#marco x reader

[kotaro-yumekuma]

🍍

[fairykingjing]

Marco x Reader- Sea Glass and Sunsets

Hiya! New Marco fic, longer than usual but the words kept flowing. Law is up next! Enjoy!

Summary: You’re a zoan devil fruit user on the run from the world government. They discovered an ancient glass-like material similar to sea stones that, when placed on a zoan user, will turn them to their animal form and keep them that way until it is removed. They implanted this into you, keeping you as your animal form, a cat. You managed to escape and now must find a way to remove it.

Warnings: reader undergoes surgery (nothing specific described), fluff at the end

WC: 2516

Finally, freedom was close. Just a little farther to the docks, then you could sneak onto a ship and escape. Your paws hit the rough pavement but you don’t have time to stop and lick them. You have to keep going.

“Pirates!” someone shouted.

Pirates? Here? Maybe they can help me. Or at least get me off this god forsaken island. You feel the salty sea air hitting your face and you look up towards the setting sun. How long has it been since you’ve seen the outdoors? Days? Weeks? Months?

Some time ago the marines captured you and shipped you off to a remote island for experimentation. A rare new material was found that is similar to sea stone, but this one traps a zoan user in their animal form. They surgically implanted a piece of this glass inside you, and now you’re stuck like this. Stuck like a small black cat.

You rounded a corner and were met with a beautiful site. Ships. Lots of them illuminated by the sunset behind them. You quickly scanned the flags for a jolly roger and one stood out. A skull and bones with a big white mustache. The whitebeard pirates. They’ll have to do.

You ducked behind some crates as a few people walked by. Couldn’t risk being seen just yet. Once the coast was clear you made a mad dash to the ship and ran up the plank to get on board. As your paws landed on the deck, you realized you were totally surrounded.

“Well, what do we have here?” a loud voice boomed.

You jumped up in surprise to see their captain, a giant of a man, looming over you.

“It’s a black cat, but it’s sure not acting like one,” he remarked.

He had a knowing look in his eyes, but not an unkind one. You had heard of the islands under his protection. He could protect you, too.

“Please! You have to help me!” you begged. “Get me out of here! Please!”

Everybody gasped, shocked looks on their faces. They hadn’t expected the cat to talk.

“Well now, isn’t this a surprise?” Whitebeard laughed. “You’re a devil fruit user, aren’t you? What’s your name?”

“Yes! I am! My names Y/N. I’m a zoan type. I’m kind of… stuck like this,” you explained.

“Stuck how?” a blonde guy asked. You recognized him as Marco the Phoenix, the ships first division commander. As a fellow Zoan user, you piqued his interest.

Before you had a chance to answer, marines flooded the docks.

“Find that cat now! Or the commander will have our heads!” someone shouted.

Oh great, just what you needed. Now the marines were surrounding and it was only a matter of time before they found you and took you back. You began pacing, panic setting in. But that loud booming voice cut off your train of thought.

“Let’s go boys! Pack up the ship, we’re heading out!” Whitebeard commanded.

Everybody started moving with precision, people going to their stations like they’d done this a thousand times before. The last of the crates got loaded so quickly you didn’t even see it happen. Gunfire rang out as the marines realized what was happening. They were storming the ship to find you. But before you could try to run and hide, Marco scooped you up in his arms and ran with you down below.

“I’m sorry for grabbing you, but we’ve got to keep you safe,” he explained. “You can hide out in here.”

Marco took you into a bedroom and carefully sat you on the bed. As you looked around, you could see that this appeared to be his own room. The commotion roared on up on deck, but Marco was as calm as ever, eyes fixed on you. You were still trying to comprehend what was going on.

“Do you mind telling me what happened?” he asked tentatively.

If you wanted any chance of help, he may be it. He is a doctor after all, and a zoan type too.

“The government, they… they found a new material similar to sea stone. Called it sea glass or something,” you began. “It has similar properties to sea stone but one key difference.”

“It traps you in your zoan form?” Marco asked.

“Precisely,” you confirmed.

“Can’t you just find a way to take it off?” he questioned. “I don’t see anything on you.”

“It… it’s not on me. It’s… in me. Surgically implanted.”

His eyes widened at that. How could they be so cruel? And what was their end goal with this?

“It doesn’t tire me as much as regular sea stone would, so they kept me sedated while I was locked up,” you continued. “I tried to get as much information as I could, but…”

Tears began to soak your fur, and you felt stupid for crying in front of someone as powerful as Marco the Phoenix. But he didn’t say a word, just watched you with a calm, worried expression. You quickly tried to wipe your face with a paw, making some attempt at regaining your composure.

“Sorry for crying, I don’t know why that started happening,” you rushed out.

“Hey… don’t apologize for a thing. We’ll get out of here and find a way to remove that sea glass,” Marco reassured. “I promise we’ll help you.”

“But, you’re already doing so much. I got the marines attacking your ship,” you sobbed.

“You think we can’t handle a few measly marines?” he laughed. “You seem to know who we are, so you should also know this is nothing for us.”

Above, the noise had quieted down. You heard soft footsteps approach the door and you tensed up instinctively. Anybody could be behind that door. There was a quiet knock, and then it opened.

“You in here, Marco?” someone with short black hair asked. The infamous fire fist Ace. “We got ‘em good, and we’re already heading out.”

“See?” Marco teased. “Nothing to worry about.”

Marco and Ace started heading back up and you quickly followed, staying right on Marco’s heels. You emerged on the deck to see people cheering.

“We sure showed them!” someone remarked.

“Hell yeah!” another chimed in.

They did it. They really got away from the marines. Yeah they’re one of the biggest pirate crews to sail the seas, but they really did it. As realization set in, you felt a calm you hadn’t felt in ages. You finally made it out.

“Y/N!” Marco called out. “Are you okay?”

You hadn’t realized people were talking to you. All eyes were fixed on you now.

“Y-yeah… I’m good… just can’t believe I got away. Finally,” you breathed.

“Well, there’s still the matter of getting you out of your zoan form,” Marco mused. “But now we have time to work on it.”

He then turned to Whitebeard and the others, and gave a brief explanation of what you told him.

“So… it’s real then,” Whitebeard said curiously.

“You mean you know about it?” you asked, gasped.

“I’ve read about it once a long time ago. Thought it to be fairy tale,” he explained. “But now we know it does exist.”

Everybody started talking after that, and you found it hard to concentrate on what they were all saying. You were grateful to Marco for taking over answering questions, as you already told him everything you could think of to tell. Plans were made for removing the glass, with Marco pointing out that the sea glass would have to remain touching you at all times to prevent any accidental shifting back to human before the procedure was done. Worry began to set in, but he gave you a reassuring smile.

“C’mon, I’ll take you to the kitchen so you can eat,” Marco offered. “You must be starving.”

He led you to the kitchen and after some rummaging, produced some grilled meat and a saucer of water. You hungrily ate it up (god knows the marines never fed you) and gulped down the water. Marco only watched, waiting patiently for you to finish eating. Once you finished, he led you to his room and offered you a spot on his bed.

“Get some sleep,” he urged. “I can give you an examination to better plan for removing the sea glass tomorrow.”

His bed was warm and smelled lightly of vanilla and pineapple, and you could only nod your head as you drifted off to sleep.

While you slept, Marco began making preparations in his office. Izou poked his head in to check up on things.

“Where’s the little one?” he asked.

“Sleeping on my bed,” Marco answered.

“You’ve taken quite a liking to her,” Izou teased. “Making her food, letting her sleep in your bed, too.”

“It’s not like that,” Marco defended. “I just… she’s a zoan like me. I have to help her.”

“You will,” Izou reassured.

You awoke hours later, feeling rested after finally being able to sleep properly. Marcos bed sure was comfy. As you stretched out, you saw him sitting on a chair by the desk keeping an eye on you.

“You’re finally awake,” he chuckled. “You slept for so long I wasn’t sure you’d ever wake up.”

He had a plate of pineapple slices (that explains the smell) and was happy to offer you some.

“Now that you’ve had time to rest I’d like to get you into the examination room to take a look at you, if that’s alright,” he suggested.

“Oh. Yeah, okay,” you replied.

He led you to the medical area and had you hop up onto a table. After a quick examination he was able to locate the incision from when they previously implanted the sea glass, and with some careful poking around he was able to feel where it was at.

“I can have you prepped and in surgery in 2 hours,” he told you.

“Already?” you gasped.

“That’s right. I did most of the prep work while you slept,” he said.

Those two hours went by quickly, and Marco found you outside admiring the sunset.

“It’s been ages since I’ve gotten to sit and appreciate the sunset,” you explained. “It’s beautiful.”

He sat with you for a while, and then it was time to start surgery. Before you knew it you were put under and the glass was successfully removed. Marcos healing flames worked wonders, and the glass was set aside. He kept watch over you while you rested, despite the nurses telling him you’d be okay. While you slept, your zoan form undid itself, and you were finally back in your human form.

“Wow, she’s beautiful,” Marco whispered.

“I heard that,” Izou called out.

Marco jumped, not expecting anyone else to be in the room. He was so fixated on you he hadn’t noticed anyone else walk in.

“Maybe warn me next time you sneak in like that,” Marco complained.

“She’s not dead you know,” Izou reminded him. “Just sleeping off the anesthesia.”

“I know that,” Marco defended. “I’m just… keeping an eye on her.”

You awoke a few moments later, surprised to feel yourself in your human form. What surprised you even more was seeing Marco and Izou there.

“Hey,” you coughed.

Marco quickly grabbed the cup of water by your bed and brought it to your lips. After taking a few sips you cleared your throat and tried to speak again.

“How did it go?” you asked.

“Well you’re not a cat anymore so pretty good I’d say,” Izou laughed.

