in and started watching the show. And yeah, from there, I was hooked 💙

So it was a bit of a long journey for me to get into it but it ended with me finding a fandom I really love and a show I genuinely enjoy a lot.

Thank you for the questions! I hope I satisfied your curiosity 😄

[dawnsarchive]

Fire and Flame (Ace x Marine!Reader x Sabo) - Part 2

One Piece | Ace, Sabo | 6.8k | Masterlist « ♥ previous ♥ next ♥ »

You had a stowaway on your ship.

Not the rats scurrying around the brig, though you knew they were there too, but somebody considerably bolder. At least the rats fled when they heard your boots striking heavily across the wood.

The ship shifted beneath you as you opened the cabin door, timbers groaning softly around the distant rush of water against the hull. The lantern over the table swayed with the movement, its light sliding across the walls and catching briefly against the metal of Sabo’s pipe.

He only turned his head when you entered, one arm resting along the curved seat as though he had every right to be there.

You removed your coat and hung it beside the door, then unfastened your pistol and lowered it beneath. It was far too late in the evening to pretend you hadn’t expected him. Besides, there was nowhere for him to go in the middle of the ocean.

“Your men are gossiping about you,” he said.

“Then they clearly haven’t got enough work,” you retorted. “I imagine it was about the two drinks again.”

“It was.”

He looked distinctly out of place amongst the dark wood and furnishings of your quarters. Even seated, his attention remained too alert, gaze following the smallest movement beyond the porthole.

You crossed to the small table and the half-circle seats built around it, settling into your usual place before reaching for your drink.

“They’re going to have to accept the theory that my caffeine addiction has worsened then,” you said. “Because they’ll get no other answer.”

And what more could they assume? None would suspect a member of the revolutionary army was sitting in your quarters.

That would be ridiculous.

He hadn’t bothered hiding from you, just as he hadn’t three weeks earlier when you first met him. You’d entered your cabin after setting sail to find him waiting, a book in his lap, and a pipe resting against his side. Why he’d chosen your ship to hitch a ride on, he wouldn’t say but it was a gamble he’d taken regardless.

“You’ve changed course,” he said, looking out the window. “Should I assume we’re sailing to my arrest?”

“Nothing so exciting,” you said. “You might have considered a better choice of transport next time. We’re moving to intercept a ship of scavengers. It’ll be done by tomorrow afternoon and then we’ll make our way to resupply.”

He tilted his head. “This has been a much shorter trip than anticipated then.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Have you not brushed with danger enough? Should you leave tomorrow, you’ll have spent two nights more on a Marine vessel than any criminal would want.”

“Danger would imply you meant to arrest me,” he said. “You keep leaving your gun by the door.”

“I don’t work in my cabin,” you said. “This is my private space. Not even reports dare to be brought to me here.”

He chuckled softly to himself. “You know, sometimes I really think you’re messing around with all your rules.”

“Then you’re putting a lot of faith in that chance.”

“I am,” he acknowledged. “But I’m looking at the fact that you had dinner delivered both here and to your office this evening.”

You hummed. “Did I? My mistake. I suppose I’m finally suffering from the pain of overworking.”

“I don’t think you know the meaning of the word.”

Your smile was tight as you leaned back in the seat. No, but it was excuse enough that none of your men would question your ‘mistake’ earlier. You looked through the porthole toward the night sky, glittering with stars. With only one lantern burning, your cabin was dark enough to give you a clear, unobstructed view through the glass.

Boots at the door made you turn your head. “Patrols,” you noted. “They’re looking for stowaways.”

They were certainly not but it was a quick reminder, if nothing else.

“Do you get those often?”

“Not even once.”

Sabo nodded at the information, his gaze lingering on you until you looked over, unwilling to let him think he could study you without your knowledge. As interesting as this little test of his had been, you still weren’t sure what the end goal of it would be. You had little interest in understanding the mechanisms of the revolutionary army though.

At the very least, his test allowed you to look at him properly. Moonlight caught along the edges of his hair and the bridge of his nose, leaving the scar over his eye darker by contrast. He looked almost composed enough to belong. Almost.

You reached for your cup to find the drink inside cold. You must have been delayed with rerouting for longer than you had thought.

“Do you plan to sit here like a statue all night again?” you asked.

“Most likely. These seats are comfortable.”

“They had better be,” you said. “When I got the ship, they were one of the first things I changed. Since then, I’ve changed a decent amount more. So much so that I dread my promotion and having to do it all over again.”

He looked around with a small nod. “I’ve noticed. Have you named it?”

“The ship?” You raised an eyebrow. “Surely you don’t think of me as so sentimental.”

“I don’t know yet,” he said. “It’s one of those things I’m still trying to work out.”

You laughed softly. “I suppose I’ll let you keep the mystery then. But no, I haven’t named the ship. It’s actually outlined in our training that we should refrain from doing so. They’re tools, not personal vessels, and so we are to treat them as such.”

Sabo glanced toward your bed. “Not personal and yet, those are not standard-issue sheets.”

You followed his attention, interested that of the few personal effects in the room, it was the first one he made mention of. It was obvious, you supposed, in comparison to the rest which remained tucked away in drawers and wardrobes.

“That’s a strange thing to acknowledge,” you mentioned. “You’re aware of what standard-issue sheets look like?”

He smiled and gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Not from any intelligence or anything. We have some. Found a wreck once with a considerable number of textiles being moved and amongst them, useable sheets. They’re awful.”

You snorted at the idea. “They are. I don’t know why anybody would bother picking them up.”

“They’re better than nothing.”

You shook your head minutely, refusing even the idea of it. “No. If you’ve tried these, you’ll find you prefer nothing to whatever scratchy felt those things are made of.” You stood, stepped away from the seats. “Come. I’ll show you what I mean.”

Sabo stayed seated, expression suddenly wary. As though the invite implied you had an ambush hiding beneath the covers.

“You’re inviting me to your bed?” he asked.

“If you wish to see it that way.”

You stepped around the post, moved past to your wardrobe and removed your usual sleeping clothes, placing them on your pillow to change in the bathroom.

But first, you sat down with your back to him and withdrew your transponder snail from your pocket, tucking him into his usual spot beside your bed. The poor thing was already half asleep from the long day, its head drooping even before you settled him there.

Sabo didn’t walk very loudly.

You still heard him stand, though, just barely. If you hadn’t been listening carefully for a whisper of fabric, you may not have noticed him until you felt the mattress move beneath you, weight dipping to your right as he sat.

His coat brushed your arm as he placed a gloved hand between both of you, his gaze mildly playful as he looked to you. The lantern’s light flickered over his face.

“They’re alright,” he said. “I’ve seen better.”

You rolled your eyes and caught his wrist.

Sabo stiffened immediately, arm going tense as you lifted his hand from the bed. You looked down, rather than at him, your thumb resting against the inside of his wrist while you gently drew off the glove.

You placed it carefully on the bedside table, beside your sleeping snail. His pulse moved steadily beneath your thumb.

“You can hardly form an opinion when you’re wearing so much clothing,” you told him, your voice loud against the quiet of the moment.

His fingers flexed once.

You moved his hand down, pressing his palm flat against the bedding as you smiled. “See, much better?”

You released his wrist and finally met his eyes again, question hovering in your gaze. The unspoken offer hung heavily in the air between you as you leaned back to give him the slightest space as you waited for an answer.

His hand remained firmly where you’d placed it for a moment longer before he shifted, moving his hand over the sheets slowly enough that you could have pretended it was accidental when he brushed against your thigh briefly.

