portgas d. ace cannot fuckin’ believe this is happening.
portgas d. ace swallows. his calloused hand trembles as he snakes it into his unbuttoned shorts.
all the while, he can’t look away from you — his best friend — touching yourself.
this whole thing started with an awkward conversation about the half-hard cock digging into your backside after an afternoon nap. there was no avoiding it, not when ace buried his face in his hands and grumbled something about being pent up.
you, in turn, made a joke about how you haven’t gotten off in weeks.
ergo: you get it, you’re pent up, too.
there was a beat of tension. then:
“you… uh… i mean, if you need to… take care of it…?” you said, eyes darting to the curve straining against the front of his shorts. ace felt dizzy. you chewed your thumbnail.
isn’t that how most things like this start, slow and curious?
“i mean, we’re best friends,” are the words that put the metaphorical nail in the coffin, mumbled around the nervous habit of a bitten nail, “think of it as… mutual support...?”
he agreed too quickly, swallowing down a bout of unnerving want.
“right. i’ll do me. you do you," he rasped, head nodding and pupils blown wide, "yea. mutual support. good thinkin’, scraps."
that nickname felt like foreplay. it punched the air out of your lungs.
and so it began: mutual support. more like mutual masturbation, but who's correcting the record in a moment like this? not ace. definitely not ace.
no, portgas d. ace is too busy trying to remember how to breathe. is it hot in here? it feels hot in here. fuck, yep, it’s hot because he’s doing the thing — the thing where sparks of ignition dance across the sweat on his skin. it’s a dead giveaway that he’s excited. losing his edge.
your hand steadies under the waistband of your underwear, your head against the pillow. ace lies beside you, your shoulders barely touching, body heat bleeding into one another. your leg is thrown over his thigh, and your bunk has never felt smaller.
portgas d. ace is panting, and not once do his eyes break from yours.
not when you bite your lip so hard it almost bleeds, not when he thumbs the head of his throbbing cock, not when you slip your fingers through your folds. his jaw falls open, nostrils flare, and finally, his eyes fall to the pearling of your nipples through your tank top.
“fuck,” he mumbles, “…is this… is this okay?”
“yea. yea, it’s… it’s good. are y-you good?” you breathe, and your eyes fall to the sight of his cock, pulled from his shorts. you almost whine, because it’s pretty. thick and throbbing and he’s stroking himself faster now and his forearms flex while he does and that’s your best friend—
your faces are close now, shoulders touching. your toes curl against his calf. your eyes dart back up to his. he’s staring while he nods, his gaze is intense. enarmored. the look in your heavy-lidded eyes is no better.
portgas d. ace’s abdomen tenses, his breath stutters, and he sighs out:
"keep — fuck — keep looking at me like that."
you’re biting your lip again when you nod, working a tight circle against your clit beneath your bottoms. your lashes flutter, and your breath hitches higher, and you make a soft sound in the back of your throat. his mouth is parted, and so is yours, and when you both huff out a needy pant, it mingles.
portgas d. ace can’t resist. his eyes snake down again, toward where your fingers work themselves quicker and needier beneath your bottoms — ace wets his lips, curses to himself.
this is uncharted territory. the kind of territory that isn’t supposed to exist between best friends.
“fuck, you’re so hot,” the honest appraisal rushes out like a tie between a prayer and a revelation, “m’close, scraps—”
portgas d. ace is fucking up into his own hand while staring at you, and good fuckin’ god, it is the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. his hips roll, his muscles tense, and you whine when you spy the precum beading at the head of his cock. you’re right there, right at the edge.
“—me too,” it breaks from your throat in a whisper; you squirm, and ace’s breath fans across your face, “i’m… i’m gonna—”
“yea?” his forehead knocks against yours, and he nods, “you gonna come?”
he’s goading you; his nose brushes against yours. you can’t help that his name trembles out of you with a hunger. “ace, ace—”
that’s all it takes. ace smothers the sound of his release in a kiss that’s devouring. it’s the sort of kiss that doesn’t happen between best friends. the kiss sends you over the edge, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you know that watching your best friend finish across his chest while you come around your own fingers isn’t really best friend material, either.
portgas d. ace, kissing you like a man starved while you finish hard enough to tremble, certainly isn’t going to complain. after all, you’re best friends. best friends help one another out.
i’m still on my court jester ace and knight deuce bs
knight deuce who prince(ss) reader defends from some bullies when they’re children and he swears to act in a way befitting of your friendship/that image he had of you.
Court jester ace who as a child, only felt seen by the weird hooded kid showing him card tricks behind festival tents, only for them to be snatched away by a kid with blond hair and blue roots…
cue them entering adulthood, ace struggling to find work only to be sent to the palace because of his comedic genius, and meeting a familiar face, no longer blond but still that same determined look, and he feels a pang in his heart, nothing he can describe though.
Deuce who wants to be stronger to protect kids like him and his mother, and sees you, his prince(ss) during his knighting, and vies for a spot at your side, as you must choose a knight at your coming of age ceremony…
then ofc royal advisor riddle!merchants guild azul and merc floyd, alchemists epel, vil, rook, jade and trey (trey left and works as a head chef for your palace!) and everyone else is a prince (as per twst canon)
malleus is your betrothed (arranged) but he has more interest in friendship, and enjoys watching adeuce attempt to court you and each other.
edit: cater is one of the knights trying to seduce trey
Hi if your still accepting requests would it be ok if I request yandere Ace (romantic please ) with a female darling (who takes the role of ramshackle Yuu if possible if not no worries ^^) who constantly giving everyone affectionate nicknames like hun , sweetie , love , darling (I do that a lot with my friends is just one of my love languages XD ) ; how do you think Ace would take it 👀 especially since his feelings starts going to a dark territory 👀 love to hear your thoughts please 🙏 Love your writing ! Always has me screaming and kicking my feet up in the air cause it’s that good ! (Take your time ! I don’t mind waiting ! I want you to have fun doing this ! Love your writing !)
Ace knew you didn't mean it. Not really. You were just being nice.
So why did it sting?
It was just another one of your many quirks. Nothing more.
Why did his heart wince?
Your voice found him late at night, in the restless quiet of his bedroom as sleep evaded him.
It refused to leave his mind, rooted in his thoughts, as if its only purpose was to prod and poke at those emotions he tried so desperately to hide.
Most of the time, Ace felt that your voice existed only to mock him. A constant reminder that those pathetic, little feelings of his were barely under control.
You'd smiled so brightly earlier that day when Ruggie tossed you some extra chips.
And for what? Chips?
"Thanks, hun."
Hun, you'd called him. It was just another word to you. Yet, Ruggie's ears folded over at the name, the hyena's eyes avoiding yours as the faintest hint of a blush spread across his cheeks.
Ace's fingernails dug into the flesh of his palm, leaving deep, crescent marks etched into his skin.
"That's so sweet of you, love." That idiot Silver just nodded at you, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. As if some narcoleptic, Diasomnia student deserved to hear those words fall from your pretty lips.
Love.
Ace wanted nothing more than to rip Silver's study notes into a million pieces. Who cares if he's an upperclassman?
Ace buried his face into his pillow and fought the urge to scream.
Look at what you've done to him!
Him! Screaming into his pillow about a magicless, little nobody!
The pendulum swings.
But, Sevens, it seemed so real, so natural when you said it to him.
"You got it, sweetheart." The way those honeyed words slipped from your mouth so easily, like they were meant to be shared with him and him alone.
The way you laughed and playfully called him darling when you beat him in cards and he, for just a moment, existed in a reality where it was just you and Ace.
A world where you only looked at him. Where those lovely little nicknames were reserved only for him.
Ace sighed as he yanked the pillow off his face and tossed it to the side.
"Darling." He silently mouthed the word, feeling the weight of it on his tongue.
Ace's cheeks burned in the dark of his bedroom.
Would you call him that tomorrow?
He'd get you study notes; he'd let you beat him at cards. He'd buy you whatever you want. He'd steal, he'd lie, he'd... Sevens, what wouldn't he do?
Darling.
He'd do anything, just to be the only one to hear those words fall from your lips.
I'm BACK! I'm sorry I took forever to write this. I had a lot of health complications and was very busy with work for a few months, so I haven't been able to write.
I am planning to write a related Ace fic in your honor but wanted to get this little drabble out in the meantime.