You looked down at your hands and flexed your fingers. You tried to hold the cup of water but it slipped, luckily Marco caught it before it spilled.

“Guess I’m not used to fingers anymore after having paws for so long,” you chuckled.

The next few days were spent in physical therapy with Marco. He helped you regain your strength and relearn how to be a human again. He also said he’d help you with your zoan form, whenever you decided you were ready.

One day, while on the deck pushing boxes around for strength training, Whitebeard called you over.

“Now that you’ve healed up, is there someplace you’d like us to take you?” he asked. “Someplace you call home?”

You thought for a moment. Home. What did that look like to you? You knew you couldn’t stay on this ship forever, of course they’d want you to leave at some point. You were no pirate, after all.

“I don’t have a home,” you finally answered. “So I guess you can drop me off at the next port town, and I’ll make my way from there.”

“Are you sure?” Whitebeard asked.

“I don’t want to overstay my welcome, and besides, you’ve already done more than enough to help me,” you replied, trying to hide your sorrow.

“Who said anything about overstaying your welcome?” he asked. “I’m not kicking you off my ship.”

“You… you’re not?” you asked in surprise.

“I didn’t want you to feel like you had to stay here, if you had a home to return to,” he explained. “But if you have nowhere else to go, why not join my crew as one of my daughters?”

“Do you really mean that?” you questioned.

“I do. Besides, a certain doctor on board seems to have taken a liking to you, so I’m sure he could use an assistant,” he answered with a wink.

“I knew Marco liked her!” someone called out.

“We should have been placing bets!” someone else chimed in.

Marco… likes you? He really likes you? You couldn’t believe what you heard. He was, of course, muscular, handsome, and kind. All things that made him pretty darn attractive. But for someone as big as him to like someone as insignificant as you?

“Let’s throw a party for our newest crew member!” Ace declared, interrupting you thoughts.

Everyone else agreed, and that evening a banquet was thrown in your honor. You were gazing at the sunset, still in awe of the colors, when Marco found you and pulled you aside.

“So, I guess the cats out of the bag,” he laughed.

“Yeah, I guess so,” you chuckled in response.

“I know we just met last week, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since you got here,” he started.

“I feel the same way,” you agreed.

“You do?” he asked.

You just nodded in response, and the both of you grinned at each other. Then, without really thinking about it, you leaned in and kissed each other. His hand grabbed your waist and pulled you in closer, and you felt right at home at last.

“I called it!” Thatch cheered. “Ace, you owe me ten berries!”

“Awe man, I was sure it would take them longer to kiss,” Ace laughed.

You laughed at their remarks. Had everyone really known about this before you did? Either way, you were relieved to be here. Thinking back, you couldn’t believe that just a week ago, you were running for your life. And now you were here, new home new family, and another new sunset to admire.

[dawnsarchive]

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

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

Ace looked beyond smug.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was pretty often.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds like something Pops would do.”

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

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

“Probably both.”

“How could he do both?”

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The wildfire was cuddling me,” you muttered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He stiffened slightly. “Sorry?”

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

“I… it’s not that hard.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh? There are layers?”

“There are.”

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

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

“Give me your attention.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t mind,” he said immediately.

“See,” you said. “He doesn’t mind.”

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

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

“Of course.”

“I want you to fu –”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Marco stopped so sharply that the door clipped his shoulder.

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s up on the deck,” Marco said.

“Thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A rather ugly one.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wasn’t meaning it that way.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“One conversation is more important to me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“By who?”

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

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

“Everybody can die. Marco is not immortal.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They’re together now.”

“Thatch is a brilliant mediator.”

“Is he?”

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

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

“Probably,” you agreed. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Being here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You want the phoenix fruit?”

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

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

“Beautiful?” he repeated.

Okay. Maybe he wasn’t concerned about that.

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

“Observant.”

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

“I’m the only phoenix.”

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

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

“Right?”

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

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

Below you, the ship creaked against the waves.

“Life energy?”

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

“You’ve been doing this for Pops?”

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

“For how long?”

“Since I first came aboard.”

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

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

“He asked me not to.”

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

“He’s the captain.”

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

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

“Yet you told the others?”

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

“Last night.”

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whitebeard said –”

“Pops is not a doctor.”

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

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

You pressed your lips together. “Yes.”

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

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

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

“Potentially. If I pushed it too far.”

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

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

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

“I know.”

“Do you?”

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

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

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

“Stop theorising.”

“What?”

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

Marco’s expression shifted. “You are?”

“I’m trying to.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Nobody has to choose.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is.”

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

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

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

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

“What don’t you understand?”

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

“You don’t have to try with me.”

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

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

“What do you want from me?” he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You leaned in before you could lose your nerve.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sure.”

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

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

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

For a moment, he sat perfectly still.

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

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

[alexa-yukiyu]

hey :) I’ve read your wbp x child reader fics and I think they’re amazing!

I’d like to request whitebeard pirates with gender neutral child reader that’s like inumaki from jjk

basically they can make people do whatever they want but the more intense the command is the more they’re throat gets damaged (?) and they speaks by using rice ball ingredients like salmon to agree bonito flakes to disagree, mustard leaf to show concern, kelp to greet and salmon roe to grab attention to something or someone.

sorry if this request has a lot of details :( I hope you have a great day or night 🫶🏾

Rice Balls ft Marco the Phoenix

A/N hopefully here’s the first of many again; reminder I have been out for 6 weeks so I think my first few works are gonna be poopy but I ‘ll get there again!

Reader here is replaced by Dokusha which stands for reader in Japanese to ensure the enjoyment of both reader and oc character readers!

Consider Leaving me a Coffee : )

Dokucha gave the man in front of him a tight smile, hoping to appease the current disappointment and annoyance that was leaving him in waves.

“Kelp?” They asked, trying to alleviate the tense atmosphere

“How many times have I told you not to overdo it, yoi?” Marco hissed, rolling his chair closer to the child as they began to probe different areas in their neck, a small ' let me know if it hurts’

“Roasted seaweed…” they mumbled, dejected.

“So why are we having this conversation again-yoi?”

“Pickl-Bonito Flakes,” They hissed when the doctor pressed into a particularly sore spot on their neck, causing the man to retreat with a sigh.

“It’s not too dire-yoi, some low-level anti-inflammatories should do the trick this time. I’ll also tell Thatch to make some specialized soup again,” he announced, making a few annotations on his notepad before turning back to the child.

“Salmon!” they called, throwing him a thumbs up.

“Now about your overuse”

“Fish Flakes,” they huffed out, their previous excitement leaving them as they slumped over, prepared for the lecture that was sure to come.

Marco let out a sigh at this, rolling his eyes at the child

“Dokucha, you’re more than welcome to use your devil fruit; that’s not the problem-yoi’

“Lotus Leaf?” they questioned, confused

“You get carried away every time,” Marco announced bluntly, watching the dejected look on the child's face, his eyes softening.

“Listen-yoi, you just need to know your limits; don’t think you’re the only one. Ace still has that problem. That idiot burned another town just last week,” he reminded them, rubbing the side of his head as if the thought alone was bringing him pain.

“Tuna Mayo,” Dokucha snickered; property destruction and unintentional arson definitely sounded like Ace would engage on constantly before they remembered their original topic.

“Lotus leaf?” They questioned, pointing at the first commander who simply shook his head.

“I ‘m afraid I won’t be much help; my zoan fruit does not work similarly to yours, you know; though even Pops and Jozu have paramecias as well, I don’t think they would be very useful, which means…”

Marco let out a loud groan, realizing the only member on board who could possibly guide them was the very same one who had struggled with self-control in the first place.

They definitely had a long road ahead of them before they would be able to use their devil-fruit without ending up in the infirmary right after.

Taglist:

@Imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

@hannahbarberra162

[rea-grimm]

Quetzalcoatl  Marco

Characters: Marco x Reader

Vibe: fantasy AU, monster romance, quetzalcoatl AU, mythical creature, mating season, nesting instincts, feathered serpent, gentle protector, friends to lovers, mutual trust, emotional comfort, soft Marco, cuddling, cozy nest, wing cuddles, tail wraps, slow burn, hurt/comfort, domestic fluff, healing presence, tender romance 🐍🪶🪺☀️🤍✨

— ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — 

The sea was calm, the ship swaying in a slow, soothing rhythm. The timber creaked softly as the salt air drifted through the corridors. But the ship’s doctor hadn't left his cabin for some time. You knew why. Marco was in his mating season.

He never spoke about it directly. He didn’t want to burden you or make you feel obligated. Even so, you’d noticed the subtle changes. His gaze had grown softer, his voice quieter, and his feathers more ruffled.

That evening, you decided to check on him. You knocked, but there was no answer. Carefully, you nudged the door open.

"Marco?" you called out softly.

The air inside was warm, not stifling, but radiant, as if you’d stepped into the sun's embrace. You spotted him on the bed, curled up tightly.

Blankets, pillows… and your clothes. The shirt you’d left with him after your last watch was pulled close to his face. Everything around him looked like a meticulously crafted nest.

His serpent tail was coiled around the mattress, scales shimmering faintly, with vibrant feathers quivering at the tip. His wings were partially spread, as if shielding his private sanctuary.

"Hey Marco, do you need anything?" you asked quietly.

His head snapped up. His grey eyes flashed, but there was a profound vulnerability in them.

"Yoi... you came," he breathed. "You didn't have to..."

"I wanted to see you." You took a few steps closer.

His tail moved, slowly, tentatively, as if he were afraid of scaring you off. Despite his hesitation, it looped around you and gently pulled you toward him, right into the center of the nest.

"Marco-" you gasped in surprise, though you felt no fear.

"Sorry..." he mumbled quickly. "I didn't want to drag you into this-yoi. I just... I don't want to be alone. But I don't want to force you."

