˚Sharkie.

Women flocked to the ebony-haired beauty with ease, practically dogpiling upon seeing him to get to him. Often enough, it earned him a free round of drinks and food in an attempt to catch his attention. It made your skin crawl constantly.

And while he definitely seemed like a flirt, he couldn’t care less. He did enjoy the food and liquor though. He was just so oblivious to you glaring daggers from the bar.

Little to your knowledge, Ace purposely scared men off by your side, throwing evil glares or quite literally spitting fireballs at them. Like your own personal guard dog.

One night, you’d had one too many and you couldn’t help but get irritated. You paid your tab, not giving Ace and his groupies a second glance as you stormed out. It took the drunken sailor a moment, not thinking it was you storming out at first. But the second he caught a whiff of your sweetened scent, he jumped the table, darting out after you.

Hell, you were already halfway to the ship when he spotted you. Have you ever seen a man run so fast in heavy ass boots?! Fuck no. But his impending steps scared the shit out of you. You drew your katana, spinning around to meet Ace’s neck with the blade.

He could see the fear in your eyes until your brain registered it was him. There was a moment where your gaze softened, but quickly turned sour. It made his heart ache. You never gave him that look.

“Why did you leave? The party wasn’t over!” Ace rasped, still catching his breath as you sheathed the sharp blade.

“Go back, Ace,” you snapped, a slight slur between your words.

“C’mon, Y/N, come back with me,” he pouted, knowing it made you weak. His damned puppy-pleading eyes and lip quiver always had you giving in.

“No,” you snapped, turning on your heel to continue going home.

“What the fuck?” Ace fell into step alongside you, staring in disbelief. “You actually just… Y/N! What did I do?”

“Nothing, Ace! Go party with your fanclub,” you huffed out, running a hand through your grimey hair. Gods, you were beginning to sweat just from anger.

“Wait, fanclub? Those chicks? Is that why you’re so pissy?” His voice had risen, as if he had a right to be upset with you. You just wanted to get out of there.

“Pissy?!” You half-laughed half-scoffed, stopping dead in your tracks.

“Yeah! Pissy! You’re bein’ childish!” He mocked your exasperated tone.

“Oh, because you can talk!” A sarcastic laugh escaped you as you pinched the bridge of your nose.

Ace sucked his teeth, “Don’t be a bitch, Y/N.”

Before you could think about your actions, your palm was stinging and his jaw was slack with shock. Neither of you were exactly coordinated at the moment so it was his jawbone catching most of the impact. His hand carefully cupped the stinging sensation, his jaw moving side to side.

“Fuck,” you whispered, staring at him all doe-eyed. “A-Ace, I’m so sorry. I-I…”

“You really pack a fuckin’ punch,” he chuckled, not meeting your eyes.

“I swear it won’t happen…again…” You watched as he took a deep breath, looking up at the sky.

“Stop bottlin’ shit up. That’s exactly what happens. You fucking blow up,” Ace’s voice held no anger, no malice, nothing. He sounded almost like a parent scolding their child.

“I’m going back to the ship.” You whispered, stepping back.

Ace’s fingers wrapped around your wrist, yanking you into him. Nausea hit as you stumbled into his chest. You couldn’t even warn him before it spewed from your mouth, eyes watering as you choked.

“Ew! Y/N!” Ace whined, quickly jumping back.

“You throw a drunk person–” Another wave hit you, forcing you to vomit on the stone road, “And you expect them not to vomit?”

“You stink,” Ace shuddered, stepping back.

“Obviously,” you sobered up, standing up carefully. There was a bit of vomit in your hair making you cringe. “I need a shower.”

“Shit, now I do too,” he whined again, freaking out that a drop of vomit splattered on his leg.

You rolled your eyes, “Could have one of your maidens clean you up.”

Ace frowned at you, “Come on! I thought ya dropped this whole chick thing!”

“Whatever, Ace,” you walked up the gangway, leaving him on the edge of the docks.

You didn’t hear his heavy boots following behind anymore. It twisted your stomach into knots as you walked through the empty ship, finding your way to the bathroom. Your hands weakly worked the nozzles to turn the water warm, eyes still unfocused from the amount of sake you downed to forget the image of him. Specifically the women flanking his sides, shoving alcohol and food down his throat. Somehow, not their tongues.

Steam fogged the bathroom as you undressed, a little wobbly on your feet. Puking was definitely your least favorite thing to do after a party. The door swung open as you worked the buttons on your shorts, a sharp scream escaping you.

“Tell me what the hell I did,” Ace shut the door behind him, hands on his hips like a sassy woman.

“Ace! Get out!” You covered your breasts immediately.

“Tell me what’s got a stick up your ass!” He wasn’t even focused on your tits. Just the fact that he couldn’t understand why you were genuinely angry at him.

“I’m naked, asshole!” You felt dizzy, heavily embarrassed by his intrusion.

“I have boobs too!” Ace motioned to his muscles, clearly not giving a shit how you were freaking out.

“Those are pecs!? Are you dumb?!” You tried shoving him towards the door, but he wasn’t budging.

“Same shit. Now talk,” his boot tapped impatiently as he pouted.

“Oh, my god! Turn around!” You whined, needing to get in the water while it was still hot.

Ace rolled his eyes, turning around. You shoved the rest of your clothes off, almost eating shit as you hid behind the shower curtain, soaked with water. He glanced back, seeing your shadow against the opaque drape.

“Start explainin’.” He moved to sit on the countertop, leaning back against the wall.

“It’s not a big fuckin’ deal, Ace.” You thoroughly washed your hair, the massage making your eyes roll back. Fuck, how long had it been since you felt this clean?

“It is to me, Y/N. That should mean somethin’ to you.” He muttered. Maybe you were hearing things, but he sounded hurt.

“It just gets on my nerves to see women obsess over you.” You stated, closing your eyes as the water drained the bubbles from your locks.

“Someone’s jealous.” His smirk was evident in his voice.

You stayed silent. It wasn’t easy to lie to him. Nor did you want to confirm his suspicions.

“Y/N?”

Nope. Not doing it.

“Y/N.”

You were planning on staying silent but he yanked open the curtain, half worried that you’d magically died in the shower. He let out a sigh of relief when you shrieked, smacking his hand away to pull the curtain back into place.

“Pervert!”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“I thought you dropped dead, idiot!”

“Are you dense?!”

Ace pursed his lips, staring at your eyes. What did he do wrong? Obviously, opening the shower might’ve been was wrong. But the anger. You were so angry with him… It actually hurt his feelings. Poor baby.

“Ace, why are you so stuck on this?”

“I don’t want you to be mad at me.”

And there goes your heart. It ached at his words. If you weren’t soaking wet and bare, you would’ve hugged him. So, you did the next best thing you could think of. You told him the truth.

