Uncaught Bluff

by Lothirielswan

Summary:

You've always played the hand you were dealt: fighting to survive Enies Lobby, breaking free from Impel Down, and holding tight to a dream that died with the Former Captain of the Spade Pirates. Ace was more than fire and freedom. He was your wild card, your unexpected chance at something real. And when the sea took him, it felt like the game ended.

But fate isn't done shuffling.

You find yourself aboard a new ship, under the quiet command of Trafalgar Law, the enigmatic Captain of the Heart Pirates. He's calculated where Ace was reckless, guarded where Ace was open, but somehow, you see yourself reflected in him... another player holding too much pain behind a careful face.

What begins as survival turns into something riskier: trust, healing, and the slow, staggering possibility of love.

Now, the cards are on the table.

You've already lost your ace.

But maybe — just maybe — you're holding a heart worth playing for.

[Spoiler Warnings will be included before each Chapter (if applicable). Any chapters that include content from future One Piece Arcs will be stated prior.]

Chapter 1: Musou: Rebirth Flame!

Summary:

Potential Spoilers: Marineford Arc

His gravesite was quiet. Jasmine permeated the air, flaring your nostrils. The scent was clean. Peaceful. It didn't suit him at all. 

Waves thrashed against the cliffside, flinging their foamy outrage at the walls. The sunset burned them a familiar orange. You tasted salt on your tongue, but knew it wasn't from the seaspray.

You crouched before one of the headstones. The dark fabric of your “borrowed” Impel Down officer uniform brushed against the grass. Three saucers and a bottle of sake were set before the grave.

“We could use your help,” said Marco.

You tore your gaze away from the headstone. The breeze blew across your face, leaving cool trails from tears along your cheeks. 

Marco’s steps were heavy as he approached you. He nearly staggered under his own weight. You glanced away. He was still recovering from his injuries at Marineford. 

“We’re going after Teech,” said Marco. “He started all of this. He’s still walking free after Thatch —”

You snorted. You seated yourself next to the headstone on the grass. The orange hat on the stone’s peak was tilting; you righted it with your finger. “How much of a difference will the Whitebeard Pirates’ bookkeeper make, Marco?”

Marco’s eyes narrowed. The sunset stained his skin a bloody red. “You’re more than that, and you know it. You helped him hunt down Teech. I thought you would’ve wanted to finish him.”

“I do.”

“Then why aren't you getting up?”

You glanced at the headstone. It feels so wrong. To stand, to go on adventures, to smile — all without you.

“I’m tired,” you said. You propped up your chin with your hand. “And I’m done. With everything. People, mainly.”

“You think he would’ve wanted you to fight?” said Marco.

You glanced back at the headstone. Instead of concrete, you pictured blushing freckles and a lopsided smile. 

“Maybe,” you admitted. “But what can I do? I’ve seen how powerful logia users are. I can sneak past Teech, but what then? I’ll only get in your way out there.”

You recalled how flames burst across his body, burning bullets, knives slicing through fire and nothing else. He seemed unstoppable then. 

“Y’know, when you showed up wearing that over a year ago,” Marco gestured at your dark uniform, “I thought you’d kill us all in our sleep.”

You tickled the strands of grass before the headstone. “What did he think?” 

Marco rolled his eyes. “He thought you were pretty. And strong. And sad.” 

Your fingers froze. An icy sickness settled in your heart. There was too much pretty and sad to go around.

You stood and brushed flecks of dirt from your uniform. You brushed off the headstone, too. The texture raked against the tips of your nails.

“You are Whitebeard’s only daughter. Were.” Marco frowned. “But you’re still our sister. Fight with us. Let’s earn some dignity back from that mess.”

You stopped before Marco. The wind whispered in the flaps of your coat, tossing Marco’s clothes around him like vibrant blue flames. 

Of course you wanted to annihilate Teech. Your fingers twitched towards your ice picks when he crossed your mind. You had a carnal desire for his suffering, his demise. But you had already lost one dream. To hope for another one, and to have it crushed before your eyes again…

You buried your face in Marco’s chest before he could spot the fresh round of tears. “I’m sorry. I can't. Not yet.”

Marco pulled you into a soft embrace. His chin rested atop your head as he patted your back.

“Where will you go, then?” he murmured.

You shook your head. A fruity, tropical cologne clung to Marco’s clothes; you had bought it for him last Christmas. It was a wonder you could still smell it after the bandages and the blood and the flames…

“I don't know,” you said. Somewhere far away from potential, soul-sucking dreams that will wreck me. “An empty island with no people would be ideal. Far away from anything.”

Marco stiffened. “Maybe…try a small town first?”

Your nose wrinkled. “No offense, but I think I need to be away from all male lifeforms for the foreseeable future.”

“Maybe an island of only women is a way to go?” Marco offered. 

“Absolutely not! That’s even worse!”

You couldn't see Marco, but you could hear in his voice that he was making his done-with-the-sea’s-bullshit face. “Humor me.” 

You pulled back. Marco ruffled your hair. “Stay in touch-yoi.”

“Mmm. Don't die, extreme water sport.”

Marco rolled his eyes. A smile tugged at his lips. “I’m not gonna miss that.”

Marco glanced over your head at the graves. He waved. “I’ll be back again with daisies and sunflowers. Pops liked them, and that flaming smartass always smells.”

“Be nice!” you gave Marco a light shove. The familiar banter made you want to laugh and cry at the same time.

Marco’s gaze softened. “I’ll be back soon-yoi.”

You nodded as if you could answer for the headstone. Marco ruffled your hair and turned away. He made his way further down the cliff, dropping out of sight.

You returned to the headstone. You sighed in the silence. It didn't hold the same firecracker-spitting electricity like it used to when you two were alone together.

“I’m afraid to leave you alone.” your voice quivered. “Whenever I do, you always light something on fire. It’s kind of cute.”

That wouldn't be much of an issue anymore. That dream was lost forever. 

Your fingers drifted along the edge of the rough stone, but you pictured silky strands of dark hair instead. 

You leaned towards the grave. Your voice was so low you nearly mouthed the words. “Do you still think about that kiss, wherever you are…? Ace?”

No one answered. Silence stung, save the moaning waves below. 

Your head drooped as the last scarlet remnants of the sunset faded. Violet gloves of twilight clutched at the sky. 

Nothing gave away his approach. There was no snapping twig or bent blade of grass. But you felt his presence before he spoke.

“Y/N-ya, have you decided where you want to go?”

Notes:

Ghost Ace: Damn right I do, Babe.

Brook: YO-HO-HO-HO!!

Luffy: ACE!!!

Perona: I don't think that's one of mine...

Author: Hi Awesome People!! Thank you so much for reading this story! One Piece is very dear to me, and this is my first time writing an x-reader. I'm so excited to embark on this journey with you!!

Robin: So...why is Ace haunting the author's note?

Franky: I bet it's cause he stood in the fire in a video game. Gets me every time.

Usopp: I don't think that's a plausible reason for death...

Author: Keep up your awesomeness!!

Chapter 2: Act I: Carte Blanche

Carte Blanche;

A hand with no court cards.

 

Chapter 3: Pistol Kiss!

Summary:

Potential Spoilers: Marineford Arc; Time Skip Interlude

— M A R I N E F O R D —

Shattered ice shards crunched under your feet. Each breath was one of throat-numbing cold, shrapnel dust, or gasping heat.

You scrambled over the crumbled chunk of a building. Your eyes wildly darted about, searching for an orange hat or a dark head of hair —

A smear of white and blue shifted out of the corner of your eye. Duck! 

A boa of pink feathers fluttered, followed by a too-amused snicker. Run!

Methodical tremors, like footsteps, rocked the ground you stumbled over. A primal growl crawled across your skin. Hide!

You skittered from one poorly-massed pile of debris to another. Heavy dust thickened the air, burning your eyes (or was it smoke? The air tasted so awful, you couldn't tell).

You gripped your ice picks with clenched fists. Tremors never rocked your fingers this much when you wielded them with Ace; you could always rely on him to catch the enemy’s attention or give them a good flaming punch to the face. But as you skidded across the dirt-speckled ice, there wasn't an ally in sight. 

Ice . It added an extra seething layer of discomfort. Your imagination liked to wander in cold climates, picturing a head of green hair, poised with a dripping needle and gentle smile that made your stomach lurch. Ace’s flames always charred those uncomfortable memories before they surfaced. You missed the fiery heat. 

One explosion hit too close. Heat burned your side. The world tilted.

“Room!”

The icy earth was at your back. A firm arm held you up, away from its chilling kiss. Steel gray eyes bore into yours.

Flames billowed yards away from where you once stood. Gold glinted across his jawline from the blaze. 

You had relived this moment a few times now. Warmth bloomed in your cheeks as your eyes trickled over him, yet ice seeped across your veins from his cold gaze. Something in your chest jumped. Chopped, dark hair framed his face. A thumb’s width of scrubble dripped down his chin. Dark lines of tattoos licked his skin along his collarbone, sinking down beneath his hoodie. When you inhaled in his arms, fresh spearmint tickled your nose.

He’s the most attractive man I’ve ever seen.

The rapid high in your chest clenched. Guilt racked your core. You quickly blamed the dumb thought on how similar he looked to Ace. That was who you were here for. You weren't leaving without Ace, execution be damned. 

“Thank you.” You looked down. Your voice was too high pitched for your liking (including the small catch you refused to acknowledge).

He pulled you up with him. At full height, he towered over you. He might’ve even been taller than Ace, which was a feat in itself. 

You knew his name. Everyone did; he was one of the newly nicknamed “Worst Generation.”

Trafalgar D. Law.

Law wasn't one to stand idle. He grabbed your wrist. You plunged forward as he took off in one direction. You struggled to keep up with his long legs (stop blushing!).

“Have you seen Ace —?”

“Keep moving.” Law ducked, returning to your height as something blurred over your heads. It slammed into the ice, and glittering shards sailed everywhere.

Both of you kept running. Your ribs ached from the constant motion. 

The battle hadn't let up at all. If you listened, some shouts sounded familiar. Some screams, too. You were probably better off tuning it all out, but you still strained to hear a hearty laugh or the roar of flames.

A shadow fell over you. You yanked on your hand, propelling Law down to your height this time. Water sailed over you, splashing into the face of a nearby Marine. He flew backwards.

You glanced up at your new companion as you continued running. He’s the Surgeon of Death, right? Doesn't that make him a doctor, technically? Titles are so confusing.

“Dr. Trafalgar?” 

Steel eyes shot to you. The tips of Law’s ears burnt red, probably from the cold.

“Where are we going?” you asked.

“Away from the fighting,” he said. 

You trampled to a stop. Law stumbled next to you, hand still latched around your wrist. An embarrassing squeak escaped you as you bumped into him.

“But Ace is somewhere in that mess!” You jammed your finger behind you. An explosion boomed in the distance.

Law panted as you stood still, eyes narrowed as he looked between you and the chaos. 

“Ever heard of self-preservation?” said Law.

“Come on! You’re a doctor, aren't you? Go help some potential patients! This way!” You took a step back — or tried to. When you pulled on Law’s wrist, he wouldn't budge. He was far stronger than the thin hoodie and skinny jeans let on.

“It’s a mess everywhere! It’s not worth sacrificing yourself!” said Law. 

“All of my brothers are out there doing the same thing!” you snapped. “It’s not fair! Why should I be exempt? Why should they be alone —?”

The ground trembled. Warm air blasted your cheeks. The dust-ridden air was thrown backward, clearing the battlefield. 

Ace.

You wriggled your wrist from Law’s grip and sprinted for him.

“Ace!”

Luffy was close to him, unmoving on the ground. The tasseled pauldrons of a fleet admiral glistened in the sun. 

Ace threw himself forward. 

You willed your feet to move faster, screamed his name, but it was as if you were trapped in the pane of a silent film.

Ace shielded Luffy’s body with his own. A melted fist of magma gurgled through his chest.

Ace’s body slumped to the earth, landing with a smack that haunted your ears —

~*~

“— Oi! Y/N!” Luffy leaned forward, his face filling your vision.

The wildlife of Maiden Island chippered around you. It was Luffy’s final day of recovery; he was leaving to train himself for the New World. 

Luffy wasn't bound by blood to Ace, but the two brothers could have easily been mistaken. It was their mannerisms; the full-toothed smiles and hearty laughs, their ravenous appetites, their kind hearts —

I can't do this.

You swallowed and nodded. “Good luck with your training. I hope you reunite with your crew soon.”

Luffy’s head tilted to the side, searching your face. You had decided to stay at his side following the events of Marineford. Keep Ace’s younger brother safe; a doomed task, but an admirable one. Certainly something Ace would’ve wanted. But every time you looked at Luffy, the smack of Ace’s body against the ground racked your ears. 

You tried to smile. Your face ached. 

Thankfully, Luffy seemed to buy it. He grinned back at you. “You should come with us in two years! To the New World!”

“I’ll try my best.”

Law’s eyes were daggers in your back, awaiting your next move. You ignored him. It wasn't his business; he hardly knew you. The most interaction the two of you had since Marineford was when you asked about Luffy’s treatment, and silently standing outside together on his ship. Perhaps it was your overwhelmed nerves, making something out of nothing.

Luffy’s attention traveled elsewhere. The soft clack of getas signaled Jimbei’s approach.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Jimbei bowed his head low to you. “Ace was an honorable man. He spoke of you and Luffy often.”

You stiffened. You managed a sharp nod. “Thank you.”

A soft sigh came from nearby. “Too many good men in one family.”

Your gaze drifted to Boa Hancock. She watched Luffy with heart-shaped pupils as he shoved an entire slab of meat in his mouth.

“I wish I could convince Luffy to stay,” Hancock wiped her eyes.

“You could try a dress made of meat.” you mumbled.

Hancock gasped. She looked at you, eyes wide, hands cupping her cheeks with over-implied cuteness. It was as if she'd noticed you for the first time. 