"You’re not forcing me. I’m here because I want to be." You lay down beside him, resting your hand on his arm.

His breath hitched. His wings drew closer, one of them draping over you like a warm, soft, protective cloak.

"This time of year..." he began softly. "It’s hard-yoi. The instincts are strong, and I... I don't want you to think I expect anything from you."

"You don't," you whispered. "You're just letting me be here."

He was silent for a moment. Then, his tail eased its grip, shifting to support you, lifting you slightly. He pulled you closer, acting as though you were made of the finest porcelain.

"Thank you," he exhaled. "You’re... peace. My peace-yoi."

You leaned against his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heart. The ship rocked, and the world outside faded away. It was just the two of you in a nest built of silence and trust.

"Will you stay for a while... yoi?" he whispered. Marco ran his fingers gently through your hair, his touch cautious, almost shy.

"I’ll stay," you replied without hesitation.

He pressed a little closer, his wing enveloping you both like a heavy duvet. You felt his heat, his breath, and a sense of calm that slowly began to seep into you as well.

"I don't want to be a burden," he murmured once more. "But... thank you for being here-yoi." You smiled and closed your eyes. In his arms, you were safe.

When you opened your eyes, the first thing you noticed was the scent of sandalwood and an incredible heat, but it wasn't unpleasant, it felt like being wrapped in the world's softest, warmest blanket.

Marco was still asleep. His face, usually so focused and stern in battle, was completely relaxed. A few strands of blond hair fell across his forehead, and his breathing was deep and rhythmic. 

His tail wasn't gripping you as tightly as it had last night, now it lay loosely over your legs, a sleeping assurance that you were safe by his side.

You shifted to see his face better, and at that moment, his eyelids fluttered.

"Yoi..." he grumbled hoarsely without opening his eyes. Instinctively, he pulled you a fraction closer, as if fearing you were just a dream. He slowly opened his eyes, taking a moment for his consciousness to sharpen.

When he realized you were actually there in his nest, amidst the heap of pillows and his wings, a faint flush crept across his face.

"Good morning," you whispered.

"Good morning..." he replied, his voice even deeper than usual. "I hoped you hadn't left, but at the same time, I was worried the heat would stifle you during the night-yoi."

He released his hold and sat up, running a hand through his messy hair. His wings tucked back against his shoulder blades with a soft rustle, though their blue iridescence still caught the morning light. 

He looked around the cabin at the scattered clothes and the nest he’d built, his expression a mix of tenderness and slight embarrassment.

"Thank you," he said after a moment, looking you straight in the eye. The wild, instinctive fire was gone, replaced by a profound gratitude. "This time is... demanding. But because of you, it was different. More bearable."

He reached out and carefully stroked your cheek. His skin was still hot, but his touch was incredibly gentle.

"Shall we go for breakfast, or do you want to stay a while longer in this chaos I’ve made-yoi?" He smiled, that signature, slightly lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

— ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — 

Marco Masterlist

[dawnsarchive]

To Catch a Phoenix (Marco x Reader) - Part 4

One Piece | Marco | 4.2k | Masterlist « ♥ previous ♥ next ♥ »

Morning arrived earlier than usual. Or rather, the sun did. The ship must have covered more distance than expected during the night. Your body insisted you had been cheated of several hours of rest, even though the sun was already sitting higher than it should have been.

The wind was warm, almost sticky, and it carried something more than the usual sea air with it though the horizon remained flat. You stood by the railing, waiting.

The moment you heard Marco step out onto the deck, you turned. He was giving you a sceptical look so you picked up the second mug from the crate beside you, holding it out as a peace offering.

“Here,” you said. “Proof I’m not up to anything.”

He didn’t hesitate to approach, gaze flicking to it briefly before he took it from your hands. “This just makes me more suspicious, yoi. Should I start looking for rope?”

You smiled over the rim of your own mug. “I’m not going to do the same thing twice,” you promised. “It’s just coffee.”

He took a spot next to the railing with you, looking over the deck at the ocean beyond. The wind rustled your hair and you breathed out quietly, still craving your bed when you considered the work you had lined up for the day ahead. Nothing anywhere near as fun as terrorising a phoenix, that was sure.

“Remind me to tell Thatch to stop feeding you information,” Marco commented.

“Ah, I made it right then?”

“Maybe.”

You laughed. Thatch had been awake when you made your way to the galley in the morning and was more than eager to help you make Marco’s usual coffee. You were told he normally had it after his flight but he didn’t seem too bothered by the change in his routine and you had potentially helpful information now.

Not that you knew how you could use his coffee preferences to catch him (though you briefly entertained the idea of a cup under a net) but still.

The sun crept higher behind you as you stood and enjoyed your drink; your shadow was cast long over the wood of the Moby Dick as more crew members began to rouse for their morning duties.

“You’re very quiet today,” Marco commented. “No questions about my flight or…?”

You held up your own mug as though it was a reason. “Too early for that. Maybe I’ll find some inspiration later.”

“And here I thought early mornings were the best times to hunt.”

“Not when your prey has insomnia.”

He gave you a small chuckle. “I don’t have insomnia, yoi. I can sleep perfectly when I have a chance to do it.”

“I have no proof of that,” you informed him. “So, I’m currently working on the assumption that you’re permanently exhausted. Which admittedly, does make your flight speed more impressive.”

“I only seem fast to you because you’re slow.”

You rolled your eyes at the rib. “No, you’re fast. I’ve watched thousands of species of bird in my life and you are, by far, the fastest I’ve ever encountered. Maybe not in a dive… but I’ve never gotten to see you dive properly.”

“Flattery isn’t going to win you better proximity to it, yoi.”

You glanced toward your elbow, practically brushing against his and leaned the slightest amount so your arms were against each other.

“I think I have pretty good proximity,” you said. “Your overconfidence gives me that.”

He didn’t move away from the touch in the slightest. “It’s not like I have anything to be nervous about.”

“Then why haven’t you gone on your flight yet?”

“Because I’m enjoying my coffee,” he said. “I figured I should considering you wasted your time learning how to make it.”

You huffed and bumped him with your hip playfully as you straightened. “It’s not a waste of time if I can use it. I’ll leave you to transform in peace then, seeing as you clearly don’t feel safe around me when you’re a bird anymore.”

He chuckled into his drink.

You made your way to the ship’s map room without getting lost once which was honestly, impressive. As much as you wanted to spend the day with ideas of how to catch him, you simply didn’t have the time. Haruta had begun to trust you more which unfortunately resulted in you now learning more about the twelfth division and losing most opportunities to watch the pretty bird soaring around.

The hours slipped past, each one growing later and later as you stayed in a room that smelled of salt and old paper. You could have taken a break but the work consumed you long enough that the sky outside brightened and darkened without your moving.

Your first interruption came about after the stars had emerged when the door swung open and Ace stuck his head in. He looked around in disappointment.

“This ship’s too big,” he grumbled.

“Where were you looking for?”

“Anywhere quiet,” he muttered.

But he walked in, boots dragging against the wood as he did so. He grabbed a chair and dragged it next to where you were sitting, slumping into it. You did a quick check but found no injuries or water damage on him so you assumed he’d maybe taken a break from his murder attempt of the day.

You grabbed a spare map and teasingly held it out for him. He gave you a look and you laughed.

“Aw, here I thought you were coming past to help me.”

“You and Deuce both need to stop working,” he grumbled.

“I have been being lazy for the past week,” you laughed. “And this is fun. Probably less fun than the attempted murder you keep trying but still interesting.”

Ace slumped his weight against your shoulder and you adjusted yourself in case he ended up falling asleep on you. It was one of the first things you’d learned upon joining the Spade Pirates. If Ace began to lean against you, best you adjust before he passed out against your side and you lost all the feeling in your limbs.

His skin was almost boiling even through your shirt and you huffed. “You’re very hot.”

“Thanks.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

He chuckled faintly. “Yeah. You seem to prefer doctors.”

You laughed and reached for a ruler as best you could. “It would seem I do though I’ve been struggling a little with this one. He’s very ornery.”

“Probably because you’re trying to get a net on him,” Ace mumbled. “If somebody was trying to catch me, I’d be pissed by it too. Though, he actually said he found it flattering which is a bit stupid but whatever.”

You frowned down at Ace’s mop of hair – the only part of him you could see. “You asked him about it?”

“Yeah. He asked me if you were a good shot.”

You pondered that. It was a strange question unless Marco thought you planned on sniping him from the deck. You could hardly fault him for investigating though, you supposed. You were a good shot but you were probably rusty. With the Spade Pirates, most threats burned before they got close.

“Maybe I should try to become a marksman again,” you commented. “They have a whole division for that.”

“Mm.”

“Do you remember which one it was?”

“Nope.”

Oh, Ace was absolutely about to fall asleep. His voice had taken on that drawling, grumbling quality it always did when he was fighting to stay awake. You lowered yourself further into the chair and grabbed for your tools before you became locked in place.

“Have you had dinner yet?” you asked.

“Yeah.”

A few seconds later, a soft snore followed and you sighed. At least the narcolepsy had returned. It was a good sign that he wasn’t thinking this ship was completely dangerous. Deuce used to worry whenever the sleeping stopped, considering it a sure sign that Ace was wound up too tight about something.

You continued to read through the map book, writing awkwardly while Ace slept against your side. It was warm but not uncomfortably so. It reminded you briefly of how it had been before he decided to chase Whitebeard.

You worked a pencil between your teeth as you thought about it.

Somehow, you missed it a little. Even with all the excitement that had come in the past few days, you enjoyed those times.

The door creaked and you tilted your head back to meet Marco’s gaze. His eyes dropped briefly to where Ace was folded against you before returning to your face. One hand remained against the doorframe, his posture loose enough to appear casual despite the pause.