“Much,” he agreed, soft enough that you might have missed the word if you weren’t so close.

You turned slightly toward him. And the movement brought your knee against his, testing the limits of your interest.

You should have moved away. Instead, you tilted your head and studied the faint crease that had appeared between his brows. For all the confidence he’d shown in coming here in the first place, he was waiting now.

Not uncertain. But patient.

Patient in a way you cared very little for.

“You’re still wearing too much,” you mentioned, looking toward his still-gloved hand briefly.

His gaze dropped briefly to your mouth. “So are you.”

You smiled. Then you caught the front of his shirt and pulled him closer.

Sabo moved without hesitation. One hand caught the mattress beside your hip as his mouth met yours, bracing his weight before the force of it could press you backwards. His surprise lasted only a heartbeat. Then his bare hand found your waist and drew you against him with an eagerness that betrayed just how long he had been waiting.

Far more than the walk to your bed.

His mouth was warm against yours; the first touch measured despite the grip tightening at your side. You slipped the cravat from his neck and his restraint vanished.

He followed when you drew back, forcing you to turn until your shoulders met the mattress and his knee settled between yours. You released his shirt only to catch him behind the neck.

Sabo exhaled softly against your mouth and you found you quite liked that sound.

His hat bumped against your forehead and you broke away to grab it, gently tossing it off the bed. Blond strands fell untidily across his brow as he looked after it for only a second before he kissed you again.

He smiled faintly into your mouth, movement far lazier now. As though he was faintly humoured by something.

You broke the kiss again and he adjusted himself; one hand planted beside your shoulder as he looked down at you, cheeks faintly flushed beneath the low light.

“Are you planning on staring at me?” you asked, sliding your hand away from his neck and to the buttons of his shirt.

“I’m considering things.”

“I warn you, this is a pretty poor time for an interrogation.”

He laughed softly, eyes flickering back to your mouth as the first button popped free.

“Just not what I expected here, of all places.”

“What other reason would you have for sneaking into my room?” you hummed. “My office would be far better for intel.”

“Do all your stowaways get this welcome?” he asked.

“No,” you said, firmly enough that something flickered over his face.

Something you weren’t examining closely. You pulled him down again and he accepted the diversion without protest. Any careful pace disappeared as the kiss deepened and your back pressed against the bed.

His hand slid from your waist to your side, slipping under your shirt to press against the skin there.

Sabo drew back just enough to look at you, bare hand brushing over your ribs. “Hard to remember you could have had me shot when you found me.”

“I didn’t,” you said. “Which I think was the right choice, no?”

“I definitely appreciate it.”

He kissed you again and the next several minutes vanished beneath the quiet drag of fabric and the heat of his hands. His coat slipped from his shoulders somewhere beside the bed, his shirt hanging open beneath your fingers by the time cool air reached your skin. His mouth moved from yours to the edge of your jaw, then lower, and you tilted your head before you could decide whether allowing it was wise.

The ship’s bell rang above deck, marking the hour, and you both slowed.

Footsteps passed beyond your wall. Two men spoke as they changed shifts, making their way past your cabin and toward the crew quarters. You listened to them go, uninterested in it but far too aware of the stiffness creeping back into Sabo’s shoulders.

Sabo lifted his head from where it had been buried in your neck, expression painfully composed for somebody in the state he was.

“I hate that bell,” you said and he laughed softly, the sound caught somewhere between disbelief and humour.

You let your head fall back against the pillow.

“This is probably a poor time,” he said then, his hand moving away from your waist. “You have an early morning catching scavengers.”

The loss of contact annoyed you more than it reasonably should have. “It’s exceptionally stupid too,” you said.

He nodded. “That too.”

He sat back and gave a very poor attempt at fixing his clothes, fingers far from steady. You reached down and picked up your nightclothes from where they’d slipped to the ground.

“I hope I’ve proved my point enough that you’ll stay the night at least,” you commented.

His attention moved over your face, searching for a condition hidden behind the offer. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you only have one more night. You may as well stay in the bed.”

The wariness had returned to his expression, but it was far from the playfulness he’d shown earlier. It seemed that the idea of sharing a bed concerned him more than removing half his clothing or pressing you into a mattress.

“Just an offer,” you said. “I’m getting changed.”

When you returned, his coat and hat had been moved neatly to the chair. Both gloves lay next to it as he sat stiffly on the other side. As though he was ready to leap through the porthole the moment something happened.

You gave him a look and extinguished the lamp, slipping beneath the covers.

Darkness settled over the room, broken only by a thin moonbeam spilling through the porthole. Then the mattress moved, covers adjusting just slightly enough for you to notice them doing so.

If he did manage to actually sleep that night, you didn’t get a chance to ask him because the next morning, you were roused from your sleep by three harsh knocks on the door and a sharp, agitated voice. You didn’t bother to look for him before you stalked your way onto the deck, already barking orders.

The scavenger ship flew no flags and clearly hadn’t expected a marine presence but they didn’t hesitate to open fire.

“Take the sails! We need the vessel intact!”

Smoke rolled across the water between both ships. The scavengers were lighter and considerably faster, cutting across the current in an attempt to pass your port side before you could bring the full line of cannons around.

One of your shots tore through the lower rigging. Another struck the mast just above the deck.

Wood split with a crack loud enough to carry across the water. The mast lurched sideways, dragging half the patched sail with it. Men scattered beneath the falling ropes as the scavenger vessel lost speed.

Their next shot struck low.

The impact shuddered through the ship beneath your boots. Wood groaned and the deck shifted sharply to one side, throwing two of your men against the railing. Somewhere below, somebody shouted about water.

“Damage report!”

“Port side, below the waterline!”

You cursed and caught the edge of the cannon before the list could knock you from your feet. The scavenger ship had lost most of its control, but momentum carried it into the fast-moving current between the islands. Its ruined sails snapped uselessly as the water pulled it away.

“Bring us after them!”

“We’ll worsen the breach if we turn at speed, sir!”

Another report came from below, this one confirming what the tilt had already told you. The pumps were holding for now, but only barely. Continuing the pursuit before the hull was patched would risk turning one damaged section into a split seam.

The scavengers were drifting rather than sailing. Without their mast, the current would only carry them so far before weakening along the next stretch of coast. They would be dead in the water once it released them.

Assuming nobody else reached them first.

“Mark their direction,” you ordered. “Then find me the closest emergency port on our route records. I want the breach sealed and every cannon checked before we continue.”

By the time you stormed back into your room, your mood had darkened considerably.

Sabo was fully dressed and seated where he had been the evening before, as though the night had folded itself neatly away with his coat. He blinked at you with mild curiosity.

You glared at nothing.

“We’ll be making land soon,” you said. “Unexpectedly.”

“You’re taking on water.”

“That current’s only going to take them so far,” you muttered. “We’re going to make repairs at the closest island and then continue the pursuit. You can depart during that time if you want.”

He hummed, tapping a pattern against the chair. “Probably for the best.”

“Don’t get seen.”

“I won’t.”

You hesitated, wondering if you should return to the deck before annoyance drew you to remove your coat from your shoulders, hanging it beside the door instead. You had at least twenty minutes and nothing you did would make the ship sail faster.

Before you could remove your gun, somebody knocked on the door. You opened it barely a crack to look at the subordinate.

“Yes?”

“Sir,” he said. “We have pirate ships on the horizon.”

“Are they sailing for us?”

“No, sir. Alongside us.”

You knew where you were. You didn’t need to ask to know whose flag would be snapping against the wind now. But you had little choice. Without knowing how bad the damage was, you couldn’t change course to another island. And then you would risk losing your quarry even if the currents eventually left them stranded.