“That’s a wonderful idea!”

You shrugged and turned away. You expected the conversation to be over. You were very wrong. 

In an instant, Hancock was before you, clasping your hands. “Y/N, was it? What else? What can I do?”

“U-um…” You had to admit, Boa Hancock was beautiful. The word didn't do her justice. Just staring blankly into her dark, starry-sky eyes made your stomach do flips. It was hard to come up with food-themed traps for Luffy with her closeness.

“I don't know…rubbing yourself with pineapple? Actually, no; that’ll just make you super sticky. Oats are hydrating for the skin, and delicious,” you said. “Honey masks, maybe…?”

Hancock nodded along, eagerly leaning in. “Yes, yes! And?”

“You could try an avocado mask with a bowl of chips conveniently nearby, I guess…? Cucumbers for your eyes?”

Without warning, Boa Hancock gripped your shoulders. Her face grew serious. “Y/N, Luffy’s happiness is of utmost importance to me. As someone who knew his family, and as a fellow woman…would you be my advisor?” 

You blinked a few times. You were getting lost in her eyes again. “Huh? You want me to join your crew?”

“Yes! Please say yes!” Hancock batted her long eyelashes. “I need your wisdom at my side during this tumultuous time for Luffy! I need to support him. He’s been through so much!”

Behind Hancock, Luffy was in a dramatic stand down against a squirrel for a remaining chunk of ham. The squirrel’s tail bristled at Luffy as it squeaked, probably shouting obscenities in its own language. Luffy simply laughed and tried to pet him. 

Hancock’s starry eyes pleaded with you. You looked away and squeezed the bridge of your nose. You didn't know much about Hancock; she was a Warlord of the Sea, so she was powerful. Some would argue it was a step down from being part of an Emperor’s crew.

It’s probably the safest option I’ll have. It’s either join her…or face Cipher Pol myself.

“Okay.”

Notes:

Author: Hi Awesome People!! Thank you for all of the love and support you've showed this story! Here's a little more :)

Eustass Kid: Stoner.

Trafalgar D. Law: There aren't enough drugs and middle fingers in the world to deal with you, Eustass.

Eustass Kid: Your eyeliner sucks!!!!

Trafalgar D. Law: YOUR eyeliner sucks!! And this isn't eyeliner, it's fatigue lines from dealing with idiots!

Luffy: I thought that was just your face

Author: More to come soon!! Keep up your awesomeness!

Chapter 4: Buzz Cut Mochi!

Summary:

Potential Spoilers: Punk Hazard Arc, Whole Cake Island Arc

— O N E   M O N T H   L A T E R —

Pelicans flew circles across the endless blue sky. You had a perfect view of the harbor from the small cafe, watching the birds dip down and try to hackle fish from the waves. You sipped your favorite drink quietly as you skimmed the newspaper before you.

Hancock sighed behind your gray barrier. “I miss Luffy already…he’s already out of food by now…I must send him more!”

“You sent him another package last night,” you reminded her.

“You’re right. He’s lonely! I must see him —”

“You visited last week.”

Hancock moaned. The wrought-iron table rattled as she dramatically cast herself upon it.

You lowered your newspaper, glancing at the Snake Princess. One comment about a meat dress and you had suddenly become her new best friend. And aside from the consistent fawning over Luffy, you had grown to respect Hancock.

The capital around you, Amazon Lily, seemed content enough. While the economy wasn't eccentric, there was always enough of whatever was needed. And, more importantly, the island was almost entirely self-sufficient; Hancock didn't receive many exported goods from the Navy. There were hardly any disturbances to their peaceful way of life (random Luffys raining from the sky aside), and much of that was due to Hancock’s influence. 

You delicately folded the newspaper and set it to the side. A stack of mail was in the empty seat next to you. You began to sift through, slicing through envelopes with a letter opener. 

“Was Luffy a lot like him? Ace, I mean,” said Hancock.

You winced. With one careless swipe, the letter opener sliced your finger. A pearl of red glistened on your fingertip. 

You sucked on the tip of your index finger. Rust and salt scraped against your tongue. Hancock held a napkin aloft.

You thanked her quietly and wrapped it around your finger. 

“Yes, he was.” Blood still laced your mouth as you spoke. 

Hancock leaned forward. “How so?”

You kept your eyes on the mail, yet you completely ignored who was the sender and who the letters were meant for. 

“Strong,” you finally whispered. “And big smiles.” 

Somehow, you managed to keep the gutted envelopes in one pile and important Marine notices in the other. Hancock’s eyes were on your face, burning like matchsticks. “Do you miss traveling with him?”

Ace’s smile wafted to the center of your mind. Sparks of warmth tingled under your skin — only to be chased away by an icy hollowness. 

“Yes.” You swallowed. “Always.”

Your fingers froze as soon as you read your name on one of the envelopes. Your brow furrowed.

“Have you heard from the rest of Whitebeard’s crew?” said Hancock.

You set down the letter. Your back straightened as you addressed the Warlord seated across from you. “Anything I hear or see, I report to you. I promise that vow has not been broken, Hancock.”

Hancock snorted. “I know that!”

“Then why are you asking so many questions?”

Hancock’s brows knitted together. “Because you’re my friend, and you listen to me. But you’ve hardly shared anything since you’ve been here…how can I return the favor?” 

“I like listening to you,” you admitted. “I’ll admit, the Luffy rants are a little heavy, but…I need distractions, Hancock. I don't want to…”

“Feel?” Hancock replied. 

You made a face. You were going to say, I don't want to think about it, but Hancock’s was more accurate. “I appreciate the concern. But I’m doing all right.”

Hancock’s face puckered. Her snake, Salome, slithered along the back of her chair to hover over her shoulder. He seemed to eye you with the same doubt. 

“Did you look at the back of the newspaper?” said Hancock casually.

“No. Why?”

“Your secret admirer was there.”

“What?”

You set the letter addressed to you aside and returned to the newspaper. You unfolded it, smoothing the crease along a familiar scrubble. Steel gray eyes glared up at you.

“Trafalgar D. Law’s a Warlord now.” Hancock propped her chin up on her hand.

You glanced through the article, eyes widening. He gave one hundred hearts of pirates to the Navy…how is that possible?

You glanced up from Law’s creased face. “He’s not my secret admirer!”

Hancock’s full, perfect lips quirked upwards. “Really? You seem quite defensive about it. I wonder…”

“Tch!” You clicked your tongue, shoving the newspaper away (with Law’s photo purposefully facing down, out of sight). Your attention returned to the letter addressed to you. There was no mention of the sender; only your name. The pink envelope it was stored in made your stomach recoil.

Maybe it's not them. It's a coincidence. They’d probably forget about me, right?

Hancock followed your gaze to the letter.

“What’s that?”

“It’s for me.”

“Okay…” Hancock squinted at your face. “Aren't you going to open it?”

You were very tempted to hide it with Law’s photo. You poked the edge of the envelope with the letter opener. “I guess so…”

With a defeated sigh, you sliced it open. Familiar, light-pink parchment paper crinkled beneath your fingers. You unfolded the letter and scanned it.

“...What is it?” said Hancock.

Your eyes flashed to your captain. Perhaps the whole reporting-everything-to-Hancock would be difficult. But personal affairs didn't count, right?

“It's nothing.” You refolded the letter and set it down.

Hancock pouted. “Y/N, we’re friends, aren't we?”

“We are. It's not a big deal.” You forced a shrug. “It’s just a marriage proposal.”

“...What?”

Hancock’s outstretched hand beckoned across the table. “Let me see. I get these all the time.” 

Your eyes widened. “It’s — it’s more complicated than that.”

“How so?”

“It's not the first time he’s asked me.” Begrudgingly, you passed the letter to Hancock. Her eyes flitted across the page, steadily growing in size. Her mouth fell open.

“This is…” Hancock’s fingers twitched. “One of Big Mom’s Sweet Generals is proposing to you.”

You hid behind your hands. It wasn't as bad as the first time. An image of Ace and Marco’s gaping faces flashed behind your eyelids. What would Ace have thought of this proposal…? His death had probably been the reason why you received the letter.

“As far as marriage proposals go, this is very sincere. This Katakuri seems to care for you. Deeply.” Hancock frowned. “Why did you turn him down the first time?”

The first time you’d heard the proposal, it had been a secondhand announcement from one of the chessmen soldiers. As much as it had terrified you, and you wanted to swim off the island that instant, you decided to be an adult and confront Katakuri head on.

 

 

“If you want to marry me, ask me yourself.”

Katakuri’s eyes narrowed. It was the only part of his face you could glimpse.

“And you can remove the scarf, if you’re comfortable,” you added. “I think I deserve to see all of you for this.”

You doubted Katakuri would remove the fur wrap draped over his shoulders. He hadn't even removed it at mealtimes or small gatherings.

Katakuri bowed his head. You watched in silent awe as massive, gloved hands clasped the edge and unwound the fuzzy scarf.

You were proud of yourself for not gasping. Yet your eyes still traced the fangs poking out of an unnaturally large mouth.

Katakuri knelt before you in the gazebo, still roughly three heads taller than you. If anyone else were in the enclosed courtyard, it must’ve been an awkward sight. 

You didn't move. You barely breathed. That must’ve been a signal for Katakuri to continue. “Y/N L/N, we would be an invaluable match.You are the only one I can't see with Kenbunshoku Haki —”

You held up a hand. “That’s your mother’s reason for wanting you to marry me. I want to hear yours.”

Katakuri paused. “You’re kind to my sisters.”

“And?”

“From what I’ve heard, and what I’ve witnessed, you’re honorable,” said Katakuri. His magenta eyes drifted over your face. “I’ve only seen you once since you’ve come to this island, and it was a vision of being wed to you.”

His final reason caught you off guard. You stiffened, then forced yourself to nod, eyes soft. “Can I give you my reasons for saying no?”

Katakuri swallowed. The white of his fangs flashed as he nodded.

“You’re really sweet — no pun intended, there! — and so are your sisters, but there are some of your siblings that I don't trust. I don't know how comfortable I am with Big Mom as a mother-in-law,” you admitted. “And…you’re twenty-five years older than me.”

Katakuri bowed his head. “Thank you. For being honest.”

You clasped your hands together. You weren't expecting the wave of guilt that washed over you, sapping all moisture from your mouth and squashing your insides. Katakuri was a nice person.

“Thank you for showing me this,” you gestured to the lower half of his face. “For the record, I like them. I don't want to marry you, but I still think you’re cool.”

You and Katakuri shared a sad (and impossibly big) smile.

 

 

“How tall was he again?” Hancock interrupted your reverie as you told the story.

“Sixteen feet.”

“Hmph! I’m sure that would’ve been an eventful wedding night.”

“I know!” You shook your head. “With Whitebeard and Ace both gone, he’s probably doing this to make sure I’m safe.”

Hancock eyed the pink missive darkly. “Can you say no? Without another Emperor behind you?”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. Big Mom’s crew wasn't the only threat Hancock might face with you near. It wasn't fair to her or Maiden Island to take on those risks. 

“I should be…he never held it against me when I left.” you wet your lips. “If…if you’re worried about the island, I can —”

Hancock waved her hand dismissively before you even finished. “Nonsense. You’re one of mine. But still, it’s quite a compliment; getting a proposal from a billion-dollar berry man. And your Haki…” her gaze trickled over you. “I noticed that, but I didn’t know what it was. You…blend in with things. I had to focus to actually notice you. Is that a type of Conqueror’s Haki, reversed? How do you do that naturally?”

You shook your head. Your messed-up Haki seemed to cause more problems than fix them. “I don't know. If it is, I’m obviously doing it wrong.”

Hancock hummed. “It’s not a bad thing. Being undetectable. I’ve never seen anyone use Haki that way before, but I’m sure it has its uses.”

“Somewhat.” You bowed your head. Cipher Pol agrees with you.

Notes:

Nami: Really? One of the most attractive man in the four seas is a fifty year-old who lives with his mother?

Flampe: HE'S FORTY-SIX!! AND HE'S A SAINT!!!

Marco: Beat it, Bubblegum Brat.

Robin: Hmm, I thought you would've used a different term.

Marco, covering Chopper's ears: There are children present, I cleaned it up for myself.

Author: It wouldn't be One Piece without flashbacks, right? I've been working on this story for a while and a good portion of it is already written, but the formatting is a little different from other stories I've done (in the second act we see a majority of Reader's time with Ace, so it's kind of like two stories in one that are linked together). I hope you like it!!

Ghost Ace: Think I'm gonna haunt the surgeon in the meantime

Ghost Corazon: Fight me, Freckles

Author: Keep being awesome!!

Chapter 5: Room: Injection Shot!

Summary:

Potential Spoilers: Punk Hazard Arc

It was nice to have a bedroom again. Looking back, your small cabin on the Moby Dick was practically a wooden crate with a hammock and a few hammered-down decorations. Hancock’s palace was lofty, all rooms wide and open.

You gently tossed the sheer curtains to the windows aside, glancing out at your moonlit garden. Butterflies kissed the gently pouting mouths of pink lilies. One had the oddly deformed shape of a pineapple, and Marco slipped into your mind.

You frowned. You hadn't heard from Marco at all since you parted ways. You had hoped one of the letters earlier would be from him, but you hadn't heard from any of your brothers. Did they hate you for not supporting them in the war? Or did something prevent them from answering…?

You wandered over to your desk, already littered in papers Hancock was too busy for (or didn't want to deal with). A transponder snail in a violet jacket with spiky hair snoozed softly.

You shrugged up the silky sleeves to your bathrobe and dialed for Marco.

“Buda-buda-buda-buda-buda…” tremors shook the snail’s shell. Your fingers instinctively petted the smooth surface.

The snail continued to buzz. Then it stilled. Nothing. 

“Come on. Answer, you stupid pineapple…” you redialed, biting the edge of your thumb.

“That’s not very hygienic.” 

You jumped. A tall silhouette crouched in your once-empty windowsill.