“I was wondering where he wandered off to,” Marco said. “Wanted to make sure he wasn’t bothering Pops. Are you both a wild game hunter and a pillow then?”

He was keeping his voice low but there was no need. You knew Ace could sleep through a thunderstorm when he was like this. You were far from special to have him snoring against you. He’d passed out against everybody in the crew at least once.

“I’m a very comfortable pillow,” you said with a smile. “You should give it a try one day.”

Marco scoffed and leaned against the doorframe. “I think I’m alright. Does he do this often?”

“He’ll sleep anywhere and on anyone,” you said. “The only question is how long it will take. I could be here for a few minutes. Could be here for a few hours.”

Something in Marco’s shoulders eased a little. “Well, I wouldn’t advise letting it be a few hours. You’ve already missed most of dinner.”

You considered moving Ace for a second but you had nowhere to really move him to and he still wasn’t very settled on the ship. Besides, your stomach hadn’t woken just yet. You ruffled his hair playfully and he stirred for a second, blinking at you before he began to snore again.

“Ah, nothing to it,” you said. “He’s out properly.”

“I could…” Marco trailed off before he shook his head. “You should be careful about locking yourself up with work for hours.”

You gave him a look. “Hypocritical, hm?”

“I’ve never claimed otherwise.”

“How about this,” you said. “If you promise to sleep, I’ll go and find something to eat.”

“This isn’t a bad habit exchange, yoi.”

“Then I make no promises.”

He chuckled and stepped back as though to leave. “At least try not to also sleep here. That chair will be bad for your back.”

You adjusted yourself faintly and Ace grumbled. “Before you go,” you said. “I wanted to ask who’s the commander in charge of the marksmanship division.”

Marco paused. “I don’t know if I should be telling you that.”

“I’d find it out anyway,” you huffed. “Come on, please, save me a little time. I promise I’ll be absolutely awful at it.”

He smiled. “I don’t believe you for a moment, yoi. Izou is in charge of the sixteenth division. I can introduce you to him tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” you hummed. “Oh, and Marco?”

“Yes?”

“You were flying a little too high today. Could you try getting a little closer so I can see you through the window next time I’m in here?”

He laughed and left, not gracing your question with an answer.

The next morning, when you made your way out on deck, Marco was already waiting there, speaking to Izou casually. You were surprised that he’d managed it so early but smiled and made your way over.

He smiled when you arrived and held out a mug. You stared at it for a second before you took it with a laugh.

Alright. Point taken.

He could learn what drinks you preferred too.

“I suppose it’s my turn to bring drinks tomorrow,” you commented.

He inclined his head. “It is.”

Izou raised a very elegant eyebrow at the mug and you smiled in way of explanation, knowing it must look a little strange for the first division commander to be getting drinks.

“Deuce told me she was a good shot,” Marco said as a way of explanation. “So, I thought there might be use for her outside of the twelfth.”

“Is that so?” Izou asked, his voice careful and measured.

The first part was certainly a lie. The only thing Deuce might be able to tell about your shooting was that you knew how to pull a trigger but if that’s what Marco wanted to go with, you certainly weren’t going to protest it. Although it did feel as though he was setting up expectations for you.

“I was also curious to meet you,” you said. “I’ve heard a lot about your division.”

“If you show skill in it, you can consider moving over,” Izou said. “I find competence and aim to be lacking amongst most. Especially given the number of swordsmen we appear to attract.”

“May as well test it, right?” Marco asked.

Izou nodded. “Of course. I imagine you have time?”

You frowned at him for a second. “Right now?”

“Do you have somewhere else to be?”

You glanced over his shoulder at the sun as it crawled higher into the sky. You didn’t really, you supposed although you hadn’t much felt like a shooting match so early in the morning. And Marco was smirking well enough that you had to try. Just a little.

“No,” you said. “I don’t.”

Izou led you to the rear deck, far enough from any of the early stragglers on the crew. Several targets already waited there, secured to the reinforced boards along the railing.

This was feeling a little more like a set up but you didn’t mind too much. Yet.

He handed over a pistol and you turned it over in your hands. It was a newer weapon, shiny and well maintained. It wasn’t your first choice when it came to a gun but you supposed there was no complaining at a test weapon.

“Comfortable?” Izou asked.

You adjusted your grip. “Very.”

“Good. I want to see if you can at least hit a stationary target before trying anything more difficult. To ensure your crew weren’t inflating their stories.”

“If they said anything, it was definitely inflated,” you said.

“I’m not so sure, yoi,” Marco mentioned from where he stood behind you. “I think you might have some surprises.”

Izou glanced toward him. “Are you planning on staying? It’s late for your flight.”

Marco held up his mug. “I still have coffee to finish yoi.”

“Here I thought he might be part of it,” you commented. “Though that might be a little easy. Flushed birds are simple targets.”

Izou chuckled softly to himself. “Maybe. If he chooses to be noisy. For now.”

He gestured toward the targets and you stepped forward. The deck swayed gently beneath your boots. Nothing substantial but enough that you had to take a deep breath and loosen your shoulders before you fired.

The first shot splintered the centre of the target. The second landed close enough to touch it and the third passed through the first hole.

The recoil pressed sharply into your palm and the cracks rolled across the open deck, leaving the bitter smell of powder behind them.

Simple enough. You lowered the weapon.

Izou nodded. “Alright. Now we know you have eyes.”

Marco hummed and you glanced toward him. He didn’t look particularly impressed but you noted that his mug was decidedly empty. And yet, he was still standing there.

“As I said,” you noted. “That was harder than hitting a flushed bird.”

“You have to flush a bird out before it becomes an easy target.”

“If it doesn’t fly, it may as well serve itself to me,” you said. “Birds will fly when they’re startled enough.”

Izou cleared his throat. “Threaten him in your own time. Next, I want to see if you can hit this. It’s smaller so I’ll give you five shots.”

He hung the target further along the deck, suspended from a small rope that was being nudged by the wind into a lazy sway. You heard Marco move behind you but chose not to look to him yet, attention focused on the pattern.

The first bullet clipped the edge of the centre circle. The next landed just on the edge of the target. The third was close again and the fourth and fifth punched directly through the middle.

You really were rusty.

“That’s moving very slowly.” Marco’s voice suddenly came from next to you and you jumped, not having realised he was so close.

He was standing directly over your shoulder, near enough that your startle made your elbow brush against him. You tilted your head up curiously toward him and he smiled as though this was a perfectly normal place for him to be.

“It’s not meant to be speeding around,” Izou said, also clearly noticing the proximity. “Do you not have somewhere better to be?”

“I’m observing my recommendation, yoi.”

“We can try some thrown targets now,” Izou said. “To entertain our very bored audience.”

“She’s going to hit them,” Marco said. “Give her something difficult.”

You appreciated the faith though you had a feeling there was something else implied by it. Izou threw the first one over the sea and your shot clipped the edge only. The second you hit cleanly. Both the third and the fourth scattered painted wood so quickly that they didn’t even leave the edge of the deck.

“You are decent,” Izou commented. “Although a little slow. You have enough skill to train with my division. Whether you belong there can be decided later.”

“This is not the best test, is it?” Marco asked.

“For basic competency, it will suffice. We can do something more in-depth later but drills and cleaning will do for now.”

Marco stepped around you and you lowered the pistol to your thigh. Still, you couldn’t help but admire him as he moved past.

“Do you want a harder test?” he asked, grin a little too sharp.

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

He picked up one of Izou’s hanging targets and, before the marksman could say anything, he tossed it into the sky. Flames swept over him in an instant and the phoenix shot upwards, wings unfolding in a rush of heat and wind. The force of the first beat snapped at your clothes and sent loose hair across your face.

For a moment, blue fire filled the space above the deck so completely that the mast and sails seemed small behind him. He caught the target in one of his talons, allowing it to hang loosely by the rope.

He climbed above the ship before banking sharply around the rear mast, target swinging beneath him. He swept overhead once, edges of his wings glittering gold.

Really?

“What the hell is he doing?” Izou muttered.

He swept by, closer this time. You could practically feel the smugness glowing from him as he tipped his wing, allowing you a clearer shot. You didn’t raise the pistol yet, still mildly impressed at seeing him fly this close.

“Hey! What’s going on?”

Thatch’s voice carried from the lower deck, followed not long after by several other crew members who were staring up in awe at the enormous phoenix soaring close enough to clip the rigging lines.

You raised your pistol and Izou caught your wrist. “Don’t indulge in this. I have already accepted your performance today.”

Marco’s wings were stirring the sails, causing the Moby to sway a little unsteadily.

“I’ll hit the target and not him,” you promised.

Izou looked from you to the phoenix. Marco tipped the target farther from his body, leaving the rope stretched clear beneath his talons.

“One shot,” Izou said, releasing your wrist. “If he turns, you hold fire.”

Marco folded one wing and dropped suddenly. You watched his short dive, limited by the proximity of the mast. He was being cocky, flying around the ship this close, but it limited his movement immensely.

The target swung wildly as he changed direction, painted centre flapping around until he began to climb to regain height.

You fired.

The target shattered into pieces, painted wood scattering behind him and splashing into the sea below. You smirked, lowering your pistol.

Marco glanced down and made a sound that was almost like a trill. It rang strangely clear across the deck, bright enough to cut through the creak of the ship and the scattered voices below. You felt the sound in your chest before you decided what to make of it.

You frowned, having never heard that sound from him before and – judging by the expressions of everybody else on deck – they hadn’t either. He climbed, higher and higher, until he was back at his usual circling height, resuming his morning flight around the deck.

Izou held out his hand and you handed the pistol back.

“As I said, if you wish to train with my division, I can make space for you,” he acknowledged. “But we’ll be adjusting our training schedules to when he is busy.”

“I’ll consider it,” you said. “I had expected more time before the introduction.”