“Stay our course,” you said. “If Whitebeard’s men are looking for a fight, I’d prefer we take one at land rather than in the open ocean.”

“Yes, sir.”

You closed the door and sighed. Of course. One thing after another.

“I was thinking,” Sabo said. “That chasing a scavenger ship around doesn’t quite suit the work of a rear admiral.”

A thousand other things to speak of and he chose your work. If it hadn’t been for your skin still being warm from the night before, you might have snapped at him for it. As it was, you gave him a look.

“It’s considered punishment work,” you acknowledged.

His attention snapped to you, curiosity shining in his eyes. You spoke of it with ease because what good would such information serve him anyway? He could hardly bring any trouble by knowing that your superiors were currently not in a good mood with you.

“Punishment work rather than a demotion?”

You took the seat beside him again, gaze sharper than it should have been. “I’m far too good at my job for that.”

“Then why the punishment?”

“I don’t know if I should be telling you that. Feels a bit private to share.”

His lips curled up into a faint smile. “That’s too private?”

“It is.”

He was uncomfortable. You hadn’t had an opportunity to watch him since the night before but he hadn’t tapped such a pattern into the fabric before. Perhaps the acknowledgement of what happened had finally caught up with him. You could hardly fault him for his mask of fake confidence now.

You did not wish to discuss it when you were already on edge.

“If you do sink,” he said, “there might be people close enough to notice. A signal off the port side could earn you some help.”

You hummed, suddenly interested by his claim.

It made sense. He would not take this risk without a backup plan and yet, you hadn’t suspected anybody was trailing you until he mentioned it. You were almost impressed by their secrecy.

“If we sink,” you said. “We’ll see.”

The tapping against the fabric stopped, though he was still wound tight. Then his gaze dropped to the pistol still secured at your side.

“You kept it.”

“We were fired upon less than an hour ago.”

“I thought you didn’t work in here.”

“I don’t.”

He leaned closer, attention remaining on the holster. “Then which rule wins?”

His fingers moved toward the fastening and you caught his wrist before they could touch it.

For a second, you merely stared at him with a raised eyebrow. His arm had gone still beneath your hand, though he made no attempt to pull away.

“That’s a bit forward,” you said.

“Your limits are very interesting.”

You hummed and brushed your thumb against the edge of his glove, catching the narrow strip of bare skin between leather and sleeve.

“They’re sometimes softer,” you said. “But that one I wouldn’t try again.”

“I’ll remember.”

You held him for another heartbeat before releasing his wrist. “See that you do.”

He sat back, but the tension in his shoulders had eased slightly.

“You should be careful,” he said. “I’ve heard a lack of sleep causes your judgement to lapse.”

“It hasn’t done so yet.”

The island made its opinion of you known before the gangplank touched the dock.

Conversation along the harbour thinned as your damaged ship drew closer. A pair of fishermen gathered their nets and moved inland without looking back, while shutters closed above two nearby shops with sharp wooden cracks. Even the gulls seemed louder in the silence left behind.

There was nothing for it. Water still seeped through the temporary packing below deck, and the tilt beneath your boots had worsened during the approach.

The shipwrights were willing to work for beri, although the amount they demanded suggested they considered repairing a Marine vessel a personal insult. You paid without negotiating and ordered half your men to gather supplies while the rest remained aboard to guard the ship and assist with the breach.

It wasn’t the best atmosphere, something you knew even as you stepped away from the ship, walking along the port with your boots clicking steadily against the ground. You meant only to get the lay of the surrounding harbour to be sure the scavenger vessel hadn’t found its way here too.

Instead, you found flickering flames and Fire Fist Ace dropping from the railing of one of his ships. A broad grin spread across his face when he saw you.

“Hey!”

The other pirates who lingered aboard looked nervously at one another, clearly uncertain if they should draw their weapons. There weren’t many of them but even the commander himself was enough to cause trouble if he wanted to.

But he didn’t look like he wanted a fight even with your coat hanging from your shoulders. He actually looked obscenely pleased.

“Most pirates offer far less pleasant greetings of admirals,” you commented to him. “I suppose luck would have it that we bump into each other again.”

He grinned and hopped from the railing with ease. Everybody was looking at him and you could feel the tension crawling up your back. You glanced over your shoulder toward your ship, still in need of repairs and unable to return fire if this turned into a fight.

“Pretty good luck,” he agreed. “I knew you were an officer. Didn’t think you were a rear admiral though.”

You hummed and rested your hand upon the stock of your gun. Bullets would do nothing against him but it reassured you faintly.

“Shocking information all around.”

“So, uh, I’m guessing you’re not here looking for pirates again, are you? Which means we’re good?”

It was a very simplified explanation from your last meeting and yet you found it was true. You weren’t looking for pirates although that didn’t mean you were particularly friends with the ones you bumped into. Even if they were wearing their hats too far back to block out any sun.

“Are we?” you asked.

He hummed. “Maybe. You shouldn’t really be docking here. Marine routes aren’t meant to come through this area.”

“I know,” you said. “But we were taking on too much water and required a patch repair before we sank. It isn’t a long stop although we are prepared for another fight, if that’s what’s waiting for us.”

“Yeah, that’s probably meant to be from me,” he said. “The fighting thing.”

You nodded. “I presumed as much. Are we going to fight, Fire Fist?”

He thought about it. “I don’t know. I guess it depends if you’re nice to me.”

He was teasing and even in your foul mood, you couldn’t help but offer him a faint smile in response. You likely shouldn’t be indulging this so much but he was so eager and your mood had improved significantly while speaking to him.

“I try not to be nice to pirates,” you said.

“Not true. You were nice to me a few weeks ago.”

You scoffed. “I wouldn’t consider that nice.”

Fire Fist shrugged. “I mean, you shot down a net for me, then you lied about where I was, and you touched my chest. Which… the last one was probably like a thing for you rather than me but still.”

You rolled your eyes. “Definitely not for me. That was because you apparently don’t know how to follow orders.”

He nodded. “I do get that a lot.”

“I’m not surprised. Fine. What would it take for me to be ‘nice’ to you then?”

He paused, seemingly not having expected you to offer it. You really hoped whatever answer he gave wasn’t going to take too long because this entire thing was already a waste of time and you did not look forward to returning to your headquarters later.

“Want to get something to eat?”

You frowned, momentarily confused. Because you’d maybe expected monetary wealth or being asked to leave the island early but that… that was an interesting request, to say the least.

It wasn’t like you didn’t have time before the repairs were done and your men were sweeping the ship for residual danger already. Something that reminded you that certain stowaways should probably disembark soon.

And if it saved you a potential conflict, it was hardly a problem.

“Alright,” you said. “What would you like to eat?”

For a second, Ace blinked as though he wasn’t expecting that as a response and then he grinned, looking back at his ship and the flag billowing on it and waving. The others frowned even as he nodded for you to follow him, mouths open with unspoken questions.

“I know a pretty good place,” he said. “But uh… the owner doesn’t like marines very much.”

You looked toward your very obvious uniform. “He doesn’t like marines but he tolerates pirates?”

“Well, yeah. Pops’ protection is what keeps this whole place safe.”

That sounded like an absolute paradise for criminals and yet, you imagined it wasn’t too much of a concern if you had one with you. You slipped the coat from your shoulders, hiding the largest insignia over your arm.

You still looked like a marine but at least, it was somewhat less obvious.

“Is this better?”

Ace grinned. “I was going to say I could buy stuff and bring it to you but that works too. You look much better like that, anyway.”

