kym @kym-m - Tumblr Blog

my my, just how much i missed ya! part one pairings: older!monkey d. luffy x afab!reader, older!trafalgar d. water law x afab!reader, older!eustass ’captain’ kid x afab!reader

summary: You never regretted the life you chose. Twenty-six years after saying goodbye to three remarkable pirate captains, you've raised an incredible daughter, become the heart of your little island, and happily left the past where it belonged. Now, as your daughter secretly invites them to her wedding in hopes of giving you the second chance at love you never sought for yourself, three infamous pirates arrive on the island you've spent decades calling home—each believing this might finally be the chance they missed all those years ago.

wc: 15.6k

cw: female reader, use of 'princepessa' directed towards you, probably ooc captains, mamma mia inspired, mamma mia schenangigans, i have not named our daughter, fluff, attempts of humor

The Seabreeze Inn had survived three major storms, two kitchen fires, one unfortunate infestation of unusually aggressive snails, and nearly twenty-six years of guests who treated the plumbing as though it possessed miraculous abilities. It had not, however, been constructed with your daughter’s wedding in mind.

At least, that was what you decided when you entered the lobby that morning and discovered one of the floral arrangements tilting dangerously toward an open candle.

“No, no, no—absolutely not.”

You abandoned the stack of freshly laundered tablecloths in your arms and crossed the room before disaster could strike. The vase was heavier than it looked, forcing you to brace it against your hip as you dragged it toward the window.

“Who put live fire beside the dry flowers?”

A young employee carrying a basket of folded napkins abruptly turned around. You caught the back of his shirt before he escaped.

“Mateo.”

“I was told the candles made it romantic.”

“The inn catching fire two days before the wedding would certainly be memorable.”

He offered you an apologetic smile. “Should I move them?”

“You should remove every candle within ten feet of anything that can burn, melt, explode, or panic.”

“That seems like most of the inn.”

“Now you understand why I’m concerned.”

He hurried away with the offending candles while you adjusted the flowers. The arrangement still leaned slightly to one side, but you decided it looked whimsical rather than unstable, more so for your sanity than anything else.

That distinction had carried the Seabreeze Inn through several difficult years.

Sunlight streamed through the broad windows facing the harbor, filling the lobby with warm gold. Pale curtains swayed in the ocean breeze, and the scent of salt mixed with bread baking in the kitchen. Flower garlands hung from the rafters, white fabric had been wrapped around the banisters, and every available surface seemed to hold a list you were supposed to remember.

The old building looked beautiful.

It also looked, in your eyes, like one strong gust away from collapsing beneath the weight of its decorations. You placed both hands on your hips and surveyed the room.

“The roses need to be moved away from the western windows before the afternoon sun reaches them,” you called. “The musicians are not allowed to test their equipment until after breakfast service, and someone please remind me which room we put the groom’s uncle in.”

“Fourteen,” someone answered from the dining room.

“No, fourteen has the broken window latch.”

“You said it was fixed.”

“I said it was temporarily persuaded to remain closed.”

A pause followed. “Room eleven?”

“The mattress squeaks.”

“Thirteen?”

“The pipes scream.”

One of your oldest employees leaned through the kitchen doorway. “Every room in this inn has something wrong with it.”

“Wrong! Every room has character. Try and sell it like that.”

“The pipes screamed at a guest last night.”

“And he received a complimentary bottle of wine for the emotional distress. We’re so kind.”

Your employee stared at you, but you smiled brightly, hoping that today your optimism will help keep everything running smoothly.

“Put the uncle in thirteen. He's not a favorite uncle anyway."

Your worker disappeared back into the kitchen, muttering something about miracles and stubborn women.

You bent to collect the abandoned tablecloths when the front doors opened with enough force to strike the wall. Your daughter stumbled inside, breathing hard and looking as though she had spent the morning being pursued by the Marines.

Her hair was windswept. Her blouse had been buttoned incorrectly, one side hanging lower than the other, and there was a leaf tangled near her shoulder. She shut the door behind herself, leaned against it, and glanced furtively through the nearest window.

You slowly straightened. “What happened to you?”

She jumped, clearly not having noticed you were there, turning her back to the door. “Nothing.”

“Did nothing chase you through the forest? Or cause you to trip through one?”

Her hand shot to her hair and found the leaf, stared at it as though personally betrayed, and quickly threw it behind a nearby chair.

“I went for a walk.”

“To another climate?”

“The harbor was windy.”

The harbor.

Something in her expression sharpened your suspicion. Before you could question her, a crash sounded from somewhere upstairs, followed by hurried footsteps and a distant assurance that everything was fine.

You closed your eyes. “Unless the ceiling has fallen in, I don’t want to know.”

Your daughter seized the opportunity to move away from the door. “You look busy.”

“I am the mother of the bride, the owner of the inn, the unofficial wedding coordinator, and apparently the only person on this island capable of recognizing that flowers are flammable.”

“I can go to the market for you.”

You looked at her, to see she was already reaching for the shopping list protruding from your apron pocket.

You caught her wrist. “Why?”

“To help?” Her voice sounded unsure if that’s the right answer.

“You have spent the last month insisting that ‘brides should not be given errands’.”

“I’ve grown.”

“In the last ten minutes?”

Her smile appeared too quickly.

You narrowed your eyes. “What did you do?”

“Nothing.”

“You know that you have always been a terrible liar.”

“I learned from you.”

“I am an excellent liar.”

“Mom, you told me babies came from wishing stars until I was nine.”

“You asked in front of the mayor.”

“You could have answered later.”

“You stopped asking, so I considered the matter resolved.”

She laughed, but the sound carried a nervous edge. Her gaze drifted toward the front windows again, searching the road leading up from the harbor.

You followed it to see nothing unusual moved beyond the glass. Only island residents passing beneath flowering trees and several guests carrying decorations toward the courtyard. When you looked back, your daughter was smoothing her skirt with restless hands.

Whatever had rattled her, pressing now would only make her retreat. You had raised her long enough to recognize when she needed space, even if every instinct urged you to pry the truth loose immediately.

You took the shopping list from your pocket. “Stay here.”

Her eyes widened. “But I can—”

“You can eat something, fix your buttons, and remember how breathing works.”

She looked down at her blouse and groaned.

You softened, reaching out to correct the buttons yourself. The gesture came so naturally that for a moment you saw a much younger girl standing before you, waiting impatiently while you fastened her coat.

“You’re already doing enough,” you said. “Let me handle the market.”

“Mom—”

“I am capable of buying fruit without supervision.”

Her expression suggested fruit was the least of her concerns.

You kissed her temple before she could protest again. “Whatever has you this nervous, it will still be here when I get back.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she mumbled.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

You pointed toward the dining room. “Breakfast.”

She watched you collect your basket and leave with while wearing an expression like she's witnessing a preventable tragedy but lacking the courage to intervene.

Had you possessed even the slightest idea what waited in town, you might have paid more attention. Instead, you stepped into the sunshine and welcomed the first peaceful moment of your morning.

The island had been your home for so long that walking through it felt like moving through an extension of the inn. You knew every uneven stone beneath your shoes, every shortcut winding between the houses, and every garden gate that squeaked when the wind changed direction.

People called greetings from windows and doorways as you passed, as you answered each by name.

An elderly fisherman attempted to give you half of his morning catch for the wedding feast, while two children presented you with a collection of wildflowers they had crushed beneath a book overnight. A woman hanging laundry across her balcony reminded you that she had extra chairs if the reception needed them. By the time you reached the market square, your empty basket already contained fish, flattened flowers, a jar of preserves, and several unsolicited lemons.

You had stopped protesting gifts years ago.

The open-air market stretched across the center of town beneath striped canopies and flowering trees. Vendors shouted over one another, bargaining with tourists and neighbors alike as music drifted from a nearby café. The square smelled of fresh bread, citrus, spices, and the sea.

“Principessa!”

You turned toward the familiar voice to see that the fruit vendor waved from behind his stall, his broad smile nearly hidden beneath an impressive mustache. He had known you since your first year on the island, when you had possessed neither an inn nor any idea how long you intended to stay.

“There she is,” he declared. “The most dangerous woman on the island.”

“That’s an unfair reputation.”

“You threatened a pirate with a soup ladle last month.”

“He insulted my stew! I had to defend my honor!”

“A capital offense.”

You placed your basket on the edge of his stand. “I need oranges, strawberries, and enough melons to feed approximately seventy people.”

“Seventy?”

“The groom’s family keeps multiplying.”

He began selecting fruit while you examined a nearby crate of peaches. “How is our bride?”

“Nervous.”

“That is natural.”

“Not the way she’s behaving. She came in from the harbor looking like she had hidden a body.”

The vendor shrugged. “Perhaps she did. Weddings make people strange.”

You pause from looking at the produce to glance at him. “You are remarkably calm about the possibility of murder.”

“I have met your daughter. If there is a body, there was probably a good reason.”

You laughed and reached for a peach, before you heard it, a laugh from somewhere behind you.

Bright, unrestrained, and impossible.

Your fingers went still around the fruit. The noise of the market seemed to recede, every surrounding voice fading beneath a sound you had not heard in twenty-six years and nevertheless recognized before your mind could form his name.

Luffy.

No, it couldn't be. You’ve imagined his, their, laugh countless times throughout the years, for none of them to be true. You remained frozen beside the fruit stall, afraid that turning around would prove you right and equally afraid it would prove you wrong.

Then another voice carried across the square.

“Stop eating everything before we find her, Straw Hat!”

Your heart lurched.

Kid.

Older, rougher, but still carrying that familiar edge of fury even when discussing something as simple as stolen food.

A third voice answered, lower and considerably less patient.

“If both of you would stop drawing attention to yourselves, we could handle this rationally.”

Law.

The peach slipped from your fingers and landed softly inside the crate. For one absurd second, you wondered whether the wedding preparations had finally broken your mind. Perhaps you had fallen from the ladder that morning and this was an elaborate hallucination formed from exhaustion, nostalgia, and inadequate breakfast.

Then Luffy laughed again, and you turned to see three men stood on the opposite side of the market.

Time had altered them without diminishing the force of their presence.

Luffy stood between the others with his hat resting against his back, older now but no less unmistakable. His face had matured, carrying the marks of laughter, battle, and a life lived without restraint. Even from across the square, you could see the instant his eyes found you.