“And I expected fewer birds interfering but it seems we were both surprised. The offer stands for whenever you want it.”

Haruta caught you before you made it ten steps from the rear deck, pressing a rolled map into your hands with an expression that promised far less excitement than what you had just finished.

“You’re late.”

You glanced upward. Marco had returned to his usual circling height, blue wings cutting calmly across the sky. That strange trill still lingered in your mind.

“Fine,” you said, tucking the map beneath your arm. “What am I doing?”

Haruta’s answer trapped you in the map room for the rest of the day.

The chart should have been simple. It was only a current route, a few recorded weather patterns and enough conflicting calculations to make you wonder if three different navigators had worked on it without speaking to one another. Every time you thought you had found the mistake, another number stopped making sense.

Evening crept over the ship without your permission. One section became another. The lamps burned lower. Your eyes began to sting and the numbers blurred whenever you looked away from them, but every answer seemed close enough to keep you seated for another few minutes.

When you woke the next day, the sunlight was already far too bright against the wall.

There was little point rushing to the galley now, so you dragged yourself through breakfast with the map open beside your plate, barely tasting anything as you reconsidered the currents.

You greeted people in distracted fragments as you climbed higher, made your way to the railing and spread the map across the wood where the light was better.

A few gasps alerted you to something weird happening and you almost jumped when an enormous blue bird landed beside you immediately, talons clipping at the wood. The railing groaned beneath his weight. Heat rolled over your arm and stirred the edge of the map, while several loose sparks drifted across the paper and vanished before they could leave a mark.

Oh, right. You’d woken up late enough that you hadn’t brought coffee like you said you would.

“Sorry,” you said automatically. “I just got so absorbed into this chart.”

He made a sound you didn’t quite recognise. Something low and rumbling.

You reached out on instinct, hand brushing over the flame-warmed feathers of his head because it was close enough that you could. They were softer than the fire suggested, warm against your palm without burning. Light shifted between the strands as your fingers passed through them, blue giving way to brief flickers of gold.

He stiffened beneath your palm.

“Yes, good morning handsome,” you greeted, still far more focused on the map than him.

For a second his feathers remained stiff beneath your fingers. Then, so gradually you didn’t notice, they softened. The tension eased from his neck as his eyes slipped closed, head moving closer to your nails as you scratched through the plumage behind his crown.

Which direction was this current even coming from? Maybe… you hummed to yourself and gave him one last scratch before you made your way to the other side of the deck where the sun wasn’t reflecting as badly.

The wind was a little strong today and the waves choppier than usual so maybe…

“Have you managed to find a direction?”

Haruta ascended the last few stairs with a different map and you shook your head.

“No, this is weird. Do you think you could help me with it?”

“I’ll take a look,” he said. “Hey, Marco? You alright?”

You frowned at the name and looked back over your shoulder to find Marco still sitting exactly where he had landed. His head was still tilted to the side, gaze fixed firmly on your back. He blinked, feathers otherwise unmoving.

Oh… You almost laughed as your brain caught up with what you’d just done. You’d been distracted and scratched his head.

You shot him your most apologetic expression.

He gave himself one abrupt, full-bodied shake. Sparks scattered from his feathers and he launched from the railing with far more force than necessary. You watched as he circled the ship once more, transforming back on the lower deck far from you.

Ah well.

You were sure he’d find it in his heart to forgive you for one misplaced touch. Perhaps coffee tomorrow could smooth over the insult.

Tags: @miwn8 ; @aceincase ; @chaeisrichnow ; @mollys--stuff

[dawnsarchive]

Kissing the Commanders (Whitebeard Pirates x Reader) - Part 8

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

Your morning preparations to leave were filled with both rumours and activity. Unsurprisingly.

The Moby Dick seemed to hum with both. Voices followed you through every corridor, half-lowered until you passed and then rising again behind your back. Crates scraped over the deck above, boots thudded down the stairs, and every division appeared to have found some excuse to linger near the places you needed to pass.

At least, for all the attention, you had shockingly little actual preparation to manage yourself. Your bags were packed and Izou had swept them from your room already, leaving you at the helm with nothing to do but watch the clouds drift over the mast and plan the best way to explain your devil fruit without making the entire trip feel like a confession.

Unless Marco succeeded in convincing Whitebeard he didn’t need to come with. Something you were quite certain he’d been busy with because you hadn’t seen him the whole morning.

Ace, though, had been just about everywhere with a massive grin. You heard his boots behind you before he even spoke, knowing well by now the cadence of his walk.

“I’ve figured something out,” he told you.

You smiled and turned. “You have?”

His hat was sitting low over his face to shield him from the sun, freckles dark against his sun-warmed shoulders. He was smiling though so you imagined whatever he had figured out couldn’t be so bad.

“You target me.”

The accusation almost made you laugh. “I do?”

“I was thinking about what you said last night.”

“Mm?” you hummed, interrupting his thoughts just long enough that he flushed faintly.

“Not that part. I just realised you don’t do that to the others,” he said, explaining it as though it was a barely contained discovery. “Like you never make them all embarrassed because you don’t flirt with them like you do with me.”

You hooked a finger through his belt loop and tugged him closer. Ace followed too easily, the small huff in his chest doing nothing to hide the way red crept over his cheeks. Heat gathered beneath your knuckles before you even touched his skin properly.

“Like this?”

“Exactly like this,” he complained. “And it’s not fair because now I seem like I’m the only one this affected by you.”

You brushed your thumb over the exposed skin his hip and a flicker of flame curled fast and quick over his ribs. “Because you give me much sweeter reactions,” you said. “And I don’t think it would even work on the other two.”

“You don’t know that if you haven’t tried.”

Admittedly, you hadn’t but you had a strong idea of what would happen with at least one of those situations. It didn’t escape your notice that half of what you’d inflicted on Ace was learned from the way Izou did it to you. There was no chance you’d see him turn red from it.

“Are you really upset that I flirt with you more?” you asked.

Ace shrugged, very pointedly looking at you and not where you were touching him. “They always look so calm around you,” he muttered. “Like they’ve got it all figured out. And then there’s me, turning red every time you look at me too long.”

You paused your movement.

He looked away too quickly, scratching at his cheek. “And I don’t. So maybe I want to see if they’re actually that calm or if you just never try.”

You laughed softly and let go of Ace’s belt loop, something that seemed to bring him both relief and disappointment all at once.

“You’re doing fine,” you reassured him.

He groaned and leaned against the railing next to you with a sigh of defeat, shoulder leaning hard into your own. “I can’t keep up if you’re always doing this to just me.”

“I’m not targeting you,” you said and you leaned over to press a quick kiss to his cheek, right under the faint pink that had emerged there. “But okay, if you’re that interested, you can see me suffer when I try to flirt with Izou the same way.”

“And Thatch too.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “So, you don’t like me then?”

“No, I like you a lot! But also, you’ve done it to me at least twice so it’s kind of deserved.”

You pressed a second kiss further back, just where his jaw met his neck. “Do you want to see me do it again?”

“See! Like that!”

You smiled but gave in to his request, finding your way through the Moby Dick with the young commander until you found Izou.

It was a bad idea, you knew that, but a small part of you thought you might be able to walk away with your dignity mostly intact. Something that was already fading as you watched him organise his division.

The sixteenth division had formed in a loose cluster around him, weapons, ledgers and travel packs gathered between them while Izou stood at the centre as though the deck itself had arranged to suit him.

You stood to the side, enjoying this side of him you so rarely saw. His words flowed hotter than usual; he wore authority as elegantly as he did the coat on his shoulders. Though you didn’t get to stare for very long before dark eyes found your own and he smiled faintly.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” you told him on his approach. “It’s really nothing important.”

“You didn’t,” he corrected. “I’m speaking to you now so they all stop staring over my shoulder while I’m giving instructions. Sometimes, I’d think you’re more of a distraction to them than you are to me.”

You chuckled softly under your breath. “Are they really that invested in everything? Here I thought it was only the fourth division who cared so much about it.”

“I’ve banned them from discussing it while working.”

You smiled, feeling faintly guilty for the disruption then. You brushed your fingers over his arm gently. “Then I’ll find you when you aren’t busy.”

Izou shook his head, faintly. “I’d rather hear it now.”

“I was coming to flirt with you,” you admitted quietly. “So very much unimportant. It can definitely wait.”

Ace groaned loudly enough that you almost rolled your eyes. He wasn’t being subtle, hovering outside the doorframe and Izou raised a questioning eyebrow toward you. It was fine, Ace could learn patience well enough.

 “To flirt with me,” Izou repeated. His hand moved to lightly trail a touch over your jaw, causing your heart to stutter harshly. “You’re not usually so brazen about these things. What’s Ace’s complaint?”

How did he… you often feared how much Izou seemed to know about these things. You didn’t think you were so easy to read.

“Apparently, I’m far more forward with him when I flirt,” you said, unable to bring yourself to omit information. “He wanted to see me try it on you though you’re not making it easy.”

His lips moved into a faint smile. “Well? Try your best.”

You opened your mouth slightly and his thumb brushed over your lower lip. Anything you wanted to say, implicative or funny, melted from your brain under his attention. He really was unfairly attractive. Somehow, a look alone seemed to destroy any possible grab for a sensible thought.

“You’re busy?” you defended yourself, aware of how small it came out.

“I am. So, you had better talk quickly.” He caught your chin and tilted your head slightly up. “Come now. Give me the same type of compliment you would give him. Or are you struggling to remember some?”

“A little,” you admitted, his hold making it much harder to talk.

Izou smiled properly. “Do you not often call him cute?”

You almost laughed at the idea. “Cute? That doesn’t even begin to describe you… really, no words could.”

It was the best compliment you could grab for when your heart was pounding in your ears like this but it seemed to work. Izou leaned forward to give you a quick peck on the lips, his breath warm against yours.