“You’re an idiot.” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. A habit when you were giving in to whatever he wanted.

“Ouch. Hurtful,” Ace crossed his arms.

“No, not because of that. You’re so fucking blind, Ace. I’m…fuck. I like you! So, yes, I get upset when women are touching you, getting all of your attention. You flirt with them in front of my face. It hurts. You always do that shit.”

Ace’s poor face. His jaw slacked, staring at you. He was stuck on those three words. Was he seriously that drunk..? Was he starting to hallucinate? Had to be. Not…not you, right? How could he be so blind? He was a god at reading women, so, why not you? Right up until this point, he assumed you still saw him as your older brother.

“Earth to Ace?” Your hand waved in front of his face.

“You like me…” He exhaled, not realizing he stopped breathing for a few seconds.

“Yeah, kinda just said that.” You yanked the shower curtain closed to finish up.

“You like me!” Ace yanked it back open.

“Stop that!” You tried fighting his strength without ripping the thin plastic.

“Hell no!” Ace jumped into the shower, almost falling over as he cupped your face. “You fucking like me?! Since when?”

“Sh-ince–” He squished your face too much, making it hard for you to speak clearly. “Ace!”

“Sorry.” He retracted his hands, resting them on his hat.

“Since we were kids, dumbass,” you rubbed your cheeks softly.

“I’m so stupid,” Ace breathed.

“You are,” you went to turn back to your shower, but he was quicker.

The tiles were ice cold against your back. The warmth of his lips made up for it though. He pulled back, looking down at you.

“You taste like vomit.”

“Ace!”

Flame Emperor Sabo

The stars twinkled against the midnight sky. You poor thing, drinking away your feelings. It almost became a monthly ritual. You’d sneak off in the dark with a heavy bottle of sake and sit on the shore’s edge. Water rippled around your toes, leaving icy kisses against your skin.

It wasn’t that you enjoyed being drunk out of your mind. It just took the edge off most times. You actually kind of hated the burn. The flavor wasn’t too great. Flavor… Huh, your mind lingered on wondering what Sabo tasted like. Just one little kiss. Wouldn’t that be something…

This was the first night you finished a whole bottle so you weren’t coherent whatsoever. You didn’t catch the footsteps walking up behind you or his voice softly calling your name. Not until his hand rested on your shoulder did you look over and see him.

His blond curls and black attire made you smile lopsidedly. You thought that you were just starting to see things from your inebriated state. Fuck, how strong was that liquor?

“You look like Sabo,” a giggle escaped you followed by a hiccup.

“I would think so,” he chuckled softly, sitting next to you. “Why are you out here?”

“I don’t know,” you turn your gaze back up to the stars.

“Are you sure about that?” Sabo hummed, gazing up at the sky.

“It’s dumb,” you snort, rubbing your heavy eyes.

“Tell me. I’m a great listener, you know,” he chuckled.

“I just really like him. No…I love him.” You sigh, your eyes growing heavy. You desperately try to fight it off, but it’s getting harder by the second. “But he doesn’t feel the same. So, I drink to force it all out. Or push it down. However it works. It’s a thing now. My thing. I don’t know how you found me.”

“Who?” His voice cracked, his eyes moving to glance at you subtly.

“Sabo.” Now it’s your own voice’s turn to crack. “He’s so sweet, so passionate. He doesn’t have time for a relationship though…”

He stays silent. Did he hear you right? Were you even sure? He could see the bottle was empty. There was no way you were all the way there. You must’ve been drunk out of your mind.

“See? ‘S dumb,” you mumble tiredly. “Just…don’t tell him I told you.”

“I won’t.” He watched your eyes slowly close, your body letting the waves lull you asleep. “I promise.”

Sabo scooped you up, bringing you back to the ship. He made a B-line for his quarters, tucking you into his bed. Out of respect, he wasn’t going to sleep with you. He couldn’t. But…your hand latched onto him tightly, brows furrowed in your sleep. Sabo tried to tug your hand from his coat but fuck, were you strong.

Sabo sighed and slid in beside you, holding you close. “I love you, too, Y/N.”

“I know,” you mumbled drunkenly against his chest, feeling his body tense up against you.

Monkey D Luffy

Oh, sweet Luffy. Such innocence in this strong fighter. It was laughable really. You could absolutely do anything and he wouldn’t bat an eye. Wouldn’t dare second-guess that you were just being you. After all, you two grew up together. Well, you four. But you followed Luffy on his adventure, some sort of instinct to protect this naive kid.

You were really into him. The whole crew could see it from miles away. Nami and Franky always teased you about it. Hell, even Sanji teased you. He tried giving you love advice, but you’d give him a pointed look and he would roll his eyes.

“You don’t have to look at me like that.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Alright! Alright! Tch. I know.”

You’d bring Luffy snacks while he was busy doing things around the ship–if he wasn’t already scavenging the fridge. Or force his stinky self to bathe. He’d scream halfway across the ship, telling the crew you were kidnapping him. Robin would tease that you were like his mother which you’d shiver in disgust.

“So, you enjoy being a parent?”

“What?”

“You’re like his mom.”

“Ew… That feels so wrong.”

One Sunday evening, Luffy came creeping into your room. He watched you carefully, extremely confused. You looked up from your book, raising your eyebrow as he flinched.

“What’s wrong, Luffy?”

“Bath.”

“Is it broken?” You get up, leaving your book on the bed.

“No. You didn’t make me take one.”

You stared at him for a moment before bursting into laughter. “Um, no, I didn’t.”

“Why?” He tilted his head and it made you smile.

“I’m not your mom,” you shrug softly, rubbing your arm awkwardly.

“So?” Luffy, still confused, went over and started tugging you along. “I know you’re not.”

“Where we goin’?” You raised your eyebrow.

“Bath.” He made it sound so obvious.

“You want a bath?” Your hand flew up to your mouth to stop your laughter.

Luffy stepped into the bathroom, pointing at the tub. “No… Yes… I don’t know.”

You started the water, plugging up the drain. He watched you, pouting. Why’d you stop fighting him? Was he being too annoying? His chest felt funny as he stared at you.

“Why aren’t you making me take one?” He asked again, poking your side.

“I figured you didn’t want it.”

You weren’t just going to up and tell him Robin’s comment made you feel strange and distant. You didn’t want him seeing you as his mother. Not when you had feelings for him.

“You’re lying. Your nose moved.”

“What?”

“Your nose. It did that thing when you lied.”

Your face went red, looking away from him. You shut the water off and nodded at it.

“Get in.” You glanced at him.

“No. Why are you lying? We don’t lie to each other.”

Luffy was right. You two didn’t lie to each other. It was just something that stuck all throughout the years. You sighed softly, dropping your head between your hands.

“I know and I’m sorry. But I can’t tell you.”