“I’m sure you think so. Less like a rear admiral.”

“Do you want me to carry it?”

You raised an eyebrow at the mildly humorous idea of a very wanted pirate strutting around with a high-ranking officer’s coat on his arm. If Morgans got even a hint of that… well, it would be funny to see Sengoku turn red but no.

“It’s fine,” you said. “Lead the way.”

With him at your side, the town’s attention became far more welcoming. It was an almost startling change in comparison. His easy grin seemed to put most of them at ease and a few even came up to tell him that there were marines in the area before they noticed you at his side, if they even noticed at all.

“They’re not causing trouble,” he reassured. “We’re watching them.”

“We?” you clarified.

He gestured to where you were standing. “Well, I know exactly what you’re up to so technically.”

You hummed. “I suppose that could hold up. Though there are far more men on my ship than just me which would mean this meal is as much a distraction for you, no? You won’t be able to tell if anything starts there.”

“They won’t. You’re the biggest threat there.”

“Am I?”

“You’re in charge, aren’t you?” he asked. “When I saw you last time, everybody listened the moment you spoke.”

You appreciated the notion even if the entire situation had started expressly against your permission the last time. Though he was right. You had no rookies travelling with you this time. If your men saw the pirates, they’d stay their hands.

“True,” you said. “My crew do understand orders. Unlike certain pirates I know who think a safety retreat is optional because they would rather experience life as a fish in a net.”

He held his hands up in his defence. “Hey, I don’t know why you’re complaining. It gave you an excuse to touch me.”

You laughed. “That was not a reason to touch you.”

“I mean, you could have touched anywhere else. You chose skin to skin.”

You took a second to look him over, gaze lingering with a very mild appreciation of his sun-kissed skin and toned frame before you noted the problem with his idea. “Considering that you aren’t fond of shirts, I have a feeling anywhere else would have been far more suggestive.”

“But still…”

“No,” you corrected though you found you couldn’t help but smile. “Come now. We’re walking very slowly and I only have so much time.”

“You have somewhere to be?”

You weighed up the idea of sharing the morning’s events with a pirate. Although this one seemed far more interested in food than whatever business you had. It didn’t make him any less of a threat – you knew that – but he was a threat that had very little to do with this work.

“We were ordered to intercept a scavenger ship,” you explained. “We shredded their mast and sails but they were lighter and the current took them while we took on water. They’re dead in the water once our repairs are done.”

Ace’s smile faded slightly. “A scavenger ship?” he said. “There shouldn’t be any of those this close.”

“It wasn’t far from the island at all. Could have even stopped here.”

You made no mention of the potential marine intelligence on board. Pirates were drawn to potential treasure by nature, even that which didn’t glitter. And he had a ship in far better condition than yours currently.

“It’s weird because one of the other divisions found a weird ship like a week ago,” Ace said. “Close to here too but it was empty. No people or loot or anything. But it was flying a flag we hadn’t seen before.”

“This one didn’t bear any mark,” you said. “Had we not received orders to move into its path, if we’d seen it on the open waters, I would have let it past.”

“They told you to reroute for it?”

You shrugged. “It happens, at times.”

He hummed and turned toward a restaurant, pushed the door open and gave a cheerful greeting to the owner, a surly-looking man with thinning hair. His attention locked on you immediately, glare sharpening at the coat on your arm before he seemed to accept that you’d come with somebody trustworthy.

“Still weird,” he said. “Maybe they lowered their flag to try sneak past you?”

“If they did, we’ll find it when we catch up.”

“If you do find one when you grab them… any chance I could get a look at it? Pops would want to know if they’re connected.”

The owner hadn’t brought you a menu. You glanced toward him to find he was already preparing something in the kitchen. Funny. You hadn’t realised that going out for lunch with Ace meant you might have something pre-emptively ordered for you.

You could only hope it wasn’t poisoned.

“I’ll consider it,” you said, fingernails tapping against the wood of the table. “Depending on how good the food here is.”

Ace leaned back in his chair with a relaxed smile. “It’s good. How would I find you?”

“Details after the meal,” you said, amused by how eager he seemed to be.

The owner returned with both arms crowded by plates. Grilled meat still spat quietly in its own fat, surrounded by roasted vegetables, thick slices of bread and a bowl of rice large enough to feed several ordinary people. Steam carried the scents of pepper, charred herbs and something rich enough to make you realise how little you had eaten since before sunrise.

He set everything down with more force than necessary, gaze pausing on the coat folded across your lap.

“She’s good,” Ace said.

“Such a stellar recommendation,” you responded to him. “Coming from a division commander of an incredibly dangerous pirate crew.”

He grinned and the owner made a short sound that might have been a laugh. Whatever reservations he had about serving you were apparently outweighed by Ace’s two-word endorsement. You still let him dig in before you reached for anything.

It was good food. That you couldn’t deny though you ate far slower than he did, plates disappearing under his grasp.

“Is it flag-level good?” Ace asked.

You laughed. “It’s acceptable. But I have been awake since before sunrise and I slept quite poorly. My appetite may well override my judgement.”

“You like it.”

You smiled at him. “Maybe. I appreciate it not being poisoned.”

“You thought it might be?”

“I considered the possibility.”

He chuckled. “I’m not that kind of pirate.”

“I see that.”

Your acknowledgement was short but his grin softened regardless. The restaurant filled slowly around you, most of the people who entered greeted him by name. Some stopped by just long enough to ask after names you didn’t recognise and a few you did.

None of them really looked to you. You didn’t mind it. It gave you time to watch them before you tilted your head to him after a small group of women continued on their way.

“If there is a flag,” you said. “I suppose I could have a messenger bring a sketch or something similar to you.”

“You wouldn’t do it yourself?”

“I somehow don’t think I’m going to be allowed to sail aimlessly around Whitebeard’s territory looking for one of his commanders under that excuse,” you reasoned.

“You don’t know until you try.”

You took another bite, looking past him toward the harbour visible between the buildings. The masts of your ship rose proudly above the rooftops. You might be able to find a reason if you thought hard enough but there were limits to what you would do. Ignoring something was far more work than excusing it.

Ace followed your attention. “Any of your guys get hurt?”

The question surprised you enough that you paused, if briefly, before responding.

“A few. Nothing our doctors can’t handle.”

“It was a hard hit,” he said.

You nodded. “It was. When I return to headquarters, I’ll have the shipwrights patch it up properly. Even if it grounds me for a few weeks.”

“That’s going to make it hard for you to bring me the flag though.”

You laughed softly. “I suppose it might be a lesson in patience then.”

Ace’s eyes brightened. “Wait, you’re actually going to do it?”

“No.”

His expression fell and you laughed softly as he returned to his food. “You’re so awful. I’m glad you didn’t catch me.”

“You should be,” you said. “Though as I said, it might have gotten me quite the promotion. Not that I want it right now but at least I wouldn’t be sailing after random scavenger ships.”

“You wouldn’t be having lunch either.”

“I would be. Just at headquarters with far worse company.”

Outside, a bell rang from the direction of the harbour. You turned toward the sound, recognising the request for return. Were the repairs completed already? That had been considerably faster than you expected.

Maybe the shipwrights here just wanted an excuse to get marines off their island.

You stood and put down more than enough money on the table to cover the obscene amount Ace had eaten, not yet putting the coat over your shoulders.

“You’re paying?” he asked.

“Repairs are completed,” you said. “I have somewhere to be. You’re welcome to continue eating.”

But he was already standing, falling into step alongside you with an easy grin. Outside, the sun had lowered enough to cast long shadows between the buildings. You were running low on time to catch up.