Ace is so fucking clingy. An arm around your waist, your shoulder, clinging onto you at night, DURING THE SUMMER (with that hot ass body of his omg I would be fuming) A hand on your thigh while you’re eating or holding your hand under the table… he just… he needs to touch you like aaaaawl the time…
He’s also not crazy protective, but after you deal with some stupid pick up line from some random in a market, he’d always hold your waist, muttering a small “you okay? Want me to beat him up? I’ll do it.” With a smile.
He’s also trying very hard for you. All the time. He knows how to clean and fend for himself, he had to do it all the time as a kid— but he cleans up extra, asks Sanji on his den-den if he could have some cooking lessons so he could make you your favorite dish, because he wants everything to be perfect for you.
And he despiiiiises showing that he’s injured, or hurt, emotionally or physically. This guy could be brushing off an attack like it was nothing while he’s bleeding heavily multiple places on his body, just because he doesn’t want you to worry.
And if you do he acts like he was a burden— to an extent where a lot of people wouldn’t initially notice it, but you did. The way he may start doing more stuff for you, treating you nicer in bed, and teasing you less— he needed to feel like he was making up for you treating him like a person.
He also talks positively about you, like all the time!! Your number one glazer frfr, especially to his brothers!! “You guys would love her”, “I swear, she’s the smartest person I’ve ever met”, and if you had a bounty he would carry around your poster with him to show to them :)
I also think that he gets affectionate when he’s drunk (me vs writing abt characters when they’re inebriated lmao) but like a cuddly drunk!! He’d probably just want to hold you and have you stroke his hair while he mutters praises into your chest. “Y’so nice, I hic— missed y’ so much…” “ace, you were on a mission for an hour.” “tha’s so long.” He would pout, nuzzling against you.
A/N: just some little scenarios awww awww aww ok bai
synopsis: you faked having memory loss to get back at your boyfriend. except, you didn't expect the reaction from him.
genres: slight angst, fluff
word count: 3.8k
requests: open
Ace has never once doubted your strength. He knows that you're capable of handling and defending yourself against an enemy. But of course, that doesn't mean he doesn't worry about you.
He offers to handle the bigger enemies and hopes you say yes. Mainly to show off his strength to flatter you, but also because he'd rather you not get your beautiful hands dirty.
However, today was different. The Moby Dick docked on an island they hadn't discovered. Unbeknownst to them, it was marked as enemy territory.
"C'mon, Ace," you pleaded as you hung onto your boyfriend's arms. "Let me join you guys, please! It's not fair that I have to be the only one with Pops while you guys have some fun."
"No, babe. You need to keep him company while we pick up a few things," he softly pushed you away, waving goodbye to you as he joined the rest of the crew.
Although he meant well, it really wasn't fair that everyone but you was allowed to be on the island. He just didn't want to risk you getting hurt. But in reality, there was nothing to do on the ship when it was just you and a sleeping Pops.
Consequently, you disobeyed Ace's orders and left the Moby Dick.
You weren't going to let someone hold you back from adventure whilst they were exploring it themselves. Just as long as you get back to the ship before everyone else does, then everything should be fine.
The island was buzzing with adventure as its citizens crowded the stores in the heart of town. Civilians gathered around sailors, telling countless stories of their bold journeys. Pirates blended in crowds, careful not to grab attention and only what they needed for their voyage.
It didn't take long for you to spot Ace, who was already chowing down on multiple meals. Despite wanting to "lay low," Ace proudly wore Pop's Jolly Roger on his back. He was a walking fight waiting to happen, and he knew but never cared or felt ashamed of it. You knew that there would be some moron wanting to prove his strength by fighting Whitebeard's second division commander. So, you had to explore the island before disaster struck.
You walked closer, wanting to get a better view of your boyfriend, stopping in your tracks when you noticed who sat next to him.
A girl sat next to him, who gazed at him as if they were married. As any other person would, you felt a pang of jealousy, especially since he didn't mind her presence.
One of the things you absolutely loved about Ace was how kind he is. That and how he could go on and on about his little brother, Luffy.
Seeing him easily connect with people wasn't out of the ordinary; it was more so that he didn't understand social cues that bothered you instead.
"Ey," a man spoke to you, "y'gonna order or what?"
Your eyes narrowed at the man, glaring at him for interrupting your eavesdropping. He simply rolled his eyes at you and walked away to find another person to take an order from.
You turn your eyes back at them, staring intently and studying every gesture and word that came from Ace.
You were only a couple of feet behind your boyfriend and the strange woman, hiding behind a menu to cover yourself from spying on them.
Ace was eating and talking at the same time, food stuffed in his mouth as he rambled on about his little brother and how amazing he is. The woman, who sat next to him, sipped on her drink and listened to him as she smiled and nodded, hoping he would catch the look she was giving him.
The sight made you fume with anger. They laughed together, talked as if they could go on for days, and sat comfortably in silence. All the things he had done with you too.
Insecurity was quick to find you, already wondering if Ace would be the type of person to cheat or break up with you over someone else he had fallen in love with.
You got out of your seat, having had enough of the sight you witnessed. Would it have been better if you had listened to what Ace had told you? You weren't too sure whether or not you had seen him hang out with this woman; the pain of insecurity had already hit you.
Before you could reach the exit, you bumped into a tall, intimidating man. You carefully looked up and saw him holding your poster to his face.
"Seven-hundred-million berries," he said. His calm, low-pitched voice brought chills down your spine. A lump formed in your throat, already thinking about how you weren't prepared to fight an enemy and forgot to bring your weapon.
His oversized, hard fist slammed into the left side of your body, punching you straight into multiple walls a mile away. The people in the bar caught attention to this and immediately ran away, not wanting to get involved with danger.
Your body trembled as you struggled to get back up, ultimately failing to fight back when the enemy grabbed hold of your neck.
"I'm gonna have fun destroying you before I get my reward," he spat at your face, smirking at how easy it was to catch someone with such a large bounty.
Embarrassingly enough, your eyes drifted to Ace, who was behind him, warning your enemy to let you go.
Before you could listen any further to what else he had to say, your blurry eyes slowly closed, drifting away, ultimately passing out.
─ ⊹ ⊱ ⊰ ⊹ ─
By overhearing what your crewmates had talked about in front of you while faking your sleep, you learned that you had passed out and been slipping in and out of consciousness for a week straight.
Although the last thing you could remember was getting beaten up, you still recalled Ace "flirting" with that ugly woman.
Even after your body was able to immediately recover thanks to Marco, it still carried the pain of the jealousy and insecurity you had felt. Would it be wrong to try to get back at him for what he did, despite saving you after not listening to him?
Maybe...maybe not...
Your body wobbled its way out of the infirmary, catching the attention of Marco, who was going to stop by and check up on you.
"Woah, hey," he ran to you, holding you close so you wouldn't fall. "Did you just wake up? You shouldn't be walking out of the infirmary, wouldn't want you gettin' hurt again."
"Umm," you croaked, deciding if you should really do this. "Where am I?"
"We're on the ship looking for land. We still need supplies after what happened at the last island," he replied as he brought you back inside to lay you on the bed.
"Ace was pretty worried about you, y'know. I told him it was a bad idea to leave her alone with no one but Pops, she was eventually gonna get bored, I told him." You looked at him, completely "confused" by the information he had given you.
"Who's Ace?" You asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Marco looked at you as if you had two heads. The concussion was merely a minor injury, so for Marco to determine that you would earn memory loss didn't cross his mind in the slightest.
"Uh,” Marco paused for a second.
“Excuse me," he whispered before getting up abruptly and running out of the infirmary. The door was left wide open, so you tried your hardest to conceal your laughter. Giggling to yourself as you covered your mouth in amusement.
Marco ran to the dining hall, slamming the door open, not caring that it could've broken. Everyone in the hall turned their heads to Marco, noticing how he was out of breath and his chest was rising harshly.
"She lost her memory," he huffed in between his words.
The dining hall was silent for a brief moment until Ace stood up. They all knew who exactly Marco was talking about. Ace didn't say anything, but his face sure did tell you everything he was feeling when he heard those words.
He dashed out of his seat, hoping to get to the infirmary in an instant, but Marco stopped him from exiting.
Marco shook his head at him, "You can't see her."
"Why not?! She's my girlfriend, and I'm worried for her!" He yelled, hastily trying to push Marco's arms away so he could leave.