“It doesn’t suit me well,” he agreed. “Though it does compliment you. Just as this shade of lipstick does. I’ve stopped preventing it from transferring just to see how pretty it looks on your face.”

You hadn’t realised that was intentional. You’d certainly noticed that it transferred far more often these days…

He pressed a second kiss to your cheek and then dropped his hand. “We can talk more later,” he said. “Enjoy yourself.”

“You’re…”

“Yes?”

You stared at him, disbelieving and deeply enamoured. “I’ll see you later,” you said.

He smiled fondly. “You will.”

Ace was waiting for you, half-laughing as you made your way back through the door. You gave him a look and he tapped his cheek.

“You’ve got lipstick on you.”

“I know,” you said, rubbing it off with the back of your hand. “Do you see why I don’t try that with Izou?”

He looked pleased for a second before his expression shifted into something more thoughtful. “Yeah, I’ve got to admit, I can see what you mean.”

“And you’re happy about that.”

“I am. A little,” he admitted. He looked back toward where Izou had returned to his division, every inch of him composed and elegant. “That was kind of terrifying.”

You laughed despite yourself. “Izou?”

“He knew exactly what you were doing before you even said it. And he somehow made it look like you were the one who got flirted with. You just stared at him.”

You gave him a withering look. “Thank you for the recap.”

Ace grinned though there was a tiny edge of defeat in it. “I’m just saying that didn’t make me feel better.”

“Was it meant to?”

“Yes! That’s the whole point.”

You blinked at him. “Flirting with Izou makes you feel better?”

“No. Just… I thought maybe you’d never tried to make him react like that but he’s still so calm about it!”

“Oh, sweetheart.”

“Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me right now,” he complained though his cheeks flushed faintly. He groaned, covering them. “This is exactly what I mean.”

You lightly pushed his shoulder. “You’re so you.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“It is.”

He dropped his hands from his face and sighed. “Okay, let’s go and find Thatch then.”

You almost protested because admittedly, you had no idea how Thatch would respond but you couldn’t see him giving Ace the reassurance he was clearly looking for. Then again, Ace looked genuinely excited so you couldn’t say no to him for long.

You wandered into the galley and Ace followed you in, instantly earning questioning looks from the fourth division. Breakfast still clung to the room in layers: warm yeast, fried oil, coffee, and the sharp bite of soap as the last pans were scrubbed clean. The crew moved around one another with practiced ease, shoulders turning, elbows lifting, knives and plates passing from hand to hand without a word.

With a casual smile, you meandered to your usual spot on the counter and hopped onto it. Thatch wasn’t here but you knew him. He could never stay away from his kitchen for too long.

“So…?” Ace asked.

You patted your spot. “This is where I sit so I’m not in the way,” you told him. “It stops me from being an occupational hazard.”

When Thatch first started tempting you to join him in the galley, you’d often caused chaos for the other members of his division. As large as the space was, they were a big and bustling division and you often found yourself sitting or standing in somebody’s path.

Now you had a small spot on the counter. Nobody stored anything there unless they were Thatch’s personal items.

Ace on the other hand seemed to be experiencing exactly what you once had.

“Thatch isn’t here though,” he said, ducking out of the path of plates being carried toward the sinks.

“Yet,” you said.

“Can’t we just go and find him?”

“Nope. Because I like sitting here and waiting.”

Ace grumbled something but quickly grew more interested in what was going on at the stoves. You watched him lean over pots, moving the lids as though they weren’t scalding hot, and curiously staring into them.

You chuckled quietly to yourself as the rest of the fourth division continued to bustle around you.

“Ace,” you called. “I doubt there’s anything worth eating in there.”

“I’m just curious,” he defended himself.

He lifted his head too quickly and cracked it against the line of hanging pots above him. The first pan swung hard into the next, and then the whole row seemed to surrender at once, metal shrieking against metal before several clattered down around his boots. Half the fourth division jumped back. Somebody swore. Ace stood in the middle of it all with one hand on his head, looking deeply betrayed by kitchenware.

“Ow…”

Maybe you should have gone to find Thatch to avoid any damage to his kitchen. Then again, you’d thought Ace might give you space like he had done to Izou.

You had no opportunity to change your plans though. Thatch appeared in the doorway before the last pan had finished spinning on the floor. His gaze moved from Ace, standing guilty in the wreckage, to the scattered pots, then finally to you on the counter. The unimpressed line of his mouth lasted only until his eyes softened.

“Hello,” he said. “You look like you’re waiting for somebody.”

You smiled in return. “I am. I wanted to see a certain handsome chef although, I may have accidentally brought a small hazard with me.”

“Hey!” Ace complained.

Thatch shrugged good-naturedly and stepped around the mess. “I’m sure he’ll pick up after himself,” he said, words holding clear orders. “I’ve organised for everything I need to be brought onto your ship. You have a galley in there, right?”

“I do,” you said though you already knew it would not be up to his standards. “I’m going to miss this though.”

“Don’t worry, you can sit and keep me company there too,” he said, lightly tapping your nose.

“I thought that was a given.”

He nodded affectionately. “Can you believe they’ve all been telling me that my food tastes bad when you’re not around? Ridiculous, right?”

You laughed. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had an opportunity to taste your food when I’m not around.”

“Funny how that happens.” He tapped the counter next to you. “I was planning on supervising more today so I could get everything prepared for our trip but now that you’re here, I should remind you why you visit.”

“I visit for you,” you corrected him. “But also, I would never say no to something you make for me.”

Thatch chuckled. “Just don’t feed it to Ace.”

“What?” Ace asked, almost dropping the pots again. “Why not?”

You both ignored the complaint.

Thatch shook his head to himself, smile lingering as he reached for a bowl somebody offered him without looking. The fourth division flowed easily around him, everybody knowing where he needed them to be before he asked.

How long had it been since you’d last sat on this counter so casually? It had been a while… ever since everything started to change.

The realisation caused a strange pang of sadness to sneak through the otherwise playful atmosphere.

Thatch caught your drop in mood and he frowned gently, leaned closer so his hip rested against the counter. “What would you like?” he asked.

“Whatever keeps you closest to me for the longest.”

He raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Alright. Let’s see what I can do.” But he stayed there for a second, offering you time, if you needed it.

You smiled gently at him. Ace bumped into something and you looked toward him, sighing in amusement.

“Why did he come with today?” Thatch asked.

“He says I flirt with him unfairly,” you admitted. “Apparently I’m much more forward with him than I am with you.”

“Is he right?”

“He gives me the best reactions.”

Thatch chuckled. “I don’t blame him. If you’d been looking at me like that from the start, I’d have made a fool of myself years ago.”

He moved to step past you, presumably reaching for the chopping board he stored right behind where you sat. You shifted forward and hooked one leg around his own and he stopped dead, frozen in place.

You adjusted yourself closer, trailing your fingers slowly down the front of his jacket. “So, have I been too subtle over the years then?”

The question alone was enough to make the kitchen turn quiet. Thatch’s hand hovered beside the cupboard door, fingers curled slightly as though he had forgotten why he’d reached there in the first place. His eyes lifted back to yours, searching your face with a carefulness that made your teasing confidence falter slightly.

He slowly rested his hand against your knee, gently brushing over the skin there. “I’m starting to suspect you came in here with a mission.”

“A small one,” you admitted.

“Is it working out for you?”

You smiled and walked your fingers higher, both arms now resting over his shoulders, leg still pressed tightly to his hip. “It would have worked no matter what. I just wanted to see you.”

He smiled but it didn’t quite fall as easily as it usually would. “So, what did you come in here for?”

Ace had gone quieter now. You could hear him stop moving as half the fourth division made very poor attempts to pretend they weren’t listening.

“I wanted to see if my flirting would even affect you.”

“Darling, in what world would your flirting not have an effect on me?”

You hummed. “You flirt with me all the time. I thought it was something you would be immune to.”

“That’s different.”

“Is it?”

The hand on your knee squeezed faintly. “Very much so.”

You smiled and moved your arms off his shoulders, lowering your leg so he had some space to leave if he wanted to.

“I think I like that,” you said.

There was a second where you swore he didn’t even breathe and then he chuckled softly and let go of your leg, reaching past you to get the chopping board with significantly more dignity than the situation called for.

“You must be careful playing with an old man’s heart like this,” he warned. “Too much excitement can’t be good for it.”

“If this is too much, imagine when you make good on your promise?”

“Which promise doll?”

You leaned in before he could move too far and he stopped to allow you, voice whisper-soft in his ear so nobody else could listen in. “You did promise to marry me one day, right?”

That froze him solid. His back straightened and you moved away to see a slight flush creeping over his ears. Maybe you had been entirely wrong. It seemed that your flirting did have an effect on Thatch.

A much bigger one than you’d thought.

Somebody was chopping a little too hard and you looked around to realise the division had fully given up pretending not to listen. Ace even, was no longer in the way, just sort of staring with an expression torn between confusion and relief.

Then he whistled. “At least I’m not the only one who gets flustered by her.”

The sound broke Thatch out of his momentary pause. He shook his head and looked over his shoulder towards his men who hurried to get back to work. Then he moved back to his usual place, setting the chopping board down.

“Trust me, kid,” he said. “That’s definitely not just you.”

Your heart gave a strange little ache at that.

Ace’s grin dimmed at the edges, not disappearing but turning into something far more relieved. “Good. So Izou’s the only one that’s immune.”

“Izou’s not immune to anything,” Thatch said. “If he was, I wouldn’t be hearing about him messing around in my room.”

You tilted your head. “You heard about that?”

Thatch offered you a deadpan look. “I think I’ve been told around thirty times now. One of which came from a very grumpy doctor who was quite unimpressed with my response to it.”