“Are you still watching me?” you asked Ace curiously.

“Yup. Till you leave,” he said. “Do you want to take a different route back? This road’s got a much better view.”

You shouldn’t have considered it. Not even for a moment. And yet, your feet slowed for just a second as you thought about following him to see if his recommendation was any good even if the route was visibly longer.

Then you shook your head. “No. I’m taking a direct path.”

His disappointment was measurable but he forced a smile. “Alright. Next time.”

You didn’t plan on ever returning to this island but you inclined your head regardless. As you approached the docks, you lifted the coat and pulled it back into place over your shoulders, weight settling heavily over your arms.

Ace’s eyes followed the fabric. “That thing looks uncomfortable.”

“It’s not.”

One of your officers raised a hand when he spotted you, words already flowing before he noticed who you were accompanied by. “Rear Admiral, the repairs are complete. Supplies have been loaded and – ”

Ace stopped as the officer’s hand dropped for a weapon. The others behind him reacted an instant later, guns drawn in a sharp chorus of metal. Ace straightened beside you, earlier grin tightening into something more arrogant as they levelled barrels in his direction.

You raised a hand and the weapons lowered.

“Then we will be off,” you said. “We will not require another stop.”

“You’re leaving now?” Ace asked.

“Yes.”

He hesitated before he spoke again, a faint smile lingering that was real despite his discomfort. “Will you be coming back?”

It made you pause; question strange enough that it caused a similar reaction from your men. You would later insist it had sounded more like a warning not to make a habit of docking there, yet you heard something underneath. A nod to your earlier promise.

You should have rejected the notion entirely.

“If the need arises,” you said. “I don’t follow the rules of pirate territory.”

And instead of looking annoyed as he should have at the blatant disrespect to their claim, he grinned as though you’d offered him something far better. He stepped away, gesturing toward your ship.

“You should go,” he said. “You have limited time, right?”

“I do.” You turned to your men without looking back. “With me. I don’t want to waste another night’s worth of supplies floating here.”

Your men didn’t hesitate to fall into step, showing their concern over Fire Fist only through a few cautious glances in his direction. He really needed better self-preservation instincts. You just hoped he didn’t start taking this as a sign all rear admirals would be so accommodating.

Four days later, the owner of the restaurant looked at you with far more recognition than you preferred. Even without your coat, left aboard the small ship you had borrowed, his shoulders tightened.

You smiled as calmly as you could and placed a sketch of the flag on the counter, followed by enough beri to ensure it reached the correct hands.

“For Fire Fist,” you said.

The man looked down at the image and then back at you. He shrugged and took it, tucking it somewhere behind the counter. “You’re not welcome here.”

“I didn’t plan on lingering.”

Tag List: @miwn8 ; @aceincase ; @chaeisrichnow ; @aceidentallyinlove

[dawnsarchive]

Hello!!! I just want to say that I'm OBSESSED with "Kissing the Commanders"!! Can't wait for the next part ^-^

Hi!

Thank you so much! That story is so much fun to write that it is a battle to stop myself doing like five parts at once 😂

The next part is coming soon though! It should be out within the next 3 or so days 💙 (Probably on Thus/Fri)

[dawnsarchive]

hii, just a random thought but i always imagine the oc from ghost in the machine with orange-brownish hair like nami and koala buahahaha it seems that the asl brothers always have a oranged haired baddie. Anywaysss thank u for feeding us so much content every week queen! I always look forward to it after work huhuhuhhu. I cant wait for more!

Hey!

You know, I can absolutely see what you mean 😆 I think it would fit her quite well too! I imagine her to have an autumnal vibe and that hair colour suits it perfectly!

I really love hearing how people imagine the readers in my stories. It's always so fun to hear the different interpretations💙

Thank you so much for taking the time to read my stories! I'm so flattered that you enjoy them so much!

[dawnsarchive]

Hi dawn, I hope you are doing well! 🫶🏼

For the last few days since I found your blog I am obsessed with your fanfictions! I really love your style of writing! I wanted to ask, if you plan on updating the rob lucci fanfiction or if this one has been already finished with the last chapter? :)

Hello!

Ah, thank you so much! I'm really glad you enjoy my stories 💙

So, the reason I originally stopped writing the Lucci story was because I kind of started wanting to rewrite it 😅 It's not finished by a long shot and still had a bunch planned for it but it also wasn't in the style I enjoyed. And I wanted to fix the style before continuing the story

I just never got around to actually finishing the rewrite. I do still want to when I have the inspiration too but until then, it's kind of in hiatus ~

Which I am sorry for! But I will get to it some day!

[dawnsarchive]

Hello! I realllyyyy enjoy your fics, Can I request a law x reader fic where reader gets a rough head injury when fighting and forgets her memory, specifically the time period when they started dating each other ,but her memory comes back after some days, and also Id love it if they had something like a love-hate relationship before they started dating.

Minor Head Trauma (Law x Reader)

One Piece | Law | 5.5k | One Piece Masterlist

You were on a submarine.

It was… quaint, you supposed. A little claustrophobic and cold in a way that seemed to radiate through the walls. The engine hummed somewhere beneath your feet, its vibration travelling faintly through the soles of your shoes. You didn’t really know what else there was to say about it as you ran your fingers over the helm.

“We don’t plan to surface for a while. Considering this condition is likely temporary, I see no reason to change our course.”

You looked over your shoulder at Law. His expression was very carefully controlled; not an ounce of information betrayed itself through his eyes. Looking at him felt strange. Like peering through fog at something you couldn’t quite make out.

Another thing you’d ‘forgotten’.

“I’m still a little wary about all of this,” you said, hand tracing over the controls.

“Understandably.”

You reached up gently; just above your brow, a large and bruised cut made you wince when you touched it. “I don’t understand how it’s possible. How did I lose memories of your crew from a single bump?”

Law crossed his arms. “It was hardly a bump.”

“I’m kind of worried I’ve been kidnapped or something.”

“I know better than that. I’ve tried it before but it never stuck.”

You laughed softly, humoured by the idea. They’d already established you weren’t kidnapped by telling you enough things about your early life that you had to believe, somewhat, that the haze in your brain was blanketing out countless memories from the past years. Unless the infamous Heart Pirates were also the world’s best stalkers.

You rubbed your eyes and looked over his shoulder at the crew. They were familiar. Like people you’d met once and your brain could faintly make out their shapes.

The bear, though, was by far the current biggest redeeming factor of this ship. Submarine. Whatever it was. You remembered his name vaguely… Bepo, right. Him and his eternally bad habit of walking up from behind and looming above you like a predator about to drop his jaw to your head.

“Are you okay?” he asked, whispering though there was really no point in doing so. Voices bounced easily off the metal walls.

“Bepo,” you said. “I was remembering your name.”

His eyes sparkled immediately and he nodded fast enough that you worried his head might pop off his shoulders. “Yes! You remember that?”

“It’s coming back to me,” you said.

That was some of the best proof you’d had that this wasn’t a kidnapping disguised as a medical emergency. You knew some of their names though you didn’t remember how you’d learned them. Law was different though. You remembered him through wanted posters and rumours more than you did in this space.

Yet when you looked at him here, you found it hard to place him anywhere else.

He cleared his throat and you realised you’d been staring.

“You already know my name,” he said. “You knew it long before you joined us.”

“You’re quite infamous,” you agreed and you did remember how you’d thought of him and his terrifying power. But it wasn’t so scary anymore. “Now you’re telling me we know each other well?”

“We do.”