"If you see her right now, you're going to overwhelm her!" He replied, struggling to control his worry.
"She knew me before she joined us," Ace shot at him. "Just let me see my girlfriend."
Marco sighed in defeat, remembering now that Ace won't back down either way.
"Fine," he replies. "But if she doesn't remember you, don't be surprised when we tell you, ‘I told you so.’"
Ace scoffed at him, already feeling confident that you would be the only one to remember him. After all, he was the reason you went out to explore the seas.
─ ⊹ ⊱ 2 years prior ⊰ ⊹ ─
The sun slowly began to set, creating an orange hue in the sky. The ocean shimmered as it reflected the light from the sun. This island was buzzing with romance. It carried beautiful views, amazing food, and charming music that could be heard from every corner of the streets.
That's why you had resided here on this island. For six years, you've been moving island to island to try to find something interesting that could happen in your life. Whether it be romance, adventure, sorcery, mystery, or even danger, you just needed something that wouldn't bore you to death.
It hadn't been long since you moved to this new island. Four months to be exact. Yet, you had already gotten tired of this new life you had been excited to live.
You'd walk out of your house every day, which was located in the middle of the bustling city, hoping that maybe one thing would be of interest to you. Days slowly went by. Turning into weeks, and then months.
You wanted to move again, but not only would it be expensive, it would also be a very reckless decision to make. You've moved about seven times already, using all of the money your parents had saved for you to go to college. You had no interest in studying anyway, so what was the point?
Usually, you would spend your days walking around the city, observing people, attempting to greet people, but ultimately backing down because you didn't really know how to make friends.
Until one destined day, you bumped into a strange cowboy who was chasing after a bounty poster. Although he had apologized, it irritated you that he messed up your hair, which you had spent so much time on.
He offered to pay you back with dinner and introduced himself as Ace, the captain of the Spades Pirates.
For a pirate, he was kind, rambled on about his little brother, and even ate as he talked, getting food on your face and using your clothes as napkins. Obviously, this annoyed you to the core. Never in your life have you met someone so rude yet so sincere. It was definitely odd.
But you liked it.
Ace didn't mind it at all when you flashed him a piercing look. Instead, he would scratch the back of his neck and apologize, only to continue what had irritated you, unaware that he was doing it again.
He loved that, despite falling asleep multiple times and doing things he shouldn't have, you still listened to him. Even asking him questions about his little brother, which he was more than glad to answer.
When Ace walked you to your home, you told him that this was the most exciting thing you've ever done since you first moved. You embarrassingly admitted that you've moved from island to island, hoping to find something that could make your life less miserable and maybe figure out what to do for the rest of it as well.
Without a second thought, he asks you to join him.
"What? Why would I join a stupid pirate crew, especially since I could die at any moment!" You blurted at him. Both of you stopped at your house, lingering for just a moment because you felt like something about him drew you in.
"Weren't you looking for adventure?" He asked, scratching his neck as he recalled what you had told him earlier, making him confused by your own words.
"I mean, yeah, I want something exciting to happen. But I'm only eighteen! I still have a lot left to do in my life before I die!!" You yelled at him for not recognizing the obvious reasons as to why you couldn't join a pirate crew. That, and you being an ordinary citizen.
Your reaction earns a hearty laugh from Ace, holding his stomach in pain from how hard he was laughing.
"C'mon, Y/n," he said as he giggled. "Don't be a chicken. I know you'll have fun with us."
"I dunno," you said as you stared at your feet. "I don't have powers like you or Luffy, and I don't train either."
"I'll train you," Ace blurted faster than he expected, covering his mouth as it had betrayed him. "Ah— but only if you're okay with that."
You could tell that he was starting to get nervous after giving you a personal solution impulsively. It didn't bother you in the slightest though. It was cute.
The day ended with you thanking Ace for the meal and wishing him a good night, already reminiscing about the day you just had.
When morning came, it didn't take long for you to be woken up by a certain cowboy, who was throwing tiny rocks at your window to grab your attention.
Ace shares that he plans on staying on the island for a few days just to convince you to join him. It was stupid, but definitely not surprising. Especially since he decided he would be crashing at your place, not even bothering to get your input.
Strangely enough, you ended up caving in and joining him only because he had finished every bit of your groceries, and you didn't have enough that could even last you a day.
─ ⊹ ⊱ ⊰ ⊹ ─
"Not to brag, but she's totally gonna remember me," Ace boasted as he walked to the infirmary, hands behind his neck, walking as if he had won an award. The crew followed behind him, snickering, waiting for the moment when you prove him wrong.
Because of how loud the crew was, being able to hear them all the way from the dining hall, it gave you time to practice your poker face before meeting your boyfriend face-to-face.
When Ace walked in, his cocky attitude instantly died down after seeing you again. He didn't care if his family was behind him, teasing him for being a lovesick fool. He was glad to see you alive and well for once, even if you remembered him or not.
He took off his hat and kneeled next to the bed you sat on, watching him slowly and carefully approach you, scared to intimidate you.
"Y/n?" He whispered to you. The crew carefully watched behind the door, crowding and even squishing each other to watch. Some people had even started placing bets on whether you would remember your boyfriend or not.
"It's me, your boyfriend, Ace?" he said as he fidgeted with his hat as he waited for your answer. The suspense was practically killing everyone on the ship, waiting for just a single word that would come out of your mouth.
"Boyfriend? You? Who the hell even are you?" Your face scrunched at the label.
For a moment, no one said anything. The only thing you could hear was seagulls squawking and waves crashing into each other. But it sure didn't take that long before everyone bursted into laughter, even going as far as to point at Ace while laughing at his face. You could hear people repeat your words and multiple ‘Marco told you so.’"
But none of that seemed to faze Ace. Instead, he slowly got up from his knees and walked out of the infirmary with his hat tipped over his face, not bothering to say anything at all, as he had just been proven wrong. You were able to get a few laughs out thanks to Marco, who kicked everyone out since there was no reason to be in the room anymore.
You did it. You had successfully gotten your revenge. Yet, your body still carried the pain of the jealousy and insecurity you had felt multiple times now. It was weird. You thought that maybe this would give you a little bit of relief from the frustration. Instead, the pain had only grown because you didn't even fix the problem.
You really just dug yourself deeper into a hole despite knowing it was wrong.
Yet, you still did it.
Being able to socialize with the crew now that you were allowed to go out only after two days since waking up did kind of help out with the pain, you had to admit that. But the pain still lingered. You tried not to dwell on it, but every time you walked up to Ace, he avoided you. Not even bothering to acknowledge that you were both on the ship. And when you tried speaking to him, he would give you a blank stare while not saying anything.
It took you three days until you finally had enough, asking other people for him, but you would constantly end up in trial and error. You haven't even moved a step from where you started.
Consequently, you had had enough. It's been far too long for you to live without being able to speak to your boyfriend, let alone look at you the way he used to. You didn't want to admit it, but you had to confront him and come clean about your actions. Because if you didn't soon, you would lose him.
It didn't take long for you to find Ace. He leaned on the railing, watching the sun slowly set as its light reflected on the waters below. You carefully walked up to him, scared that he would tell you to go away. His eyes were more droopy than they usually were, and his eye bags seemed to have gotten worse. Embarassingly enough, you realized now that you haven't seen him smile since waking up from your concussion.
"Hey, Ace? Right?" You acted clueless, trying to keep the act up. Ace didn't turn around or even acknowledge you. He kept his eyes on the view instead, earning a sigh from you.
"So uh, is it true that you're my boyfriend?" You asked him, hoping it would at least make him glance at you. "Everyone keeps telling me about us, and now I'm starting to think you weren't joking. Or maybe it's just a prank, y'know, since I'm not really aware—"
"Yeah, it was a prank," he cut you off, keeping his eyes on the view. His answer made you wince. You definitely didn't expect it.
"What?" you whispered, loud enough for him to hear.
"We never dated. We were just messing with you, sorry," he casually replied without even glancing at you.
The pain you felt, the hole you dug, it all went deeper and deeper. Whatever it was you expected didn't matter. In fact, nothing mattered to you anymore. A huge lump formed in your throat, already threatening you to cry and yell at your boyfriend, if he even was anymore, for being such an asshole. Was this your punishment for lying? For eavesdropping? For not following a simple request? Whatever it was, you just wanted it to stop. For it all to end.