“That’s the same thing as lying.”

“Luffy, get in the damn tub.”

“Hey! Don’t be mean!” Luffy whined.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry,” you rubbed your face, looking up at him. Dammit. He was adorable. Cute. Really fucking attractive. Especially when he wore his shirt open… Crap. “Luffy, I love you.”

“I love you too,” Luffy tilted his head again. “What’s wrong?”

“No, like, I love love you.” You mumbled.

“What do you mean?” He sat in front of you, forcing you to look at him.

“Like… I have a crush on you, dummy. I love you. In love,” You bit your inner cheek, nervously tapping your heel on the floor.

“And…you didn’t want to make me take a bath because you love love me?” Luffy got up, taking his clothes off.

You looked away until you could hear the water splashing, “It’s not going to make sense.”

“Oh, well,” Luffy laid in the water. Before the effects could fully weaken him, he yanked you into the tub with him. “I think I love love you too.”

“Asshole!” You sputtered, looking up at him now drenched.

Luffy grinned, puckering his lips. Maybe he wasn’t so naive.

Your client said the Duke is hiding something, military plans, maybe trade secrets. Doesn’t matter. You get paid to find things, not judge them.

You adjust the lens, zoom in on a stiff-looking man in a red jacket. Messenger. Sweaty hands. Nervous eyes. You watch as he slips a sealed envelope to a servant girl, who disappears through a side door.

“Gotcha” you whisper.

You slide down the gutter pipe, quiet as a cat. Through a second-story balcony, in and out like smoke. You’re halfway to the hallway when— “You’re getting sloppy.”

You freeze. That voice.

You turn, slow, annoyed.

There he is. Blond curls, black coat, arms crossed, goggles pushed up like he owns the place. He always shows up like this, out of nowhere, with that smug little smile like he knows something you don’t.

“Blondie...” you say flatly.

“Miss me?” he says.

You stare “You’re in my way.”

He glances behind you at the ballroom “You’re after the letter?”

“I was,” you snap “Until someone decided to start chatting in the middle of my job.”

“Someone just saved you from getting shot,” he says casually “Third window to the left. Look.”

You do. And yeah... there’s a guy with a crossbow, watching the hallway like a hawk. You mutter a curse under your breath.

“Fine,” you say “Thanks.”

Sabo grins “You’re welcome.”

He steps closer. Too close. You don’t move.

“So,” he says, “same question as always. Ready to stop chasing paychecks and join the Revolution?”

You raise an eyebrow “Same answer as always. No.”

“You could do more with your skills.”

“I am doing more. I’m doing everything. For the right price.”

He laughs “You really don’t care who hires you?”

“As long as the money’s good and the target’s worse than me? No.”

“That’s a short list.”

“Lucky for me, the world’s full of bad people.”

You sidestep him, heading toward the hallway. You don’t look back. You already know he’s following.

“You could work with me” he says.

“You’re not my type.”

“I meant on the job.”

“So did I.”

You peek around the corner. Two guards. One hallway. No problem.

“You know,” Sabo says quietly behind you, “we’d make a good team.”

You glance at him over your shoulder “You talk too much.”

“And you like it.”

You roll your eyes “Don’t push your luck, Blondie.”

He smirks “Lead the way, detective.”

You move. Fast. Quiet. Focused.

He follows. Loud in a way that’s not about sound, just there, filling the space with heat and chaos and questions you don’t want to ask.

Not yet.

Maybe later.

You’re halfway through a lukewarm cup of black coffee when the bell over the café door jingles.

You don’t look up at first. This job’s too easy to expect trouble. Rich guy thinks his assistant is stealing silverware. Real dramatic stuff. You’re here to follow the assistant and confirm if he’s a thief or just has a twitchy pocket.

You glance at the small mirror propped on your table. You freeze.

Of course.

Of course.

Sabo slides into the seat across from you like it’s his usual spot. Black coat. Blond curls. That same casual look, like he just woke up in a castle and decided to crash your life again.

You squint at him “No way.”

“Hi to you, too.” he says, resting his chin on his hand like this is a date.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“This café has really good scones,” he says, then lowers his voice “And there’s something important going on.”

You stare “Important? This isn’t a revolutionary hotspot. It’s a bakery. My target is stealing forks.”

“There’s more to it than that” he says, calm. Too calm.

You narrow your eyes “You’re telling me this boring little fork-theft job is somehow connected to the Revolutionary Army?”

“I’m saying it might be.”

You fold your arms “That’s not an answer.”

He shrugs “I don’t give out answers for free anymore.”

You snort “Since when do you hold information hostage?”

“Since I realized it’s the only way to get you to work with me.”

You lean back in your chair, staring at him “So what—you want me to partner up again?”

He smiles “Just for this one. Could be fun.”

“Last time I nearly got a knife in the leg.”

“You didn’t, though.”

“Because I handled it.”

He lifts his coffee cup “Exactly. Imagine how easy this would be if we teamed up from the start.”

You shake your head “Nope. Not biting.”

“Even if it’s bigger than it looks?” he asks, voice lower now, just serious enough to make your gut tighten.

You hate that you’re curious.

You try to ignore the itch in your brain “If you’re so sure it’s something big, why not handle it alone?”

“I could,” he says, eyes locked with yours “But I don’t want to.”

That throws you off for a second. You look away, annoyed at your own pause.

He sips his drink like he hasn’t just dropped that weird little truth bomb.

“Still no,” you mutter “You don’t get to dangle mystery crap in front of me and expect me to follow like a puppy.”

“No puppy I’ve ever met carries poison darts in her coat” he says, grinning.

You smile in spite of yourself. Just a little.

Then you stand “Good luck with your important fork mission, Blondie. I’ll be watching from my own shadow.”

He stays seated, smiling up at you “I’ll be around if you change your mind.”

You turn and walk away, but you feel his eyes on your back all the way out the door.

You hate that he makes things interesting.

You hate it even more that a part of you wants to go back and ask what the hell is really going on.

You’re bored.

That’s the most dangerous thing in your line of work. Not bullets. Not knives. Not corrupt guards with itchy trigger fingers.

Boredom.

It makes your mind wander. Makes you look too long at the gold-plated chandeliers. At the delicate snacks on silver trays. At the man across from you trying way too hard to impress you.

And it makes you think of him.

You haven’t seen him in months. Not since that stupid fork job. At first, it was nice. Peaceful, even. No smug smile sneaking up behind you. No lectures about changing the world. No offers to join the Revolution.

But noow it’s weird.

You almost miss him. Not that you’d say it out loud. Or even admit it to yourself for more than a second. But the question keeps floating through your brain:

Why hasn’t he shown up?

And why are you thinking about him in the middle of a mission?