You waited for a more detailed answer but he gave you nothing so you looked toward the rest of the crew. They immediately dipped their heads, looking toward the ground or the ceiling in the most suspicious way imaginable.

Alright. You’d have to figure out what they were keeping to themselves at a different time.

“We know each other well and I’m apparently not kidnapped,” you reasoned. “And the last memory I can firmly grab at, I’m pretty sure I wasn’t inside a metal tube. So that means you’ve somehow convinced me to join a pirate crew?”

“I didn’t convince you of anything. You walked in and wouldn’t leave.”

Somebody in the crew snorted with laughter and you glanced over, smiling at the idea. It sounded right.

“But I don’t have a jumpsuit,” you reasoned, noting the dress code that was apparently enforced.

“Oh, that’s because it’s in the wash,” Bepo hurried to assure you. “It had a bunch of blood on it so we had to clean it.”

“Right,” you said slowly. “Because I got a head injury.”

Law’s attention flicked to your brow briefly. “You did. At least it occurred close enough that I could treat it. There could be worse places.”

You hummed. “I’m not doubting your skills but wouldn’t most doctors tell their patients important information?”

He didn’t flinch even as the rest of his crew began to quietly avert their eyes. You stared at him patiently, waiting for a response. The bare basics weren’t enough to explain the massive hole in your memories. You wanted to know in far greater detail.

The silence stretched before he shook his head.

“There’s a risk with information,” he said. “Your amnesia means your mind knows there are missing memories. If we fill in the gaps for you, you may start repeating what we tell you instead of recovering the memories yourself. I’m not risking that. A week, maybe more.”

You weren’t sure you appreciated that. “So, if you tell me about my memories, you think I’ll just accept them as fact.”

“I worry it could happen,” he acknowledged. “So, for now, it is best if you rest and regain them in your own time.”

You wanted to push for more. This wasn’t right. You knew the memories were floating just beyond your grasp but you had no way to reach for them unless somebody helped.

Then again, it wasn’t an ideal time. Your headache from earlier was beginning to return as whatever pain medication he’d given you began to wear off. It radiated through your brain in a steady throb and you lightly rubbed your temples.

“If you won’t give me memories, what about facts?” you asked. “Like how long I’ve been here for? How much time is even missing?”

Law didn’t seem willing to budge. “You’ll remember with time. For now, you’re struggling and walking around the ship was already against my recommendations. I think you should rest before we discuss it.”

You looked over his shoulder to the others. “Can I have a second opinion?”

“No.”

His stubbornness was stirring up faint feelings that curled around your chest. Something that complemented his manic reputation although, you could hardly find it in yourself to be nervous around a man whose hat resembled a seal’s pelt.

A brief memory surfaced of finding a vaguely similar mushroom while browsing a market. You remembered holding it up, voice distorted through time, and you saw his unamused expression faintly.

Even then, he seemed far less guarded than he was now.

“Alright,” you relented, satisfied to have retrieved one memory, useless though it may be. “I do want the headache to fade. I don’t think I remember where my bunk is.”

You looked toward the only other woman on the crew, hoping she might help but Law answered before you could think of it for too long.

“You’ll be remaining in the recovery bay for observation,” he said. “They’ll move what you need there.”

“Captain?” Bepo asked, his voice soft. “Wouldn’t she be more comfortable somewhere familiar?”

“Nowhere is familiar right now,” Law clarified. “That’s the problem.”

But he was wrong. Everything was familiar. Even the way he tilted his chin faintly when he spoke to somebody behind him was familiar. You just couldn’t place why it had become familiar in the first place.

What you did know was that you woke up the next day to a lot of stuff that didn’t really need to be in the recovery bay.

It wasn’t a complaint exactly because, if you needed anything, it was incredibly easy to find, but also, this felt like an excessive number of things to be brought through for a temporary stay. Far, far too many actually.

Every item you owned had been brought through and laid out on the surrounding berths so you didn’t have to look for it. If you did have a storage chest, it must have been emptied for everything to be dragged up here.

And yet…

Shachi and Penguin stepped in with another armful of clothes and you looked toward them. They both smiled as they laid it all out.

“Where are you getting all of this from?” you asked.

They froze, looking to each other for a second.

“Storage,” Shachi said.

At the same time, Penguin said, “Your room.”

You raised an eyebrow at them. “So, I have a room? I don’t stay with the rest of the crew?”

“Technically?” Shachi said slowly, already taking a few steps back.

They hurried out and you listened to their footsteps disappear down the corridor before you shook your head. They had always been such awful liars. You remembered briefly telling them as much in the past when you were walking around an island, trailing them slowly.

Another small memory of the crew and yet it answered nothing about why all your things were piled here.

You looked at the surrounding items before your gaze lingered suspiciously on a mug. For a second, you didn’t know what was wrong with it being there (nor why it annoyed you so much that it was) but then you remembered buying it. It had a twin.

A twin that was decidedly nowhere in this collection of things.

You considered it for a while before you swung your legs from the medical berth and rolled your shoulders. If they were running your stuff from somewhere, there would be a space missing your things.

And though you couldn’t remember it when thinking of it directly, your legs carried you through the Polar Tang with little thought.

Your steps echoed through the metal halls with a marked rhythm as you took your time looking through the rooms. You knew this submarine well. You loved walking through the submarine and knowing what room would come next.

Your fingers brushed along the cold walls, tracing the bolts in the metal as you glanced out the windows and into the churning ocean below.

You’d seen all kinds of things through this glass. All manner of aquatic life had swum by you before and you remembered how charmed you had been to watch them in the past; once you’d even seen a massive sea king disappear into the depths.

Your reflection caught your eye against the window.

You reached up to touch the bump and the stitches, trailing your fingers over the lines slowly. They ached, even now, but they annoyed you more than hurt.

Apparently, all your memories had leaked from your head through this one smack and that got under your skin far worse than any pain could have. Not to mention, you were partially sure it had been your fault to begin with.

If you remembered, and that was a stretch, you remembered a faint self-complaint of stupidity before the pain arrived.

You continued to walk, looking for something you couldn’t describe before you came across a door. It didn’t have a key and a lock but rather, a keypad, waiting for a code that you couldn’t remember the numbers of. And yet when you raised your hand, you pressed the numbers without thinking and the door slid open.

Law wasn’t in his office, but the space felt warmer than any of the rooms you’d passed before. The air held the faint smell of coffee, ink and antiseptic, and the chill that had followed you through the corridors seemed to stop at the door.

It was plain and sparsely decorated and yet you recognised it. Knew where you wanted to go and where you wanted to stand. You walked in slowly, carefully examining the room.

Sitting on his desk, filled with untouched coffee, was your mug’s twin.

The coffee looked cold, abandoned there some time ago. There was no steam left, and the bitter smell had gone flat. Next to it, there was a stain on the wood, spreading around a second coaster that held nothing.

You remembered the look he gave you after he realised the coffee mug had spilled but you couldn’t quite grasp what had happened before it.

You didn’t linger for long, stepping out of the office with the memories hanging over you as you made your way to the dining hall instead. This, at least, you could place concretely as the room where you’d first met the crew, with its large tables and metal furnishings. Although now, it seemed Law was sitting there instead.

He sat at one of the benches with papers and books around him as he paged through an unrecognisable medical journal.

This wasn’t where he’d normally do this but it was where he usually sat. You strolled closer, shoes clicking against the floor. And yet, instead of looking up, he just moved some papers away to clear a spot next to him.

You were already seated there before either of you realised the habit.

You looked over his shoulder at the study he was going through, saw a flash of your name written on a folder and tilted your head.

“I have a file?” you asked.