"Okay, I can't do this," you abruptly said. "I don't wanna do this, please. I'm sorry, Ace."
You tried to choke back your tears from falling, but it was inevitable. The lump in your throat made it difficult for you to fight back from your strong emotions.
"I never lost my memory. I lied about that. I was just mad at you for talking to that stupid woman at the bar. It just pissed me off seeing her look at you the way I look at you, and the fact that you didn't care or even notice it made me so frustrated."
You look down at your feet, fidgeting with the denim of your pants. You could feel your tears rolling down your cheeks, watching them splash on the wooden floorboard below you.
"I knew doing this was bad, but I didn't care because I wanted to get back at you for what you did," you choke out, "But now that I'm seeing you avoid me, it's making me realize how selfish I was. I'm sorry, Ace, for being such a stupid, insecure, selfish girlfri—"
Ace interrupted the last part of your apology with the tightest hug he's ever given you. You weren't even able to hug him back, but you were fine with it. You leaned into his neck instead, smelling the scent of his hair that oddly smelled like both cinnamon and smoke. For a moment, you both stayed like that in silence. Listening to the sound of the gentle waves slapping the ship.
"Don't ever do that again," he says, pulling away from you as he holds your shoulders.
"If you ever have a problem, you need to tell me no matter what," he stares deeply into your eyes. "I don't want you to feel insecure and needing to get revenge over something stupid we can fix easily."
His hand holds your cheek, caressing it before pulling you in to close the gap to kiss you. His lips were slightly chapped, but you didn't care. You leaned into his touch to deepen the kiss, holding the back of his head and his neck while he held your cheek and your waist.
Although it had only been almost a week since you missed your boyfriend's love, Ace was not so fortunate, having to miss you for almost two weeks now. This kiss was more than enough to bring him back to life.
"So uh," you broke the kiss, already giggling as you gazed at your boyfriend's beautiful face. "What are we gonna tell the others?"
"Who says we have to, baby?" he answers, continuing to caress your cheek. "Now c'mere, I missed these pretty lips."
You mentioned your departure to Whitebeard when you had a chance, half-distracted as you tried to think through the best way to return as soon as possible. It hadn’t been so much of a concern before but…
Well, you had to admit that you found little interest in the idea of sailing alone anymore.
It had become a predictable routine in the past. Izou always knew first, the evening before you left, then Thatch would be told in the morning, and at some point around the afternoon, you’d hop back aboard your ship and disappear. You imagined everybody else found out through your absence alone but this time, you’d tell Ace too.
And yet somehow, even starting that routine made you a little miserable now. You didn’t want to tell Izou and your grumpiness in doing so crept up at dinner.
It was an admittedly loud dinner.
Whitebeard had insisted on it. Tables stretched across the deck in long uneven rows while lanternlight swung gently from rigging overhead, casting warm gold across faces already flushed from drink. Music drifted somewhere near the bow, half-lost beneath the roar of conversation and the steady rush of the ocean beyond the rails. The scent of roasted meat and salt hung heavily in the air.
Normally, it would have been comforting.
Tonight it only scraped against your nerves as you sidled up alongside Izou.
“You’ve been in such a mood this evening,” he said, holding out a drink to you. “I would almost think you’re dreading something.”
Of course he knew. You hoped he would at least pretend until you told him later in the evening but he gave you a small smile and you couldn’t help but feel like you were in a trap.
“I’m not talking about it yet,” you said and shifted closer so the brisk ocean wind broke around him.
“If you wanted to stay, you’d see little complaint here.”
“I’m not going because I want to,” you said. “Trust me.”
You admired the silken kimono he wore affectionately. His outfits never failed to impress you but this one in particular was gorgeous. And it matched the hairpin he’d delicately placed into your hair at the start of the evening perfectly.
You knew how it looked. You’d long stopped caring.
Izou seemed to want to say something when Whitebeard laughed heartily from somewhere behind you. His mug landed heavily against the table. A sudden hush passed over the crew, heads turning toward their captain who didn’t even need to speak to command complete attention.
He waited only a moment as the fourth division finished emerging from the kitchens and you would have looked over for Thatch if you hadn’t felt a heavy gaze fall on you.
“Brat.”
The single word carried easily across the deck and conversation faltered almost immediately. Heads turned. Mugs paused halfway to mouths.
You straightened instinctively, stepping away from where you were pressed into Izou’s side. “Yes?”
Everybody’s attention around the deck had slipped to you. Whitebeard isolating somebody in front of the entire crew was unusual. Unusual enough that you could see assumptions being formed from the corners of your eyes.
Would this be about –
He didn’t allow you to linger on the thought. “You’re leaving tomorrow.”
Your brain froze. You didn’t know which would have been worse for him to discuss in front of everybody. For a second, you glanced across the deck to see a resigned frown on Thatch’s face and something almost painful on Ace’s. Deuce was giving him a sympathetic look and you really wished Whitebeard had given you the chance to explain yourself in person.
“Yes,” you said when you realised the sound had stretched out too long. “But not for long.”
“Good,” he said firmly. “But I need more reassurance than words. For the sanity of my crew, if nothing else.”
Chuckles rolled across the deck at that. You could see gentle ribbing being aimed at you, fond grins being offered to the commanders in kind.
“I’ll try my hardest,” you said with a nod. “But words are all I have to promise.”
Whitebeard’s smirk made you slightly nervous. You could see the captain had a plan in mind and you didn’t trust it for a second.
“You’ll take Ace with you.”
“What?!” Ace’s exclamation was a strange mix of excitement and confusion, drawing loud whoops from the divisions. He was on his feet in an instant, grinning widely at you. “I mean, that sounds great Pops! But also, what?”
You frowned. “I’m sorry?”
You’d never taken anybody with you before. Why would you? Any of the crew could surely be helpful in getting close to groups that might recharge you faster but that meant sharing your devil fruit’s abilities with whoever joined. Was Whitebeard assuming that you’d told Ace of all people?
Which you had but still, you’d assumed he would go for the more natural target of Izou. The man you had been leaning on not a minute ago.
“It’ll be quicker if you have help,” Whitebeard said with a laugh that bounced around the ship. “And I’ve heard Ace has become quite infatuated.”
Ace turned bright red at the accusation, even as Teach roared with laughter and clapped him on the back. You smiled gently at him, trying to soothe his embarrassment at having his father openly acknowledge it.
“I can help,” he said firmly. “Whatever you need.”
Izou breathed out quietly next to you, sharp and unimpressed. You looked toward him but he offered you only a slight nod of acknowledgement. This was going to be something strange for him to handle too and concern weighed against your shoulders.
Whitebeard though, it seemed, was not finished with his plan because he immediately glanced over at Izou.
“Sending Ace alone would not be fair either,” he acknowledged. “Izou will join you too. That should avoid too many crimes of passion from occurring while you're away.”
Everybody was laughing now, jumping onto this apparently hilarious situation Whitebeard was organising. Not one person took it seriously. You could hear comments bouncing around about competitions and swaying the betting pool. The attention was barely lingering on you at all.
Not that you were complaining about having two people to help you – and Izou and Ace got along well enough that you wouldn’t have to worry about it – but the absurdity of it was catching up to you.
Izou though, appeared reinvigorated by this offer. His hand fell on your hip, drawing you back into his side proudly. “If that’s what you think is best,” he said. “I’ll ensure everything progresses smoothly.”
“Without shooting Ace?” Vista asked with a short laugh.
“That will depend on if he can keep his hands to himself.”
“Hey!” Ace protested. “You said – ”
Whitebeard cut him off by humming, tapping his fingers against his seat. “Although I have run into another problem now, haven’t I? Dinner will hardly be edible while you’re gone. Thatch will have to join too.”
You gave the captain an unimpressed look. Alright, you saw what the joke was now. He was grinning far too proudly over the booming laughs and teasing.
“What’s that supposed to mean, Pops?” Thatch protested and you looked toward him, smiling faintly.
Adding him to this little adventure was far from the worst thing you could imagine. It actually felt more promising than before.
“He’s not wrong,” Blamenco said from somewhere close. “If Pops sends the two of them off with her, everything will taste like depression.”
“And yearning,” Haruta added with a laugh. “You’ve all noticed the food’s been getting better later. Wonder why.”
“Hey,” Thatch complained. “My cooking is not influenced by my emotions.”