Law stood several paces away, his spotted hat shadowing a face sharpened by age. His posture remained controlled, but the expression breaking across it was anything but. His gaze moved over you once, rapidly and thoroughly, as though confirming you were real.

Kid towered beside them, broad and scarred, his red hair as defiant as ever. He went completely still when he saw you. The fury left his face so quickly that, for a moment, he looked almost young again.

All three stared.

You stared back.

The market continued moving around you, blissfully unaware that your past had just arrived in triplicate.

Luffy’s mouth opened, but you ran before you could hear anything. You didn’t consider the decision.

One second you were standing beside a crate of peaches, and the next you had seized your basket and fled between two stalls.

Someone called your name behind you, but you ignored it.

“Is she running?” Kid demanded. Questioned? Both.

“She’s running,” Luffy answered, sounding absolutely delighted.

“Why does he sound happy about that?” Law snapped.

Footsteps followed as you ducked beneath a line of hanging fabric and nearly collided with a woman selling scarves. “Sorry!”

“Principessa?”

“I am not here.”

She took one look behind you and spotted the three infamous pirates entering the aisle, and understanding dawned instantly.

“Of course not.”

She seized an enormous sunhat from her display and dropped it onto your head.

You gripped the brim. “Do I look disguised?”

“No.”

You nod and give her a smile. “Thank you for your candor.”

You crouched behind her stall anyway.

Luffy appeared first, peering beneath scarves and around displays with all the seriousness of a child playing hide-and-seek. “Where’d she go?”

The vendor pointed in the opposite direction without hesitation. “That way.”

“Thanks!” He says with that smile that seems to have only grown throughout the years before sprinting off.

You exhaled, but before you could relax truly Kid rounded the same corner seconds later. “Where is she?”

The woman pointed toward another street.

Kid narrowed his eyes. “You sent Straw Hat the other way.”

“She crossed back. A quick one she is.”

Law arrived last and did not ask. His eyes moved from the disturbed fabric to the oversized hat protruding above the counter.

You sank lower, attempting to blend in more effectively.

Law’s brow lifted, humor clear in his voice. “You do realize I can see you.”

You rose slowly, maintaining what little dignity remained. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re wearing a hat that’s practically larger than the stall.”

“It’s fashionable.”

“Maybe. It still has a price tag.”

You glanced up to see the paper tag hanging beside your face. You shoved the hat back into the vendor’s hands and darted through the opposite side of the stall before he could catch you.

“Still running, then,” Law called after you.

“I have errands!”

“So do we.”

“Mine don’t involve haunting people!”

You heard him follow at a frustratingly unhurried pace. You took the narrow path between the bakery and spice merchant, knowing it would return you to the main square. The route was crowded enough that Law should have had difficulty following without causing a scene.

Unfortunately, you had forgotten Luffy.

He dropped from the awning directly in front of you, joy clear in his voice as he let out an excited “Found you!”

You screamed, threw a lemon at him, and turned around just to see Kid blocked the other end of the path, a smile on his lips as he took in the sight in front of him.

“You threw fruit at him?”

“It was instinctive.”

“You could’ve thrown something harder. No lemon’s gonna stop anybody, least of all a man of rubber.”

Luffy examined the lemon in his hand. “Can I eat this?”

“No,” you and Law, who had just entered the path behind Kid, answered together.

Trapped between three captains, you searched desperately for another route. A stack of wooden crates sat near the bakery wall, and beyond them stood an open window.

You briefly considered climbing through it.

Kid followed your gaze. “Don’t.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Don’t lie to me darling, you absolutely were.”

Something in you hardened at hearing the old nickname come from his lips. “You don’t know me anymore.”

His expression shifted, the words had escaped too quickly, too honest, and too brash. For one strained heartbeat, the humor vanished from the alley.

Kid’s jaw tightened, Law went still, and even Luffy’s smile softened at the edges.

You looked away first. The truth of what you had said frightened you far more than their presence. They didn’t know you anymore.

They knew the young woman you had once been for six wild weeks, twenty-six years ago. They knew the woman who had danced on tables, challenged captains, slept beneath foreign stars, and kissed each of them as though tomorrow were a rumor.

They didn’t know the mother who packed lunches and sat through fevers. They didn’t know the innkeeper who balanced failing accounts after midnight or the woman an entire island trusted to solve every problem placed at her feet.

And you didn’t know the men standing before you. Not really. That realization should have made it easier to walk away. Instead, it left you painfully curious.

Luffy broke the silence first, attempting to bring some levity to the situation. “Nice to see that you still throw things when you’re surprised.”

You stared at him, watching as his smile widened. A laugh threatened to rise in your throat, but you smothered it and lifted your chin. “Who said I was surprised?”

Kid barked out a disbelieving laugh. “You ran across half the market!”

You remained steadfast. “I coincidentally remembered something urgent.”

“What?”

You lifted the basket hanging from your arm. “Melons.”

Law folded his arms. “You left them behind.”

Your gaze dropped into the basket. Fish, flowers, preserves, lemons.

No melons.

You let out a slow sigh before looking up at them, attempting to maintain a neutral expression. “I was going back. Taking the scenic route.”

“Then go back,” Kid challenged, his eyes holding a clear challenge, igniting something in you — a fire you had long thought you had let die, sparking back again.

You looked from him to Law and finally to Luffy, who was watching you with such open happiness that it made your chest ache.

“No.”

You turned sharply and marched toward the mouth of the alley, none of them attempting to stop you. You had to squeeze past Kid and Law, now wider and more solid since the last time you saw them. You managed to get past them and are back into town for the melons you forgot, trying to lie to your daughter. Leave this here in town, away from your life at the inn, and more importantly, for several glorious seconds, you believed they had finally decided to respect your wishes.

Then three sets of footsteps followed. You quickened your pace, and so did they.

“Stop following me.”

“We’re going the same way,” Luffy said.

“You don’t know where I’m going.”

“The inn,” Law answered.

You looked over your shoulder. “Wrong, I need my melons. But how do you know about that?”

“The sign was in the photograph.”

“What photograph?”

Silence. You stopped so abruptly that Kid nearly walked into you. You turn around, tilting your head back to look them in the eyes, making sure to convey how serious you are.

“What photograph?”

Before anyone could answer, someone pushing a cart turned the corner too wide behind you. You stepped aside to make room, turning halfway toward the main square.

Your heel caught on a loose paving stone, and you stumbled backward, doing your best to regain your balance. All three men reached out to stabilize you, but you evaded all three hands through a combination of pride and terrible judgment, spinning away from them and directly into the vegetable stall.

Wood cracked as the display tipped, and cucumbers cascaded across the square. Tomatoes rolled in every direction as shoppers leaped aside. A pyramid of carrots collapsed over your shoulders, and you landed on the ground amid splintered crates, bruised veggies, and the complete destruction of your remaining dignity.

The market fell silent, clearing a look at you, sitting among the wreckage with an orange in your lap.

Three shadows stretched over you as you slowly looked up.

Luffy stood closest, concern and laughter warring openly across his face. Law pinched the bridge of his nose, visibly attempting to decide whether to help you or lecture you. Kid folded his arms, wearing an expression of profound vindication.

His mouth curved. “Well,” he said, “you always knew how to make an entrance.”

You stared at each man, silently indicating how ridiculous that sounds from them, considering how they’re the ones who surprised you by showing up on this island after so many years of silence.

A laugh escaped you.

You tried to stop it, but the sound only grew until you were sitting in the middle of the market, surrounded by ruined fruit, laughing so hard tears gathered in your eyes.

For a moment, you were twenty-two again.

Not because the years disappeared, but because the three of them still possessed the inexplicable ability to turn disaster into something that felt dangerously close to joy.

Luffy began laughing with you, while Kid lasted several seconds longer before a rough chuckle broke free. Even Law surrendered, lowering his hand as a small, reluctant smile crossed his face.

You wiped beneath your eyes and accepted Luffy’s offered hand. The instant your fingers closed around his, something warm and familiar passed between you.

You released him as soon as you were standing, turning toward the devastated stall owner.

“I am so sorry.”

He was surveying the wreckage with an expression of philosophical acceptance. When you bent to gather the nearest tomatoes, he waved both hands.

“Ah, Principessa, don’t worry about it.”

“I destroyed half your stall.”

“And gave me the finest entertainment this market has seen in years.” His gaze moved appreciatively toward the three captains. “Besides, for you, anything.”

You gave him a grateful smile. Behind you, the atmosphere shifted.

“Principessa?” Kid repeated.

The vendor’s eyebrows rose, traces of smug humor on his face while you weren’t looking.

Law studied the man with sudden, unnecessary attention. “You appear familiar with her.”

“I have lived here for twenty-five years,” the vendor answered breezily.

“That doesn’t explain the nickname,” Kid said.

“It is a term of affection.”

“How affectionate?”

You slowly turned to see all three captains were looking at the vendor now.

Luffy appeared mostly curious. Law’s expression had become carefully neutral, which you remembered meant he was anything but. Kid looked as though the man had personally issued a challenge.

The vendor noticed too, and his mustache twitched in amusement. You stepped between them, attempting to circumvent any argument. “He calls everyone that.”

“I don’t,” the vendor interrupts, smiling regardless of the sharp look you give him.

“Only you, Principessa.”

Kid’s eyes narrowed, Law adjusted his sword.

Luffy leaned toward you. “Can I call you that?”

“No.”

“Okay, Principessa.”

You closed your eyes, this was not happening.

You had a wedding to organize, an inn to prevent from collapsing. Bills hidden in your desk and seventy guests arriving within two days. You did not have space in your life for three pirate captains, twenty-six years of unanswered questions, or the way your heart had begun beating far too quickly beneath your ribs.

You picked up your basket. “I'm going home.”

“We’ll come,” Luffy declared.

“What? No.”

“We need to talk,” Law said.

“No.”

Kid stepped beside you. “You owe us an explanation.”

You stared at him, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. “I owe you?”

“For running.”

“You arrived without warning!”

“You invited us!”

Your steps faltered. Slowly, you turned around. “I did what?”

All three captains became still, and Law’s gaze sharpened. Luffy pulled a cream-colored envelope from beneath the band of his hat, while Kid produced an identical one from inside his coat. Law does the same.

Your eyes moved between them, taking in the three familiar pieces of elegant stationery taken from the desk inside your office. And although you could not yet see the writing clearly, there was really only one other option as to who would even dare to invite them.