Your shoulders stiffened. Rob Lucci.

The shadow leaned forward. Moonlight illuminated Law’s face.

Tension eased from your body. Then it returned in full force, smacking the breath out of you.

“How did you get in here? Men aren't allowed on the island,” you blurted.

Law shrugged. He landed on the tile, lean muscles coiling beneath his hoodie. His longsword was slung over his shoulder.

“You gonna rat me out?” said Law. His gravel-like voice prickled your ears, shooting down your spine.

You hesitated. “I should. Why are you here?”

Law stepped closer. His eyes flitted over you. Despite the wide berth between you, his mere stare seemed to cut through fabric and pierce skin. 

“Marco asked me to oversee your safety,” said Law. “Last time I saw you, you weren't psyched about your new captain.”

You leaned back against the desk, shoving your drooping sleeves aside as you crossed your arms. “Hancock is fine. Have you heard from Marco recently?”

Law shook his head. “The last time I saw him was with you.”

You glanced back at the snail. Its eyes were shut, unmoving. You sighed.

“Thanks for your concern,” you said. “And for breaking every rule on this island.”

A smirk ghosted Law’s lips. “It wasn't that hard. You should tighten security.”

“And you should watch your mouth, Warlord.”

Law’s smile faded. “If you are truly happy here…I would’ve helped you leave if you weren't.” 

You grimaced. Happy. You were the farthest thing from it after Marineford, but you’d stopped wallowing in the bathtub and drinking alcohol before noon. That was progress. And…as surprising as Law’s pop-in visit was, it was thoughtful of him to fulfill Marco’s request and check on you.

Your expression softened. “That would’ve been very nice of you.”

“I’m not nice.” 

“Mmm. I think you are. Minus the breaking-and-entering.” You propped yourself up on the edge of the desk, letting your bare legs swing. The small cut on your finger flared up. You shook out your hand before setting it down. 

Law’s eyes narrowed. He approached the desk. “What did you do?”

“It’s a cut! It’s not a big deal.”

“Let me see it.” 

Law hovered over you. His steel eyes cut through you like paper.

You held up your injured hand. “I had a fight with a letter opener earlier.”

“I hope you won.”

“Ha-ha.” 

Law lifted your wrist, but with none of the strength used at Marineford. His long fingers gently cradled your hand. Tattooed letters were stamped above each knuckle. You had a strange urge to trace them.

Ace’s tattooed back flashed before your eyes. Tracing inky lines with your fingertips. You flinched.

 

“Do you ever get dried out from the flames?” you wondered aloud.

Ace shrugged. His back muscles rippled beneath your fingertips. “I guess? My face is kinda oily, so I thought the moisturizer would make it worse.”

You lightly poked Ace between the shoulder blades. You peeked over his shoulder and met his gaze. “You should still use it, especially for your tattoos. I can help you pick some out and apply it — you need to take care of yourself, Ace.”

Ace’s eyes widened. “Yeah? That’d be great, but you don't have to worry about me, Y/N.”

Your chin rested on his shoulder. You’d never do it with anyone else, but with Ace, physical touch was as natural as breathing. “I’m going to worry all I want. You're my partner, aren't you?"

You both shared a smile.

 

Law’s eyes flashed up to your face. “Did I hurt you?”

“No. Sorry. It's fine, really. I put aloe on it earlier from the garden outside.”

“But you didn't wrap it.”

“I was letting it breathe!”

Law shook his head. He leaned his longsword against the desk. His slender fingers searched his jean pockets and pulled out a wrap of gauze.

You bit back a smile. “You came prepared, Dr. Trafalgar.”

Law’s breath hitched above you. His gaze remained on your hand. “Not enough, when it comes to you.”

Law’s fingers moved around yours, gently rotating your wrist. Veins curled between his knuckles. His touch was icy and soothing against the throbbing skin of the cut.

“I like your tattoos,” you admitted, your gaze drifting from his fingers. “Did it hurt a lot? The skin’s very thin there…”

Ace had chatted to you about his tattoos. He was fully supportive of you getting one, but cautioned you against certain areas.

“Back of the neck, hands, collarbone…those areas sting. Not a great idea for your first time. Or any time.”

Law’s eyes remained on your hand. “I’ve had worse. It was worth it.”

“Why?” you asked. 

Law released your hand. The gauze was secured so perfectly, you barely felt it. Yet when you flexed your finger, it didn't unfurl.

“It’s my freedom to choose what goes on my body,” said Law.

Your back muscles twitched. You nodded. “It is.” 

Awkward silence stretched between you. Law was so close, your knee brushed against his leg.

“Thanks,” you said, holding up your bandaged hand.

Law nodded. He retrieved his longsword and retreated from your desk. You hadn't realized it, but you were holding your breath before. You sharply inhaled through your nose. 

“If you find here…unsatisfactory,” said Law, “my offer still stands.”

You slipped off the desk and flashed a smile at him. “Thanks, Captain. Maybe some other time.” 

Law strolled towards your balcony. You weren't sure what was the best etiquette for unannounced, late-night visitors; should you escort him out? Offer him a warm beverage? You settled for watching him go, fiddling with the sleeves of your bathrobe.

Law paused at the glossy french doors. He jutted his chin in the direction of your room. “I like what you did. It’s very you.”

Blood pooled in your cheeks. Ace had said the exact same thing when he first discovered your bunk on the Moby Dick. 

You were at a loss for what to say. You waved shyly at Law. “Don't die. Congrats on the Warlord title.” 

Law raised a hand in passing without looking back. You leaned up on your toes as he strode out into the garden, and leapt onto the railing. 

Just like his smile, he vanished in an instant.

Notes:

Ghost Ace: MARCOOOO

Jozu: He's right there.

Marco: ...

Ghost Ace: MARCOOOOOOO

Izo: I swear on Oden's loincloth I will march down to the underworld and —

Ghost Thatch: Shh. Let him finish.

Ghost Ace: MARCOOOOOOOOOOOO

Marco: *sigh*

Marco: Polo.

Ghost Ace: :)

Ghost Thatch: Keep being awesome, Readers!!

Chapter 6: 1000 Cherry Trees!

Summary:

Potential Spoilers: None.

“Come ‘ere, partner.”

You stood before the entire crew, their eyes shooting bullets through your Impel Down officer uniform. Your fists remained at your sides, always near your ice picks.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

His rough, calloused hands left strokes of heat and electricity in their wake; nudging your side, setting his hat atop your head, twining a strand of your hair around his finger…

“Like I’m dinner.”

His mouth tasted like whiskey. His tongue plunged through your lips, exploring, as his hands roamed your body. You were on fire. Everything burned and crackled for his touch. You pressed yourself firmly against him, feeling hard lines of muscle against your abdomen. Out of nowhere, the sloppy kiss broke, and he showered your face in small, sweet kisses.

“Maybe I’m starving.”

You ran towards him, arms outstretched as if you could grab him yards away. His body smacked into the ground. 

“Ace —!”

You awoke gasping. It took a moment for you to recognize the dark bedroom. As your breaths slowed, you leaned back against your pillow. The case was damp. 

Your fingers flew to your face, smearing wet trails of tears.

This isn't working.

~*~

Hancock’s eyes widened. “You want to go where?”

You dashed about your bedroom, assembling your armor — err, outfit — for the day. You snatched two thigh-high stockings and yanked them on. 

“Red Rock. It's the nearest Marine base,” you said. You searched around for boots.

Hancock stood in the center of the room, watching you flit by. “It’s best to ignore the summons, Y/N. It sets a terrible precedent.”

“Of what?”

“That I care!” Hancock’s expression darkened. Salome perched atop her shoulder, nodding along as if he, too, thought the whole trip was unnecessary. “I know you haven't been here long, but you’ve done so much for me, and I consider you one of my closest crew members. I highly dislike the idea of you going to a Marine base — especially alone — for any reason!”

“Dislike, not forbid,” you pointed out, mostly to yourself. “And it's two reasons, technically.”

“Enlighten me.”

You stepped behind a folding screen decorated with flowers. You shrugged off your night shirt and reached for a button-up blouse slung over the divider.

“One: I haven't heard from my former crew since they went after Blackbeard. I’m worried about them, and I know the Navy will be monitoring that,” you said. “And two: I think it’s best to get a decent layout of the base. You never know.”

Hancock peeked behind the divider. “Why didn't you say so —? Oh, stop shrieking, you’ve seen what everyone wears on this island. You’re covered well enough.”

Your blouse was bundled in your fist, cradled to your chest. You kept your back specifically angled away from Hancock. 

Hancock ignored your protests and leaned against the folding screen. “I can send scouts to monitor the fight. I am a Warlord, remember.”

“You’re a great one,” you said. You slipped on the blouse and quickly fastened the buttons. “But I don't want to involve Maiden Island in the war. I chose not to fight for a reason: Teech…he’s difficult. I doubt my brothers can defeat him as he is now.”

“There’s more.” Hancock watched your face.

You sighed. You didn't want to tell her the third real reason, so you settled on something that wasn't exactly a lie. “I want to know how he’s still alive and can hold two Devil Fruit powers at once. The World Government has ways of getting information that others can't. If I can find something to help my brothers before…”

You trailed off. The silence said the rest. Hancock moved out of the way as you breezed through the room. 

“I didn't think you’d want to go near the Marines after…” Hancock’s voice was soft. 

You paused at your desk. You had very few, precious mementos of Ace. One of them was a black, leather choker adorned with matching blue faces to his orange hat. You fastened it on above the collar to your blouse.

“I’m not going to hide,” you spat the words with more force than necessary. You swallowed, trying to make your tone lighter, “I’ll be home soon.”

Hancock clasped her hands together. “At least take Salome with you! He’s a licensed emotional disturbance combatant!”

“I am not taking the snake!”

~*~

“Welcome to Red Rock, Y/N-san.” 

A dark-haired woman met you at the entrance to the base, head bowed in respect. She gently pushed her glasses up her nose.

You nodded along, surveying your surroundings. Salt laced the air from the lapping waves. Hulking marble towers stretched toward the sky, burning your eyes as they shone in the sun. You wondered which one held the information you sought.

Your guide led you up the path flanked with clipped cypress trees. Marine soldiers lined the walkway.

“This is a big welcome,” you murmured.

“You are representing one of the seven Warlords. And you served an Emperor prior…” the woman trailed off, watching you out of the corner of her eye.

“I don't think I caught your name,” you said.

“Tashigi.”

“Hi Tashigi-san,” you smiled politely. Regardless of how you felt towards the Marines, it would be easier to accomplish your goals without showing hostility. “Are you in charge of the base?”

“No, that would be Hina-san.”

“Is she in her office?” you eyed the towers ahead of you.

“Not at the moment,” said Tashigi. “She’s assisting our troops at…Marineford, miss.”

You did your best to conceal a grimace as the name slashed at your insides. Tashigi continued, “Smoker-san requested to meet with Hancock personally following the battle. He will be seeing you today…I believe it was specifically noted in his missive that Hancock was to attend.”

You glanced at Tashigi. Part of you wondered if she had written the missive herself. Smoker hardly seemed the pen-to-paper type. “You are correct. Unfortunately, our captain is unavailable at this time. I will have to suffice — we didn't want to be disrespectful and completely disregard the missive.”

Tashigi nudged her glasses higher with a gloved finger. “How honorable of you.”

“When will Smoker-san be meeting me?”

“After he finishes training the troops. It shouldn't be too long a wait. Please, follow me.”

You followed Tashigi through massive double doors. Cold air kissed your face as you entered. The absence of the sun left the corridors dim and cool.

Tashigi halted before a waiting room. You had hoped she would take you deeper in, but this was the closest you could get while being watched.

“If you don't mind, may I use the restroom real quick?” you said.

“Of course. It’s two doors down.”

You enforced your sickly sweet smile. “Thank you so much. Excuse me…”

You slipped inside, boots squeaking on the glossy tile. Flower vases lined the pale pink walls. It was fancy for a Marine base, but perhaps this was more of a visitor’s section. 

You glanced beneath the mahogany stalls. You were in luck; you didn't have company. But the windows were thin slits away from the bathroom counter, inaccessible to you.

You slowly spun. Five reflections above the granite counter copied you. You stopped when you spotted a conveniently-sized air vent above them. 

You smiled. One after the other, you slipped off your boots and placed them in one of the stalls. You fastened the stall door shut and climbed atop the bathroom counter. 

The tips of your ice picks coaxed the screws of the vent out, clinking as they hit the counter below. You glanced at the door as you worked, wondering if Tashigi’s suspicions had arisen.

The iron grate groaned as it gave way. You clasped the edges and hid it behind one of the trash cans. 

Your fingers gripped the edges of the vent shaft, and you deftly pulled yourself up.

The doorknob rustled. The rest of your body made it; you ducked your head inside the cramped confines.

Tashigi’s head peeked through the door. “Y/N-san?”

Her eyes went to your boots beneath the first stall.

You edged out slightly, hoping the vent wouldn't make your voice echo too much. “Y-yes, one moment.”

“Oh! Take your time, I’m so sorry.” Tashigi vanished behind the door.

You sighed, heart hammering against the steel around you. You softly ducked your head and shimmied farther down the vent.

The metal sharply sloped downward. With clammy fingers, you positioned yourself above the drop. Soft puffs escaped your lips.

You squeezed your eyes shut and let yourself fall. 

The steel shuddered, but it held beneath your stockings. Streams of light flashed across your knees from another grate. 

You remained in a crouch, straining to listen. You didn't hear any noise on the other side. 

You knelt down and peeked between the slits. It was an empty office, as far as you could tell. You didn't see any familiar uniforms of white-and-blue. 

You angled your ice picks along the edge of the grate and pushed. It clattered to the floor. 

You slipped through and pressed yourself against the side of a massive oak desk. The room didn't stir. 

You rose and inspected the window. It was unlocked, but the ledge protruding beneath was slim. And no matter how skilled you were, you couldn't do anything if a patrolling Marine happened to spot you scaling the building. 