“Marco told you about a rumour?”

“Oh yes. Pops has definitely caused a very interesting trip…”

You hummed, not too happy about that concern. Though maybe, just maybe, Marco had managed to get Whitebeard to change his mind about the trip.

Unfortunately, your hopes were dashed later in the day when you boarded your ship to find Marco already there, sitting pointedly at the bow, as far from everyone as he could possibly get.

It was later than you usually left, but the sun still sat high enough to scatter gold across the water as your ship eased away from the Moby Dick. Ropes dropped, sails caught, and the familiar groan of the larger ship faded behind the smaller creaks beneath your feet. For years, leaving had meant watching that massive white hull shrink behind you while the silence of your own deck settled over your shoulders.

This time, the silence never came.

Ace huffed and fell into the seat across from you. “I’m much warmer,” he said.

Izou hummed but said nothing, his arm rested over your shoulder.

“That’s a losing battle, kid,” Thatch chuckled.

You smiled at the three of them. It was so strange to see them in this setting, one you’d always associated with just being your own. Even now as you set course, you found yourself thinking it was some kind of dream.

“This ship is very small,” Izou commented. “I’m surprised you fit on it even by yourself.”

“It gets smaller the longer you’re on it,” you agreed. “Especially when I’ve been on the Moby for long enough. It quickly turns claustrophobic.”

“I can imagine. Though there are some benefits to the tightness.”

Below you, something shifted in the waves and Thatch sighed. “That was definitely something of mine. I’ll be right back.”

You moved to follow him for his investigation when Izou’s arm tightened, adjusting you so there was no chance you might. “No,” he corrected, teasing. “I’d rather you stay here. We still need to discuss sleeping arrangements.”

“How about you share with Thatch?” Ace offered.

Izou gave him an unimpressed look. “And I suppose you’re imagining you’ll sleep on the deck then?”

“Well, no but…”

“You should keep track of all your stories so you can share them with the betting ring when we get back,” you commented to Ace. “I heard at least ten new ones today.”

“That’s because you’ve been flirting with everyone,” Izou said though there was no reprimand to his voice. “I imagine it might die down until we return which is unfortunate. It would be entertaining if Pops’ plan backfired.”

“I think he finds it funny,” Ace said. “It’s probably why he wanted this whole trip to begin with.”

You nodded. “I’m sure that’s one of them but it genuinely will be faster. I identified this island some time ago but I’ll explain it all when we get there.”

Izou pressed a small kiss to the top of your head. “He also imagines the crew might need a break from the topic in general. It has been rather intense for a while now. It would suit them to find something else to discuss.”

“Could also be a thing about fairness,” Ace said with a grin, looking at your spot against Izou’s side. “Balance things out, you know?”

“You have to be nicer to me first,” you teased and moved closer into Izou who hummed smugly.

“What? I’m nice to you!” Ace countered.

“No, you set me up earlier today. I told you the flirting wouldn’t work on Izou and you still insisted.”

“It’s not like you got rejected,” Ace countered. “I think that’s what ‘not working’ really is. Like if you tried it on Marco or – ”

“Don’t even think about it, yoi.”

Marco spoke and you startled slightly, not having expected it. You’d forgotten the ship was small enough for him to hear you, even from the bow. The speed of his response too made you frown; you’d thought he’d been ignoring your group the entire time.

He met your gaze with a subtle reprimand for something you hadn’t even done and despite yourself, you couldn’t help feeling bad.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” you retorted, sounding defensive, even to yourself.

Marco looked away. “Find a new topic.”

Ace blinked at him and then looked back at you and Izou. “I didn’t realise he was listening,” he said.

“Maybe if you discovered what whispering was?” Izou suggested. “It does make it considerably easier to talk about someone.”

“I wasn’t talking about him that much. I was just saying he’s definitely immune.”

“Does it even matter if so?”

“Well, no but…”

Thatch emerged from the narrow stairwell before Ace could continue having all the self-preservation of a moth around candles. He shook his head in disappointment. “I’m realising I might have oversupplied. You said your ship had a kitchen.”

“It does.”

“No, it doesn’t. You have a cupboard with a stove.”

Ace blinked in genuine concern. “Wait, really? Can you still cook?”

Thatch stared at him as though personally wounded. “Can I still cook? Boy, I’ve made banquets with nothing more than a barrel to work on. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have standards.”

“Now you have a stove and a counter,” you pointed out.

“One counter. And my board is bigger than it.”

Ace laughed. “Guess there’s nowhere for you to sit then,” he said. “Probably the actual problem, right?”

You laughed and the sound loosened the strange knot in your chest. Your head drooped slightly and you forced it back up. It had been a busy day but there was no chance you were allowing yourself to sleep now.

“You can rest,” Izou suggested. “If you’re tired.”

“No, I’ll be fine,” you reassured. “It’s a different type of tired. Sleep won’t do much for it anyway.”

Ace frowned at you in concern. “Are you alright?”

“I’ll feel better once we get this done,” you reassured, hoping he wouldn’t ask what this was just yet.

Thankfully, he nodded thoughtfully and leaned back against the opposite bench with a smile. “Right, that’s why we came with. To help it go faster so you feel better.”

“Yes,” you said softly. “That’s the idea.”

Thatch smiled faintly and rubbed a hand over Ace’s hair as he passed. Ace swatted at him half-heartedly but the grin on his face grew bigger.

“It’ll take some time to get that… storeroom in functioning order,” he said. “Izou, I have a question about the wine down there. I didn’t see that on the Moby.”

Izou’s mouth curved upward. “Obviously. I hardly leave the best pieces of my collection in the public eye. I certainly won’t abandon them while I travel.”

You smiled at him. “I don’t think anybody would dare touch something that’s yours.”

“I’m not so certain of that. Ace makes a frighteningly frequent habit of doing so.”

You leaned closer, smiling softly at the thought. “I do like being something you’re careful with.”

For a second, Izou said nothing. His gaze lowered to you, unreadable save for the slight tightening of his arm around your shoulders.

“You are not something,” he corrected.

“No?”

“No.” His thumb brushed once over your arm, slow and deliberate. “You are far more than that.”

“See,” Thatch said to Ace. “He’s affected by it. Just not in the same way.”

Ace blinked. “What?”

Izou looked at the other commander and then at you and rolled his eyes affectionately. “Is that truly what you’ve been concerning yourself with the whole morning?”

“I just said it’s not fair that I get targeted by all her flirting,” Ace defended himself. “Because when she does that, I don’t know how to respond. But you always do. Like you… wait, was that you getting flustered?”

“No.”

“Yes,” Thatch said immediately.

Izou gave the chef a look that would have killed a weaker man but he shrugged it off with a chuckle.

“Don’t complain to me because you’re readable.”

“I disagree.”

You laughed softly. “Sorry but you are.”

“Hush. Aren’t you tired?”

You smiled and leaned your weight more into him. You loved the feeling of his kimono against your skin. “I am but I like seeing you get affected every now and then.”

“You’re lucky I like you as much as I do,” he said, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Because otherwise you would have to find yourself a far noisier pillow.”

“You’re benevolent,” you hummed.

“No, I’m just far too fond of having you at my side.”

Ace leaned on the table. “Okay but like that. How am I even meant to compete with that?”

“You aren’t,” Izou said.

“You can try?” you offered.

Ace perked up immediately. “Alright. Uh. You look… nice when you’re on your ship.”

Thatch paused on his way below deck. “That was painful.”

“I panicked!”

Izou looked at him for a moment, expression unreadable, before he sighed. “That’s because you’re trying to sound like me,” he said. “Don’t. She already has me.”

Ace blinked at him. “Is that advice?”

“If you wish for it to be.”

You laughed and sat up a bit straighter. “Ace,” you said. “I don’t need a thousand pretty words from you, okay? I just need you to keep being you. Remember I said earlier that that’s a compliment?”

“Yeah,” he said, ears faintly red. “I’m better at this when they’re not right there making me look bad.”

“I’m not comparing you to anybody,” you said. “That much I can promise you.”

Ace’s ears twinged red. “Thanks. You do look nice though.”

That caught you far more than the first attempt and you smiled. “Thank you. It’s because I’m happy.”

By the time evening began to spread gold across the water, the Moby Dick had become a distant silhouette behind you. The noise of her crew faded into memory, replaced by smaller sounds that belonged to your ship alone: a knife tapping steadily against a board below deck, the soft complaint of rope against wood, Ace’s voice rising and falling somewhere beneath your feet as he argued with Izou about beds.

It should have felt strange.

It did, in a way. But not unpleasantly.

You climbed the narrow stairs toward the deck and found Marco standing near the bow. He stood where the last of the sunlight caught against his shoulders and left the rest of him shadowed, gaze fixed on the water as though distance from the others was something he could create by staring hard enough.

You hesitated for a second and then sighed, making your way over to stand next to him and watch the ocean too.

He didn’t move away. You didn’t either. For a while, you stood there, watching the waves lap against the sides of your ship as the open ocean called you further.

“About before,” you defended yourself, voice far too loud in the quiet. “I wasn’t planning anything. I wouldn’t… even if you didn’t hate me.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, clearly unimpressed with your defence. “I don’t hate you.”

“Sure.”

“I don’t,” he said. “I’ve given up trying to make sense of it.”

“Is it really a problem?”

He turned around to look past you, toward the stairwell. “Have you chosen where you’re sleeping tonight?”

You followed his gaze before you could stop yourself. No, you hadn’t. It really should have been a practical question, especially with such a small ship. One room had a double bed, the other a bunk and a hammock that Thatch had the foresight to bring with and hang in there.

There should have been a simple answer and yet you had a feeling Marco wasn’t asking about logistics alone.

“No,” you said. “Not yet.”

“And I thought you had an obvious answer in mind. Izou certainly claims it that way.”