Your daughter’s frazzled entrance returned to you: the harbor, the leaf in her hair. and the way she had attempted to keep you from leaving.

“Oh,” you whispered.

Luffy smiled hopefully. “So you did invite us?”

You sighed heavily as you looked toward the distant hill where the Seabreeze Inn stood beneath flowering vines, its pale walls shining in the sun. “No.”

Kid’s expression darkened. “Then who did?”

A tiny figure was visible on the front terrace, and the moment she realized you were staring, your daughter ducked behind the railing.

You tightened your grip on the basket. “I’m going to kill her.”

Law glanced toward the inn. “Your daughter?”

“Was my daughter. Still gotta kill her. It's a shame after we've spent all this time planning her wedding.”

Luffy grinned. “She seems fun.”

You scoff, turning back around to look at them. “You have not met her.”

“We have,” the three captains answered.

You stopped breathing as you watched their faces transform. Kid smirked, Law looked almost apologetic, and Luffy waved cheerfully toward the distant terrace.

Your daughter’s head slowly reappeared in perfect time to see you smile. And even from her position, she seemed to recognize the danger in it, and quickly vanished again.

You turned toward the path home. “Fine. You can come with.”

Luffy brightened, while Kid looked positively victorious. Law simply nodded, not wanting to make it a bigger deal lest you take it back.

“But no questions.”

Three voices immediately began speaking at once, so you walked faster, ignoring them as they followed. Around you, the market resumed its motion, though every resident watched your departure with unrestrained fascination.

You had spent twenty-six years becoming the woman this island trusted, loved, and affectionately called its princess.

Now, three men who remembered you before any of that had returned at once. And somewhere inside the inn, your daughter was about to learn precisely how much trouble a mother could cause without ever raising her voice.

You adjusted the basket on your hip before looking over your shoulder. The three of them were still there following, but not adhering to your one request.

“I thought I said no questions.”

“You did,” Luffy agreed cheerfully.

“Insistently asking questions about the town, the inn and my life breaks that.”

“I know.”

Kid folded his arms as the four of you continued down the cobbled streets. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, y’know.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I have nerve?”

“You run halfway across town after we haven’t seen each other in twenty-six years.”

“You're the ones who chased me halfway across town!”

“You started it.”

“You appeared without warning!”

"We were invited!"

“I most certainly did not, and you damn well know that by now.”

Law, walking slightly behind the two of you, quietly reached into his coat and held up the invitation.

“You may not have.” He looked toward you. “But someone certainly did.”

You groaned. “I already know whose handwriting that is. She inherited every bad habit I have.”

Luffy tilted his head. “You have bad habits?”

Kid snorted. “Hell yeah she does. I’ve known her longer than you have.”

You shot him a look. “Don’t.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You were about to.”

“I was considering it.”

“Same thing.”

The plainness of it left you with nothing to say, but thankfully, the interruption came quickly.

“Principessa!” You turned just in time to catch an elderly woman wrapping you in a one-armed hug before you could react. “There you are.”

“Good morning, Sofia.”

“You’ve forgotten to eat.”

“I had breakfast.”

Sofia gives you a plain look that you’ve learned to mean she’s five seconds away from hitting you. “You drank coffee.”

“Coffee is breakfast.”

The woman narrowed her eyes. “No.”

Without another word, she shoved a still-warm pastry into your free hand. “You’ll make yourself sick. The wedding’s just around the corner for that, so eat breakfast.”

“I promise I’ll eat it.”

“You’ll eat it now.”

You sighed dramatically before taking an obedient bite. “There.”

She smiled triumphantly before finally noticing the three men standing several feet behind you. “…Friends?”

You looked between them, doing your best not to break at the forced polite smile on Kid’s face, while Luffy is beaming and undoubtedly charming her. Well, isn’t that nice? Seems like Law’s learned to smile charmingly as well. Fuck does it look good on him.

After a long pause, you settled on, “Old ones.”

“Hm.” Sofia nodded approvingly. “It’s about time.”

Before you could ask what that meant, she’d already wandered away.

Kid frowned after her before stepping closer to you, eyebrows furrowed while he asks you, “Does everyone here tell you what to do?”

“Only the ones older than me.”

“So…”

“Yeah, almost everyone.”

Luffy laughed. “I like this island.”

Barely thirty seconds later, another voice called your name. “Principessa!”

A florist, Xoli, waved excitedly from outside her little shop. “The lilies arrived!”

“Oh! Wonderful!”

You hurried over, immediately setting your basket down to inspect the flowers. “They’re beautiful.”

“I thought they’d match the arch.”

“They’re perfect.” You thanked her before promising to have someone stop by later that afternoon and pick up the rest.

When you turned back around, Law was holding your basket.

“What are you doing?” You couldn’t help but ask the man, who, despite the flushed tips of his ears, did not show any other signs of embarrassment. In fact, he shrugged, regripping the handle as if this was a common occurrence for him.

“It was coming apart.”

“It’s fine for a few more trips.”

“I know.”

“…So?” You ask, something in you twinging as you recognize what else is being asked here.

“So let someone else carry it for a minute.” The almost soulful look in his eyes takes your breath away temporarily. Before you could answer, Kid’s hand shot out, doing its best to grab the basket for himself — clearly having seen that there was some other meaning and wanting to throw his hat into the ring.

“Give it here.”

Law didn’t look at him, moving his arm away from his grasp, a small smirk on his lips as he looked at the other man. “No.”

“It’s heavier than it looks.”

“And how would you know, you haven’t lifted it.”

Kid squints his eyes as he tries again to grab the basket, just for Law to pull away again. “I can tell.”

Luffy, in a surprise move, grabbed both handles overlapping Law’s hand since the doctor hasn’t let go of the basket either. “I’ll carry it!”

The old wicker gave one sharp complaint before the handle came off entirely, the basket hitting the cobblestones upside down.

Bread went one direction, while oranges went another; your groceries were out in the open for everyone to see. The pastry Sofia had pressed into your hand sat miraculously untouched in the middle of the road.

Nobody moved, till Kid pointed at Luffy, “Of course it’d be you who would break the basket. No touch for craftsmanship.”

“You were both pulling at it,” Law counters.

“I was helping!”

“Oh yeah, lots of help with breaking the damn thing.”

You pressed two fingers to the bridge of your nose. “I liked it better when you were all arguing from across the street.”

The shopkeepers nearby didn’t bother hiding their laughter. Before you could start gathering anything, three of the neighborhood children appeared, cheerfully collecting oranges and bread and returning them to you in handfuls.

In under a minute, everything was accounted for. The smallest girl, the daughter of the baker, caught the hem of your skirt. “Princess?”

You dropped down to her level without thinking, opening your arms for her to step closer. “What is it?”

She held out one scraped knee. “I fell.”

You looked it over carefully. “Oh, sweetheart…”

A second shadow folded down beside you. Law. No hesitation, careful hands turned to examine the scrape, and then he looked up at her. “It looks worse than it is.”

“Really?” She asks, eyes darting to you, almost as if she was asking, ‘can we trust him?’

You smile, nodding .“Mhm.”

“You’ll be running again tomorrow.” Law continues, having pulled out some wipes and a bandage from seamingly nowhere as he covers the slightly bleeding wound.

She beamed. “Thank you! Mister! Your hat’s cool!”

Law blinked, dazed from the different emotions the girl has from distrustful to overtly trusting.

“You’re welcome. And thank you?”

She skipped away without another thought while you stayed crouched where you were. “Nice to see you still do that.”

Law glanced over. “Do what?”

You nodded toward the direction she’d gone. He followed your gaze, then looked back at you. Something quiet moved across his face before he met your eyes again. For a moment, you both were reminded of a different shoreline, a different injury, over two decades ago.

“Old habit.”

The moment might have stretched further, but loud cheering erupted down the street.

You looked over just in time to see Luffy surrounded by half a dozen children, playing Captain and dueling with the various children who were quick to loan him a wooden stick.

“He’s cheating!” One. ofthem calls out to the others, small faces looking behreved at Luffy.

Luffy, who as always, is incapable of holding in his laughter while he responds teasingly, “I’m not!”

“You stretched!”

He lets out a loud-bellied laugh. “I always stretch! It’s not my fault you can’t!”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Seems like somethings never change.”

Law glanced toward you, a smile of his own as his face as he looks at you relaxed. “You sound relieved.”

“I think I am. Would hate to think that you guys went off to become unbearable assholes just cause you got a couple of fancy titles.”

A harsh laugh comes off him, one that you join. “Oh, is that all? Imagine that you probably would have beat us if that were to become true.”

“Oh, undoubtedly. Have to keep you grounded, you know.”

Across the street, Kid had grabbed both your attentions just by the sheer size difference between him and the little boy who was repeatedly smashing a broken wagon wheel with a rock.

Kid watched in increasingly visible disbelief. “Move.”

The boy blinked. “Huh?”

“I said move.”

The child obediently stepped aside as Kid approached closer.

He crouched beside the wagon, muttering under his breath as he adjusted the axle, gave it two sharp hits and a slight twist and the wheel slide neatly back into place.

The little boy gasped. “Woah…”

Kid shrugged. “Don’t hit metal with a rock.”

The same boy innocently tilted his head to the side as he earnestly asked, “What do I hit it with?”

“A hammer.”

“I don’t have one.”

Kid sighed heavily before grumbling out a ‘fine’, already walking towards a nearby workshop he saw. Five minutes later, he emerged carrying a tiny, crudely forged hammer.

“There.”

The boy accepted it like it was the greatest treasure in the world. “Thank you, mister!”

“Huh? Mister?” Kid trails off before sighing once more, lifting a hand to rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, okay. Take good care of it you hear me?”

You smiled.

The years had certainly changed them. Given them new scars, new responsibilities, new titles. But beneath it all, there were still traces of the men you knew. You had wondered, over the years, whether memory had simply made them kinder than they really were.

Perhaps that was easier than accepting how much you’d once loved them.

Now, watching them walk beside you through the little island you’d spent twenty-six years calling home, you realized memory hadn’t exaggerated them at all.

If anything, time had only made them more themselves.

“So.” Kid’s voice pulled you from your thoughts for you to realize he was standing above you, holding a hand out to lift you up so your group can continue walking again.

“How much farther?”