You blink and focus. You’re at a royal gala. Dressed like someone who belongs here. Elegant, expensive, bored out of your mind. Your target is a noble—round, rich, red-nosed, and currently getting suspiciously cozy with a foreign diplomat. You’re supposed to keep an eye on him, maybe follow him when he leaves.

Easy. Too easy.

Which is probably why your brain is being stupid.

“—and I said, if I wanted a real ship, I’d buy one, not borrow from the Marines” says the man in front of you, laughing at his own joke. You don’t remember his name. You never bothered to learn it.

He leans closer “You’ve been quiet. Thinking about me?”

You look at him like he’s a mosquito “No.”

He grins anyway “Come now, beautiful. A woman like you shouldn’t be sitting here alone.”

You’re about to lie or stab him with your butter knife, but then—

“Mind if I steal this beautiful woman for a dance?”

That voice.

That voice.

Your heart stumbles. You look up.

He’s there. Blond, charming, annoyingly handsome in a formal coat that fits him too well. Goggles gone. Hair slicked back just enough.

He’s holding out his hand, smile calm but eyes watching you. Carefully. Like he’s not sure you’ll take it.

You don’t say anything. You just rise from your chair, take his hand, and walk away like the other guy doesn’t even exist. You don’t look back.

“Wow,” Sabo murmurs as you reach the dance floor “Didn’t think you’d actually shove him like that.”

“I didn’t shove,” you mutter “I guided.”

He laughs “Gently guided him into the furniture.”

“You’re late.”

“For the dance?”

“For everything.”

He twirls you, smooth, confident. Then pulls you close again. Too close. You suddenly realize how warm he is. How steady. How his hand fits perfectly at your back, guiding you toward.

“Let’s dance next to your target” he says quietly, like it’s a secret between only you two.

You don’t even ask how he knows. You just let him lead.

You move through the crowd together, twirling and gliding right into the perfect position. Your target is just over Sabo’s shoulder now.

Only when you’re in place do you realize how close your faces are. How his breath brushes your cheek when he speaks.

“I’m sorry” he says.

You blink “What?”

“I should’ve said something. Disappearing for that long, it wasn’t the plan.”

You snort “Why are you apologizing? It’s not like we work together. Or like we’re friends. Or something like that.”

He raises an eyebrow “Something like that, huh?”

You hate how your face warms.

You don’t answer. You look over his shoulder again, watching your target raise a drink and whisper something into a diplomat’s ear.

But part of your mind is still stuck on the weight of his hand on your waist. And the fact that he did come back.

You move across the ballroom floor like you belong there, like you care about this dance. But your heart is nowhere near your target anymore.

It’s stuck somewhere between the weight of his hand on your waist and the word he just said.

“Sorry.”

You glance up “You already said that.”

“I meant it.” His voice is quieter now “I’ve got… news.”

You raise an eyebrow “Let me guess. You’ll only tell me if I say yes to joining the Revolution.”

He smiles a little “I usually would.”

You sigh, already annoyed, then you freeze.

Because this time… He speaks.

“I remembered everything.”

You blink “What?”

“My past. My childhood. It came back.” He swallows, and for once, he’s not looking at you like he has the upper hand “I remembered my brothers. And I found one of them.”

Your mouth opens. No sound comes out.

“I met Luffy again,” Sabo says, voice soft but full “After all those years.”

Luffy.

You’ve heard that name before. That’s the kid... no, the pirate, who’s shaking the world right now.

Your brain struggles to keep up “Wait. You have a brother who’s… that Luffy?”

“I had two brothers,” he says, and there’s something heavy in his voice now “One of them… Ace… died.”

You feel the shift in him. In the room. Like all the noise and music fades into nothing.

“I never remembered him until now,” he continues “And when I did… I found out about his Devil Fruit. What was left of him. And I—”

He hesitates, just for a second. Then “I fought for it. And I won.”

You stare at him. Not just at the words but the way he says them. Like they’re not secrets. Like he wants you to know.

Like you’re someone who deserves to know.

Which is ridiculous.

You don’t ask about his past. You don’t share yours. That’s the deal. That’s how this works.

But he’s looking at you like you’re close. And that’s too much.

You stop dancing. Right there in the middle of the floor.

He blinks “What—?”

You take a step back, breaking the space between you. It suddenly feels hot. Too loud. Too much.

But then you see his face, open, confused, a little hurt.

Damn it.

You grab his wrist “Come with me.”

He lets you pull him without asking questions. You weave through the crowd, out the side door, into the cool, quiet air of the garden balcony.

He finally speaks “What about your target?”

You turn, facing him “I don’t care.”

His eyebrows lift “You… don’t?”

“Not right now,” you say, crossing your arms “Keep talking.”

He looks surprised. Really surprised. Then he smiles. Not his usual smirk. Something softer.

“You actually want to know?”

“Maybe,” you mutter “Don’t let it go to your head.”

He laughs once “Alright, detective. Where should I start?”

You shrug, trying to ignore how fast your heart is beating “Wherever you left off.”

The balcony is quiet. The soft sound of the party behind you fades into the background. You lean against the railing, arms crossed, as Sabo stands in front of you, looking for once like a man who doesn’t have it all under control.

He tells you everything.

Not just the facts, but the feelings, too. About losing his memories. About waking up with holes in his mind. About the strange weight in his chest when he saw Luffy again. About the funeral he missed, the brother he remembered too late. About the fire fruit. The tournament. The fight. The win.

You don’t interrupt. You just… listen.

And when he’s done, there’s silence between you. He watches you, waiting. You tilt your head slightly.

“Okay, Blondie,” you say slowly, your voice calm, almost teasing “I know about Ace. From the news. The whole world does.”

His eyebrows shoot up “First thing, my name isn’t Blondie but it’s Sabo. And then… you know?”

You nod skipping past the name thing he said “I mean… big fire guy. Big execution. Big mess. Sad ending. Even someone like me couldn’t miss it.” You pause. Then smirk “So now you got fire powers?”

He blinks “I—yeah, I do.”

“Prove it.” You lean in slightly “Show me.”

His eyes widen “Here?”

“Why not? There's no one else.”

Sabo stares at you for a second, like he’s trying to decide if you’re serious. You are.

He sighs once, smiles, then lifts his hand.

One finger rises. His gloved hand stills in the air. And then a flame sparks to life at the tip of his index finger.

Not just a spark. It burns. Bright. Alive. Orange and gold, like a piece of the sun. It dances, hot and proud, like it knows who it used to belong to.

You lean closer, eyes narrowing “Huh.”

“Huh?” he repeats, still holding the flame.

You smile “Didn’t think you were actually telling the truth.”

He gives a short laugh “I just spilled my entire life story to you.”

“I know. That was weird.”

He lowers his hand slowly, and the flame fades out. You feel the warmth linger on your skin, even though it’s gone.

“I thought you’d walk away” he says, watching you carefully.