“Of course,” Izou said, voice raised slightly to be heard over the chatter. “And Ace isn’t going to get shot.”
The laughter was infectious. You couldn’t help yourself, turning your head into Izou’s arm to laugh against him, shaking your head. This was ridiculous. Whitebeard was feeding into his crew’s greatest source of entertainment in the worst way possible. It would be a nightmare when you returned.
And yet your cheeks were hurting from smiling at the idea.
Thatch though, held up his hand with a small nod. “As much as I appreciate it Pops, I’ve got a lot to do here and I’m certain she doesn’t need a full escort. Not to lose anybody money but…”
There were loud protests from his division before Whitebeard spoke, his voice suddenly void of humour. “Enough of that now.”
There was a second while the laughter and chattering faded and Thatch paused, his grin slipping away.
“Enough of what?”
“Do something for yourself, boy, and take the offer.”
Thatch blinked, cornered in a way you hadn’t seen him before. “But – ”
“I’m getting very tired of this nonsense,” he scoffed. “I’ve spoken with you enough about this. Do you want to go with them?”
The silence felt awfully fragile as it stretched over the crew. This wasn’t the teasing way Whitebeard had isolated you; this felt more like a lecture that you had no place witnessing. Spoken about what before?
Thatch met your eyes and you tried to smile encouragingly. It felt unfair watching him forced into an answer he would never have volunteered himself, even if you were grateful to hear it. He looked to Izou for a second and then back to Whitebeard.
“I do,” he acknowledged.
“Then you’re going. I’m certain you’ve trained your division well enough that we won’t starve without you here for a week.”
Chuckles and conversation returned briefly as the fourth division called their encouragements and Thatch held up his hands in surrender. He nodded in acceptance of the order and you beamed at him.
No matter his motives, Whitebeard was giving you a very enjoyable trip. You hoped. Though that hope died very quickly when you realised he hadn’t picked up his drink again.
His gaze wasn't on the crew at all.
It rested across the deck toward the railings where Marco stood apart from the celebration, ocean wind tugging loose strands of hair around his face. Lanternlight barely reached him there. From a distance he looked almost detached from the gathering entirely, more interested in the dark stretch of sea beyond the ship than the laughter around him.
Dread coiled in your stomach as you followed Whitebeard's attention gaze and you weren’t the only one. Quiet returned again as everybody looked toward Marco who was staring hard at the ocean’s horizon as though if he ignored the situation, it might disappear.
The tension wound through the crowds. Izou’s hand on your hip tightened somewhat, annoyance appearing in his expression far stronger than it had earlier.
“Marco. You’ll be joining for supervision.”
“No.”
The speed with which the denial was uttered made several frown. Marco disagreed with Whitebeard on occasion, it was his right as the first mate, but never so sharply. Though it seemed his captain had been expecting it.
Whitebeard picked up his drink and shrugged. “Too bad it wasn’t a request.”
Marco gave up looking away, turning to his father with his arms folded over his chest. “It isn’t needed yoi. They can manage themselves and I need to be here to assist you medically. My flames cannot be replicated.”
“I’ve been able to survive by myself for longer than you’ve been alive,” Whitebeard scoffed. “I will be fine.”
Guilt curled in your chest alongside the anxiety. Marco did not look comfortable in the slightest under the attention of the entire crew. Whitebeard getting the others to join you made sense but he ought to know that you wouldn’t have shared anything about your fruit with Marco… then again, was this his attempt to force it? You couldn’t help but feel there were better ways.
Ways that wouldn’t end nearly this badly.
“There’s far too much to do here,” Marco said. “I don’t have the time for babysitting.”
Babysitting? Even when you felt bad for him, he still found a way to goad you. It was honestly impressive.
But still, this wasn’t the best place for a conversation.
“On a ship with this many hands, I’m certain we can survive without you for a week,” Whitebeard said. “You are important, my son, but not that important.”
“Pops – ”
“Unless you tell me the true reason you’re protesting, I will not change my mind.”
Everybody seemed to wait with bated breath for the response. They were all looking at Marco, attention very piqued and the possibility of finally learning the truth. A truth that, even if you wanted to understand, you knew he wouldn’t say now.
“Well?” Whitebeard said. “Speak if you want.”
His jaw stayed clenched. You sighed, pressed your forehead against Izou’s arm to ground yourself, and then stepped away from him.
“I have a question about all of this,” you said and eyes moved toward you. “Because if I remember right, my little ship only has two beds in it. Something you know.”
Whitebeard’s familiar laugh rolled off the walls. “I’m aware.”
“So if this is your attempt at getting a grandkid, you’re oversupplying me with options.”
The silence shattered the second you said it. Booming laughs carried across the deck as focus moved onto your words. Marco was forgotten in the light of everybody realising five people on a relatively small ship would be tight. Even without the rumours abounding.
Whitebeard grinned and downed his drink. “Then whatever happens, happens.”
That made everything far worse as the crew suddenly found entertainment in terrorising the commanders who had already agreed. Ace looked like he was panicking under the questions and Thatch was attempting to hush the jabs he was receiving.
Marco met your gaze for a second before he looked away again, attention moving back to the ocean. At least he looked slightly relieved.
“How we split the rooms won’t even be a question,” Izou said simply. “Thatch can tolerate Ace’s snoring.”
“Hey!” Ace protested, not deterred. “Why do you automatically get to share with her?”
“Because you’re not old enough to sleep next to a woman.”
“What?! Since when?”
You laughed quietly behind your hand and Ace fixed you with an expression filled with betrayal. Instead of offering the defence he wanted, you stepped through the crowds, making your way toward the captain who was drinking and looking far too smug with himself.
“They’re very spirited about this,” he chuckled once you drew closer. “It’s good.”
You looked toward the crew whose new entertainment occupied them completely. They had moved onto new topics now at least. You steeled yourself for an answer before you spoke to him.
“Are you expecting something from this?” you asked. “Truly?”
Whitebeard shrugged. “It will be better for all of them to have the time. They need a break from all this acting up. It’ll help.”
You gave him an expression that told him you weren’t asking after all of your future travelling companions. Though you agreed with his concern, not all of the group concerned you. He could have easily sent you with three rather than four. It would have been better if he did so.
“I’m worried what will come from it,” you said sincerely.
“Why? The most he can do is sulk. Just hit him over the head and tell him to get over himself. You’ll be fine.”
You rolled your eyes. “I’m not hitting anybody.”
“That’s why it’s taking you so long to fix.”
But he was smiling. It was… a relief. You had worried that he may ask you to make a decision you weren’t ready for. It was an awful, nagging feeling that crept up on you lately – growing worse when the crew mentioned that infernal bet or spoke about your eventual staying.
They wanted you to choose.
Whitebeard looked down at you. “What are you doing hovering here still? Go organise that ship of yours for tomorrow.”
“Normally before I leave, you ask me to join your crew.”
He snorted. “No need. Go.”
You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you stepped away, heading deftly through the party toward your room on the Moby Dick. Packing would be a welcome relief. The noise from the celebration was still a little overwhelming.
But before you passed through the doors, you paused and looked toward Marco’s back. He didn’t turn his head.
“I’m sorry,” you said, loud enough that he could hear, before you stepped past.
Packing was far easier when you thought of travelling with somebody rather than on your own. Not many years ago, you’d feared the roughness of the ocean but now… you were almost excited. Excited enough that the exhaustion almost slipped from your muscles entirely.
Almost.
You could still feel it as you folded fabrics into your bags. It lingered just beneath your skin, tangled with the warm buzz from upstairs and the slight dread of sharing the full details of your fruit.
But Thatch and Izou knew and both had smiled at you for telling them as though it hadn’t been a secret at all. Ace would be no different.
A knock on your door interrupted your thoughts and you called out in acknowledgement; confused only because few visited you and the thumps were far heavier than any Izou would offer.
Ace looked like he'd fought half the crew on the way there. His hat hung loose against his back, dark hair windswept in every direction and his cheeks still carrying traces of the flush Whitebeard had inflicted on him earlier.
You smiled in sympathy. “Are you escaping from somewhere?”
“No. I mean, kind of,” he said. “I just uh… I wanted to ask if you were, you know, serious about what you said?”
“What I said?”
"To Pops."
Had you said anything that would cause this kind of reaction? You supposed he might be asking if you really had only two rooms on your ship and well, that was true, but you doubted it would cause this level of panic in him.