You peeked outside the cracked door. Tashigi still waited outside the women’s powder room, cleaning her glasses with a cloth. You wedged the door open a little wider and glanced in the opposite direction. The end of a hall, rounding the corner, wasn't too far.

You took a deep breath and steeled yourself behind the door. You emptied your mind, focusing on one mantra.

Don't notice me. I do not want to be seen.

You stepped out and sprinted towards the end of the corridor on shoeless feet. As you rounded the corner, you pressed yourself against the wall.

No footsteps followed. Your presence had gone undetected.

A silent smile of victory curved your lips. At least my messed-up Haki is good for something.

You continued down the hall. Whatever soldiers you did pass didn't spare you another glance. 

Hina’s office was the best place to search for any valuable information. You bit your lip as you walked, footsteps light against the plush carpet beneath. 

You rounded another corner and crashed into a wall of flesh. 

Crap!

You stumbled, slipping in your stocking against the carpet. Two tattooed hands steadied you.

Tattoos. Tattoos that spelled DEATH on his fingers.

You stepped back, meeting Law’s gaze. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you both said at the same time.

Notes:

Salome: *hissing noises*

Chopper: :O I never thought of that before!!

Salome: *more hissing noises*

Chopper: Are human bones really that strong?

Sanji: Chopper, what's he saying?

Chopper: He can open up Zoro's sake bottles with his mouth!!

Zoro: Eh?

Chopper: And human femur bones make great toothpicks!!

Zoro: Luffy, ask him to join our crew.

Salome: *excited hissing noises*

Usopp & Nami: NO THAT'S TERRIFYING!!!

Author: Thank you so much for reading!! :) originally Japanese suffixes were going to be used throughout the dialogue, but it was difficult to do with certain characters that have unique speech quirks (those -ya, -yoi, -rero's sneak up on you!), so it may be more central to certain characters. I hope you've been enjoying it so far, keep up your awesomeness!!

Chapter 7: Room: Scalpel!

Summary:

Potential Spoilers: None.

“What are you doing here —?” you hissed. “How — mmph!”

Law’s hand clamped over your mouth. He ducked into the nearest doorway, dragging you with him.

You scrambled into another empty office. Law shut the door and leaned against it, listening. You joined him.

You studied Law as you stood together in tense silence. Law’s gaze was fixed on the floor, concentrating on the voices in the hall. You bit back a smile at his outfit choice for espionage; he’d traded his hoodie for a long, black trench coat. His speckled hat still sat atop a tangle of black hair (big surprise). 

Your hand rested against the door, next to his. Slender tattooed fingers silently drummed against the wood, then stilled.

Muffled voices rose. Law’s eyes flashed to you.

“They’re coming,” Law mouthed.

You turned to the empty office. The furniture was sparse; your eyes flew to the desk, but it would be too cramped for Law’s long limbs. It would be more difficult to hide in plain sight with your Haki in an enclosed space. 

You and Law dashed to the window alcove. A long bench lined the massive window along the wall. Your fingers explored beneath the bench — and slipped through fabric. 

A skirt covered the small space between the floor and the top of the bench. Small, but not impossible.

You and Law shared a look. His lips pressed into a thin line. 

Seconds later, the door burst open. Footsteps filled the room.

“See anything?”

You held your breath. Color bloomed in your cheeks. 

Law hovered above you, his body brushing against yours. Burgundy fabric fluttered at your side as a set of Marine boots thundered by. Figments of light and shadow danced across Law’s face.

Law propped himself up on his forearms, planted next to your head. The scent of him filled your nostrils. Each breath he took tickled your face. 

“What are we looking for?”

“Two targets: an intruder, and Hancock’s representative.”

You winced. Your facade was over. Hopefully you’d get that pair of boots back somehow.

Law grimaced as his legs shifted around yours. Your current position had to be uncomfortable for him; you barely fit the space, and he was taller than you. You didn't know how he possessed the strength to hold himself up over your body as the minutes ticked by. Despite his lean appearance, he was strong.

The floorboards creaked next to your head. Pain laced your scalp.

Your teeth clenched as you held back a shout. Part of your hair had slipped out from the alcove’s skirt. The Marine’s boot pressed down on it. Hard. 

Law’s eyes widened above you. His fingers curled beside your head. You took a shuddering breath as he lowered his face to yours.

Law buried himself in the crook of your neck. You barely caught his words. “Room — Shambles. ”

Your world flipped upside down. The pain from the Marine stepping on your hair vanished. 

You had switched places with Law; you were flush against his chest as he lay below you.

Both of you reached out to steady the flimsy sheet of fabric as it quivered from the switch. Your cheek was flush against Law’s heart, listening to it throb beneath you.

“Did you hear something?” one voice said above you.

There still wasn't enough room for Law to stretch out his legs; you laid between his bent knees. Despite how freezing his fingers were while bandaging your hand the other night, the rest of him was warm beneath you. Cold hands, warm heart.

“There’s nothing here. Nothing’s under the desk — we have to check the whole floor, let’s just keep moving,” said one of the Marines.

“Hold on, what’s the rush? Better to be thorough.”

“Better to be fast. Smoker’s here, remember?”

“All the more reason to stay!”

You sensed movement in your small, cramped hiding place. You glanced up. Law’s hat was teetering towards the skirt, your only flimsy boundary between discovery and freedom.

“Fine, you start the next one. I’ll wrap up here.” The floorboards continued to creak as the soldiers moved about. 

You scooted upwards, face burning as your body rubbed against Law’s. You caught his hat just as it prodded through the fabric. 

Your face was inches from Law’s. His breath hissed from his lips. Flecks of gold were drizzled across his steel pupils, barely noticeable unless you were this close. They reminded you of rare gems: speckled and fathomless.

Your lower thigh was pressed into his crotch. Something hard prodded up against your touch beneath Law’s clothes.

Law’s eyes squeezed shut. Gently, his head leaned back against the wood. 

One pair of footsteps left the room. The last Marine still lingered near the desk. His feet turned, facing your hiding spot beneath the alcove. 

The Marine soldier crouched before the sheer fabric of the bench’s skirt.

Law tensed beneath you. You held your breath. Do not notice us. Nothing is here. Nothing important is in this room.

The Marine let out a grunt and rose. His boots shuffled against the floor as he walked away, and closed the door behind him.

“How did you do that?” Law murmured. His head was tilted up in the little space provided, looking down at you.

“Haki,” you explained. “It’s…a different strain of Conqueror’s. I can walk past anyone without being seen, but it’s less potent around other Haki users.”

“Hmph.” Law’s eyes narrowed. “That’s useful.”

With more awkwardness than grace, both of you slunk out from beneath the alcove. You slithered out of Law’s legs and handed him his spotted hat. He murmured a thank you, rearranging his hat as you smoothed down your hair.

“Why are you here?” you asked.

“Your captain isn't the only Warlord worth watching,” Law eyed the door as he spoke. “They hold records here —”

“— on every individual deemed a ‘person of interest’ by the Navy,” you finished.

Law’s brow quirked at you.

“I wanted to find more information on Marco and my brothers,” you said. “See if they’re still alive without involving Hancock in the war.”

And see if Cipher Pol is still interested in me, you thought with a shudder. You hoped you were being overcautious, but it was better to know if they were still looking for you.

Law moved towards the door. He gripped the knob with a tattooed hand and spared you a glance. “Can you walk past the Marines without being seen?”

You nodded. “And it will work on you, too.” Biting the inside of your cheek, you joined him at the door. “Would you like to investigate Hina’s office together?”

Law struck you as extremely reserved (his nonchalance for Maiden Island’s security aside), so you thought it was better to ask him outright. You watched his cold, calculating face carefully. 

Law swept the door open. “After you.”

Notes:

Author: I am so sorry, I try to stay very neutral in describing the reader, including trivial things like hair length/height/describing blushes more on feeling instead of how they appear, but I feel like some individuals here would treat anyone like a short person. Have you seen their height charts??

Crocodile: Peasants.

Eustass Kid: Ingrates.

X Drake: ...

X Drake: If you can't reach something, I'll help you...

Boa Hancock, with Shirahoshi crying in the background; WOMEN CAN BE TALL TOO YOU INFERIOR SPECIES. Hi Luffy!!! <3

Luffy: Hi Hancock!! :D

Usopp: Omg...I just realized Law and Hancock are the same height

Marco: Well yeah, someone has to help Y/N reach the high shelves

Y/N: As opposed to YOU, who once flew too high and lit Pops' mustache on fire. Who put that out again?

Franky: Damnnnnn (btw you're super hot and probably the cause of the open flame)

Marco: ACE STARTED IT!! (don't hit on our woman, weirdo-yoi)

Ghost Ace: The burn marks on the ceiling don't lie, sir (she's my woman, AHEM)

Trafalgar Law: Bepo, perform an exorcism on this ship.

Ghost Ace: WAIT NO Y/N DO A SEANCE FOR ME —

Chopper: They're so nice to reach other :,) keep up your awesomeness, Readers!!

Chapter 8: Gastanet!

Summary:

Potential Spoilers: Punk Hazard Arc, Dressrosa Arc (minor for both, names mentioned)

Ace’s antics always had a flair for dramatics. He was a living blaze, summoning towers of flame like a second sun. You were the smoke trail that followed, picking off dazed enemies while their senses burned. It was a partnership of roars and whispers: fire and ash. 

Law, however, was a storm of a completely different caliber. 

Law strode side by side with you through the dim corridors. Static tickled the soles of your feet as your socks clashed against the carpeted halls. You breezed past patrolling Marines as you went, their stares sliding past you like rain on glass thanks to your Haki. 

When a guard wandered too close or eyes threatened to see something they shouldn't, Law simply raised his hand, and you were swept a few yards ahead, safely out of sight. Resonating calm and electric currents engulfed you from Law’s presence.

You found Hina’s office far easier (and much faster than if you had done the sneaky-sneaky by yourself) with Law. When your hand squeezed the knob, the lock gave a firm, resounding click. The door didn't budge.

Law raised his hand. He was paler than when you first ran into him; the tattoos gave him away. The inky markings were stark against his skin compared to when you found him. 

“I’ve got it. Can you keep watch?” you dropped down before the door, unsheathing your ice picks. With deft fingers, you inserted them in the lock, listening to the small clicks of the metal mechanism inside.

Despite your request, you felt Law’s gaze on your fingers while you worked. It was only a moment until the door gave way.

Both of you stepped inside the office and softly shut the door. To your delight, massive bookshelves holding vanilla files lined the walls behind a massive desk.

You shot a smile at Law, only to find his eyes still on you.

“What is it?”

“What happens when someone notices you?” said Law. “When they see through your Haki?”

You raised your ice pick. “I stab them?”

Law studied the fine, silver blade. “What about other types of Haki? You use Observation well. How’s your Armament?”

You lowered your blades. Time was precious, and you were determined to use it. You wandered toward the files. Law followed.

“It’s a work-in-progress,” you frowned. Armament Haki was by far the most difficult. “I can use it on the tips of my ice picks, but that’s all. It doesn't come that easily.”

“That makes you very vulnerable,” Law noted. “You have little defense — and short weapons put you in close range with your enemy.”

You tried to focus on the files before you, but your gaze wandered over your outstretched arm to Law. “Why does it matter to you?” you said.

Law’s steel eyes hardened. “If I were Hancock, I would’ve ordered someone strong to go with you. To give you ample defenses.”

You weren't sure what to make of that. At first glance, it sounded like Law called you weak. But he had only gotten this far because of you.

He’s worried about me, a small voice in you whispered.

“Then it's a good thing you’re here,” you said. Your attention returned to the folders, even when Law continued to stare out of the corner of your eye.

You pulled multiple reports on a variety of topics: Ace, Whitebeard, the Whitebeard Pirates, the Blackbeard Pirates, and Teech. There was very little information that was recent; the only current entry you could find were tidal disruptions in the area Teech and Marco were rumored to be fighting.

There were no details on who was alive, and who was winning. Regardless, you set the most recent files in your own pile. 

Law worked next to you in silence, forming his own assortment. When you glanced at some of the file names, they read Donquixote Doflamingo or Rosinante along the edge. You bit your tongue against asking. If Law wanted to talk about it, he would. 

You had given up on finding anything else about Marco’s fate and started to work towards your bonus objective: Cipher Pol. While it was highly unlikely that you would find anything important pertaining to the secret World Government agency here, it was worth a shot.

“That’s everything for me.” Law tossed another file onto the desk behind him. “What are you looking for?”

You bit your lip. “I’m almost done.”

Law stood behind you, peering over your shoulder. “Whitebeard’s files are farther down.”

“I know…” you stared forward. “I wanted to find something on Cipher Pol, too. If I can.”

Law’s breath hissed behind you. “I doubt you’ll find anything on them here.”

“You’re probably right.” You shrugged. “But it's worth a try…”

“Any specific names?” Law squinted at the files above your head.

You swallowed. “Monet. Caesar Clown. Kalifa…Rob Lucci.”

You felt like the embodiment of Law’s past observation by simply saying their names out loud: incredibly, almost hilariously, vulnerable. It was like admitting a deep, dark secret. 

If Law could sense your unease, he didn't comment on it. He reached for a file above your head. “Here. L-U-C-C-I, yeah? I’ve got Caesar’s files already. Do you have enough?”

“Yes, that's perfect!”

You turned to face Law as he retrieved the file. You hadn't realized how close he was. Once again, you were only separated by inches. Something about it made breathing difficult. 

Law fumbled in the small space between you, handing you the file.

“Thank you,” you said. You barely recognized the light, breathy voice that came out. 

Thanks to Law’s height, you were nearly eye level with his lips. Your pulse thundered as you tried to avert your gaze. The dark confines of the office only seemed to make it worse, amplifying every soft touch and hard line traced by shadows.

“Do you really intend to meet with Smoker?” said Law.

You blinked. You’d completely forgotten about the reason you were supposed to be here.