You pointed up the gently sloping road. “Just over the hill.”

Together, the four of you reached the crest, and your inn came into view. While walls bathed in afternoon sunlight, flowering vines climbing the balconies. Laundry fluttered from the upper floor as staff hurried between tables, carrying decoration and flowers.

It wasn’t perfect. Lord knows how many times you’ve done a quick fix on something that’s lasted a lot longer than it was suppose to.

One shutter hung slightly crooked, while part of the porch railing had clearly been repaired more than once. But it was warm, lived in, loved.

None of the captains spoke, because each of them recognized it immediately. It was the dream you’d once described beneath different skies, on different ships, to three different men.

And somehow, you’d built it, exactly as you’d always hoped.

“Welcome,” you looked back at them, your smile growing despite yourself. “to the Seabreeze Inn.”

Before any of them could answer—

“CAPTAIN!”

Three voices echoed across the courtyard.

You all froze before someone muttered something that was almost certainly a curse.

Around the corner came three pirate crews at once, and standing at the very front looking like she was seriously considering digging herself a hole and climbing into it, was your daughter.

Silence settled across the courtyard. Your staff had stopped carrying tables, wedding guests had abandoned conversations halfway through sentences.

Several island residents stood frozen outside the gates, openly staring.

Three pirate crews stared back, taking in the sight of you. Afterall, the journey here has been filled with questions that their captains had remained stubborn with their answers. And now here you are, an almost mythical woman that they desperately want to know more about. Especially after talking with your daughter.

The only sound came from the fountain bubbling gently in the center of the garden.

Your daughter offered a painfully awkward little wave, a small “Hi?”

You blinked, as she forces herself to smile harder, as if that will force your own.

“Surprise?”

Ultimately you do end up smiling, but one that shows how much restraint you have towards yelling. “Sweetie, tell me the truth. Did you invite them?”

She winced. “Technically?”

You drop your smile and give her a deadpan look, “There’s no technically in inviting someone. You did or you didn’t.”

“I can explain.”

“I sincerely hope so. Inside.”

She pointed at herself. “Me?”

“Immediately.”

The poor thing looked toward the three captains as though silently begging one of them to intervene, though none of them do. Even Kid looked smart enough to stay out of a mother’s wrath.

Your daughter shuffled toward the front steps. “Am I in trouble?”

“You invited three captains to my island.”

“They RSVP’d?”

“I wasn’t questioning whether they had manners.”

Luffy raised his hand, though you weren’t paying attention to notice. When Nami and Usopp gives him matching looks of disbelief, he just speaks up anyways, “And, we brought gifts!”

You turned. “You brought gifts?”

The Straw Hats immediately began unloading crates. “Wasn’t sure what you liked anymore! So we brought everything!”

Franky proudly revealed an absurdly ornate wooden bench, Usopp had rare potted plants. Chopper somehow produced three enormous jars of homemade medicine.

Sanji had apparently baked, and damn if that doesn’t smell delicious.

You stared, then your eye was drawn toward where the Heart Pirates stood, Bepo smiling brightly in front of them while they shift around in the background. “We also brought gifts.”

Penguin rolled forward an entire cart of medical supplies, while Shachi proudly displayed new kitchen equipment.

Several crew members carried lumber.

“Captain said ‘nothing less than the best1!’ So that’s what we did.”

Law immediately looked away. “I did not phrase it like that.”

“Sue us, we like a good chant, but it was close enough.”

Then, Heat and Wire stepped aside to allow the rest of Kid’s crew revealed several beautifully forged iron railings.

Replacement hinges, brand new lantern brackets, decorative metal work all done that matches perfectly with the idea you have.

Your gaze slowly shifted toward Kid who was doing his best not to look at you, seemingly still having that habit of not being able to look at you directly when he’s embaressed about something.

“The photograph.” he mutters.

You blinked. “What?”

“The porch railing. It looked like it needed replacing.”

For the first time since seeing them again, you were speechless.

Not because of the gifts but because somehow each of them had looked at that photograph and immediately started thinking about how they could make your life easier.

The realization struck somewhere deep inside your chest, and dangerously close to your heart.

“So…”

A voice interrupted, making everyone turn to see the fruit vendor from earlier stood just outside the gate, hands on his hips.

“Which one is the boyfriend?”

The courtyard froze and panic flooded your system. “No, no, there isn’t—”

Luffy stepped forward. “I used to be.”

Kid stepped forward, too. “So did I.”

Law quietly adjusted his hat. “Likewise.”

The silence somehow became even louder as the fruit vendor slowly looked between the three men, then at you, then back again. “Principessa.”

You know that shit-grinning smile. “Don’t.”

He continued regardleses, “You have exceptional taste.”

“I refuse to participate in this conversation.”

Several of your employees exchanged increasingly excited whispers; one of the older housekeepers leaned toward another.

“I knew she was pretty.”

“But I didn’t know she was Emperor pretty.” Another finishes.

“I always wondered why she never remarried.”

“I’d have stayed single, too.”

Your hands flew to your face, “Oh, absolutely not.”

The gossip spread through the courtyard like wildfire; guests whispered, employees tried but failed, their consipiracies growing wilder by the minute.

Several of the town’s elders openly began placing bets. One loudly declared that the redhead looked the strongest, another insisted the surgeon had “kind eyes.” A third chose Luffy simply because “he smiles properly.”

You buried your face in your hands. “I have hosted Marine inspections with more dignity than this.”

Luffy leaned toward you.

“I think they’re nice.”

“They’re gambling on my love life.”

“Yeah, still kinda nice.”

Against your better judgment you laughed just a little, but enough to grab all three captains attentions.

Twenty-six years, entire lifetimes. Victories, losses, dreams fulfilled and yet somehow, your laugh is still capable of making each of them stop everything they’re doing.

Something the rest of your audience noticed. Every single one of them watched the realization quietly settle across the three crews; that their captains hadn’t spent twenty-six years reminiscing about an old romance.

They were still hopelessly, undeniably in love.

“Mom?”

Your daughter’s quiet voice finally pulled your attention away, stood halfway up the porch steps, carefully watching this scene. “Are you okay?”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Too many emotions crowded together.

Shock. Confusion. Happiness. Nostalgia. Fear.

Twenty-six years collapsed into a single afternoon. Your island, your home. Your carefully built, beautifully ordinary life had just collided headfirst with the most extraordinary chapter you’d ever lived.

You looked at the captains, then your daughter, your eyes catching on all the new changes, the blend of who you were with who you had to become mixing as you see the crews, the gifts and the guests.

Oh, the wedding. There’s no time for you to panic or freak out. But the whispers, the memories, it’s becoming too much.

“I…”

You forced a smile. “Would someone mind showing our guests to their rooms?”

Your staff immediately nodded. “Of course, Principessa.”

You nod stiffly, swallowing down all the emotions. “I just need—”

You couldn’t even finish the sentence.

Robin noticed first, as attuned. topeople emotion’s as always.

“Nami.”

The navigator looked over, then immediately understood.

“Ikkaku.”

Law’s navigator followed their gaze before quietly nodding. The three women gently crossed the courtyard before Robin slipped her hand around yours, sharing an encouraging smile as she lightly tugs you further.

“Come with us.”

You looked at her. “I…”

“You don’t have to figure everything out today.”

Nami smiled warmly. “You’ve spent twenty-six years taking care of everyone else. For the next five minutes…”

Ikkaku opened the inn’s front door. “Let us take care of you.”

Your composure cracked as you felt your eyes began to sting. You laughed weakly.

“Five minutes.”

Robin squeezed your hand. “Five minutes.”

Together, the four of you disappeared into the inn, leaving behind three very confused captains, three increasingly smug pirate crews and one delighted island.

Not to mention one daughter, who was beginning to suspect she’d accidentally started something much bigger than a wedding reunion.

Robin led you quietly through the inn, her hand resting gently against the small of your back as if she instinctively knew that if she let go, you might simply keep walking.

Or running.

Nami fell into step beside you while Ikkaku lingered behind, subtly ensuring none of the crews—or your increasingly curious daughter—attempted to follow.

Your bedroom sat at the very end of the hallway. one of the only rooms in the inn guests had never seen.

Your sanctuary.

Robin closed the door softly behind the four of you as silence settled over the room, the other women taking in the room. It was comfortably cluttered.

A stack of accounting ledgers sat beside your bed, several pages marked with ribbons. Wedding schedules were scattered across your desk alongside invoices, fabric samples, and handwritten guest lists. A basket of mending rested beneath the window, half-finished shirts spilling over the edge.

The room carried the unmistakable feeling of someone who always had one more thing to do.

Nami slowly turned in a circle. “Do you ever stop working?”

You blinked. “I sleep.”

Nami scoffs, “Oh yeah? When?”

“Usually.”

She looked at Robin. “She said ‘usually.’”

Robin smiled knowingly. You laughed weakly, dropping onto the edge of your bed with a sigh. “I wasn’t expecting company. Woulda tidied up if I’d had known.”

“Three pirate crews probably count as more than company,” Ikkaku teased.

“They’re a natural disaster.”

“They’re certainly loud enough.”

The room fell quiet again as you stared down at your hands. For several long moments, no one spoke. Robin understood better than anyone that silence could be comforting when shared with the right people.

Eventually, she broke it. “When was the last time someone took care of you?”

You looked up. “I…”

The answer should have come easily, but instead, there was nothing. You searched through birthdays, illnesses, storms, long nights balancing the inn’s accounts. Years spent comforting your daughter after heartbreaks. Celebrating victories, soothing frightened guests, settling disagreements between neighbors, carrying the weight of an entire little community because someone had to.

Somewhere along the way, you’d stopped noticing when the burden had become yours alone. “I don’t know.”

Nami’s expression softened. “And when was the last time you let someone?”

You let out a quiet breath. “That’s a different question.”

“It is.”

You smiled without humor. “I don’t know that one either. If I had to guess, I’d say twenty-six years ago.”

No one rushed to fill the silence. They didn’t tell you that you were strong, or how capable you were, that was never in question. Because the three women standing before you already knew.

Robin had survived twenty years believing she had to carry every burden herself.

Nami had spent her childhood sacrificing everything for the people she loved.

Ikkaku had devoted nearly her entire adult life to helping someone else’s dream become reality.

They understood, far more than they ever needed to explain.

Nami wandered toward your desk, carefully lifting one of the ledgers. “This month’s accounts?”