You huffed though there wasn’t much bite to it. “Why are you asking? Are you looking for something to be irritated about?”

Marco’s mouth pressed into a thin line. You regretted the snap even as it left your mouth. Why couldn’t you just do this. What was it that caused even a simple conversation to turn into something shorter.

But Marco didn’t give you a familiar response.

“Maybe.”

You paused, glancing at him in confusion. “Maybe?”

He shrugged but didn’t respond more. The wind pulled loose strands of hair across his face but he didn’t push them away. He just stared at the light emanating from the cabin.

You turned back to the sea and for a few breaths, neither of you spoke.

“I’m going to let them decide,” you said. “They’ll work it out. Which probably means Izou will be sharing the room with me because Ace is a little scared of him.”

Marco’s mouth twitched slightly. A ghost of amusement that disappeared the second you noticed it.

Below deck, Ace’s voice rose in protest about something, immediately followed by Thatch’s laughter and Izou’s smooth reply. The sound carried through the boards if not the words and you smiled at it.

 Marco’s gaze fell to it and he got that familiar expression again. Almost annoyed.

He’d had it for most of the afternoon. You’d seen it flick toward Ace when he laughed at Izou’s comments, watched it turn on Thatch when Ace fell asleep with his head on your lap. It was as though he was expecting something to go wrong and then getting frustrated when it didn’t.

“You know,” you said carefully. “None of them are upset with each other, right? They’re not fighting.”

Marco looked away. “Give it time.”

“That’s grim.”

“It’s realistic?”

“Is it?” You turned now, leaning your hip against the railing as you stared at him. “Or is it just what you think is going to happen?”

He didn’t answer. You sighed softly and breathed out. It was an understandable concern and you knew you should talk it through with the other three soon. At some point.

“I know you’re not trying to hurt them.”

Your head snapped to him immediately. Marco looked as irritated by his own words as you were surprised to hear them.

“You know?” you repeated.

“Yes,” he said. “I know you’re not waking up every morning planning on making a mess of things.”

You blinked. That was… not quite a kindness but it was close enough. After everything he’d said to you in the past, it was strange. You breathed out, considering it.

“High praise.”

“It wasn’t praise,” he corrected.

“Right.”

His shoulders shifted with a quiet breath. “But good intentions don’t stop people from getting hurt.”

You looked at him properly now, considering his expression caught in the light. “Is that really what you’re worried about?”

“I’m not worried anymore.”

“Marco.”

His name sounded softer than you’d meant for it to and he immediately looked at you, for once, annoyance not covering everything beneath it. You could see the exhaustion etched into the lines of his face; waiting for something you couldn’t explain.

“I don’t understand what you’re doing,” he finally said.

“With them?”

“With any of us.”

You swallowed. The answer hung on your tongue, ready to come forward but fear closed through you as you considered it. Could you really tell him? Or would it turn into something worse because it had taken you so long to do so.

“Do you know what you sounded like?” he asked before you could finish your internal debate. “When the only time you’re willing to seek me out to speak to me is to ask how I can die?”

The memories of that conversation on the street came back far too quickly. You hadn’t meant it that way, truly, but the guilt still curled deep in your chest.

“I was genuinely worried,” you said. “I’ve always seen you as immortal.”

“Far from it.”

You folded your arms, more to hold yourself still than to defend against the cold. That hadn’t been the answer you wanted. And yet it was all you had. You didn’t know what to do with him when he was like this.

So you went back the conversation from before. “I’m not choosing where to sleep because I don’t want it to feel like a choice.”

Marco sighed. “You’ll have to choose eventually.”

“Maybe.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“No,” you admitted. “It isn’t.”

Then you heard a door open from downstairs and Ace’s voice carried onto the deck, calling your name in complaint.

“We’re trying to decide beds but Izou’s being unfair!”

“Practical,” Izou corrected from somewhere behind him. “It’s not as though you haven’t proven an ability to sleep anywhere before.”

“That doesn’t mean I should sleep in the storage room!”

“There’s space enough next to the onion sack.”

You laughed quietly despite yourself. “Of course.”

Marco stepped back from you immediately, as though he’d been doing something far worse than talking to you. You glanced at him but turned right as Ace appeared at the top of the deck, looking between the two of you.

“Oh, were you fighting?”

“No,” you said.

Ace blinked and then frowned. “Wait, really?”

Marco gave him a flat look. “Would you like us to start?”

Ace shrugged. “Nope. Could you come help? I think Thatch is trying to set up a hammock in the kitchen and it’s not going to work. Plus you know Izou will only listen to you.”

“That’s not true,” Izou called. “Although I do think Thatch’s attempts at nobility will result in a concussion and damaged furniture.”

“They’re not attempts at nobility,” Thatch’s voice defended. “I just said I wouldn’t mind.”

You sighed, already moving toward the stairs. “I do. You’re not sleeping in the kitchen.”

Ace nodded thoughtfully and bolted down the stairs. You stepped down into the warmer light spilling from below, then paused and glanced back at Marco who was still standing by the railing.

“Coming?” you asked.

His eyes met yours, the cabin light catching briefly in them.

Something unreadable moved across his face and disappeared before you could recognise it. Then he sighed and followed.

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

[theonewhoseinlovewithfictionals]

PRANK GONE WRONG (Well, not actually. 😉)

"I don't have the money to pay for the mortgage this month."

Setting: Modern AU

Marco x Reader

>Marco<

You're sitting in your desk. Staring at your screen. You have a job. Well, let's say 'pretend job'. Clock in, clock out without thinking what you are going to do tomorrow, deadline or whatsoever.

Ever since Marco became your boyfriend, he wanted you stop working and be just home. But you, the independent one made your point and here you are, complying with your compromise agreement...at least that's what's on the surface.

Of course, your boyfriend is not just an employee. For goodness sake, he's the CEO of their family corporation. So, he controlled everything. You exactly knew why no one is handling you papers.

You exhaled and pulled out your phone then a tiktok prank came across in your fyp. You raised your eyebrow. Oh, this is a good one. Oh and yeah, you live in this condo, by the way - a high end one - newly purchased on the luxury avenue.

You smiled and got up. You hummed your way to his office and knocked. A deep 'come in' voice that made your stomach flutter.

You twisted the doorknob and his majesty was sitting in his chair, "yoi." He smiled.

"I need to say something to you." You said in a very concerning way. Marco's face turned serious.

"What is it? Is there a problem, sweetheart?" He sit up and straight, "come here."

As you stepped, you noticed that he's not the only one in the room. You startled, "Mr. Newgate, I didn't expect that you'd be here."

"Oh dear, please call me Pops. You're going to be part of my family soon..." he laughed.

You blushed, "Umm, s-sure...Pops."

"So, what is it you're going to say?" You turned into Marco. Oh right the prank! You almost forgot because of Mr. Newgate's presence.

"Uhm, is it okay...?"

"It's Pops, I'm sure he's concerned too and family." He smiled as he played his pen.

Oh no, "o...kay. I cannotpaythe mortage this month." You said in a hurry.

Marco looked puzzled, "come again, sweetheart?" He repositioned himself in his ergo chair. You pretty sure he heard it the first time.

"I said, i cannot pay my share to the mortgage this month." I said in nervous but this time slowly. You wanted to video this entire moment but best if not and instead stored in your precious memory.

Silence engulfed the room.

"What? What's that supposed to mean, Marco? You letting READER PAY?" Mr. Newgate voice rise up. Oh shit. You felt his anger.

I was about to say it was a prank but Marco defended, "No, Pops, why would I?" Marco's face puzzled. You suddenly felt guilty for putting Marco in this place but you also realized something, making you smile a little.

You didn't just took the most sought bachelor in the market. And has a loving family. The first time Marco introduced you, his siblings were overjoyed and every now and then they checked you (Marco's little jealous. They treated you waaaay more like a sibling than him.)

"I thought I raised you better-" oh right, back to reality.

"IT'S A PRANK!" You finally said it out loud and for sure, the whole floor heard it too, "hehe sorry, Marco doesn't let me pay for anything. In fact, he insisted me to take his card but I rejected. Sorry. I wasn't planning it to go south."

"Jesus Christ, i thought it was real." Mr. Newgate relaxes on the sofa.

"Sorry but I do share. I mean, in my own way, not money...but other stuff." You smiled. You looked at Marco and now you wished you didn't. His smile on the word other stuff meant entirely different for him. You gulped.

"You shouldn't be doing anything, be it household. I'm sure Marco can hire someone." He waved his hand in dismissal.

Marco smiled, "Reader fired them all. Reader doesn't want anyone cooking for me. That's how Reader gets jealous." He seat now is in side position while looking at both of you. Or rather, you.

"That's not what I--"

"I believe you're going to see uncle Roger, yeah?" Marco bolted up and fixed his coat. Spreading the scent of his perfume. Oh dear god. Mr. Newgate stood up, grunting. You step back to give way. You nodded your head. Marco passes by and smirking. Oh boy, you do know what kind of trouble you are in.

"It's nice seeing you both." Mr. Newgate smiled and headed to the elevator. You're about to return to your seat but Marco caught your wrist.

"Hey, (Secretary's name), get everyone sent to an early lunch."

"Yes sir." And in a blink of an the employees were gone like there were some kind of apocalypse coming.

Marco shut the door. The blue tie that matches his eye color was gone, "i believe you know what kind of in predicament are you, Reader?" He walked behind you. He covered your mouth with his tie, "you almost get me in trouble with Pops earlier for your prank."

You mumbled, "I didn't mean it to be that way." You said in a convincing tone.

He chuckled, "oh I know. I am collecting the other stuff as your shared payment in our sweet loving home. Your payment is due, Reader." He kisses your neck and proceeds to torturing you~

Next up: Thatch 😉