“I don't know,” you admitted. “I probably should, or it’ll mean more issues for Hancock and Maiden Island…”

Law’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Would she care?”

“Probably not. But it would be a crappy thing to do as a friend representing her,” you said. 

Law was silent for a moment. Spearmint clung to his clothes, tickling your nostrils at his closeness. 

“If you’re not escaping with me, I can stop by the island later with Caesar’s files,” said Law.

Heat bloomed in your face. Voices shouted outside the door to Hina’s office, but you ignored them. “That — that’s not necessary.”

“You want them, don't you?”

“Yes,” you said. As thrilling as it was that Law was willing to invade an island for you, the thought of him shocking (or possibly seducing) a random woman on the island was very plausible. “But you shouldn't have to do all the legwork. Here…”

You glanced around the room. The glossy cap of a Sharpie glinted in what little light escaped the curtained windows. You snatched it and reached for Law’s hand. “Can I?”

Law’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. He nodded.

You drew lines across his open palm. “There’s a river that cuts slightly into the island on the northeastern side. It should be deep enough for your ship, and it's a safe distance away from Amazon Lily. I can meet you there.”

“How about tonight?”

You looked up from Law’s hand. It was hard to decipher in the dark, but his ears looked slightly red.

“If you need more time with the files…” you said.

“A few hours is enough.” 

“Okay.” You smiled at him. “Tonight, then.”

Something close to a smile crested Law’s lips. 

The lock clicked across the room. Your eyes widened, remembering the stampede of Marines outside. 

“Do you mind dropping me off on your way out? They might not like it if they knew I was here,” you said.

“Of course.”

“Think you can do something discreet?”

Something dangerous flickered in his steel gaze. “Absolutely.”

— M I N U T E S   L A T E R —

“THIS IS NOT DISCREET!” you shouted over the wind.

A rumble — almost a laugh — thrummed against your ear. Law’s arms tightened around you as you freefalled together.

The tower next to you was a blazing, white blur as you zoomed downwards. You were pulled flush against Law’s body as the chilly torrents of wind howled past. Each thrilling breath was a taste of crisp, clean air. The Marine base and the ocean sprawled below you, a glistening pearl against the glossy, cobalt waves. 

A frightful smile broadened Law’s lips — but you liked it. It was a real smile that was very, very him.

Law raised his hand, fingers outstretched. “Room — Shambles!”

The sigh of the breeze was cut off. You and Law landed with a light bounce on the sofa of the waiting room Tashigi had shown you before.

You caught your breath for a moment, hand pressed to your thundering heart as you sat in Law’s lap.

“Dizzy?” Law asked. His fingers brushed your temple. 

“A little. I haven't gone on a roller coaster in a while,” you said absentmindedly.

Another rumble escaped Law’s throat. “Take a minute.”

You did. You closed your eyes, focusing on each breath in and out. After a while, you snuck a look at Law with one eye open. “Shouldn't you be escaping?”

“Figured I’d wait until you calmed down first. Wouldn't want you accidentally passing out on a letter opener or something.”

“Yeah. That would really destroy your whole ‘Surgeon of Death’ reputation.”

Hairs pricked up along the nape of your neck. Your eyes found the door, but your body was too slow to react when it burst open.

Tashigi paused, panting in the doorway, mouth gaping at you. In Trafalgar D. Law’s lap.

Law’s lips brushed your ear. “See you tonight.”

You collapsed into the cushions as the body beneath you vanished.

Notes:

Author: Thank you for all the love you've shown this story Cool People!! Here's another one :) go be awesome!!

Chapter 9: Iron Body!

Summary:

Potential Spoilers: None.

Hours passed until the bloom of embarrassment in your cheeks started to die down, even after you left the Marine base behind. Smoker’s hard glare and penetrating questions about Hancock were one thing, but trying to focus after Law’s grand exit was…taxing. 

You barricaded yourself in your room upon returning. Files were spread across the cool tile. On one side of you, papers concerning Marco and the Whitebeard Pirates were sprawled in a web-like pattern. The other side had simply one file, still closed. 

You nibbled on your bottom lip as you stared at Rob Lucci’s name.

“You smell so good in the rain. It’s intoxicating.”

You flinched away from the file as if it had hit you. Phantom claws scratched their way down your back.

Holding your breath, you flipped open the file with shaking fingers. 

Your eyes immediately fell upon Rob Lucci’s face. A small photo of him took up the right-hand side of the introductory page. Even in image (and human) form, his eyes seemed to follow you.

Your hand drifted to your shoulder, slipping under your shirt to caress your upper back. Scarred skin met your fingertips. 

You avoided Rob Lucci’s biography (nothing there would make your memories of Enies Lobby any kinder) and abilities. Instead, you drifted to his current assignments. 

You drew a sharp breath.

 

CURRENT ASSIGNMENT: TRACKING PERSON OF INTEREST.

LOCATION: CALM BELT.

 

Your shoulders moved rapidly with each breath as you leaned away from the file. That could be anyone. It doesn't have to be me. Your gut disagreed with you.

“Buda-buda-buda-buda-buda…” tremors shook the transponder snail atop your desk.

Your head snapped up. You dashed towards the desk, loose papers fluttering in your wake. You snatched the dialer with trembling hands.

“Gatcha.”

“Hello?” you said.

“Y/N-yoi!” Static threaded Marco’s words.

“Marco!” You smiled as you said his name.

“Polo,” he replied in a monotone voice out of habit from you and Ace’s teasing. “Listen, Y/N, I don't have a lot of time.”

“Are you okay?” Your stare grew distant as you focused on his voice, room and files forgotten. “How’s everyone else?”

“I think —...have been right — about Teech.” Sharp crackles interrupted Marco on the line. 

You leaned forward towards the snail, as if doing so would help you hear him better. “What?”

“It’s a nightmare, Y/N,” said Marco. “I’ve never seen —...like this.”

You squinted as you tried to make out his words. “What can I do?”

“Don't go after Teech,” Marco yelled. Something roared in the background, wherever he was. “And don't —...near any of the Worst Generation! You see them, run the other way…— especially Law.”

You froze. You tore your eyes away from the speaker to glance at the files on the floor behind you. Law had followed Marco’s request, hadn't he? He had saved Luffy’s life — and yours.

“Marco,” you wet your lips. “I — I don't understand.”

“Teech knows you, Y/N!” said Marco. “Best to stay off the radar, in case he seeks you out.”

“And what about you? Marco —”

“I’m glad you joined us. That Pops took you in, and our paths crossed —” more static interrupted Marco. “You —...that ship a home for us.”

It sounded too much like a goodbye. A permanent one.

“Be safe, Y/N.”

“Marco —” the line went dead as you spoke his name.

~*~

Sorry, Marco, you hugged your knees as you overlooked the water from the grassy riverbank.

Marco’s warning was still fresh in your mind: avoid Teech and the Worst Generation. But Luffy also made up that tally, and your former crew had sworn to protect him. There had to be exceptions, weren't there?

And don't —...near any of the Worst Generation! You see them, run the other way…— especially Law.

You huffed. You were capable of making your own decisions. If Law truly meant you harm, he would’ve done so by now. 

Something massive bulged beneath the water. Lights blazed beneath the surface.

You held up a hand as water sprayed everywhere. Blinking, you stared at the ship before you — no.

A submarine.

Metal groaned as the yellow submarine bobbed above the inky, black waves. You had been aboard twice before; when fleeing Marineford, and visiting Ace’s grave. Despite the dark memories attached, your heartstrings tugged at the sight. It was your safe haven, carefully tucked away from the chaos of the sea. 

The door above deck clanked open. Law stepped out. 

You stood and waved shyly from across the ridge. Law raised his fingers. His lips moved.

In an instant, you were right next to him by the railing. The Polar Tang hummed beneath you.

“Hi,” you smiled.

“Hey.” Law dipped his head. His eyes narrowed at the ground. “You got your shoes back.”

You beamed at him. “You noticed.”

“You’re not as short.”

“I am completely normal-sized, you superhuman giant.” 

A smile ghosted Law’s lips. He moved towards the metal door and held it open for you, “The files are downstairs.”

“Thanks, Captain.” You ducked inside. 

Your fingers skimmed the yellow pipes acting as railing as you stepped down into the hull. Yellow trim traced each doorway, brightening the soft, overcast gray of the walls. Cool air pressed against your exposed skin.

Law stepped down next to you. You gestured ahead, “I forgot how nice this was. It’s so solid. Nothing gets thrown around — unless you will it, of course.”

Law hummed in agreement. Pride glinted in his gaze. “It’s served us well. This way.”

You fell into step with Law, shoes clanking across the metal floors as you walked. Thoughts of exploring the Marine base together sank into your mind. Law kept pace with you, never too fast, gently guiding you down the corridor. You felt safe with him, you realized. 

Marco had to be wrong. Or maybe I missed something he said…

You glanced up at Law. Your gut feelings didn't change, even if you didn't know him that well. Perhaps it was time to change that…

“Dr. Trafalgar?”

“Hmm?”

“What exactly do you do? Aside from…pirating?” you asked.

Law’s eyes narrowed. “Why the interest?”

You shrugged. “We’ve run into each other a lot. I’d like to get to know you better.”

Law stared ahead. You watched him as he led you through the maze of gray halls. He was silent for so long, you wondered if he wouldn't answer. 

His gravel-like voice finally tickled your ears. “I’m a doctor.”

The awkward words threw you off guard. A gentle smile curved your lips. “What area of study?”

“Are you familiar with them?” said Law.

“Not really,” you admitted. “But it would be nice to know.”

“...A few,” said Law.

“Cardiology? Or is the whole ‘Heart’ Pirates thing coincidental?” you asked. 

Law rounded another corner. You trailed after him. A smile tugged at the edge of his mouth.

“Things can have multiple meanings.” 

Law stopped before one of the doors. It was the only one you’d seen without a round window, looking in. 

“This is my office,” said Law. 

Your pulse thrummed in your ears. You weren't sure why. 

The door gave way beneath Law’s hand, groaning open. He stepped down into the room. You followed him.

Your brain had immediately pictured a blank, sterile operation room with bright fluorescents to go with Law’s title. As your eyes adjusted to the gloom, that image quickly faded. Few sources of light were in the room, but they weren't needed. A glass panel along the walls and floor displayed your underwater surroundings, lit up by the Polar Tang’s ship lights. An eerie blue glow combated the shadows.

You had paused in the doorway to admire it. Law glanced back at you.

“This is so cool,” you grinned at him. “Can I look around?”

Law nodded. He shut the door and moved towards his desk. You wandered along the walls first; where there wasn't glass, shelves of books and jars were carefully organized. Medical terminology was scrawled across the book spines. You kept a respectful distance away from the glassware. 

Your gaze drifted downward. Potted plants were clustered along the edge of the glass flooring. You crouched before one you recognized.

Huh. How ironic.

“You keep a lot of snake plants on board,” you noted, admiring the long stalks that ended in forked-like tongues. “I remember reading somewhere that they’re a great source of oxygen.”

“They are,” said Law.

“They look great.” You glanced back at Law. He was still at his desk. He leaned over it, hands resting on the edge as he watched you from afar.

You rose and took careful steps across the glass flooring towards him.

“You’re quiet, even with shoes,” Law commented.

You shrugged. “It’s probably a Haki thing.”

“It’s not a Haki thing. It’s a you thing,” said Law. “You’re very…gentle when you interact with things.”

Vanilla files buried Law’s desk, similar to the ones that took over your bedroom earlier that afternoon. Law’s fingers crept to one of them. “What’s your interest in Caesar?”

You bit your lip. “It’s complicated. And lengthy.”

Law gestured behind him. A plush, black sofa sat against the glass wall. Fish ogled you from the outside.

Both of you took a seat. The cushions were soft, melding into your form. Your face burned as you remembered the last time you sat together. 

“I assume it's related to your interest in Cipher Pol,” said Law. The wall of glass painted his features a light blue. 

You nodded, slowly shifting your body to face him. “Yes.” 

Law waited. Now, you were the cause of awkward silence. You focused on your hands; a fidgeting, clammy heap in your lap. 

“When I was thirteen, my mom got sick,” you said. “She went to the hospital, it was a whole thing…Cipher Pol noticed me when I was with her. Or rather, the fact that they couldn't notice me.

“They approached my parents with some made-up crap about a boarding school, and they bought it. And they shipped me off to Enies Lobby to train me into one of their own.”

You crossed your legs, fingers numb in your lap. Little memories descended like spiders, skittering over you with a shudder. The mental image of Monet leering over you, smiling ever politely, with an adrenaline needle inching towards your skin. Or she’d be looking up from her clipboard at you, jotting down notes as you experienced their “simulated” stressful situations to trigger your Haki.

You didn't remember everything from your six years with Cipher Pol. You blamed the drugs for random little gaps in your memory. But from what you did recall…you weren't interested in recovering those missing moments.

“But they couldn't understand why my Haki is the way it is. Eventually they invited Caesar to come look at me to ‘better my progress.’ And upon meeting him, I just…” you frowned. “I realized how much of an idiot he was. How I couldn't trust him, or anything that they’d told me. So I left.”

Your back hadn't bothered you in a while, but little burning spasms flickered across it when you thought of Enies Lobby. Like aftershocks from being electrocuted.

Law hadn't interrupted you once. You’d been too afraid to look at him, and now you wondered if he’d even listened to your tale. You glanced over at him —

Law’s expression was unreadable as he fixated one of the strongest, most searing stares you’ve ever experienced in your life at you. 

“Have you told Hancock this?” Law murmured. 

You shook your head. You shifted, sinking deeper into the cushions.

Law inched towards you. “You should. Cipher Pol is a powerful enemy. I’ve seen your ability at work; they’re not going to forget you, Y/N-ya.”

“What if I scare her off?” your voice cracked against your will. You swallowed. Maiden Island had become your home so effortlessly. You were reluctant to risk losing Hancock, but you knew it wasn't fair to her. She wasn't like Pops. He had accepted everything in stride; he was an Emperor. The World Government didn't faze him. 