You nodded.

“The wedding.” Another ledger.

“Repairs.” A third.

“Suppliers.” She frowned.

“Guest reservations.” Her eyes grew wider with every book she opened. “You do all of this?”

“It gets done.”

Nami looked up immediately. “That’s not what I asked.”

You blinked. “No, I have staff and they help.”

“You manage.”

“They try.”

“You carry everything.”

You shrugged. “It seemed easier.”

“Easier for who?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it again.

Robin smiled gently. “That answer is usually very telling.”

A quiet chuckle escaped Ikkaku.

“You know,” She leaned casually against the windowsill. “When Captain saw the photograph…”

Your attention shifted toward her.

“He didn’t say, ‘She’s beautiful.’”

You raised an eyebrow. “He didn’t?”

“Oh, I’m sure he thought it, but the first thing he noticed wasn’t you, it was the inn.”

Your heart skipped. “He recognized it?”

Ikkaku nodded. “He remembered the name immediately. ‘The Seabreeze Inn’. He said, "‘she did it’." It was surprisingly sappy for him.”

You stared at her. “He remembered?”

“I’d say he remembered everything you told him about this place. .”

Silence settled again, as Robin’s gaze drifted toward the bookshelf tucked into the corner. There weren’t many decorations, just books, a few pressed flowers.

A weathered compass, an old brass gear that no longer fit any machine, a tiny carved shell.

Nothing unusual, nothing that looked intentionally sentimental. Yet somehow she smiled, because she recognized what they represented. She looked back toward you. “Will you tell us?”

You blinked. “Tell you what?”

“What happened, twenty-six years ago.”

A surprised laugh escaped you. “I don’t think we have enough tea for that conversation. Or alcohol.”

Nami stood immediately. “That, I can easily fix!”

Before long, cups rested between the four of you. At first, you spoke cautiously about a reckless young pirate who somehow convinced you to race him across rooftops because he insisted it was the fastest way to reach dinner.

Robin smiled knowingly. “Luffy.”

A slow nod. “He was laughing the whole time. Not at me, just, laughing. Like he’d found something wonderful and couldn’t keep it to himself.”

“You won, though,” Nami pressed.

A shrug. “Maybe.”

“You definitely won.”

“I might’ve taken a shortcut through a bakery.”

Nami’s eyes widened. “You cheated?”

“It's about playing a smarter game. He didn't mind.”

Another laugh, lighter this time. Then, quieter stories: sitting across from each other in the submarine’s library, two people reading in comfortable silence.

“I used to talk to him about this place: the inn, the gardens. I thought he wasn’t listening.”

Ikkaku snorted. “Sounds familiar.”

“He’d just sit there, polishing some gear, flicking through another book.”

Then, Kid.

“He slammed a bottle down and said I couldn’t outdrink him.”

Nami looked horrified. “Please tell me you didn’t—”

“I did.”

Robin raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“I don’t remember much after the fifth bottle, but I woke up with his bandana tied around my wrist and he wouldn't leave me alone after."

The room broke into laughter; real, unforced laughter that felt like letting go.

The memories were just memories now. Not wounds or ghosts, just moments; beautiful, messy, young. When the laughter settled, Robin studied you. “There she is.”

A frown. “Who?”

“The woman they sailed across the world to see.”

A quick shake of the head. “They came because my daughter invited them.”

“They came,” Robin said softly, “because they wanted to.”

Silence as you distracted yourself by looking into your tea. “I was happy here.”

“I know.”

“I wasn’t lonely.”

“I know.”

“I built exactly what I wanted.”

“I know.”

A hard swallow. “I never needed anyone.”

Robin reached across the table and took your hand. “I know.”

She waited, patient and steady, until the words came out quiet and raw.

“But…”

No one spoke, giving you the time you needed to process your emotions. You looked past the window, toward the sea.

“It would’ve been nice.”

The words hung there; simple, unadorned, true. Not regret, or self-pity, just honesty.

“To have someone ask how my day was. Or to make dinner for someone besides myself. To share the little victories and not have to carry every difficult decision alone.”

A tear escaped before you could stop it. You laughed softly as you wiped it away. “I sound ridiculous.”

“You sound human,” Robin corrected.

Nami was the first to move, her hand resting momentarily on your shoulder. "You've spent twenty-six years looking after everyone." Ikkaku made her way toward the bedroom door while Robin extended her hand to you. "For one afternoon, let us take care of you."

Just as you were about to respond, music floated through the open window; soft at first, then building in intensity, accompanied by the joyful laughter of women spilling across the courtyard. You recognized many of the voices: your staff, the market vendors, wedding guests, and your daughter. Nami's grin widened. "Looks like your island has made a decision."

"What decision?"

"That their Principessa deserves a day off." You let out a laugh, mingled with tears.

"They're relentless."

You surveyed the three women before you—an archaeologist, a navigator, a fighter—each having sacrificed parts of themselves for those they loved, gently reminding you that caring for others didn’t mean neglecting your own needs. With a slow breath, you reached for Robin's hand. "One afternoon," you confirmed. A quiet, victorious smile spread across Robin's face. Together, the four of you stepped out of the room, ready to embrace the music that awaited downstairs.

As you descended the stairs, the music poured into the courtyard long before you arrived. By the time Robin guided you into the lobby, the inn had transformed completely. Your employees had set aside their tasks, and the women of the island had claimed every corner of the courtyard. Tables were pushed aside, flowers tucked behind ears, and wine appeared as if by magic.

A chorus of familiar voices erupted as soon as someone noticed you. "There she is! Our Principessa! Finally! You've kept yourself hidden long enough!"

Before you could protest, three older women approached with determined expressions. One took your basket, another untied your apron, and the third gently swept your hair away from your face. You blinked in disbelief. "Ladies?"

"No work today." "But—" "No." "The wedding—" "We've got it covered." "What about the flowers?" "Watered." "The tables?" "Done." "The cake, the decorations, the guest rooms?" "Baked. Hung. Prepared."

You narrowed your eyes at them. "What exactly did you all do?"

One woman grinned. "We've been planning this since your daughter asked us for help."

Your eyes widened. "How long has this been in the works?"

A little girl skipped past, her voice bright. "Three weeks!"

You placed a hand over your heart. "The betrayal!"

Laughter erupted in the courtyard. Before you knew it, someone tucked a flower behind your ear and pressed a glass of homemade wine into your hand. An elderly woman, someone you’d known since arriving on the island, took your free hand gently. "Come dance." "I haven't danced in years." "Nonsense." "I'll make a fool of myself." "So will we all."

Without waiting for your consent, she pulled you toward the center of the courtyard. Hands found yours, one after another, until you were surrounded: your employees, neighbors, girls you had watched grow into women, and those who had become grandmothers while helping you raise your daughter. The music quickened, and at first, you moved awkwardly, your mind still occupied with schedules, guest lists, laundry, repairs, and everything else that awaited once the music faded. Robin noticed your hesitation and lightly touched your shoulder. "Stop thinking."

"I don’t know how."

"We’ll do it for you," Nami chimed in from your other side.

Ikkaku laughed, spinning a younger woman beneath her arm. "Just follow our lead."

Despite yourself, you smiled, and slowly, almost unconsciously, you began to move. The tension slipped from your shoulders, then your jaw, followed by the tightness in your chest, until laughter bubbled up unexpectedly. Someone cheered, "There she is!" Another woman clapped, excitement in her voice. "I knew she still remembered!" Remembered, not the steps, but the feeling. You threw your head back and laughed—a genuine, unguarded laugh; not the polite chuckle reserved for guests or the reassuring tone used to comfort others. Just you.

Across the courtyard, three pirate captains stood perfectly still. Luffy smiled first, something quieter, warmer.

"There you are," he said, not meaning to say it aloud.

Usopp looked over. "Captain?"

Luffy never looked away from you. "She's laughing." She's free. As though it were the most wonderful thing in the world.

Nearby, Law leaned against one of the porch columns, or tried to look like he was leaning comfortably. His eyes followed you instinctively as you danced between neighbors, effortlessly pulling hesitant women into the circle until everyone was laughing together.

"She always did that," he murmured.

Bepo blinked. "Did what?"

"Made people feel like they belonged."

His crew fell quiet, because it wasn't only happening to the island women. Within minutes Robin was laughing with women she'd met only an hour earlier, Nami had joined a dance with three grandmothers, and even Ikkaku was teaching children how to spin in circles without falling over. It happened naturally, because you made it natural.

On the opposite side of the courtyard, Kid leaned against the garden fence, doing his best to ignore Heat nudging him.

"You smiling?"

Kid immediately frowned. "No."

"You sure?"

"No."

"You've been staring at her for like ten minutes."

Kid looked away. "Shut up." He lasted approximately three seconds before looking back. You'd just scooped up one of the neighborhood children, spinning her through the air while she shrieked with delighted laughter. His expression softened.

"So," Wire said, glancing between the two of them, "that's her."

Kid nodded once. "Yeah."

"I get it now."

"So do I."

None of them had needed an explanation. They understood immediately. Not because of your beauty, though you were still beautiful, and not because of the stories, though they'd heard plenty. It was everything else. The way people instinctively gravitate toward you, the way children sought your attention without hesitation, and how every person who spoke your name smiled while saying it. The way laughter seemed to follow wherever you walked.

Across the gardens, several of the Heart Pirates had wandered toward one of the local vendors.

"Why does everyone call her Principessa?" Penguin asked.

The woman looked confused. "Because she is."

"She's royalty?"

The vendor laughed. "Oh, no."

"Then why?"

She looked toward you, helping an elderly woman clap along with the music while encouraging a shy little girl to join the dance, and smiled. "When she arrived here twenty-six years ago, this island was falling apart. Our fishing boats were destroyed after a storm. The old inn had been abandoned. Half the market barely stayed open."

Another woman joined the conversation. "She never acted like she could save everyone. But somehow she did. One person at a time. One meal, one bed, one shoulder to cry on, one stubborn act of kindness after another."

The women laughed fondly. "Eventually, she became our Principessa."

The three crews looked back toward you. No one spoke until Franky quietly whistled. "Boss."

Luffy looked over, Franky nodded toward the inn, directing their attention. "Take a closer look."