Because he was upset. You could see it in the way he was staring at you like a dog after a rabbit; waiting desperately for an answer.
You put down the top you had been folding and stepped closer. “Which part?” you repeated.
“The grandkids thing,” he said. “Because like if that’s what Pops wants, I don’t think I could – I mean, that’s not it, right? That’s not what you’re leaving for? Because he said me first and I don’t know if that’s a good idea. There are – ”
Flames were starting to flicker over his shoulders slightly under his nerves and you stepped forward, reaching for him gently. You smoothed the smouldering on his arms beneath your palms, shushing him.
“Ace,” you said softly, amused despite your best attempts to reassure. “Honey, I was just teasing to get attention away from Marco, okay? Whitebeard is definitely not chasing grandkids.”
He breathed out a sigh of relief, tangled with a short chuckle. “Okay, okay. I… yeah, sorry but I wanted to make sure. I’m really not dad material.”
You raised your hand to his hair; brushed the stray strands from his face and smoothed down the places where the sea’s winds had tangled it together. “You’re fine,” you promised. “Trust me, I’m not asking you for anything like that. And even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t do it through your father.”
He nodded and leaned into the feeling of your hand in his hair. You could practically see the tension melting from his features as he accepted your explanation. “Thanks. I was really worried about it.”
For a moment he looked embarrassed by the admission, gaze slipping away from yours. You brushed your thumb over his cheek once more.
“Adorable,” you said aloud before you even realised it.
His blush returned immediately and he huffed but he didn’t move away. You wondered faintly just how many freckles decorated his face. Maybe you could count them one day.
“I’ve done stuff before,” he said suddenly, almost defensive. “That's not what I'm worried about. I know what to do. Just Thatch and Izou are probably way more experienced so I’ve got some catching up to do. Maybe I should ask them for tips.”
He earned a soft laugh out of his joke though probably not for the reason he thought he might. His flustered expression was undeniably cute.
“You don’t have to ask them,” you teased, lightly pulling at a knot in his hair. “I’d be more than happy to show you.”
Ace’s eyes went wide for a second, pupils dilating in a blend of several emotions all at once. You went back to running your fingers through the strands instead of tugging at them, hoping you hadn’t broken him too much with that. Given that he opened and closed his mouth twice without speaking, your hopes appeared to be in vain.
You leaned in slowly, gaze flicking to his just once for permission before you kissed him.
He met you halfway.
The movement was instinctive. His hand caught at your waist as though he'd forgotten every other thought he'd walked into the room with the second your lips touched. Warmth rushed against your skin, not quite enough to burn but enough to remind you exactly who you were kissing.
You smiled faintly against his mouth. Curious about his earlier expression, your fingers slipped deeper into his hair and tugged.
His breath caught. Flames flickered along his shoulders and climbed briefly across his arms before he pulled you closer without seeming to realise he was doing it. Heat bloomed through the thin fabric at your waist.
Interesting.
You pulled again, gentler this time, and Ace made a second sound against your lips that was far more convincing than any answer he might have given aloud. His fingers flexed where they rested against your side. The warmth intensified, beginning to sting against your skin.
You broke away just enough to breathe.
“Turn down the heat a little please,” you murmured, close enough that your lips brushed his when you spoke. “I don't want to explain finger-shaped burns to the medical staff.”
A laugh escaped him, breathless and slightly embarrassed. “You can tell Deuce,” he said. “He won't say anything.”
But then he actually stepped back.
You watched him close his eyes and take a slow breath. The flames dancing over his body dimmed gradually, disappearing beneath sun-warmed skin until only a faint flush remained. When he opened his eyes again, he looked apologetic.
“Sorry,” he said. “It happens when I get worked up.”
“Every time?”
“No.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Not usually with stuff like this. I was nervous and then everything on deck got weird and now... but I can calm it down.”
You smiled and turned back to your bags. “Then maybe we can save this for another day.”
“I… yeah, if you want to. Sorry.”
“Nothing to apologise for,” you teased. “I would never say no to a good kiss. And I even learned something about you for when that day comes.”
He flushed and the flames returned. “You can’t keep doing that,” he complained.
Ace could speak to others. Very briefly. And yet, after finding this out, his response was basically to grin and say cool and then… not speak to anybody unless you accidentally brought his words across.
Even then, it was normally by chance and he wouldn’t say anything more when they looked at him.
So, the first time you did it purposefully was when you spoke to Marco again on Sphinx Island who, it turned out, was sceptical of the idea of resurrection at all. Something you’d more than expected and prepared for but Ace spoke past you, his voice moving through the barrier with a sharp ease you hadn’t expected.
“You’re literally a phoenix!” he complained. “They’re meant to do the whole dying and returning to life thing.”
You stared at him for a second because there were better ways to try and convince somebody that this was possible. And you had planned on mentioning his ability to sort of speak to the real world now.
Without suddenly causing Marco heart failure.
As it was, he almost jumped. His head snapped toward the source of Ace's voice so quickly that his glasses shifted crookedly across his nose. For a second, he simply stared into empty space, every muscle gone rigid.
Then his gaze flicked toward you and back again.
"I can hear him now?"
“Sometimes,” you said. “It takes a bit of focus but I’ve always been able to take things across the barrier. Injuries, items, or anything similar. It turns out what I hear can also be moved through if I’m focused enough.”
Marco blinked, his expression entirely unreadable for a second as he stared at nothing. Then he roughly cleared his throat. “Being a phoenix doesn’t mean I can resurrect yoi,” he said. “I thought you might remember from the first five times I told you that.”
“You’ve still never tried it,” Ace muttered good-naturedly.
“Hearing him is more convincing,” Marco admitted to you. “But if you can do that, why do you need my help for it?”
You gestured toward Ace though you knew Marco couldn’t see him. “Ace will come back with everything he currently has. The injury that killed him was horrific and I don’t know if he can survive without a doctor nearby.”
“Even with a doctor on hand, you’ll struggle,” Marco said. “That punch was nearly instant. You may as well just move him on properly without traumatising yourself.”
“Hey, that’s not fair!”
Marco looked toward the voice and his expression softened minutely. “Ace,” he said. “You know it’s true. You know what your body looked like when you died yoi. I can’t even begin to imagine everything that was wrong.”
Ace stepped forward, shooting you a temporary pleading look as you allowed his voice to move through the space between worlds. It wasn’t perfect. But it was the best chance he’d have of talking to Marco again.
“Come on Marco, I’ve seen you heal crazier things than this.”
“On who? Certainly not anybody I can remember. The damage was beyond fatal.”
“But if anybody could…”
Marco shook his head. “Speaking to you while you’re invisible is… Do you really want me to come and sit there just for a chance of watching you die a second time? Close enough that it would be my fault this time?”
The words seemed to strike a nerve in Ace. He flinched but didn’t respond, moving half a step away. You gave him a small expression of sympathy but he wasn’t looking at you.
“It’ll be fine,” he said finally after a silence that stretched for far too long. “I know it’ll be fine because I’ll also have my fruit this time.”
“There is a chance it’ll work better,” you said, speaking up and drawing attention to you. “Previously, I understand he was far too tired for his logia to properly heal him but now, he should be rested and fed enough for it.”
Ace eagerly nodded and summoned a small fire in his hand that Marco immediately glanced toward.
“It’ll be overextended if he has any other injuries,” Marco said. “I’ve seen how long it takes Ace’s fruit to work before and he can stay hurt for longer than you think.”
You glanced over at Ace’s body. Marco was right. While most of those could vanish the second his flames came back stronger than before… it was going to require even more energy than just the main one itself.
“He’s not in the best condition,” you admitted.
“But you can take the injuries before you try to bring him back?” Marco said, his attention moving to your hand. “It might be worth it for you to draw them across to you. Then I can heal part of it before anything happens.”
That… that wasn’t a bad idea. If you could take some of the bigger stuff then he’d have far more time to try and turn back into flame before anything in his actual body packed up.
“What?” Ace said. “You can’t do that!”
But you had expected that response. For a second, you looked at him. “It’ll only be for a few seconds at most,” you explained. “It’s not like I’ll be walking around with it. You said Marco’s a very good healer.”
“It wouldn’t be long at all,” Marco said. “I can heal them as you transfer them.”