“I almost did.”

“And now?”

You shrug “Now I’m just wondering what else you’ve been hiding.”

That gets a grin out of him “You’re not scared?”

“Of a little fire?” You smirk “Please. I’ve dealt with worse.”

He steps a little closer. Not touching you, just there “You’re something else.”

You look up at him “You’re just figuring that out now?”

The air out here is cooler, but your skin is still warm from the flame Sabo showed you. The fire’s gone, but he’s still close. Still looking at you like he’s seeing something real. Something he missed.

You’re not used to being seen like that.

He leans against the railing now, just beside you. The silence hangs between you, comfortable but heavy. Until he says,

“So… what about your target now?”

Your brain blanks for a second. You blink.

“…Target?”

You actually forgot. You. Forgot.

You straighten up a little, suddenly aware again “Shit—right. The guy. Cheating husband. Rich. Smells like fish. Probably still inside with his mistress.”

Sabo laughs quietly “You forgot?”

“Shut up,” you mutter, then pause. You look at him, narrowing your eyes “Wait a second.”

He tilts his head “What?”

“Blondie… why are you even here?” You gesture toward the ballroom “This wasn’t some world-changing event. Just a man cheating on his wife. I already figured it out. Mission solved. But what about your mission?”

He looks at you. And then, slowly, carefully, he says “You were my mission.”

Your heart trips over itself.

“W-what?” you stutter, and the sound of your own voice makes your face heat. You never stutter.

Sabo just smiles. Too pleased “That’s new.”

You frown “Shut up. What do you mean I was your mission?”

“I mean,” he says, leaning a little closer, “I was looking for you. That’s why I came.”

You blink at him again, confused “…To recruit me again?”

He shakes his head “No. I just wanted to talk. To explain. I didn’t like disappearing like that. Not without saying anything.”

You’re quiet. You weren’t expecting this. Not from him. Not tonight.

“So… you found me… just to say sorry?”

“Well,” he says, grinning now, “and maybe to see that look on your face when I said you were my mission.”

You roll your eyes, but it doesn’t hide the way your heart’s still racing “You’re the worst.”

“Maybe,” he says softly, “but I came back, didn’t I?”

You look at him. You hate how warm that makes you feel.

“Yeah,” you say, barely above a whisper “You did.”

“I just need a photo of him with his mistress,” you say as you push away from the railing “That’s all. Then I get paid.”

You shoot him a dry look “If you’re not busy, blondie… want to tag along?”

He grins “Lead the way, detective.”

You both head back inside. The music is still loud, the lights still too soft, the perfume in the air still expensive. You glide through the crowd, quiet, calm, focused. He walks behind you, hands in his pockets, like this is a stroll in the park.

You find the hallway the target mentioned earlier. Follow the plush carpet, past too many locked doors, until you reach a side room with long glass doors leading out to a small private balcony.

Perfect.

You sit on the floor in the shadowed corner just outside its small balcony, dress tucked around your legs. He sits beside you without asking.

You keep your eyes locked on the room inside. Your camera is ready. The lights are dimmed. No one’s here yet. But you know they’ll come.

Sabo… doesn’t watch the door.

He watches you.

You feel it after a while. His gaze. Quiet. Steady. Soft.

And then “You’re really beautiful tonight.”

It’s so quiet, you almost don’t catch it. You turn your head “What?”

His eyes go wide. Like he didn’t mean to say it out loud. Like the words slipped out and betrayed him.

“I mean...” he clears his throat, looking away, “you got all dressed up for a small mission. Just a cheating man. That’s a lot of effort.”

You smirk, letting him twist “Missions are all boring recently.”

He looks back at you. Eyes narrowing like he just heard something important.

“Missions are boring… recently, huh?” he repeats slowly “So what changed recently?”

You roll your eyes “Don’t start.”

He leans in, grin wide now “Wait. Wait. Don’t tell me.” He taps his chin “Could it be that without me, you got bored?”

You scoff “Keep dreaming, Blondie.”

“So I was your entertainment?”

“You were an annoyance.”

“A charming one.”

You bite back a smile “Debatable.”

But it’s too late. He’s grinning like a fool, clearly enjoying himself. And the worst part is that you don’t even hate it.

Not even a little.

Sabo is in the middle of his next line, probably something ridiculous like “I bet you missed me so much you cried yourself to sleep” when your hand shoots up.

“Shhh!” you hiss.

He blinks “What?”

You tilt your chin toward the room inside.

The door opens.

There he is. Your target. Same smug walk, same too-shiny shoes. And hanging on his arm his mistress, laughing at something he said. They head toward the balcony.

Your balcony.

“Shit,” you whisper “They’re coming out here—”

You grab Sabo’s wrist and pull.

Fast.

You barely have a second to think. Just behind you, near the edge of the balcony, there’s a thick curtain tied to a decorative pillar. It’s more for style than privacy, but it’s big enough. Barely.

You slip behind it, dragging him with you. The heavy fabric closes in around you both. It’s dark. Cramped. His back hits the cold stone wall. You stop moving.

You’re close... Too close.

You’re pressed chest to chest, your leg between his. One of his arms is braced against the wall behind you, the other lightly around your waist. It’s the only way to not fall over.

Your breath hitches. His does too.

Neither of you speaks.

The couple is right there. Just on the other side. You hear their laughter, the low sound of a kiss. You should be paying attention. You should be lifting your camera, snapping the photo.

But your body is frozen. All your focus is on the heat of him, his hand, the closeness, his heartbeat that you can actually feel.

And then his hand moves. Slowly. Carefully.

He brushes your hair away from your cheek. His fingers are light, like he’s afraid to push too hard. They trail along your skin, and then he tucks the loose strand gently behind your ear.

You look up. His eyes are already on yours.

There’s no teasing in them now. No smirk. Just quiet. Warmth. Something deeper.

You open your mouth to say something, anything, but the words vanish.

Outside, your target laughs again. The mistress pulls him inside. The moment is over.

You stay still a second longer. Neither of you speaks.

Then, very softly, Sabo says, “We’re going to have to talk about that later.”

And all you can manage is a whispered, “Shut up.”

You finally lift your camera. Your hands are steady, like always, even if your heart still isn’t.

The cheating man is kissing his mistress again, pressed up against the glass inside the room. They think they’re alone.

Perfect.

Three shots. Clear enough to ruin a marriage.

You lower the camera, your voice low “Got it. Time to go.”

Sabo doesn’t say a word, just follows you again like a shadow.

You grab the edge of the balcony, throw one leg over, and jump down like you’ve done a thousand times.

Except you forgot you’re wearing heels.

Your ankle bends awkwardly and pain shoots up your leg as your foot hits the ground. You hiss, stumbling slightly.

“Fucking heels...” you mutter, already yanking them off. One in each hand, and then you throw them down the alley without a second thought.