Only now, without immediately searching for you, did the captains really see the building. One porch railing had been repaired three separate times. The western shutters hung slightly unevenly. Paint peeled beneath the upstairs balcony, and a support beam had begun splitting near its base.

All three captains reacted subtly. "She fixed all of that herself?"

A nearby employee overheard and rubbed the back of his neck. "As much as she could. Truth be told, we're running out of things she can fix."

Another employee sighed. "The protection payments don't exactly help."

Law looked over immediately. "Protection?"

The young man visibly regretted speaking. "I—"

"You shouldn't—" someone started.

Kid's voice cut through it. "Protection from who?"

The employee hesitated, then quietly answered. "A pirate. He started demanding payment from every business on the island. Every few months, he raises the amount. We barely keep up anymore."

Luffy looked toward the inn again, his smile disappearing. Not because he pitied you, but because, for the first time all afternoon, he realized the photograph hadn't shown everything. Behind the flowers, behind the laughter, behind the beautiful little inn, you'd been carrying far more than anyone had realized.

Across the courtyard, you laughed as someone spun you into another dance, completely unaware that three pirate captains had just found a brand-new reason to stay.

The celebration lingered well into the afternoon. Music continued drifting through the gardens while your employees slowly convinced the island women that someone actually needed to finish preparing for the wedding. Reluctantly, everyone returned to work — including you, unfortunately.

You had barely taken three steps toward the reception hall before someone gently caught your wrist.

"You danced," Luffy said, beaming.

"I did."

"So now you can rest."

"I danced for fifteen minutes."

"Exactly. Hard work." He teased, drawing your body closer to his, one hand settling at your waist like it belonged there. The dancing still hummed under your skin, joy loosening something in you that made you pliable to the slow, swaying rhythm he pulled you into — a rhythm that never quite stayed still, just like him.

"That isn't how resting works," you told him, hands finding their way to his shoulders anyway.

He smiled, leaning in until his forehead barely brushed yours. "It is if I say it is."

You laughed. "I have work." The excuse came out weaker than you meant it to. Luffy had always been able to draw this softer side out of you. The part of you that wanted nothing more than to spend the whole day lost in whatever small adventure he decided the two of you were having.

"So do we."

You blinked, still caught somewhere in the warmth of Luffy, and didn't quite catch what he meant by it, not until you pulled back and found Kid already standing beside him, arms crossed, watching you both with an expression that had nothing soft in it at all.

"Where's your toolbox?"

The question landed flat, almost bored, and it took you a second to fully surface from wherever Luffy had just had you. "My what?"

"The toolbox. For the inn."

"I don't have one. I borrow Mateo's."

Kid's eyebrows went up. Not dramatically, but enough that you caught it, just enough to make something in you bristle before he'd even said another word. "You've been running repairs on this place for twenty-six years, and you don't own a hammer?"

"I own a hammer. I just don't — that's not the point."

"Kind of feels like the point."

"It's really not." You crossed your arms to match his, an old reflex you didn't bother questioning. "I borrow what I need when I need it. It's efficient."

"It's a fire hazard is what it is." He said it lightly, like he was still teasing, but there was something underneath it now, something that had already decided it was right. "You know how many things in this place are held up by 'efficient'?"

"They're held up by me."

"That's my whole problem."

The words shouldn't have stung the way they did, you knew, even as your jaw tightened, that he didn't mean it as an insult. But it landed on a nerve that had been rubbed raw for longer than he could possibly know, all those years of patching things yourself at midnight because there was no one else to ask, and the warmth Luffy had left you with was already curdling into something tighter behind your ribs.

"So what, you think I've been doing it wrong."

"I didn't say that."

"You implied it."

"I'm allowed to think you could use a toolbox without thinking you've been doing everything wrong for twenty-six years." He wasn't backing down, and something about the certainty in his voice — the same certainty that used to make you want to prove him wrong just to watch his face — made the pressure in your chest climb another notch.

"Kid." You held up a hand before he could get another word out, before the two of you could spiral any further into an argument that had started over a hammer and was somehow already about everything else. "I appreciate whatever this is."

"You don't even know what this is yet."

"I have a feeling."

"I'm just fixing your porch."

"No."

"The railing's crooked."

"It has character."

"It has termites."

"Just leave it alone, it's fine."

"And I'm saying it could be great."

Law joined the conversation without hurry. "The western support beam also needs replacing."

You turned to look at him. "You've been inspecting my inn?"

"Observing."

"That's a polite way to say judging."

"I wasn't judging."

"You look disappointed."

"I was calculating."

"That's somehow worse."

Bepo carefully approached, carrying a notebook. "Captain made a list."

Your smile that had crept up during your banter with Law disappeared. "A list?"

He nodded enthusiastically. "Everything that needs fixing!"

Law closed his eyes. "Bepo."

"Sorry."

You gently took the notebook, then immediately wished you hadn't.

Repairs Required: Replace western porch beam. Reinforce eastern staircase. Repair roof over rooms twelve through fifteen. Replace damaged plumbing beneath kitchen. Stabilize balcony supports. Sand and repaint southern shutters. Inspect foundation beneath pantry.

The list continued well past what seemed reasonable. You looked up slowly. "How long were you looking?"

Law had the decency to look slightly embarrassed. "I notice these things. I can't help it."

"I know," you sighed.

The admission surprised both of you. Before the moment could linger, Franky burst through the front gate carrying an entire stack of lumber. "SUUUUPER! We heard somebody needed repairs!"

Several island children immediately cheered, but you pointed firmly toward the street. "Franky. Thank you, but no."

"Aw."

Usopp appeared carrying paint. "No?"

"No."

Chopper waddled behind them with medical supplies, lifting them up for inspection. "I even labeled everything!"

Your expression softened. "Those can stay."

Meanwhile the Heart Pirates had somehow produced measuring tape, and the Kid Pirates had already begun unloading forged brackets and replacement hinges. You looked around your courtyard in disbelief. "When did all of you decide this?"

The answer came from three directions at once. "This morning." "At the market." "The second we saw it." All three captains spoke simultaneously, then looked at one another.

Kid pointed. "I said it first."

"You absolutely didn't," Law replied.

Luffy grinned. "I wasn't listening."

"Obviously."

You folded your arms. "I am not accepting charity."

Silence, before Robin, ever the peacekeeper, stepped beside you. "Good, because this isn't charity."

"What is it, then?"

"A wedding gift," Franky answered.

"A thank you," Bepo added.

"A chance to help," Killer said quietly.

Your eyes drifted toward the workers gathered nearby. Mateo looked almost painfully hopeful, rubbing the back of his neck. "So, can we fix the stairs?"

You looked at the porch, at the cracked railing, the peeling paint, the loose shutters, things you'd been meaning to repair for years, one project at a time, one paycheck at a time, always later, always after something more important. You looked back at the captains.

"You don't understand."

Law tilted his head. "Then explain."

You took a slow breath. "I built this place. I've kept it standing. I don't want people thinking I only invited you because I needed help."

Three expressions changed at once: confusion, then understanding, then something softer. Luffy stepped forward first. "You didn't."

"As you keep reminding us, you didn't invite us." Kid mentions.

Your throat tightened. Law spoke next, his voice gentle. "You've spent twenty-six years proving you're capable. Accepting help doesn't undo that."

Kid shoved both hands into his pockets, quieter now than he'd been by the toolbox. "I've got a question. When somebody stays at your inn, you cook for 'em. You clean, you fix their rooms. You make 'em feel at home." He paused. "Ever charge extra for caring?"

"No."

"Then why won't you let anybody do the same for you?"

Complete silence followed, because you'd never thought about it that way, and because the edge that had been building in Kid's voice all afternoon had finally dropped away into something closer to the truth of what he'd actually been trying to say.

Robin smiled. "They're rather persuasive."

"I preferred them twenty-six years ago."

"That's because they were easier to ignore."

You looked around slowly; at your employees, your neighbors, the three pirate crews, the captains, all waiting. Not to save you, not to take over your inn, just smply to help. Your shoulders lowered almost imperceptibly.

"One condition."

Kid smirked. "Knew she'd cave."

"I didn't cave, I negotiated."

"Sure darling, whatever helps you sleep."

Law folded his arms. "The condition?"

"You ask. If something needs repairing, if you want to cook, if you want to help — ask me. This is my home. My inn. My dream. I don't want people deciding what's best for it without me."

The three captains exchanged a glance before Luffy smiled first. "Deal."

Law nodded. "Reasonable."

Kid rolled his eyes dramatically. "Fine."

You smiled and pointed toward the porch. "The railing stays, though."

Kid looked horrified. "No, it doesn't. That thing's standing on faith at this point."

"It's standing on craftsmanship."

"Somebody's craftsmanship. Not sure it was good craftsmanship."

"It has sentimental value."

"It's got termites is what it's got. I can hear them. Right now. Eating your sentimental value."

You opened your mouth to argue, then paused, some of the fight draining out of you. "Fine," you said, drawing the word out long enough to make sure everyone understood this was a concession and not a surrender.

Kid's grin appeared instantly. "I'll get my tools." He turned toward the workshop while Heat pumped a fist. "Captain's happy!"

You watched them disappear, then looked toward the porch one more time. The old railing caught the afternoon sun; crooked, worn, holding on despite everything. Much like you.

By late afternoon, the inn no longer sounded like itself. Hammering echoed from above, Franky's laughter carried through the halls, and someone shouted measurements from the western balcony. It reminded you of ships. Of pirate crews bustling from one task to another, arguments that always ended in laughter.

You smiled to yourself as you settled behind your desk, invoices spread neatly across the polished wood. For the first time all day, no one needed anything. "Finally, peace." You wrote exactly three words before a loud sound interrupted what was set to be a productive work session.

The ceiling exploded. A pair of boots appeared, followed by two legs, then—

"Luffy!"

He crashed straight through the ceiling, the old desk groaned before collapsing entirely, sending papers and ink bottles flying.

"Hi." He blinked up at the enormous hole. "So, good news? Franky can definitely fix that."

"You fell through my ceiling."

"I noticed."

Franky's horrified face appeared through the hole above. "I told him not to stand there!"

"I slipped!" Luffy called back.

You closed your eyes, took a slow breath before a laugh broke free. Quietly at first, then harder, until you had to brace yourself against the wall.

"You're laughing," Luffy said, blinking.

"I considered yelling, but it seemed inadequate."