“She might be more open-minded than you think,” said Law. “She’s your captain. She should be.” 

You laughed. It was a weak and bitter sound. Unlike Hancock, you wouldn't be forgiven for everything because you were beautiful. 

“If you’re that uncomfortable with telling her, join me.”

Notes:

Robin: Interesting. I bet there's more to Y/N's backstory than meets the eye...

Rob Lucci: That's classified.

Author: And spoilers!

Reiju: I'd like to learn more, too...

Trafalgar Law: Get lost, Germa Scum.

Sanji: DON'T DISRESPECT WOMEN!!

Reiju: You're not the least bit curious, Trafalgar? You just invited her to your crew.

Trafalgar Law: Of course I am. But it's not my business.

Robin: Then why did you invite her?

Trafalgar Law: ...

Trafalgar Law: ...

Franky: He's SUPERRRRR into her.

Trafalgar Law: Shut up.

Nami: Talk about cardiology — he looks like he's about to go into cardiac arrest! Look at how red his face is!

Trafalgar Law: I will cut you to pieces.

Franky: I bet when they finally cuddle, he'll be the little spoon.

Trafalgar Law: *Transports Franky into the sea*

Usopp: Man. That is one mad butter knife.

Franky: Grbrbrb rbrbrggbrbr brbrbrbrbgggrr, Grbrbrrrbrr! (Keep being awesome, Readers!!)

Chapter 10: Rapid Ascension!

Summary:

Potential Spoilers: Punk Hazard Arc.

Your head snapped to Law. His steel gaze never left yours. 

“You’re serious,” you said, dumbfounded.

“I am.” 

Law’s stare was so intense, your skin tingled from his eyes. All of your thoughts fizzled into a dull roar when he looked at you.

You tore yourself away from his intensity, tucking a stray hair away from your face. “Law…as much as I appreciate how willing you are, it's not a decision I can make overnight. And I’d also be putting your life at risk by joining.” 

“I’m aware,” said Law. “The offer still stands, even if you need time.”

You nodded. Unexpected warmth bloomed in your chest. You had shared something dark, and icy, and strange with Law, and he responded in kind by inviting you to his crew.

“Even if you do stay with Hancock…” Law said, interrupting your revelation. “I was planning on finding Caesar.”

Your hands clenched in your lap at Caesar’s name. “Why?” 

“To capture him.” Law’s tone was resolute. “If we became allies…that would be one less enemy for you to worry about.” 

Allies. That was acceptable, wasn't it? You wouldn't have to give up Maiden Island. And it meant more moments together like what you shared at the Marine base. Someone who stood next to you. Who could retrieve files from high shelves without you asking and wrapping your finger…you gently traced the scabbed-over cut along the pad of your finger.

Warmth dusted your cheeks. You were thankful for the dim lighting in Law’s office. 

You nodded. “I’d like that.”

Law smiled. It was akin to the frightful smile from earlier, but far more gentle and genuine. You liked that one, too. 

You shifted on the couch, facing him. “Monet will probably be with Caesar. From what I remember, she was his assistant.”

Law inclined his head, leaning in as if caught in your own gravitational field. “What do you remember about them…? If you feel comfortable sharing.” 

You told Law everything you could recall, from their Devil Fruit powers to little tidbits of information you heard in passing. Law only left your side once, moving about the office and returning to you with a cup of tea. He never missed a single word. 

“Let me get this straight,” Law pinched the bridge of his nose and set down his mug. Your positions on the sofa had changed; you had slipped off your shoes, legs curled under you as you faced him. Law’s long legs were stretched out before him, body angled towards you. “You spent years enduring the imbeciles of Enies Lobby, and it took Caesar Clown for you to finally think ‘these people are shady’?”

“I had doubts,” you said. Steam billowed from your mug, caressing your face. It was your second cup. “I was afraid if I left any sooner, they might go after my family.” 

Law nodded, his gaze elsewhere. His long, tattooed fingers tapped the side of his mug as he ruminated.

“What would you have done?” you asked him.

Law’s chest caved with one long exhale. “The exact same thing.”

Your eyes flew open. “Really?”

“You seem surprised,” said Law. “Do you regret it?”

“No. It's not like I can talk about this with everyone,” you said. “It just…sits in me. And I wonder if I made the right decisions.”

“I don't know the whole story,” Law set down his mug. His hands drifted down his denim-clad thighs. “But I’ve met a lot of idiots. You’re not one of them, Y/N-ya.”

“Did you just compliment me?”

“I said you weren't an idiot.”

You smiled. Your toes curled under you. “I’ll take it.”

Both of you laughed. The harmonic duet filled the room. Something about the low timber of his voice struck you between the shoulderblades, tickling down. 

“We’ll find Caesar,” you said. Your determination matched his. 

Law’s brow rose. “And Hancock? She’s still your Captain.” 

“I’ll see what she says…if she’d rather not get involved, it's her choice.” you sighed. “A fun-packed day tomorrow.”

Law glanced at his desk. “Or later today.” 

You followed Law’s gaze and gasped. It was a little after two in the morning. You set down your mug. “I’m so sorry —”

“Don't be. I’m used to late nights.” Law rose from his spot on the couch and stretched. Had you really sat together for so long? It hadn't felt like hours to you.

“Let’s get you back before they notice.” Law grabbed Caesar’s file from his desk. After you slipped on your shoes, he held it out to you.

“Thanks,” your fingers brushed Law’s as you took it. “Sorry I talked so much. Next time it's your turn.”

Law smiled and said nothing. You tucked the folder to your chest, hands still tingling from his cool touch.

As you breezed by Law’s desk, one of the other files flew open. You were just about to look away when a familiar face caught your eye. It stopped you in your tracks.

Ace.

It was an old newspaper clipping from months ago. You remembered the photo; you had the exact same snippet at the very bottom of your nightstand drawer in your bedroom. 

Ace’s dark hair and the tattoo printed across his bicep were exactly as you remembered. Part of his face was obscured by the woman he was kissing, wearing his hat. They stood in front of a lit-up bar, completely picturesque.

That woman was you. 

The light dizziness that enveloped you seconds before evaporated. Air couldn't seem to enter your lungs. A lump had formed there, lodged in your throat.

Law blocked the newspaper clipping from view as he stood before you. “Y/N-ya —”

“It's fine,” you said quickly. You squeezed the file to your chest so hard, sharp edges of the folder stabbed into your abdomen. 

Law’s steel-gray eyes were on your face, burning your skin — this time, for different reasons. “It's not. I —”

“Please.” You finally forced yourself to look at Law. It was easier than staring at the photo. “I don't want to talk about this.”

Law’s words died in his throat with a garbled, “Nngh!” His jaw clenched.

You awkwardly excused yourself as rushed past him, making for the door like a mouse in flight —

It burst open. Fluorescents invaded the room, chasing away the dim light. Three boiler suit-clad figures filled the doorway. They gaped at you. 

Two men and a polar bear blocked your escape. The polar bear — Bepo, you recalled — gasped. He looked over your head at Law. “Captain!! Are you on a date?!”

“You had a girlfriend and didn't tell us?”

“She’s cute —!”

Law was at your side again. “Move!”

“It's not going well? Did you show her your tattoos?!”

Your face burned. Law wrapped an arm around you and shouldered them out of the way. You didn't catch the looks Law shot behind you, but due to the silenced whispers, they had to be lethal.

“I’m sorry,” Law murmured to you. The arm around you dropped limply to his side. “Y/N —”

“Maybe we should wait to have this conversation,” you said. “Like…daylight hours?” Or never?

The chilled halls of the Polar Tang blurred by. Numbness crawled over your skin, and you welcomed it. The thought of losing it in front of Law…you hadn't shed a single tear over Enies Lobby (which was a first), and of course the thing to finally break you was…it was humiliating.

You reached the steps leading up to the deck. When you stepped outside the submarine’s walls, the night breeze tugged at your hair with icy fingers. 

Law’s jaw was fixed in an uncomfortable position. You could tell he was reluctant to leave things as they were. But the numbness was wearing off, and you were already as vulnerable as you had ever been with Trafalgar D. Law. You had to put as much distance as possible between you before you snapped. 

“Would you like me to take you back to your room? It’ll be faster.”

“It’s okay,” you said, swallowing. “I think I need the walk. We were sitting for a while.”

You stood together, tense and rigid. The soft white lights of the Polar Tang bleached Law’s skin. His complexion was ghostly, but you had enough hauntings for one evening (or morning). 

All moisture left your mouth. What should you say? You needed to run, before the tears started — but you didn't want to shred your new alliance. You poured out one of your most dangerous secrets to Law, then laughed and talked about things you never thought you would laugh or talk about…and then the photo.

Law’s tongue flashed across his lips. “I…liked listening to you tonight.”

The words were stiff, seeping with awkwardness. But the intent behind them wasn't.

“If there is a next time, I’d like to hear more.”

Your breath caught in your throat. In the short time you had been together, you’d learned that Law wasn't the greatest with words. What he lacked in verbal coordination, he more than made up for with sincerity. 

You swallowed and nodded. “Good night…and good morning.”

Law bowed his head. Dark strands dripped from his hood, writhing like tufts of living shadow against his skin. “Good morning and good night.”

~*~

Your knock echoed down the corridor.

You stood outside the double doors to Hancock’s bedroom. Flames crackled beside you, licking at the wall sconces. As you watched, you wondered if you were doing the right thing. 

The door opened before you came to a decision. 

A crimson bathrobe was draped over Hancock’s delicate shoulders. Her eyes flickered over you as if she’d been awake for hours. “Yes?”

You gulped. Your throat burned in retaliation. “I was wondering if…we could have some girl time. You know, talk about feelings and boys and…stuff.”

Hancock blinked. It was obvious in your voice that you had been bawling. A sniffle escaped you when you stopped talking. 

Without hesitation, Hancock eased the door open with a soft smile. “Always.”

You returned the smile, but not for long. More tears threatened to spill as you did so. 

You stepped inside. Hancock fluttered about the room, returning to you with a spare bathrobe in hand. She draped the soft, fuzzy fabric over your shoulders.

“What would you like to talk about?” said Hancock.

You closed your eyes. No matter how long you waited, nothing would mentally prepare you for what was to come.

“Ace,” you said.

Notes:

Author: And that wraps up Act I! Who's ready for Act II —?

*Trafalgar Law kills the Author*

The Straw Hats: :O

Everyone: :O

Ghost Ace: :O

Eustass Kid: NOOOOOO — oh, wait. I don't care.

Nami, covering Chopper's eyes: WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT LAW

Trafalgar Law: That was crappy writing. I was doing everyone a service.

Reiju: Or, perhaps, someone is taking out their feelings because they just screwed up with an incredibly beautiful woman...

Bepo: Who's going to write the story now, Captain??

Marco: I'll give it a go.

Izo: I've seen your handwriting. I wouldn't wish that upon the audience.

Marco: Don't stereotype me-yoi!

Robin: Sounds interesting. I'll help you —

Mihawk, with a glass of wine: Step aside, woman. I've waited for a challenge that'll finally determine pen or sword (it's the sword).

Crocodile: He's right. An experienced hand is needed for this (stop laughing, Straw Hat!).

Robin: Your addiction to classic romance novels is showing.

Crocodile: Jane Austen was a visionary. But you and the overcooked parrot lack the literary skill to write this tale.

Marco: You're on, Greasier-Version-of-John-Travolta. Go be awesome-yoi!!!!

 

Koby: This is bad!!! We've gotta do something — wish me luck, Readers!!

Chapter 11: Act II: Ace of Spades

Ace of Spades;

Traditionally, the highest and most valued card in a deck of playing cards. Its value varies from game to game. The card is rumored to be inspired by the sword of the executioner from the Middle Ages, responsible for carrying out death sentences.

Chapter 12: Heat Haze!

Summary:

Potential Spoilers: None

— O N E   Y E A R,   S I X   M O N T H S   A G O —

The Emperor’s brow arched as he studied you. “Why are you on my ship?”

Murmurs rippled through Whitebeard’s assembled crew like an agitated beehive. It was too much of an effort to catch their words. Your feet already screamed in protest at the mere act of standing. 

Whitebeard’s gaze flashed to the Warlord at your side. Mihawk bowed his head, “Her Haki is unlike anything I have ever seen.” 

Your tight fists hovered near your ice picks, stark silver lines against your black Impel Down officer uniform. You wanted to protest about sharing such delicate information, but that would require speaking. Existing was enough of a painful ordeal. 

“Shanks would not take her,” said Mihawk. “Said she was too young for his crew.”

It wasn't exactly true. Shanks had asked if you wanted to join. You’d said no. You wanted to go home, not sail the seas.

Whitebeard shifted in his massive chair. IV cords slithered around his arms.

“Only my sons serve under me,” said Whitebeard. “Would you be comfortable?”

Your eyes swept about the deck. Every face you saw was male. The ones with more androgynous features were dressed the same. Some looked like they could pass for your age, but your vision was blurring. 

“I want to go home,” you said. 

“And what is home to you?”

“Land. My family.” Your clenched fingers were numb. You’d asked (and pleaded, and ordered, and threatened) Mihawk to take you there, but he’d insisted that you meet two of the four Emperors before returning you to land. Given you were a wanted criminal, and there were no other options for transport, you went along with it. 

“Do you think you’ll honestly be able to return to a normal life? After everything?” Mihawk’s voice was a whisper to you, not meant to carry across the deck. 

You glared at him. He thwarted your escape at Impel Down. You were seconds from sweet, blissful freedom that you hadn’t felt…ever. The bitterness of defeat still soured your saliva. 

One of Whitebeard’s sons parted from the assembled crowd. Blond tendrils bounced on his head as he walked. He gave you a wary look as he passed, and exchanged soft murmurs with Whitebeard. 

Both of them glanced in your direction. Whitebeard nodded. 