Behind you, Sabo lands light as a feather.

He watches the scene. Your bare feet. Your scowl. The heels lying sad and broken in the dark.

Then, his voice “Jump on my back.”

You glance at him “What?”

He shrugs casually “I’ll carry you. Don’t want you walking barefoot.”

You blink “You serious?”

He gives you that soft little half-smile “Completely.”

You snort “Nah. I’m good… but thanks for the offer, Blondie.”

And with that, you turn around and walk ahead. Not looking back. Definitely not letting him see the way your face is burning.

Behind you, he watches every step. And he’s smiling.

Not because you turned him down. But because you didn’t hesitate to throw away those fancy shoes. Because you didn’t care about being graceful or anything. Because you didn’t mind walking barefoot in a dirty alley if it meant freedom.

Because you’re real. And damn... he really, really likes that.

The alley behind you is gone now. Just stone paths and quiet shadows.

You’re walking through a garden, the party mansion behind. The only light coming from the stars above and the soft glow of lanterns hidden among the trees.

It’s quiet. Too quiet.

You want to say goodbye. You always do after a job. Clean cut, no mess, no feelings. But your steps slow. You don’t want to walk away just yet. Not this time.

You stop near a small fountain. The sound of water trickling fills the silence between you.

You cross your arms, not facing him “So… I was your mission, mh?”

Sabo stands beside you, close but not touching.

You glance at him “Well… mission completed. You’re free to leave.”

He tilts his head slightly, a small smile tugging at his lips “So are you.”

You breathe in slowly.

“But here we are,” he adds softly “Still.”

You stare at the fountain “Still.”

The word hangs there like fog.

You swallow and finally look at him “You could’ve gone without telling me anything. But you didn’t. You came back. Why?”

“I told you,” he says, voice lower now “I wanted to explain. I didn’t like disappearing like that. You deserved more than that.”

You shake your head slowly “I don’t need people to explain themselves to me. I’m not—”

“Yeah,” he cuts in gently “But maybe I wanted to explain. Because I missed you.”

The words stop you.

You stare at him.

He says it so simply. Like it’s just a fact. Like saying it might rain tomorrow. Like I missed you isn’t a damn earthquake in your chest.

You try to scoff. Try to play it off “That’s very dramatic, Blondie.”

He chuckles “I learned from the best.”

You roll your eyes, but you don’t move away. You don’t leave.

You’re still standing beside him. Under the stars. Just… there.

And he is too.

...Still.

The silence stretches. The fountain bubbles softly. Somewhere far off, the music from the party fades into the trees.

You glance at him. He’s looking at the stars now, like they might give him something to say.

You speak first “So, what now?”

He shrugs “I don’t know. I didn’t really plan past this.”

You snort “Bad planning for a Revolutionary, don’t you think?”

He smiles “I figured I’d improvise. Depends on what you do next.”

You don’t answer. Your eyes fall to the path in front of you. The wind moves through the leaves, cool against your skin.

You hate this.

The quiet. The part of you that doesn’t want to walk away.

You cross your arms, trying to sound casual “Well, if you missed me that much, maybe next time you disappear, leave a note. ‘Gone off to recover lost memories and beat up powerful enemies, back soon’. Something like that.”

He laughs “You’d burn the note.”

You smile despite yourself “Probably.”

Then the quiet slips back in. He turns toward you again. You feel it before you see it. His eyes on you. That look you’re starting to know too well. Like he sees something in you you’re not ready to admit is there.

And yet…

“I kept thinking,” he says quietly, “how many jobs you’ve taken since I left. How many stupid people you had to spy on, how many lies you had to fake-smile through. I wondered if you ever thought about me.”

You open your mouth. Then close it.

He doesn’t push. Just keeps watching you with that calm, steady warmth.

You scoff lightly, more to break the moment than because anything’s funny “Don’t flatter yourself. I was too busy following cheating husbands and hiding in bushes.”

But your voice is soft. Not sharp. Not convincing.

He leans slightly closer. Not touching. Just near “So… not even a little?”

You meet his gaze. You want to lie. You always lie. That’s your job.

But instead you say “Maybe once.”

A pause “Or twice.”

Another pause “Something like that.”

He smiles “Good. Because I thought about you more than that.”

Your chest tightens and you quickly look away “You should go before I punch you for saying things like that.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” he murmurs.

You both laugh quietly.

Still not touching. Still not fully confessing.

But the air between you hums with something neither of you wants to name... Not yet.

And so you stand there a little longer. Under the stars. In the garden... Still.

You feel the weight of his words still in your chest. You have to shake it off. Do something, say something, or you’ll start thinking too much. Feeling too much.

So, you clear your throat and nudge his arm with your elbow “Hey… got any more fire tricks? Something cool. Or funny?”

Sabo blinks. Then a smirk tugs at his lips “You want a show?”

You roll your eyes “Don’t make it weird. Just entertain me, Blondie.”

He chuckles, stepping back a little “Alright, alright. Watch this.”

He lifts one hand. With a little flick of his wrist, a small flame spins into life at the tip of his finger, then flickers out and reappears in the other hand, like a magician’s coin. Then he makes a little fire butterfly, letting it flap its glowing wings before it floats up and fades into sparks.

You stare. Eyes wide. Mouth parted just slightly. Like a kid at their first festival.

You step closer, enchanted “And it doesn’t burn you?”

Without thinking, you reach out, your fingers heading straight for the flame still flickering in his palm.

“Wait—!”

He quickly closes his hand, putting the fire out in an instant. But it’s too late. You brushed against the edge of it.

He grabs your hand fast, holding it tight in both of his.

His brows furrow “Did it burn you?” he asks, voice sharp with worry “Let me see.”

You blink at your hand... your hand, which is now in his hands, and for a second you completely forget what you were even doing.

His touch is warm, gentle. He’s checking your fingers, your palm, his thumb brushing softly over your skin. Too carefully. Too tender.

You finally come back to your senses. Your heart stumbles in your chest.

You yank your hand away like it’s him that’s burning “I’m fine. Jeez.”

He blinks, stunned “I just—”

“I should go,” you say, voice too fast. Too high “Client’s waiting. Gotta report. You know, job stuff.”

He opens his mouth, probably to ask something, maybe to stop you. But then he just closes it again. His eyes follow you as you take a few quick steps back, avoiding his gaze, his hand, everything.

He doesn’t say a word.

He doesn’t chase.

Because he’s still there, stunned…

…realizing how fast his heart is beating, looking at his hands who were just holding yours.

You’ve been pacing the hallway for ten minutes now. Not because the job is hard... hell, you’ve done harder with a broken rib and a broken heel. But because you know he’ll show up.

He always does.

You’re even dressed for it. A sleek outfit, long coat, subtle daggers tucked under your sleeves. Not that he notices things like that.