Franky climbed down, apologizing profusely, then disappeared for more lumber, muttering about lucky rubber captains. Luffy scratched the back of his neck, giving a sheepish smile. "Sorry."

"I know."

"You aren't mad?"

"I should be." You paused. "But you've always had terrible timing."

He grinned. "Believe it or not, I've gotten better."

"You fell through my roof."

"I said better, not perfect."

A short while later, with some careful prodding from Luffy, you found the two of you sat cross-legged atop the inn, the sea stretching endlessly before you. You handed him a hammer, determined to handle this crooked part of the roof. "Hold this."

"I can do that."

For nearly thirty whole seconds, he did, before it slipped from his fingers. "Sorry, got distracted. There's a huge bird that likes to hang around here.."

You’re silent for a moment, taking at this moment with him, the sort of peace of mind, the simplicity of it all when you’re with him. Then you softly confess, "I missed this."

"The bird?"

He looked over at you when you didn't answer right away, and something in your face must have told him, because he didn't push. He just waited, his face giving away that he’s also lost in his own myriad of thoughts.

"You," you said finally. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too." He said it plainly, like it cost him nothing to say, like it had just been sitting there the whole time waiting for you to ask.

You kept working; passing nails back and forth, watching the ocean whenever the conversation drifted quiet. After a while he asked, "Were you happy?"

The question wasn't heavy or jealous. Just something he genuinely wanted to know.

"Yeah."

"Good." He was quiet a moment, turning a nail over in his fingers. "I worried, you know. After I left. I didn't know what happened to you. I used to think about it at night sometimes, on the ship, when everyone else was asleep. I'd just hope it turned out to be something good."

"It was."

"I know. I can tell, I mean, now.” He nodded toward you like it was obvious. "Your laugh is different now. Not different bad. Just, like you mean it more."

You didn't know what to say to that, so you didn't say anything. The old weather vane creaked beside you, grabbing both of your attention, both watching as it turns, showing its carved seagull missing a wing for years now. "I always meant to replace it," you admitted.

He stared at it a long moment, then stood without a word and disappeared. He came back nearly half an hour later with Franky, carrying something wrapped in cloth — a seagull carved from wood, wings stretched wide, every feather etched by hand.

Your breath caught. "You remembered."

"You smiled when you told me about it, all those years ago." He shrugged, like that was reason enough. "I remember the stuff that makes you smile. I don't really try to, it just stays. Was lucky that you needed a new one, makes this a bit less awkward."

Together, you climbed to the highest part of the roof and set it in place. The wind caught it, and it turned slowly toward the sea.

"I should've asked you," Luffy said, watching it turn. "If you wanted to come with me. I never did."

You sigh, bringing your knees to your chest, resting your head as you turn to look at him. "I would've said no."

"Yeah, I figured, it’s why I never asked. I didn't want to make you say it."

"I didn't want you to have to choose between me and the sea."

"I probably would've tried to have both anyway." He smiled, small and honest. "I always do."

"So would I have."

He was quiet for a while, looking out at the water. "I became King," he said finally, moving closer to you, grabbing your hand gently. "And you built this whole place, all by yourself." He turned to look at you, and there was nothing performative in it, nothing showing off. "I think about that a lot, actually. That we both got there. Just — not together."

Your throat tightened. "We did alright."

"Yeah." He smiled at the horizon, not at you, like he needed a second before he could. "So what happens now?"

Not what are you going to do. And for the first time in twenty-six years, Luffy had put himself somewhere inside your future without seeming to notice he'd done it.

Later that evening, Mateo found you refilling the lanterns along the walkway, wringing his hands the way he did whenever something was wrong, and he didn't know how to start.

"Principessa. I’m sorry to just drop this on you, but I think you should know, the man's coming again. Day after tomorrow."

Your stomach dropped. "This soon? I told him we'd have it by the end of the month."

"He moved it up. Said weddings mean money in the house." Mateo wouldn't meet your eyes. "I didn't want to say anything with everyone so happy, but I can’t hold it in. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize." You set the lantern down carefully, hands steadier than you felt. "I'll handle it. I always do."

You hadn't noticed Luffy standing in the doorway until Mateo left, he spoke. "Handle what?"

You turned, and for a moment you considered lying, the way you'd lied about it to everyone for two years now; a supplier fee, a tax, anything smaller than the truth. But his face was already asking the real question, and you found you didn't have it in you to keep carrying it alone anymore.

"There's a man, and he calls it a protection tax." Your voice came out flatter than you meant it to. "He's been collecting from every business on the island for two years. If we don't pay, things start breaking. Boats. Roofs. Once it was a fire, three doors down, and everyone knew exactly why, and nobody said a word."

Luffy didn't say anything for a long moment. When he did, his voice had lost every trace of its usual lightness. "How much?"

"More every time. It doesn't matter how much; it’s not really about the money. It’s an ego thing. As long as he gets paid, he’s docile for the most part."

"When's he coming?"

"Luffy—"

"When." The sureness in his voice stops you, and you look at him, seeing the Pirate King here in front of you, overlapping with images you know of the man you met years ago.

"Day after tomorrow."

He nodded once, like he was filing something away, and didn't ask anything else. He steps closer, hands coming up to frame your face, making sure that you’re looking at him. You should have known, from how quiet he went, his earnest and firm eyes, that tell you he wasn't going to let it sit.

The following morning you refused to step inside your office. After yesterday's incident involving one overly enthusiastic pirate captain and one formerly functional ceiling, you had decided that paperwork belonged outdoors.

Instead, you carried your ledgers out beneath your favorite olive tree, along with a pot of tea and the vague hope that nothing could fall through the sky out here.

You worked for nearly an hour before you noticed him.

Law hadn't announced himself. He hadn't asked whether you wanted company, hadn't knocked or cleared his throat or done any of the things a person does to make their presence known. He'd simply appeared at some point while you were bent over the numbers, settled into the second chair, and started sorting through the stack of supplier invoices as he'd always been part of the morning. You didn't know how long he'd been sitting there before you looked up and found him already working.

"You didn't say anything."

"You looked like you didn't want to be interrupted." He didn't glance up from the invoice in his hand. "So I didn't."

It should have unsettled you, a man simply appearing and staying without asking. Instead, something in your chest loosened at it; the quiet certainty of him, as though he'd decided the morning needed doing and had simply started doing it beside you, the way he used to.

Neither of you spoke for a long while after that. The work divided itself between you without discussion, the way it always had. You calculated guest expenses, he checked what you owed the suppliers. Every so often one of you slid a page across the little iron table without looking up, and the other simply took it.

The sun climbed higher, bees moved lazily through the lavender along the garden wall. Somewhere behind you, the inn carried on without needing you for once.

"You've transposed these," Law said eventually, setting one ledger down and nodding toward a column of figures. "Twice. Same two numbers, both months."

"Hmm, sorry. I have a lot on my mind."

"I know." He said it simply, not as an accusation or ask what was on your mind. He just reached over, corrected the figures himself, and kept working.

You watched him do it. The careful, unhurried way his hand moved across the page, the same hands that had knelt beside a young girl to cover her wound without being asked, the same hands that had once stitched you up on the deck of his submarine after a fall you didn't even remember anymore. You found yourself studying the line of his jaw, the quiet concentration in his face, and thinking that some things really didn't change, not the parts that mattered.

"Law."

"Mm."

"Why did you come out here this morning?"

He didn't answer right away. When he did, he still didn't look up from the ledger. "Because I thought you might need someone to sit with you, and you never ask for that. You've never once asked, not in all the years I knew you." He turned a page. "So I decided not to wait for you to."

You set your pen down.

"I never forgot you," he said, quieter now, still not looking at you, like it was easier to say to the numbers than to your face. "I want you to know that. Not the idea of you or some story I told myself to make the leaving feel smaller. You, the actual person. Twenty-six years, and I never once managed to think of you as something that had already happened to me. You were just — still happening. Every day. Even the days I didn't want you to be."

The words settled somewhere deep and unguarded in your chest. You didn't trust yourself to answer with anything clever, so you didn't try. Instead you set the ledger aside, moved your chair an inch closer, and let your head come to rest against his shoulder.

He went still, just for a moment, like he wasn't certain what to do with something so simply given. Then, slowly, you felt him lean his head down against yours, careful, like he was afraid too much weight might make you change your mind and pull away.

You didn't pull away.

"Alright?" he asked quietly, close enough now that you felt the word more than heard it.

"Alright," you murmured back.

Neither of you moved after that. You kept working, or tried to, your pen still moving across the page in slow, half-finished lines, numbers you'd add up properly later, because right now none of it seemed to matter as much as the warmth of him against your temple, the steady, unhurried sound of his breathing, the smell of ink and cedar and salt you hadn't let yourself remember in years.

The sun moved, the bees kept at the lavender. Somewhere far off, Franky's hammer struck wood in a rhythm that grew softer the longer you listened to it, until it wasn't really there at all.

You didn't decide to fall asleep, but it still happened, the way it does when a body finally stops fighting for the first time in longer than it can remember. Your pen slipping loose in your fingers, your breathing slowing to match his, his head still resting gently against yours beneath the olive tree, the ledgers forgotten between you.

"Principessa?"

The voice came from somewhere far away, apologetic, careful not to be too loud. You surfaced slowly, aware first of the warmth of Law's shoulder, then of the small ache in your neck from the angle you'd slept in, then of the young employee standing a respectful distance away, hands twisted together.

"The delivery's arrived. The last of the flowers, and the cake stands."

"I'm coming," you murmured, though you didn't move yet.

Law stirred beside you, and for a moment neither of you spoke, both still caught in the soft, unhurried edge of having slept beside each other in daylight, uncomplicated, the way you used to on quiet afternoons that felt impossibly far away now.

"You should go," he said finally, though he made no move to let you go first.

"I know."

Neither of you moved.

"I'll finish the ledgers," he said, and there was something bittersweet in the offer, in the ordinary domesticity of it. A man volunteering to do your paperwork so you could go greet a flower delivery, as though the two of you had done this a thousand mornings before and would do it a thousand more.

"You don't have to."

"I know." He straightened slowly, and you felt the loss of his weight against you before you'd even fully sat up, an absence shaped exactly like him. He gathered the ledgers with careful hands, the way he did everything, and for a moment he simply looked at you, truly looked, the way he had that first day in the market, like he was trying to hold onto something before it moved out of reach again.