Ace still shook his head, taking a very clear step away from you and crossing his arms. “No? These things are annoying as hell. You don’t have to put up with that.”
You sighed and then shook your head at Marco. “It’s not going to happen. But if you can heal them on me, I’m sure you can do the same on him, right? If you’re right there when I drag him across.”
Marco frowned. “He’s being stubborn.”
“True,” you said. “But you also know where he died. I need somebody to take me there so there’s two benefits to your help.”
He thought about it, then sighed and took off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose before he put them back. “Alright. I’m not promising anything but… I suppose I would be rather foolish to turn down a second chance. We don’t often get those.”
Relief bled through your veins stronger than blood for a second, pooling in your muscles as you breathed out. He was going to help. For the first time in a very long while, you found yourself wishing you could hug somebody in thanks.
Ace’s touchiness really was starting to rub off on you.
“Thank you,” you said genuinely. “I’m confident but still nervous of this entire situation.”
“I can believe it, yoi,” Marco said.
Ace stepped back toward you, his hands running warm over your shoulders as he pulled you a little closer. “Don’t worry, Marco’s the best. Nobody’s better than him with this kind of stuff.”
You tilted your head to the side to smile at him. “I can believe that.”
“Whatever he’s saying is probably wrong,” Marco said.
“That you’re reliable?”
He couldn’t hide the faint, affectionate smile that flashed across his face for a second before he shook his head. “Yes. Instead of where he died, maybe you can use his grave? Your fruit has a chance of working on either.”
That was actually a very good point and for just a second, you realised that Marco must have read up more on your fruit since the last time you’d met him.
You raised an eyebrow. “It might work if he’s got ties there. You’ve been reading?”
“You've got one of my family members following you around in death. Of course I looked into it yoi.”
Ace squeezed your shoulders tighter. “I have a grave?”
“Why wouldn’t you?” you asked.
“Well because… I don’t know. I just didn’t think that it would be that important when I died because of something I did.”
“That’s not a reason to not have a grave.”
Marco looked toward the horizon. “It’s not on this island so we’d either have to fly or take a quick ship ride. Are you okay in the air?”
“Air?”
Ace’s grin turned wide again. “He’ll carry you.”
You’d done countless things in your life but being carried over the ocean by a phoenix was not about to be one of them. You used the excuse that Ace couldn’t be brought with easily to defend yourself against the unexpected flight, opting instead to hire a small boat at the port. He teased you the entire way about being scared and putting your hand over his mouth did nothing.
Marco watched the entire exchange with a look of strained familiarity.
Once you arrived at the island, he led you inland along a narrow path worn smooth by countless footsteps. The climb wasn't steep but it was enough to leave the ocean spread beneath you by the time you reached the crest.
The graves sat there alone.
Wind stirred through the grass surrounding them, carrying the scent of salt and sun-warmed earth. Two stones stood side by side against the horizon; one larger than the other, both maintained with a care that immediately tightened something in your chest.
Marco stopped a good distance away and nodded you forward. “I’ll meet you back at the ship. I’ve already visited Pops today.”
You approached them slowly, allowing Ace to hang behind you as you did. Both stones bore markers that tugged deep in your heart: a flowing cape and a great blade to the right and a dagger and hat on the left.
You lowered your head in respect and breathed out slowly.
The boundary between worlds was thin here. Thin enough that you could feel it slightly against your skin even without trying. Warmth radiated from the rightmost stone. Not heat exactly, but the sensation of standing near a hearth after coming in from the cold. It settled over your skin in slow waves, steady and untroubled.
Death lingered there peacefully. The soul connected to it rested well.
Ace’s gravestone in contrast, was almost painful to look toward. It was cold, jagged, and wrong. As though it was created for somebody who didn’t belong there.
There was no way you could use this spot to bring him across. There was nothing here for him.
Ace moved toward Whitebeard’s grave first and sank down next to it, sitting cross-legged in the grass as he stared. For a few seconds, he stared and then his shoulders tightened. Tears slipped down his cheeks silently and you said nothing because you knew nothing would reassure him here.
“He shouldn’t have come for me,” Ace said, rubbing roughly at his face with his palms. “He shouldn’t have… everything that happened and he didn’t even need to die in the first place! I could have just met you afterwards and everything would have been fine!”
“Ace…” you said. “I haven’t resurrected you yet. If they’d cut your head off, I wouldn’t have a chance of it.”
“But even if you didn’t, I still died.”
Bitterness crept into his voice like poison, anger curling just beneath the surface. Flames flickered along his fists as he clutched them tightly. A deep ache thudded in your heart.
“Your family did what they could because they loved you,” you said. “I’m sure they considered it worth it, no matter what.”
“I didn’t want them to die.”
“I know.”
“And it’s not like you could bring them back.”
But part of that sentence felt far too hopeful; as though Ace was silently hoping that you’d tell him he was wrong and there was a secret way. You supposed you had caused that suspicion of your fruit by not exposing everything to him.
You shook your head honestly. “Even if I wanted to, his soul has long since passed on,” you said. “His grave is peaceful. I wish you could feel just how much.”
Ace nodded and sniffed, pushing himself back to his feet. Silence stretched for a second before he looked toward his own grave and the flowers that decorated it. “Found out where my hat went, I guess,” he said. “I was worried Teach took it.”
You reached for the hat, hesitating for a second. It felt wrong to take something off a grave marker like this, even with the ghost standing beside you.
You looked around to make sure you were alone before you picked it up.
“Should I send it through?” you asked. “I’m sure it’ll come back with you after everything as long as you’re wearing it.”
He stared at it for a second before shaking his head. “No,” he said. “I’ll get it back after everything works out. Then I can wear it again properly.”
“Then it’ll be safest here.”
You reached forward to put it back on the grave but Ace caught your arm before you could do so.
“Wait, wait. You should keep it. You can wear it for now.”
“Me?”
He nodded enthusiastically, eyes still red from tears but far more excited now. “Yeah. Then when I come back, it’s right there.”
You laughed, flattered but already knowing how that would look. “As sweet of an idea as that is, I think it might seem a bit uncouth to everybody else. They’re going to think I stole something off your grave.”
He pouted and you had to look away before you said yes purely based on how large he was making his eyes.
“But everybody important knows I’m with you. So, they’ll know it’s temporary.”
“Not everybody.”
“Please.”
“Ace, what about all the people we pass in the street? They’ll think that either I’m a very strange fan or I stole something from you.”
He crossed his arms. “But you’d suit it so well.”
You looked back at him, curious at the way he said it. “I’m getting the feeling that this is some kind of ploy to see me wearing your hat. Do you actually want me to bring it with or are you just wanting me to put it on?”
He grinned, unabashed even when he’d been caught. “Honestly, it would be kind of hot.”
You almost laughed loudly at that. “Absolutely not.”
“Why not?”
“It’ll give you something to look forward to.”
His free arm found your waist, pulling you close so you couldn’t reach the grave anymore, hand held out awkwardly, still holding the top of the hat. Now you couldn’t avoid his pleading expression in the slightest. Especially not when he leaned in to kiss you softly, lips warm and relaxed against your own.
“Come on,” he said. “You know you want to. It’ll look so good on you.”
“You’re impatient.”
“Absolutely.”
You rolled your eyes and sighed, bringing your hand around to gently place it on your head. It felt very strange to do so. The woven brim brushed your fingers as you lifted it and for a second your stomach twisted unexpectedly. This wasn't simply a hat. It had sat through rain and sun atop a grave marked with Ace's name.
Yet when you settled it onto your head, all you could think about was the way he was looking at you. The brim hung a little too low over your eyes and you tilted your head up to him curiously.
“If this doesn’t suit me, you can’t ever tell me.”
But you didn’t think he would need to lie because he was looking at you so fondly that you almost melted from it alone. His freckles were all bunched up from his smile and that expression was dangerous for your heart.
His arms tightened around your waist. “Yeah, you can’t take that off.”
“I have to.”
“It looks too good!”
You twisted in his arms, managing to break away for a second before he caught you again and tugged you back against his chest with a peal of laughter. You squirmed, not truly fighting too hard, and he leaned back as though to pick you up when his breath suddenly caught sharply. You stopped moving and he gently released you.
The pleasant mood slipped away in a second.
You winced in sympathy, turning around to press a quick kiss to his lips. “Come on, we can’t play around here forever,” you said. “I’m sure Marco’s waiting.”