Except he does. And that’s the problem.

You sigh, adjusting your collar. You’re here to spy on a nobleman, catch him trading information to pirates. But all your attention is pointed toward the nearest door like some lovesick idiot.

Which you are not.

“You really should stop standing in front of open doors.” comes the voice you’ve been trying not to expect.

You spin around, already scowling “Blondie.”

He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, smug grin in place “Miss me?”

You scoff “Like I miss being shot at.”

He straightens and walks toward you, looking way too casual for someone who just broke into a mansion “So... how many missions have you almost ruined since I last saw you?”

“I don’t ruin missions,” you snap “I finish them. Unlike some people.”

“Oh right, because hiding in a curtain last time was definitely the plan.”

“That was your fault! If you hadn’t distracted me with your stupid compliments.”

“You’re really bringing that up?”

“Yes! Because it’s your fault!”

He smirks “If I remember correctly, you were the one blushing.”

You point a sharp, gloved finger at him “That was heatstroke.”

He raises a brow “At night?”

You flinch. Damn. Walked right into that one. But you don’t answer. You storm past him toward the second hallway where your target is supposed to appear. He follows, like always, humming under his breath.

“Seriously,” you say, trying to focus “Why are you even here? This isn’t a Revolutionary job.”

“You’re here.”

“That’s not a reason.”

“It’s the only one that matters.”

You stop walking “You’re impossible.”

He grins “And you’re blushing again.”

You shove past him without another word.

Somehow, you still manage to finish the mission. You get your intel, threaten a butler, blackmail a merchant, and grab your proof. As you head out, Sabo falls into step beside you like this is routine. Like you always leave places like this together.

“Hey.” he says suddenly, and your stomach drops because of his tone, like he’s about to say something real. Something important.

You don’t like that.

“My brother’s in town. Wanna come meet him?”

You blink “Luffy?”

He nods, too casual.

You cross your arms “I don’t do dinner with strangers.”

“He’s not a stranger. He’s Luffy.”

“That’s literally the definition of a stranger to me.”

But he takes your hand.

Your brain short-circuits.

“What are you doing?” you snap, looking down at your entwined fingers.

“Holding your hand. You seem like the type to run.”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

“You’re not pulling away...” he says, almost amused.

“…I’m tired.” you lie.

“You’re not even trying anymore.” he says with a laugh, already pulling you toward the docks.

You don’t pull away. Not even once.

The Thousand Sunny is louder than expected. Lanterns swing gently from ropes. Someone’s playing music. Someone else is screaming about meat. The Straw Hat crew is mid-party and you don’t even want to ask why.

Luffy’s the first one to spot you. He runs over barefoot, grinning so hard it almost hurts to look at him.

“Oi, Sabo!!” he shouts “Who’s she?”

You already step slightly behind Sabo, not used to this kind of attention. Not used to people looking at you like you matter.

Sabo rests a hand on your back again. Gentle. Warm.

“This is Detective Y/N,” he says proudly “Soon to be a Revolutionary.”

Your jaw drops “Oi! Blondie! How many times do I have to say no?!”

Before he can reply, Luffy tilts his head, blinking at the both of you “So is this your girlfriend?”

You and Sabo both freeze like someone just tossed a grenade between you.

“What?!” you shout, face burning “NO!”

“LUFFY!” Sabo snaps, just as red.

Luffy shrugs “You were holding hands and stuff.”

“We—! I—!” You throw your hands in the air “That was not—”

“Don’t act like you didn’t want to come.” Sabo hisses.

“You invited me!”

“You didn’t say no!”

“You didn’t let me!”

Zoro, watching from the side, mutters to Sanji, “How long you think before they kiss or kill each other?”

Sanji smirks “I’m betting both.”

You cross your arms and glare at Sabo, still blushing. He rubs the back of his neck, awkwardly looking away, but the edge of a smile is tugging at his lips.

Neither of you corrects Luffy.

Neither of you denies it again.

And your hand still feels warm where his was.

You clear your throat, trying to reset your brain “So,” you say, turning to Luffy as casually as possible “You’ve known Blondie since he was little, right?”

Sabo shoots you a look “No. Don’t even—”

You ignore him “Got any embarrassing stories?”

Luffy lights up like a lantern “OH YEAH! There was this one time, he—”

“Nope!” Sabo says quickly, cutting him off with the speed of someone panicking. He grabs your wrist gently... always gently... and pulls you a step back “We actually came just to say hi.”

You blink “We did?”

“We’re leaving now, I planned something.” he says firmly, already starting to walk.

You don’t fight it, but you are confused “Why? What do you have planned?”

Before he can answer, Luffy shouts after you, mouth full of meat, “Are you two going on a date?!”

You freeze.

Sabo stops mid-step.

Sanji drops a tray.

You’re standing there, Sabo still holding your wrist, and you feel your heart slam in your chest.

Sabo turns slowly, managing a calm expression “No.”

You, on the other hand, are red again “Obviously not!”

“Sure looks like it,” Luffy says, grinning wide “You guys were holding hands again.”

“HIS FAULT... FOR BALANCE.” you shout, instantly regretting how defensive you sound.

Sabo mutters under his breath, “Not very balanced now, are we.”

You elbow him. He smirks.

Robin chuckles behind her book “Young love is so… chaotic.”

You cover your face “We’re not—”

But Sabo’s hand slides down your wrist and links your fingers with his.

You glance at him, startled.

He doesn’t look at you, just tugs you toward the edge of the ship “Come on, Detective. I do have something planned.”

You don’t say anything for a second. You just stare at your joined hands.

Then, quietly, you mutter, “It better not be a date.”

He finally looks at you with that maddening half-smile “What if it is?”

You hate that your heart skips. You really hate that you don’t have a snappy comeback this time.

He walks beside you in silence, hand still in yours.

You should pull away... You really should.

But the warmth of his grip is like something you didn’t know you missed. And the way his thumb brushes against your knuckles as you cross into town makes you forget, moment by moment, that you’re supposed to be good at keeping people out.

You frown “This doesn’t look like a hideout.”

“It’s not.” he says, almost too casually.

You glance around, brows furrowing. You're not far from the city square now, where lamplight spills soft gold. Music plays in the distance, a quiet violin, and the smell of grilled food drifts from the open-air restaurants lining the plaza.

He leads you toward one of them. A quiet place tucked between ivy-covered walls, glowing with soft lanterns. It’s... cozy. Intimate.

You stop in your tracks.

“Do you have a mission here?” you ask, suspicious “You needed me for something?”

He doesn’t meet your eyes “…No.”

You blink “Then why?”

“I wanted to take you out.”

Your breath catches.

He finally looks at you, and his cheeks are dusted with red. And suddenly, you’re blushing. Hard.