The blond man sauntered up to you. “My name is Marco. I’m head of the ship’s infirmary, and commander of Pops’ first division. You don't look well.”

Shallow breaths burned in your chest. Blots of ebony lined your vision. If your body gave out here, amongst tens — no, hundreds of strangers…

Your fingers twitched towards your weapons. 

“Have you experienced any severe blood loss recently-yoi?” said Marco. “Dizziness? You look pale.” 

You blinked. He sounded sincere, and you wanted to believe him. But what if a trap lurked beneath it?

Mihawk coughed into his fist. “ Massive amounts! Ahem, pardon me.”

As annoying as he was, the Warlord hadn't tried to kill you. Yet. There wouldn't be a point in putting it off, would there? 

You nodded once. Marco’s sandals scraped against the planks beneath you as he stepped forward. “Can you walk by yourself?”

Darkness flooded your vision. Your feet still weighed heavy on the ship. Salty air still burned your lungs. After a flurry of blinks, Marco’s blurry face appeared before you.

“Hey! Let’s show her around,” a charismatic voice replied beside you. The syllables melded together when he spoke like music. 

An arm draped lightly around your shoulders. In your ear, he whispered, “Lean on me if you need to.”

You nodded, letting the second man escort you through your blurry surroundings. His bare skin was warm, so much so it seared through your clothes. It softened your rigid shoulders. 

Marco walked in front of you, parting the sea of hazy faces. You were gently steered towards the lower part of the ship.

“You’ll be okay, I got you.” Mr. Charismatic squeezed your shoulders. His breath tickled your ear. “Trust me.” 

~*~

You gently swayed back and forth. Every part of you ached with stiffness as if nothing had been used in a while. Little knots of protest formed when you tried to move. 

You stretched your fingers, curling and flexing the digits. Slowly, the knots unfurled. You tested your arm next, bracing yourself for a sharp spasm of pain across your back — that never came. 

“Hey, there. You feelin’ all right, gorgeous?” something warm brushed against your fingers.

You fought back against your heavy eyelids, and eventually won. The most beautiful face you’d ever laid eyes on stared back at you.

Dark locks framed a beaming, freckled face. Red beads draped around his neck, over his broad shoulders. Vaguely, you recognized his voice: he was Mr. Charismatic. 

It took a few moments for the realization to settle in. It was as if you had been underwater for many years, and you were waiting for it to empty out of your skull.

“Hmm?” Your brain couldn't do words yet. That was the best you could manage. 

Mr. Charismatic chuckled and ruffled your hair. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Y/N. The name’s Portgas D. Ace.”

You tried to sit up. The surface beneath you — a woven hammock — softly rocked you back and forth. Bandages lined your torso. A loose shirt replaced your Impel Down uniform, with the back partially sliced open. It felt nice not having so many layers on your wounds. 

Grogginess still clouded your mind. So you couldn't stop what blurted from your mouth, “You’re pretty.”

Ace laughed. It was a warm, hearty sound that trickled down your body. “Thanks. You’re pretty, too.”

You shifted in your cocoon of blankets to face him. You rubbed at your eyes with closed fists. “What happened?”

“Marco said you didn't look too good when you boarded. He’s the one that patched you up, and he’s been watching over you since,” said Ace. 

Your eyes wandered about the room. Everything seemed so clear and detailed once the blurriness of sleep wore off. It was small, more like a wooden crate than a room, but it smelled amazing. The source was numerous bouquets of flowers surrounding you.

Ace followed your stare. “You’re not allergic, are you? The guys were worried about you. We don't really see a lot of women around here, so you’re pretty popular.” 

“Popular? Me?” You hadn't meant to say it out loud. Your face burned at your lack of discipline. You shyly shook your head, raising one of the white, linen blankets to hide behind.

Ace laughed. “You’re cute. You sleep good?”

You peeked over your blanket barrier and nodded. Whenever you looked at Ace, he was always smiling. It was like you could do no wrong — you could probably commit a murder in front of him and get away with it. 

You lowered the blanket, smoothing it across your lap. “Thank you. I should thank Marco, too, and everyone else.”

Ace’s lopsided smile somehow grew wider. “I think they’d like that.”

“What happens now?” you asked.

Ace’s smile twitched. He scooted his stool closer to you. A book rested across his lap. “I guess that’s your call. You said you wanted to go home, right?” 

You leaned back into the hammock, letting it cradle you above the ground. Sunlight trickled through the window and draped your surroundings in an ethereal glow. Gentle gardenias tickled your nose. It was such a pleasant moment. The thought of going anywhere else bummed you out. 

“I guess so…? I don't know. All I’ve really thought about is getting out, from Enies Lobby to Impel Down…I didn't think about what would happen after.”

Would it be safe if you returned? The World Government would be looking for you, wouldn't they? What if you led them straight to your family?

Ace propped his chin up on his hand. “What calls to you? I mean, like, have you ever dreamed of doing something your whole life?”

You frowned. The past six years, you’d been too preoccupied with Cipher Pol to fantasize about a tangible future. Even before that, you’d been plagued with enough worries…

“I’m not sure,” you said. “I don't think I have one. A dream. Is that bad?”

You glanced at Ace’s astonished face. He hummed as he ruminated. Then his expression brightened.

“Course not! Now you get to choose one,” said Ace.

You blanched. “Um. That sounds like a big decision. I think I’ll have to sleep more on that one.”

Ace’s laugh filled the cabin again. The sound was as lively as his personality. “Yeah, it's not something you choose overnight. But seriously…isn’t there anything you want? Anything in the world?”

“Anything?” you inched closer.

“Yeah,” Ace leaned forward to meet you. “You’re with pirates, after all. This is the place to want anything.”

You both shared a smile. You pressed a finger to your lips as ideas coursed through you. “Concerts?”

“Oh, good one! What else?”

“Chocolate — and breakfast food. A lot of breakfast food,” you said. Your stomach gurgled in agreement — when was the last time you ate something?

Ace chuckled. “I like your taste. What else?”

You ruminated, staring blankly ahead. The hammock swayed in tune with the waves that held the ship.

“Traveling sounds nice…you guys get to go anywhere you want, don't you? I mean, aside from what your Captain tells you,” you said. 

Ace nodded. “Pops is a great man. He offers support to people even when they don't ask. If you’re worried about him, don't be.”

Your fingers traced the outer roped edge of the hammock between you and Ace. “Do you think…it would be okay? If I stayed?”

A smile broke across Ace’s face. He leaned in so close, you could see little flecks of gold in his almond-colored eyes. “That sounds like a path to greatness.”

Notes:

Crocodile: "Mr. Charismatic"? THAT'S the best you can do, Nico Robin?

Marco: I wanted "Shirtless Cowboy," but I was overruled.

Nico Robin: What better way to tug on the readers' heartstrings? All we need now is a sick, gruesome murder to get the blood running. Adrenaline and romance go hand in hand <3

Perona: That lady scares me more than the pessimist with a giant nose...

Sugar: Long nose is worse. Trust me.

Ace: Woohoo! I'm back!! In the flesh!! Y/N I LOVE YOUUUU -

Vivi: Welcome back, Ace!! You had a book on your lap when Y/N woke up. Were you reading to her?

Ace: Uh...yeah...

Nami: Aww that's so sweet! What was it?

Ace: ...Nothing...

Maroc: "A Duck's Quacktastrophy: The First Day of School"

Ace: Dude!!

Marco: We were practicing. "Mr. Charismatic" over here is dyslexic.

Ace: I thought she would like the duckies...I did

All the Women in the Four Seas & Bon Clay: AWWWWWWW

Ace: More chapters and less duckies to come!! Keep being awesome, Awesome People!!

Chapter 13: Gekishin!

Summary:

Potential Spoilers: None.

“You changed your mind,” said Whitebeard. “Why?” 

The waves gently cradled the Captain’s Quarters. You thought it was safe to assume it was Whitebeard’s; everything was nearly twice your size, fit to the enormous Emperor’s height. 

You sat in the only armchair tailored to someone of your size. Whitebeard watched you from behind his massive, oaken desk. 

“Cipher Pol will come looking for me,” you admitted. “But if you’d rather not be involved with me for that reason —”

“Ha! Gur-ra-ra-ra! ” 

Whitebeard’s chuckle rumbled across the cabin. Ornate weapons chittered on the walls around you. 

“That won't be a problem with us,” said Whitebeard. His tone was casual, as if you were discussing the weather.

You pressed your lips together, resisting the urge to gape at him. The Emperor didn't seem rattled in the slightest. You continued, “Even if I tried to return to my family, they’d be safer without me. Assuming they’re still alive —”

“They are,” said Whitebeard. His voice boomed even as a murmur. 

You blinked. “My parents?”

A low rumble reverberated in Whitebeard’s throat as he hummed in affirmation. “They are alive and well. Still at the house with a red door by the lake.” 

Your mouth finally fell open. Ace’s words drifted back to you, Pops is a great man. He offers support to people even when they don't ask.
“Thank you.” Those two, small words hardly conveyed the wave of relief, the swell of gratitude you suddenly harbored for the man in front of you. 

Whitebeard’s mustache twitched up. You leaned forward, “Would you be willing to take me?”

Whitebeard’s elbows rested on the arms of his chair. “That depends,” his dark eyes seized you, “on why you want to stay.” 

The room rocked back and forth, just like the gentle swinging of a hammock. You focused on that sensation, taking deep breaths as the Emperor studied you. Pirates or no, this was the most stressful job interview of your life. 

You swallowed. Your mind ran through the responses Ace helped you shape before this visit. 

“I think I’ll be happier here,” you straightened in your chair. For the first time in weeks, your back didn't cripple with agony. The pain came in manageable spurts now. Whatever Marco was doing, it worked wonders. “And I owe your crew for saving my life.”

“What can you do for us?”

You held up one of your ice picks. “Stab people?”

Whitebeard roared with laughter. The window rattled against its wrought-iron confines behind him.

You smiled. Your ice breaker worked (pun definitely intended). You lowered your weapon — or toothpicks, you supposed, by Whitebeard’s standards.

“Marco told me the crew could use some help managing finances for supplies. I would be happy to assist as bookkeeper — and keep track of your medical appointments,” you said.

Another approving rumble thrummed from Whitebeard’s throat. “Good. Marco’s been carrying too many responsibilities. But I had another job in mind for you.”

Your pulse thundered in your ears. This wasn't part of what you rehearsed. You nodded, gulping down a lungful of electrified air. 

Whitebeard’s gaze hovered over your head, to the weapons lining the walls. He seemed fixated on a ceremonial katana, separated from the rest of the glimmering metal. 

“My division leaders oversee this territory, personally tending to any…disruptions that may occur,” said Whitebeard. “I want you to take charge of assigning them to these incidents.”

You chewed on your bottom lip. Cipher Pol equipped you with many useful abilities, the most prominent being an unequal education. Lengthy classes in speed, stealth, and intellect. The price was your freedom, of course. There wasn't much of a choice in all of it for you. 

But those skills — my Haki. They helped me stay hidden, not…interact.

“Like…a coordinator?” you said. 

“No.” Whitebeard shifted in his seat. “More like…a spokesperson. My spokesperson.”

Blood pumped in your veins. Thoughts swirled within you, wondering what Whitebeard could’ve possibly seen in you to choose you for such a vital role.

“Are you sure you want me?” you said.

Whitebeard’s brow furrowed. “Why wouldn't I?”

“I’m — well…” your fingers fumbled in your lap as you struggled for the right words. You wanted to stay on the ship, but you refused to deceive your new…crew. “My Haki…it’s designed to make me forgettable. At least, that’s how it works. It would be an incredible honor, but do you really think someone like me should be in charge of…?”

“I have no interest in your Haki, little one. Only in your work ethic.” Whitebeard crossed his massive arms, veins rippled across toned biceps. “Even on your deathbed, you knew who to trust. That is what I need. Someone who has strong insides — intuition, gurrah! Can you do it?”

Whitebeard stifled a coughing fit before you, crimson flooding his cheeks. You knew part of it was from the coughs that racked his enormous form, but you wondered if the Emperor felt embarrassed from such a vulnerable act. 

You stood. On the very edge of Whitebeard’s desk was a large, crudely-made tissue box, using paper towels instead of tissues. You scooted your chair up against his desk and climbed atop your seat. You nudged the box towards him.

“I’m fine,” Whitebeard insisted. 

“You can still take one — just in case. For later, or if someone else needs it,” you said.

Whitebeard grunted his displeasure, but he didn't argue with you. He plucked one of the towels from the box, dabbing at his mustache.

You leaned your elbows along the edge of Whitebeard’s desk. Could you do what he asked? Your Haki was the reason you were here. It was a shadow that forever loomed in your midst, lurking in every conversation you had for the past six years of your life. 

It was a part of you, yes. But was it all of you…? No.

You found yourself nodding. “I’ll be your spokesperson.”

Whitebeard’s mustache twitched up. 

“And I’ll still do some bookkeeping on the side — you have an entire territory’s worth to watch over,” you added.

“Then it's settled.”

Whitebeard rose. His steps boomed against the wooden planks as he walked around the desk. When he reached you, still standing on your chair, he crouched down and clasped your shoulder with an oversized hand.

“Welcome, daughter,” Whitebeard’s eyes shone. “You will always be safe here.” 

You grinned. Pops ruffled your hair with a surprising amount of gentleness. Random strands stuck up on your head when he drew back. 

Pops straightened to his full, towering height. “To make you more comfortable amongst our family, I’m assigning one of my sons as your partner.”

You stepped down from your chair and dusted yourself off to hide your own jitteriness. One face in particular came to mind, but that was a fantasy. There was no way reality would actually favor you in such a way —

“I think you will compliment Ace nicely,” said Whitebeard.

You averted your gaze. An embarrassing amount of heat burned in your cheeks. Ace. The forever-smiling Mr. Charismatic. Just picturing his face made your heart stumble. 