"Twenty-six years," he said quietly, "and I still don't know how to say goodbye to you properly. I don't think I ever learned."

"Maybe it isn't goodbye this time."

Something shifted behind his eyes; quiet, careful hope, the kind he clearly wasn't used to letting himself feel. "Maybe it isn't," he agreed.

You touched his arm before you turned to go, just briefly, just enough to say what you didn't have better words for. He watched you walk back toward the inn with the ledgers held against his chest like something worth protecting, and it was a long moment before he finally looked back down at the numbers, a small, unguarded smile still resting on his face.

By the third day, the inn had developed an entirely new problem: too many people trying to help. You'd barely escaped an argument between Franky and a decorative table when Kid found you on the porch steps, sleeves rolled, arms crossed, looking at you like he'd already decided something.

"Come with me."

"I have a wedding to finish prepping and an inn to run."

"Yeah, you keep saying that." He tilted his head, something goading creeping into his voice. "Didn't always need an excuse to have some fun."

"That was twenty-six years ago."

"So? You're telling me you got boring in the meantime?"

Your mouth drops open in disbelief. "I did not get boring."

"Prove it." He was already walking backward toward the road, grinning at the outrage on your face. "Or are you scared?"

"I am not scared of you."

"Didn't say you were scared of me." His grin widened. "Said you were scared of remembering what it felt like to want something reckless. Different thing."

You should have said no. You had linens to count and a guest list still missing three names. But something in the challenge of it lit up under your ribs, familiar as an old scar, and before you'd fully decided anything you were pulling off your apron and leaving it over the porch rail, chasing after him down the hill toward the harbor.

"You're doing it," he called over his shoulder, delighted.

"I'm doing it to prove you wrong."

"Sure you are."

It felt exactly like it used to; arguing your way into trouble, breath quick, laughing before you'd even caught up to him, twenty-six years falling away with every step until you weren't the Principessa of anything, just a woman running downhill after a man who made you want to be reckless again. You'd forgotten what it felt like, wanting something with your whole chest instead of just managing it carefully from a safe distance. You'd forgotten how alive an argument with him could make you feel, like the two of you had always understood something about each other that the rest of the world moved too slowly to keep up with.

The Victoria Punk sat anchored past the reef, all sharp angles and dark iron, nothing like the little fishing boats crowding the harbor. Kid helped you over the rail without asking, hand closing warm and sure around yours, and led you belowdecks through a maze of corridors until you reached a door at the very back of the ship.

He stopped in front of it longer than the moment called for.

You watched him roll his shoulders once, the way he used to before a fight he wasn't entirely sure he'd win, his hand resting on the door but not yet pushing it open. "Kid?"

"Just — " He exhaled. "Give me a second."

You'd never once seen him nervous. Not challenging a Sea King, not standing in a market with two other Emperors arguing over who got to carry your basket. But here, outside a door on his own ship, his jaw was tight in a way that told you whatever waited on the other side mattered more than any of that ever had.

"You don't have to show me anything you don't want to."

"I want to." He said it fast, like he needed to get it out before he lost the nerve. Then he pushed the door open. "My workshop."

The room smelled like scorched metal and oil, tools hung in careful rows along every wall, more organized than you would have expected from him. A string of small windchimes hung near the porthole, copper and sea glass, catching the light and turning slowly with the sway of the ship. The same shape, you realized with a start, as the ones hanging outside your inn, the ones he made all those years ago.

"You made those too?"

He shrugged, not quite meeting your eyes. "Made a set for the ship. Wanted something here that sounded like home, even if I didn't know if I'd ever see the real one."

You didn't trust yourself to answer that yet, so you let your eyes fall to the iron chest in the corner instead; heavy, built to survive a shipwreck, sitting apart from everything else as it mattered more.

He crouched and opened it without ceremony, though his jaw was tight in a way that told you it cost him something. Inside, wrapped in cloth, layer after layer of things — a carved hair comb, a ring hammered thin and delicate, a small iron bird with wings that actually moved, a bracelet strung with sea glass, dozens of pieces, some rough and early, some so fine you couldn't imagine his hands making them.

"I made all of these," he said, not looking at you. "Over the years. Whenever we docked somewhere with decent metal, or I had a night with nothing to do, or I just— " He stopped, started again. "I didn't know if I'd ever see you again, but I kept making them anyway. Figured if I ever did, I wanted to have something to give you. Didn't want to show up empty-handed after leaving you with nothing."

You knelt beside him, lifting various pieces up, watching as they caught the light through the porthole. "Kid."

"It's stupid. I know it's stupid." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Twenty-six years of making jewelry you were ever gonna wear."

"It's not stupid." Your voice came out rougher than you meant it to. "It's the least stupid thing anyone's ever done for me."

He didn't answer that. You looked up at him to see why, and that was when you noticed, really noticed, how much he'd changed. He'd always been big, but there was something different in it now, something settled into him. His shoulders had broadened further, his arms thicker with the kind of strength that came from years of forging instead of just fighting, and he moved through the cramped little workshop with an ease that hadn't been there before, sure of every inch of himself in a way the younger Kid never quite managed. The sleeve of his shirt had ridden up where he crouched, the muscle of his forearm shifting as he sorted through the chest, and you found your gaze catching there, then climbing — the breadth of his shoulders filling the small room, the set of his jaw, the sheer certainty in every movement he made now that hadn't been there when he was young and still figuring out what to do with all that strength. Heat pooled low and unhurried in your chest, entirely inconvenient, entirely unmistakable.

"You still with me?"

You blinked. He'd stopped sorting through the chest and was watching you now, one eyebrow raised, something knowing creeping slow across his mouth.

"What?"

"You went somewhere." He didn't move, didn't break the stare, just let the silence stretch until it became obvious you weren't going to answer on your own. "Wanna tell me where?"

"Nowhere."

"Uh huh." He shifted closer, deliberately unhurried, entirely too pleased with himself. "Say my name again. Slow this time, so I know you're actually looking at my face. Or really, my lips."

"Kid." It came out lower than you meant it to.

"There she is." He laughed, low and rough, and leaned in just enough that you felt the warmth coming off him. "You were checking me out."

"I was not."

"You absolutely were." His grin turned wicked. "Which, for the record — I don't mind. Go ahead. Take your time."

You bit your lips, trying to hold in the laughter as you shoved his shoulder, which did nothing at all except make him laugh harder, delighted with himself in a way that felt exactly like the boy you used to argue with on a different deck, a different lifetime, until your chest ached with how familiar it was.

"You've gotten bigger," you admitted finally, because there didn't seem to be much point in pretending otherwise.

"Yeah, well." He rolled one shoulder, but there was something pleased buried under the casualness of it. "Kept working, kept building. Guess it does that to a person."

You set the iron bird down carefully among the rest of the collection and looked back up at him. "Why didn't you ever send any of it? All these years. You could have."

The teasing left his face slowly, replaced by something more careful. "Because sending it meant admitting I still thought about you. And I didn't know if you'd want to hear that from me, after everything." He sat down properly now, back against the workbench, close enough that his knee brushed yours. "Easier to just keep making the stuff and telling myself I'd give it to you eventually, someday. Never really let myself believe someday would come."

You felt your heart skip, then thrum louder in your chest, loud enough you were half certain he could hear it in the small room. "And now that it's here?"

He looked at you for a long moment before he answered, like the question had knocked something loose in him he wasn't fully braced for. "Now that it's here," he said slowly, "I don't know what to do with how much I want to stay in it."

You reached over and took his hand, turning it palm-up, tracing the calluses that hadn't been there the last time you'd held it. "I used to think you left because you didn't want this. Wanted the sea more than you wanted somewhere to be still."

"I did want the sea." His fingers curled slowly around yours. "But I wanted you more, and I didn't know how to want both at the same time without ruining one of 'em. So I picked the one I thought I couldn't screw up." His voice roughened. "Took me a long time to figure out I was already screwing up the other one just by staying gone."

"You're not screwing anything up now."

"No?"

"No." You moved closer, until your shoulder pressed against his, until you could feel the steady warmth radiating off him the way you used to on cold nights aboard a different ship entirely. "You built me a lantern, forged half my porch. You kept a box of gifts for twenty-six years just in case I ever wanted them." Your voice caught. "That's sounds a lot different than the man I knew all those years ago."

Something in his face came undone at that. Not dramatic, just quiet, the way a held breath finally lets go. "I don't want to leave again," he said, low and rough. "I mean it. I don't care what that makes me sound like."

"It makes you sound honest."

"Yeah, well. Not real good at that either, at least, not until you." He looked down at your joined hands like he still couldn't quite trust it was real. "I love you. Never stopped, not for one day in twenty-six years, and I know I've got a hell of a way of showing it, but I wanted you to hear me say it plain, at least once, without a joke wrapped around it."

You didn't answer with words. You leaned in and pressed your forehead gently against his, the way you used to when neither of you had the right thing to say, and felt him go still, then soften, one broad hand coming up to rest carefully against the side of your face like you were something he still couldn't quite believe he was allowed to touch.

"You always had a chance," you whispered.

"Yeah?"

"You always did."

He let out a breath that was almost a laugh, almost something else entirely, and for a long moment neither of you moved, sitting together on the floor of his workshop surrounded by twenty-six years of quiet, patient hope, finally, finally given somewhere to land.

a/n: i'm so sorry that this is late and i'm even more sorry if it's terrible! i had inspiration, then lost it and found it again and i feel like it’s easy to tell? sorry! and take some more apologies that it's not completed!! it's just taking me forever so i figured to post something rather than nothing!

another apology for the formatting for some of the dialogue being in a bunch, was trynna save space with formatting so it’s not several one-liners. man, it is so difficult to write group conversations with multiple characters since you don't want someone to feel forgotten or for it to be too crazy!

as always, likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated! i love you very much, here’s a kiss from me to you 😘

also, hope you like my shjtty lil image of our men our men! again, lost the inspo halfway through so don’t be too mean now!

thank you for your patience, i love you all so much! buy me a coffee | dc masterlist | anime masterlist taglist: @unknownficenjoyer @merinakkz @vika-1414 @ilvrsoup @charukii @tearsonmynesseyez @angelandthemoon @esmeensheep @llghtsnoww @lunalixya @urbbyfacedangel @calabazazap @sleeplessreader @deleted-1-800 @yoihoshi-maki

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

kym