Ace looked contemplative and for a second, his eyes flicked up to the hat on your head before he glanced back down at you. “Does… would you still…”
You turned your head to the side curiously. “Would I still what?”
He sighed and gestured to his side. “The thing you were talking about with Marco. I… I think it might not be that bad of an idea. To be able to touch you easier, you know?”
You smiled gently, uncertain how you could even begin to describe the warmth curling in your chest. “We can ask him,” you said. “But I'll gladly do it for you. Even if I wish your motives would be more focused on yourself.”
“Hey, they are! Mostly…”
By the time you returned to the ship that would bring you to Baltigo – organised by Sabo – you found Marco with relative ease and explained the graves wouldn’t do. Then you mentioned the injuries and he nodded as though he had expected Ace to come around to the idea the entire time.
You sent a chair over for Ace while Marco healed your injured knuckles with blue flames in an eerily quiet room. Nobody was talking.
The ache from your hand melted away slowly beneath his touch.
“What kind of damage are we talking about?” Marco asked eventually. “There are limits to my healing though Ace would never believe that.”
“There’s a lot,” you admitted with a short glance to Ace who was staring into a corner. “Obviously there’s the main one and I couldn’t take that but plenty of other stuff too.”
Marco nodded. “We want to give him the best chance of survival then you could maybe take portions of the big injury. Things I can heal. The hole itself is dangerous but if we take away parts of it in chunks, that would be a good way to lessen the damage.”
Ace shifted uncomfortably in his chair and you looked to him but he said nothing.
“I can’t take everything at once,” you said. “It makes me very tired to use my devil fruit to transfer injuries and I’m also using a decent amount to let him talk.”
“Then stop doing that. Translate for him and focus on what he thinks is the worst that you should be taking.”
He sighed and gestured to his face. “You can take the lip thing. And uh, there’s a bite on the inside of my cheek that’s been really annoying me.”
“A bite?” you asked.
“Yeah.”
Marco frowned at you and you hurried to explain what Ace had offered as far as injuries went. He gave you a disbelieving expression and then sighed.
“What else, yoi?”
“Oh, the bruises,” Ace said. “The ones on my shoulders are quite bad and there’s also a few on my legs and like here.” He gestured toward his hips and sides. “Those you can take.”
“Bruising,” you clarified to Marco. “He’s listed several areas where it’s quite bad.”
“I would ask if he meant deep-tissue or superficial ones but I know Ace well enough to guess it’s the latter,” Marco said.
“Hey!” Ace protested. “There’s also um… I guess the wrist stuff?”
“Chaffing on his wrists from the cuffs,” you clarified. “Which does look very bad so I’m not surprised he wants to get rid of that.”
He nodded firmly. “That should be it.”
You frowned. “What do you mean that’s it?”
Marco breathed out sharply through his nose and then looked toward where Ace was sitting. “Could you try and get his response through? I want to ask him something directly.”
“Sure.”
He folded his hands pointedly and stared eerily close to where Ace’s head was despite not being able to see him. He carried the air of a man who had had this conversation a thousand times before.
“Bruises, chaffing, and a split lip are not going to be the things that kill you when you’re brought back,” Marco said, his voice deathly calm. “I can heal those for you but I don’t particularly care about them. I want to know what injuries you have that are going to be fatal for you, yoi.”
Ace froze in his seat and your breathing caught for a second; your mind raced to arrive at the same answer Marco had. He was right. It didn’t really matter if you could relieve some of Ace’s discomfort, as nice as that would be. The things Marco needed to take care of were far more than some mild pain.
Ace swallowed and Marco didn’t look away. He waited with an almost inhuman patience.
“I don’t know.”
The answer rang through the boundary between worlds, loud enough for Marco to hear it and nod firmly. He looked to you.
“When we make land, I want you to run an actual examination for me,” he said. “Take a proper look at that injury and tell me what’s damaged. I didn’t… I didn’t bother looking when I was burying him so I don’t even remember where it was.”
You nodded stiffly. Nobody else could see it as well as you could. Not even Ace.
“Alright,” you agreed.
“For now, you can take the superficial things,” Marco said. “Then later we can start moving more serious damage across yoi. There are limits to my fire but I can take care of some internal things but not everything. If his lungs are collapsed, I can handle it but if they’re ripped through… it might be more difficult.”
“My lungs aren’t damaged, I think,” Ace hurried to say. “I can breathe fine.”
Your eyes dropped to the injury. It was hard to imagine that his lungs wouldn’t be damaged with where it went through but in order to see that… you looked away and instead focused on his face where you were used to the injuries.
“Can I?” you asked.
He hesitated for a second before he nodded.
It was strange. For all you had kissed him and touched him before, reaching for his face now felt far more intimate. You brushed your fingers over the split lip and pushed against the boundary. It transferred to you easily and you saw it disappear from him for a second before the stinging made you wince.
Ace immediately caught your wrist, expression twisting in annoyance, as though he planned to pull your hand from his face. He held it there for a second and you smiled, reassuring.
Then you raised your hand further and he moved with you, fingers resting against your pulse point to take the bruising from his cheek. It slipped across and you managed to keep your expression steady even as you felt it bloom on your skin.
He looked away.
You hadn’t noticed Marco moving closer and his voice startled you. “That’s a very deep bruise,” he said. “There’s probably more facial trauma surrounding it. Where does it hurt when he talks?”
It hurt when he talked?
You didn’t answer but Ace slowly lifted your fingers higher to rest against his cheekbone. Though you couldn’t see the injury, you could feel it through the boundary and you pulled it across without bothering to identify what it was.
A deep ache exploded over your left cheek. Everything about your face suddenly felt wrong and pressure bloomed under your eye, sharp enough that tears sprung to your eyes. You clenched your teeth on instinct to avoid yelping and immediately regretted it as the pain worsened.
Marco’s healing flames arrived in an instant. The flames licked across your cheek without consuming anything, illuminating Marco's focused expression in shifting shades of blue. It smoothed the ache before it could take root properly.
You hated that injury. It wasn’t anything like the broken knuckle, far too deep and you forced yourself to blink for a second, still feeling its echoes. What was that?
How had he done anything with that thing?
“Alright,” Marco said. “I don’t like handling internal mouth injuries so you can come back to the bite. What other bruises has he been complaining about?”
You struggled to force your voice into something more normal before you spoke. “His shoulders.”
You reached for your face with your free hand, rubbing over where the injury had stabbed through you. You didn’t want to bother Marco with too many questions but that… that had not been comfortable at all.
“Are you able to continue?”
You looked to Ace for permission and the grip around your wrist tightened for a second. He nodded, jaw still clenched tight. You lowered your touch further until you could touch his shoulders and found those bruises were nothing in comparison to the ones on his face. You carried them over without complaint, bringing finger-shaped bruising across to your body without a worry.
Marco healed them all with his expression growing darker with each one.
“Wrists?” you asked.
Ace held them out to you without complaint and you wasted no time shifting the dark cuff marks over to yourself. Unlike the ache from before, these ones burned. Like a rope rubbing constantly against skin too thin for it.
They were as ugly as you remembered them looking but you barely got a second to care for them before blue fire washed over them. When you looked toward Marco, he looked furious enough to unnerve you.
“Anything else?” he asked, his voice tight.
You shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. You could take more but you could feel that you should rest. Even if you didn’t want to – wanted to relieve Ace of more pain – you shook your head.
“I’ll need a break. Not for too long but enough that I can rest.”
Marco nodded and stepped away. “When you have time, consider the wound. I’ll walk you through a proper examination later.”
“Thank you,” you said.
He didn’t respond, just nodded. Ace followed closely behind you as you left the room, his fingers running over his cheekbone slowly. You couldn’t help but smile, happy to see that he seemed to be feeling relieved from it.
“That thing hurt,” you commented. “I wasn’t expecting it to be so bad. Why didn’t you mention it before?”
He breathed out through his nose and dropped his hand. “Forgot, really. I don’t even know when it happened.”
A strange mix of anger and sadness curled through your stomach, disappearing quickly when Ace suddenly reached out and caught your wrist. You stopped in your tracks, turning properly when you were immediately met with a pair of warm lips against your own.
You blinked, surprised. “Hi?”
He grinned and did it again, longer this time. “That feels so much better when it doesn’t hurt anymore.”