“Everybody has one,” he said, back straightening as he looked to you. “I thought your instructions were to rest.”

“I’m rested enough. Does the amnesia really need to be noted?”

“Yes.”

You were sitting very close when you thought about it but it didn’t feel natural to sit elsewhere. Though you wanted to complain about the time and how he was still working… you caught the grumble on your tongue for a second.

It wasn’t dinner yet. He could work here, if he wanted to.

He watched you for a moment more before he went back to the books, flipping through the pages, and you watched from his side, reading the paragraphs that caught your eye and wondering why your memories seemed to struggle so much with this.

“I think it should be put in as temporary amnesia,” you said.

Law flicked the page harder than needed. “Once you’ve regained your memories, I can change it,” he said. “Until then, it will remain as I’ve diagnosed.”

“I’m certain it’ll come back,” you said. “I made my way around the submarine with no problem and found my way here. I know what in my stuff is missing and where it probably is.”

“Do you remember the name of the submarine?”

You paused, thinking on it although it hung just beyond your reach. He nodded after an awkward length of time passed.

“There are still things missing.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t be fully moved into the recovery bay?” you suggested. “My own bed might be enough to trigger memories.”

“No. It’s safer to have you somewhere you can be observed.”

“Why can’t you observe me where I usually sleep?”

He didn’t actually answer your question, seemingly invested in ignoring whatever truth was being held around your regular quarters. You were becoming increasingly suspicious that there was something else there.

Footsteps caused you to raise your head. Shachi and Penguin both smiled warmly when they saw your seat and you smiled in return, even knowing you were about to corner them.

“I was looking for you two,” you said. “Earlier, you brought me a mug and some part of my brain is itching to tell me it has a twin somewhere. What happened to it? Or have I forgotten breaking it.”

They both immediately froze.

“No,” Shachi said. “You didn’t break it. It’s just being washed.”

“Because it was in the storeroom,” Penguin said. “It’s dusty in there.”

You raised an eyebrow. “But you said you got those things from my room.”

“It’s dusty in there too?” Shachi offered but his voice was far too meek to be believable.

Law didn’t raise his head but you heard the faintest sigh of disappointment under his breath. You almost laughed at it.

“You’re both awful liars,” you told them. “I’m glad to see that memory was right.”

“It’s because when they start talking, they don’t stop,” Law said. “And because they feel the need to tell you far too much.”

They both nodded, hurrying to their own table as they took their captain’s non-subtle hint to continue moving. You watched them go before looking down at where you were sitting. Your memories might be hazy but you could notice that you hadn’t been hurried along at all.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“I just keep remembering little things about you,” you said. “Like I think I got you that pen.”

“Mm.”

“And I’m also wondering why you won’t just tell me everything. You’re my captain, right?”

“Right now, I’m your doctor. That means you follow my orders until your head heals. I want to be sure that your recovery occurs smoothly and without outside interference.”

“Why aren’t you in your office?” you asked. “All of this seems to belong there, right? You must have brought it all out.”

For a second, Law stopped turning the page and he breathed out slightly. There was a strange tremble to the sound; one that had you tilting your head to him.

Your body moved before you thought it through and you shifted your hand closer, resting it over his for a second. He didn’t move, hand adjusting under your own for a second as though he wanted to leave it there, before he stood. He picked up his work and headed for the door, gone before you could register how natural it felt to hold his hand.

The memories crept closer, flitting away when you grabbed for them but you had a feeling that if he’d stayed for a second longer…

He avoided you as the days passed, harder than ever, but you somehow kept finding him.

If you explored the ship, you’d figure out the best path to guess where he’d be and more and more fell into place as you did. Names and places. You called the ship the Polar Tang while you were chatting with Uni and you recalled the exact path to get from the medical bay to anywhere else.

You remembered Bepo’s favourite food after you remembered where the snacks were kept. The week ‘deadline’ crept closer and more of your memories returned, but you still felt you were missing something very important.

The problem was that the very important thing seemed to be what everybody had been banned from talking about at all. So, you had nothing to trigger it.

Law’s checkups were far too quick for a conversation. He didn’t even ask about what you’d managed to recall, fixating on the head wound, and then immediately leaving you to go and hide somewhere in the ship. And you felt pretty comfortable in calling it hiding because that was what it clearly was.

And whenever his fingers brushed your hairline, or gently pressed against your skin, you knew that you wanted to touch him.

The urge should have been ridiculous because your memories of his reputation to the public and what you knew of his more reserved nature contradicted it entirely. And yet whenever you reached for him, he never glared. He always simply created the distance himself.

And your memories desperately refused to let you just leave it that way. They screamed that there was a reason even if your brain struggled to grab why.

Six days in and you were done with it.

You grabbed Bepo first; snatched his enormous paw that was easily the size of your whole head and tugged him along with a telling fearlessness. Penguin and Ikkaku you dragged from the galley. You found Shachi near the boiler room, until you had every Heart Pirate you could find gathered in the dining hall and completely ignoring their duties.

Law might not allow you to force him into sharing information. But you knew that they were all already at the bursting point.

You planted your hands onto your hips. “I’ve remembered a lot over the past few days,” you said to them. “But seeing as our Captain has decided to be stubborn, I’m going to ask you to fill in the blanks.”

Their smiles faded immediately.

“Captain did say we’re not meant to tell you anything,” Bepo said softly.

“Right,” you agreed. “But I’m done hanging around waiting for things to click into place so he’s going to have to suck it up. Now, where was all my stuff before it was brought to the recovery bay?”

Penguin glanced toward Shachi and they both lowered their eyes quickly. You stared at them both, waiting for the weight of your glare to wear them down.

“Different places?” Penguin offered.

“No.”

“Captain’s quarters,” Shachi said. “Mostly. Some of the stuff really was in storage though! Uh, we just left that stuff there because you probably wouldn’t need it.”

You nodded and things began to click slightly into place. A system that you kept messing up whenever you reached for something. Because he was organised in a way you couldn’t easily predict so you’d given up trying.

A memory pushed through as you looked over where everything hung and felt a hand reaching past you for a shirt. The sound of his voice close to your ear as he told you that if you reorganised his wardrobe again, he would throw everything you owned into the ocean.

You’d laughed at him and purposefully moved his coat to your side.

“So, I stay in his room then,” you said. “Which is why he chose to keep me in the recovery bay?”

“Well yes…” Penguin said. “He is right though. It would be really weird to explain that to you if you had no memories! And then he wouldn’t sleep in there.”

“It’s also why he told us to bring out literally everything,” Uni explained. “Because he didn’t want you to ask and then have to tell you where something was.”

“Then why did you only bring me one of the mugs?”

“The other one’s Captain’s,” Penguin said.

Shachi nodded. “He’d already made coffee in it anyway. Just left it sitting on his desk.”

“Fine. Then why isn’t he in his office half the time?”

Ikkaku sighed and you looked to her to find her expression soft. “He is today. I think he’s been moving around because he’s avoiding it. There’s a lot of you in there.”

“A lot of me?”

Bepo nodded slightly. “You’re in there a lot,” he said. “And we took out most of what we could find but like, we can’t remove everything. That’s probably why he was working in laundry yesterday.”

You frowned. “That’s ridiculous. Not the memory part but like… he hates the sound of those machines.”

“Yeah but he’s also avoiding you so…”

“I know that. He could have just changed the code.”

Bepo’s eyes watered, his ears twitching slightly. “He could have but you love being in there. So, why would he want to stop you?”

The word triggered something in your chest before you could stop it. Like a small puzzle finally clicking into place. Because that had been the word you were missing.