Another one of Whitebeard’s hearty chuckles sent tremors across the room.

“He is a very persuasive reason to stay for most, so I’m told.”

~*~

“Howdy, partner!”

Ace waved to you across the deck. Freckles framed his smile, making your breath uneven as you approached. “Ready for your first island?” 

You nodded. True to Pops’ word, Ace was your constant companion. You were half-convinced he was a walking dream; Ace wasn't a person you just bumped into in real life. He was like the hot character everyone fawned over in popular novels. A portable sun — your portable sun, you corrected yourself with a shiver. 

Ace introduced you to everyone you passed, taking you for endless guided tours around the Moby Dick. Each interaction was framed with a chivalric yes, sir and a tip of his hat. You couldn't keep your eyes off of him. This was a pirate?

Marco leaned back on the railing next to Ace. He inclined his head at you, “How’s your back, Y/N-yoi?”

“Much better. Thank you for that,” you said. Marco personally oversaw your recovery. You’d already noticed major, almost inhuman amounts of progress in your condition during your short time together. 

“That’s what I like to hear! We’ll check it in about a week, how’s that sound? Come see me if there’s more pain.” 

Beaming, you turned to Ace. “Where are we headed?” 

“Dressrosa! Pops is seeing a specialist there. It's an island known for romance and dancing. I hope they have good food.”

Marco’s voice dropped an octave. “Wanna change first, Y/N-yoi? We’re a rowdy crew, but…that’ll attract some stares.”

You glanced down at your Impel Down officer uniform. It fit you surprisingly well, but Marco was right: it wasn't an outfit for casual sight-seeing. “That’s true, but I don't have a lot of clothes. I think I’ll go shopping while we’re there.”

Ace plucked his hat from his head and planted it atop yours. “We’ll fix that,” he said with a smirk.

Notes:

Everyone: THANK YOU FOR 1000 VIEWS!!

Chopper: Wow!! There's so many - are they all part of Luffy's army??

Usopp: Chopper, they're obviously here because of ME. The Great Captain Usopp is the ultimate clickbait!

Nami: We should celebrate!!

Luffy: Let's party - SANJI! BRING US THE MEATS!

Sanji: I'm a cook, not an Arby's commercial!! And Nami-swan and Robin-chwan's dishes will be served first~

Marco: We should do something fun to commemorate it-yoi!

Zoro: Sake?

Robin: Oh! How about a special chapter?

Chopper: That's a great idea!

Luffy: It should be about Ace!!

Bepo: It should totally feature the Captain!!

Robin: Maybe we'll let the readers decide in the comments ;) keep being awesome!

Franky: AND SUPERRRR!!!

Chapter 14: Divine Departure!

Summary:

Potential Spoilers: Marineford Arc, Dressrosa Arc (major)

“I like that one!”

“Can we see the blue one again-yoi?”

“That goes with your eyes.”

It was the third boutique you’d visited. Ace and Marco lounged outside the dressing rooms, half-buried by shopping bags. They weren't the least bit deterred when you appeared for the fourth time.

“I think you might be biased,” you said to Ace.

“Overalls are cute,” Ace pouted. 

Marco raised his hand. “I still vote for the Hawaiian crop top-yoi.”

You broke into a smile, cupping your warm cheeks as you turned away. “You should be designers.”

“Damn right we should! Marco’s got the hair for it.”

“You could not survive any industry where a shirt is required-yoi.”

Two months ago, I was scaling a tower in Enies Lobby with ice picks to escape. At night. In the rain. NEVER would I have seen this coming. 

You checked the dressing room one last time. A crumpled heap of black fabric was sprawled across the bench. 

You frowned at your Impel Down officer uniform. It was a souvenir of the greatest turning point in your life. The good, the bad, and the bloody. Was it worth keeping? 

Your fashion posey might have an answer. You shoved the wrinkled fabric under your arm and slipped out.

“Do you think I should keep this?” you held the bundle of black fabric aloft. 

“Sure. You look sick in it — if you change your mind, we can always burn it later,” said Ace. 

“Good point — thanks!” 

Ace opened one of the shopping bags. You plopped the uniform inside. 

“A nice viking burial for your clothes-yoi. That's how you know your outfit slayed.” 

The three of you burst into laughter. It felt so natural bubbling from your lips. The weightlessness in your chest was still a foreign feeling. 

As your small party strolled toward the cash register, your gaze wandered to the shoes mounted on shelves along the walls. One was a pair of ankle-high boots, nearly identical to Ace’s. 

“Can you hold on one second?” you said. You hoisted one of the shopping bags over your shoulder.

“ ‘Course. Here, lemme take those.” Ace relieved you of the small bundle of clothes in your arms. 

“Thanks! I’ll be right back.”

You dashed to the wall of shoes, eye level with your prize. You were in luck: they were your size.

Quickly, you switched shoes. The boots slipped on effortlessly. You flexed your toes, testing the inside. They were a perfect fit.  

You returned to Ace and Marco with the box and your old shoes in hand. Ace grinned at your feet. “Nice! We match. And those look great with the overalls.” 

You smiled. Heat scorched your cheeks. 

When your shopping spree ended, the three of you strolled down the cobblestone streets. There were so many people. You marveled at the crowds that gushed down the road, dressed in more vibrant colors than the clinical white-and-blue you’d become accustomed to. Children’s laughter bounced off the stones. Chiding parents followed behind with genuine smiles…

That’s why they stood out to you.

You tried not to stare. You couldn't help it. Life-sized toys moved with the crowds, trailing after townspeople. The smiles painted on their faces were jubilant, but their eyes never matched. 

You edged closer to Ace. “What are they…exactly?”

Ace shrugged. “Dunno. You see a lot of crazy shit in the Grand Line, but I’m not really sure on the story behind the toys.”

“Minions, maybe?” said Marco. His ever-present smile faded as a small, wind-up dog yapped at a child’s heels. “They seem to suit the people’s whim.”

“Makes you think, Marco.”

“ ‘Bout what-yoi?”

“Lotta crazy sights here. Crazy powers, too.” Ace’s words were nonchalant, but his brows were drawn together.

“Yeah. Makes you wonder who’s responsible.” Marco’s lips thinned.

You glanced between the two as they fell silent. Tension sullied the air, thick and stifling. 

“Why are we here?” you asked in a small voice.

Ace blinked, as if remembering you next to him. “Pops is seeing a doctor in town for arthritis. We’ve got a day to kill. Where would you like to go next?”

Ace’s smile didn't reach his eyes. Marco’s shoulders remained hunched. The atmosphere was still taut, but something told you not to bring it up. 

You bit your lip as you browsed the shop signs ahead. One destination came to mind. It probably wouldn't suit your present company.

“If you don't want to go, you don't have to,” you said. “You can drop me off or something.”

Ace snorted. “What kind of partner would I be if I did that? Come on, Y/N, where do you want to go?”

~*~

The stack of books beside you wobbled. You steadied them, glancing around your hushed surroundings. 

Dressrosa’s public library was nearly empty. Stragglers wandered the shelves and ogled books. Only your small table in the corner was occupied. It wasn't the most thrilling pastime, but it was a nice escape from the heat and the tightly-packed streets.

As you read, Ace softly assembled a house of cards with only the Spades deck. There was a knot between his brows as he worked. Marco sat across from you, legs kicked up with his hands cradling his head. You thought he was napping, but every now and then his eyes would slide open, assessing the room.

You flipped through the best history book you could find on pirates. How they started, which seas were most explored, notable names…

“Let me get this straight,” said Marco. His eyes were still clasped shut. “You decide to become a pirate, and the first thing you do is read a book about it.” 

You nodded. “That’s right.”

A smirk pulled at Marco’s lips. He leaned back in his chair. The front legs tipped off the floor. “You’re incredible.” 

Ace’s knee bounced beside you. You suppressed a wince. “I’m sorry. I know this isn't the most exciting thing — you really don't have to stay.”

Ace looked up from his assembly of Spade cards. His fingers froze as he started shuffling the Hearts deck. “What?”

You glanced at Ace’s foot, softly tapping on the floor. It stopped as soon as you stared.

Ace’s eyes widened. “Oh, no! I don't have a problem with here, Y/N. Take your time.” 

Marco hummed in agreement. “He gets this way. Think of him as a child; he hates sitting still.”

“Back off, Pineapple.” 

Marco stuck his tongue out at Ace. “He gets tightly wound due to any ‘delays.’ We don't have much business on this island: he’s stranded for the day. No big adventures to be had for Fire-Fist Ace.”

You smiled. Ace didn't seem like the type to sit still; he was in constant motion. 

Your attention returned to the book before you. As you flipped the page, one name dominated the section: Gold Roger.

You skimmed the page. Roger had shaped the Pirate Era for decades. He’d achieved what all pirates dreamed of, exploring each island to the very last and claiming the ultimate treasure as his own: the One Piece.

A wrinkled slip of parchment was lodged between the pages. You unfolded it and gasped.

Familiar almond eyes stared back at you from an old, withering wanted poster.

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” said Ace. His almond eyes were still on his Spades fortress.

“Gold Roger. Or is it Gol D. Roger? I’ve heard it both ways, is there a correct one?”

Ace’s fingers clenched. His house of cards fluttered across the table. 

One of Marco’s eyes peeled open, glancing at Ace. Then softly closed. 

“He’s the worst,” muttered Ace. “He’s not worth your time.” 

“He definitely made his mark.” You sighed as you glanced over the section. “I’m not sure what to believe anymore. The World Government is full of jerks. You’re both the kindest people I’ve ever met, and you’re pirates. What am I supposed to make of that?”

“Let’s not forget this island is also run by a pirate,” said Marco.

“So?”

“So, that book you’re reading there. How can you trust it?” Marco’s eyes narrowed. “A pirate runs the island. You expect them to tell the truth?”

Ace shot him a glare. You softly shut the book before you. “You think I shouldn't believe any of it?”

Marco’s chair creaked as it returned to the floor. He leaned forward, draping his arms on the table. “I’m saying you should take everyone you meet — and everything you read — with a grain of salt, Y/N.”

Marco glanced about the lofty room. The tables around you were still empty. Strangers perused the aisles, picking books off the shelves.

Marco’s voice lowered. “You’ve met who controls the newspapers. Don't take anything for granted.” 

You shuddered. It was an ominous warning, the last thing you expected from Marco. Even during your check-ups, he seemed laid back enough.

“Why the warning?” you said. 

“You’re my patient.” Marco’s fists curled. “It’s my duty as your doctor to put your health and safety first. And you’re part of our crew. We look out for each other.” 

Your scars tingled beneath your new clothes. Your crew — er, family —  was still unfamiliar. But you trusted each member more than you had anyone else in years (eh, Teech was still a maybe). 

You turned to Ace. A frown mauled his features ever since you mentioned Roger. It was very uncharacteristic of him. 

“Um, as pirates…are you opposed to petty theft?” you asked.

Ace’s scowl dissipated. His eyes drifted to you. “Anything you want is yours. Just take it. Or, I’ll take it for you.” 

Your gaze flitted to the pile of books. Then to Ace. “One of these books has a really good section on imported and exported goods…might be a great resource for bookkeeping…and there’s a few shipwright novels.”

“Want all of ‘em?”

You nodded. Ace’s frown lines lifted. He slipped his hat onto your head like a sealed promise. “Consider it done.”

“Yay!”

“You’re adorable, Y/N.”

Your party rose from the table. Roger’s wanted poster poked out from the history book. A weird urge to take it made your fingers twitch. Then Ace’s troublesome frown flashed behind your eyelids, and you decided against it. 

A nutcracker-shaped toy wandered near your nook of the library. He hopped on one leg as he perused the shelves. Eventually he stopped, raising his fake rifle to coax a book from the higher shelves.

“Do you need some help?” you joined the toy at the end of the aisle. Your hand lingered where the barrel of his gun prodded at the books. “Which one would you like?”

“History of Dressrosa, please! Thank you, miss!”

You eased the thick tome from the tightly packed shelves. When you turned to the toy soldier, his shining, wooden hands reached out. His fingers were forcibly cupped together. “Are you going to be okay holding this? Do you need a bag?”

“Uh —”

“Here, man. We’ve got you covered. Y/N, mind if these clothes share a bag?” Ace held up one of the shopping bags. 

“Not at all! Great idea!”

Ace helped you empty one of the bags and slip the book inside. You presented it to the toy soldier.

“Thank you, miss. You are very kind.” The toy soldier’s wooden joints clicked as he bowed.

“Didn't know toys were allowed to check out books,” Marco mused. 

The toy soldier rose from the floor. His head still hung low. “We are not.” 

It was such a simple act: checking out a book from the library. Something anyone could do. 

It’s like they’re not even human. I mean, they’re toys. But it’s ignoring the fact that they’re alive. 

“That’s terrible! What happens if you get caught?” you said.

The toy soldier drooped, as if his marionette strings had been cut.

You spun to Ace, gaze pleading. “Can we steal one more?”

Ace smiled at you. “We’ll meet you outside, Mr. Soldier.” 

Notes:

Author: I am weirdly obsessed with the library scene and I'm so excited we got to it!!

Chopper: AUTHOR!!! YOU'RE BACK!!

Usopp: HOW ARE YOU STILL ALIVE?!

Brook: I'd have goosebumps, but I don't have any skin! Yo-ho-ho-ho!

Robin: You had a very traumatic death! It was invigorating to watch!

Author: Eh, it happens. This is the first time it was committed by a main character though — and a love interest, no less!

Tashigi: ...

Tashigi: This is a REGULAR OCCURRENCE???

Author: The Jason Todd tantrum of '22, the Deadpool fiasco of '18 — I digress.

Trafalgar Law: ...

Author: ...

Trafalgar Law: ...

Author: Do I need to put you in a time out?

Trafalgar Law: Isn't that what Act II is all about?

Author: ...Fair enough. And you're my favorite (don't tell Marco). More coming up soon, Awesome People!! Go be your awesome selves!!