The one that made you lean over Law’s desk and steal books from his hands when he hadn’t looked at you. The one that had him throw a coat over your shoulders while he worked, one hand resting against your back as you slipped toward sleep. The memories seeped back in slowly.

“Alright,” you said, as they still returned. “And this whole not telling me anything was because he was scared he was going to force me to remember it?”

“He didn’t say it exactly, but I think he was worried you’d feel obligated,” Ikkaku said. “That you would love him only because we said you should.”

Obligated into what? Into waking in a warm bed, your face pressed between his shoulder blades because he often turned away from you in the night?

You nodded and stepped away. “I love you all. You are all idiots.”

“Where are you going?” Shachi asked.

“To find him.”

You found him in his office this time, opened the door and stared for just a second until he looked up from his desk. Then you closed the door behind you and locked it.

“Okay,” you said and you walked without thinking around his desk. “I spoke to everybody.”

He leaned back in his chair, expression impassive. “Have you now?”

“They’ve done a very good job,” you acknowledged. “But I decided I was done waiting and demanded that they actually tell me where my clothing came from. And why it is that you’ve been avoiding me.”

“Old habits returning, I can see,” he said. “You’ve always bullied them.”

You smiled faintly and stepped around the desk, leaning against its side. “I know.”

You reached out slowly and took the hat from his head. He didn’t move away, allowing you to run your fingers over it as you looked down at him, warmth curling deeply in your chest as you did so.

“We share a room,” you said. “But you won’t tell me that.”

“I don’t want to implant things into your mind without them coming naturally. Otherwise, you might remain reliant on me for everything related to it.”

You moved against the desk and your leg brushed against his own. He didn’t move away. You’d done this countless times. The first time, he’d complained only briefly about it but then he came to accept it as somewhere you stood.

“See, the thing is, the actions are waking things up in my mind,” you said. “I remember them clearer when I do it. I know I want to touch you. I know I’ve done it before.”

“I’m not going to question every one of your actions and wonder whether it’s something you genuinely remember or something you think you should be doing.”

You bumped him with your knee. “Valiant, aren’t you?”

“Not at all. But this is important.”

You ran your fingers once more over the top of the hat before you moved it to the side, dropping it over a medical journal about amnesia. “Yet you’re leaning back in your seat because you already know where I’m moving.”

“I know where you would normally. Do you?”

You didn’t waste any time. You stepped closer, settling into his lap like you had a hundred times before. He didn’t stiffen but you felt him adjust, hands moving for a second as though to catch your waist.

“I do. I also know that you let me do this only when you aren’t busy. If you had something else to do, you wouldn’t have moved your chair back.”

“You sit where you want to. I’ve tried bringing other chairs in here but you care little about them.”

“Because I like to be here even if it gets in your way.”

He sighed softly and for a moment, there was silence as he looked up at you, expression lingering over your features. Then he raised a hand gently, brushed his fingers across the injury where it sat with an unreadable expression.

“It’s not very pretty,” you commented. “It’s going yellow.”

He scoffed. “Do you really think I care if a head injury looks pretty?”

“Does it look like it’s healing, at least?”

“Physically, it is,” he said. His fingers lingered there, thumb brushing gently over your eyebrow. “Do you remember the fight that caused it?”

“Not fully,” you admitted. “But I remember seeing your coat and I know there was the smell of something sweet in the air. Other than that, the fight itself is a bit of a blur.”

His jaw tightened, hand lowering until it hovered over your hip, suspended for a second too long before he gave in and just placed it there. It felt far more right than having him holding the chair, his palm warm against you.

“That’s unfortunate. I’d hoped you could tell me how it happened. I wasn’t watching you.”

You didn’t even remember the opponent but really, you didn’t care to. All you cared about was the fact that Law had spent a week silently carrying the knowledge that you liked to sit in his lap like this.

And that you didn’t remember that you enjoyed it. Something that was pulling tightly at your heart.

“I can guess,” you relented. “I probably just got too close and stopped watching. It wouldn’t be the first time, would it?”

“No,” he said. “Sometimes I think you believe I’m capable of miracles for how often you get hurt.”

“But this is the worst it’s been?”

“Not physically. Your body recovered well from the other injuries.”

“I think it’s the worst,” you clarified. “Though the broken ribs were bad. Especially when we landed on that stupid island while I was still recovering and I sneezed for days on end. And you laughed at me for it.”

You caught the faintest curve of his lips before he got it back under control.

“I suppose there was also that time I almost drowned while ice fishing with Bepo,” you hummed. “But that was also more his fault. Do you have any idea how much he weighs?”

“He’s a mink,” Law said and the hand on your hip squeezed faintly. “It’s not like he’s heavy for his species. Although he took considerable offence to your expression when he said the number. Do you know he almost cried?”

“He did cry when he got me out of the water.”

“I know.”

“He thought you were going to kill him for letting me fall.”

Law inclined his head. “I considered it.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I did. Just briefly.”

You laughed softly and raised your hand to rest it against his cheek. He leaned faintly into the touch and you couldn’t help but smile. Those memories were returning faster than ever now. They clicked into place as you considered the man in front of you, who had spent an entire week carrying the memory of your relationship alone.

Your eyes watered and you raised a hand to wipe away the tears before they could fall. He beat you to it, fingers delicately sweeping them from your lashes.

Your breath hiccupped.

His touch lingered against your cheek as more tears began to fall and you tilted your head back slightly to breathe through them.

“This one is absolutely the worst,” you finally managed to say. “By far. And not even because it’s going to take me ages to get all my stuff back into our room. But because this past week has just been so stupidly lonely.”

“If I had been paying enough attention – ”

“Stop it,” you muttered before he could continue. “It’s not your fault.”

“I should have been watching you.”

“Since when do you nanny me on a battlefield?”

You couldn’t stop crying. You fought to get rid of the tears to no avail, finally dropping your head onto his shoulder as you gave up controlling them. His arms immediately moved around you, drawing you closer.

“Fuck’s sake,” you muttered. “I planned to come in here and be all ‘oh, I love you so much’ and now I’m just crying.”

“You’re making a convincing case, if that helps.”

He sounded faintly amused but underneath, you could feel something raw in his voice. A relief you rarely got to hear from him. You stifled a small, overwhelmed hiccup against him and tried to figure out what emotion was even causing it.

It didn’t matter. You couldn’t stop them either way.

Minutes dragged by as he rubbed soothing circles against your back, your shoulders trembling hard beneath his touch. Then you sat up slowly, scrubbing away the tears as best you could and taking a deep breath. His eyes were warmer when he looked at you now, cautious but no longer completely guarded. For a second, something bright caught in them. Then Law blinked, and it was gone.

“I love you,” you said. “And I really need you to know that I love you.”

“I can see that,” he said.

You leaned in and kissed him. And for just a second, he went still. Then his hand slid to the back of your neck and he kissed you back, caution disappearing entirely.

He drew you closer until there was no space left between you, fingers curling into your hair as though he needed the proof of you there. The kiss was warm and firm and painfully familiar, unlocking fragments faster than you could follow them: his mouth against yours in dark corridors and in spare moments before duties.

When you finally pulled back, his forehead remained pressed against yours, his breath unsteady against your lips.

“At least I can officially update your records to say temporary amnesia now.”

You rolled your eyes. “I think you should remove it entirely. It isn’t going to happen again.”

“No. It’s not,” he agreed. “I’m getting you a helmet.”

“Absolutely not.”

Unfortunately, he didn’t look like he was joking.

Tags: @miwn8 ; @aceincase ; @chaeisrichnow