Your heart kicks against your ribs like it’s trying to claw its way out “I’m...” You glance down at yourself, then back at him “I’m not dressed for this. I didn’t even shower after the mission, I—I smell right now, probably.”

His eyes widen. Not at your panic, but because you’re not saying no.

You’re... making excuses.

His lips twitch, almost smiling, but there’s something soft under it too. Hopeful. Careful. “If you feel uncomfortable, we can come back another time.”

You hesitate.

You could take that way out. He’d let you go. But you don’t want to run. Not tonight.

So instead, you tighten your fingers around his. Not much. Just enough to tell him you’re still here. And then you meet his eyes.

“Let’s go somewhere else,” you say, voice quieter than usual “Somewhere less... fancy. Should we?”

He looks stunned for a second. Then a smile softens his whole face.

“Yeah,” he says, squeezing your hand back “We should.”

You’re walking side by side through the old part of town, the kind of place with cobbled streets and small lanterns flickering in shop windows. There's no mission, no lie to keep up, no identity to steal—just you, him, and this weird silence that’s more peaceful than awkward.

You chew slowly on a skewer from a food stall, the oil still warm on your lips. Sabo is next to you, carrying a second portion he insisted you try.

He walks close enough that your shoulder brushes his every few steps. You don’t move away.

And just when the warmth in your chest starts to feel dangerous, when you're thinking maybe the food's not the only thing softening you, he speaks.

"By the way… earlier."

You glance sideways at him “What about earlier?”

His gaze is ahead, not on you. His voice is careful, but not cold.

“I just… I wanted to say…”

You stop chewing. The pause is long.

He exhales like he's regretting even bringing it up, then blurts “You actually smell good right now.”

You freeze mid-step. Did he just...

“I mean...” he fumbles, ears turning so red it's almost funny, “...not like I was trying to notice that. Or, I mean... I did notice it. Not in a weird way, just...”

You stare at him. He won’t look at you.

“And you're beautiful,” he says, a little quieter, like the words hurt to say out loud “No matter what you wear.”

Your heart slams against your ribs so hard it echoes in your ears. You don’t breathe for a second.

Beautiful.

You blink once. Twice. Your voice is caught somewhere in your throat.

He's still not looking at you. Maybe he thinks if he doesn’t see your face, it won’t sting so much when you laugh it off. But you don't laugh.

You take a small breath and then you say, softly, “I’m sorry, Sabo.”

His head jerks toward you. Eyes wide.

It's the name. You never use it. He notices instantly.

You take a slow step closer to him.

“I’m not good at this...” you say again, quieter now. Like a confession.

Your hand lifts almost on instinct, your fingers brushing against his cheek before your palm rests fully there. The contact is warm, real. His skin is soft, just like you thought it’d be.

He doesn’t move.

Your other hand rises to his face too, like gravity’s pulling you in. His breath catches. His lips part but he doesn’t speak.

And before he can try you lean in.

Your lips touch his.

Just once.

Soft.

Quick.

A heartbeat and it’s over.

But when you pull back, your hands are still holding his face. And his eyes are locked on you like you just flipped his entire world upside down.

He doesn’t blink. He doesn’t speak.

You’re about to say something stupid. Or apologize. Or maybe run away, like you always do. But then his fingers slowly lift.

They rise like he’s in a trance, brushing lightly over his own lips where you just kissed him. Like he’s trying to prove to himself that it actually happened. That you actually did that.

You watch him, unsure what to say, unsure if you've gone too far or not far enough. But you don’t move. You wait.

His eyes meet yours again, still wide, still stunned, but there’s something fragile and flickering and new now.

You see it before he can even say a word.

Hope.

He whispers your name like it means something sacred. And you feel your heart stutter again. But this time, you don’t run.

You let the silence stretch. Let the night fold around you. Let yourself breathe in the moment like it might disappear.

You kissed him. And you want to do it again.

Sabo’s still staring at you like you just knocked the wind out of him.

Then, all at once, a grin pulls at the corner of his mouth. Something soft, but surprised. A little breathless.

And then he speaks, his voice lower than before, unguarded.

“…Oh.”

You arch a brow “Oh?”

“You said you’re not good at this but you’re actually damn good,” he says, like it’s just occurred to him “You make me nervous.”

You blink. And then you laugh.

It slips out before you can stop it, a quiet breath of a sound, half smile and half disbelief. You shake your head, grinning like he just said the most ridiculous thing in the world.

“Nervous?” you repeat, tilting your head “You?”

He shrugs helplessly, like he’s trying to pretend this isn’t a big deal while looking very much like a man whose heart is hanging off a wire “Yeah.”

You watch him for a beat, heart still beating way too fast for comfort. Then you nudge his arm lightly with yours.

“So, Blondie…” you murmur, a little smirk tugging your lips now “What do we do from now on? How does this work?”

He exhales slowly, looking at you sideways “Depends. Are you going to disappear again the second I blink?”

You scoff “You’re the one who vanished for months.”

He doesn’t argue.

You go on “I still won’t accept your offer, you know. I’m staying a detective. Better pay, more drama, less running around screaming about justice or whatever.”

That makes him laugh, and god it’s nice hearing him laugh like that, light, real, warm. Like this version of him exists only for you.

He leans his shoulder into yours a little “I don’t even care anymore.”

You glance at him “What do you mean?”

He shrugs, eating the last bite of his skewer “You’re always working with me anyway. We just keep bumping into each other mid-job. Revolution or not, we’re already a team.”

That earns another smile from you, though you roll your eyes “Ugh, don’t say it like that.”

He grins wider.

And then, softer “Say it again?”

You blink “Say what?”

“My name.”

You pause.

You know exactly what he’s asking for.

Your lips curve slowly. You fake a thoughtful expression, tapping your chin “…Blondie?”

He pouts. Full-on, eyes-narrowed, almost-childish pout.

You laugh again, a little too fond, a little too fast.

“Okay, okay—” you cave, pushing his arm gently.

You lean a little closer, voice playful but real.

“Flame Emperor Sabo.”

That makes his whole expression shift, his eyes widening a bit, like that title coming from your mouth short-circuits his brain. You say it like it’s not just a title, not just a name the world gave him. You say it like you know exactly who he is beneath it, and you still say it anyway.

He’s silent for a beat too long, lips parting like he forgot how to breathe.

You blink “Now stop acting like a baby.”

His mouth quirks into a smirk again, but there’s a faint blush under his eyes that he absolutely cannot hide.

“You’re dangerous” he mutters.

“Me?”

He nods, licking his bottom lip absently “Yeah. You don’t even realize it, do you?”

You open your mouth to respond, but nothing clever comes out. So you close it again.

He grins.

And the stars above keep burning. Just like the slow, steady fire growing between you.

The mission is simple. In theory.

Infiltrate a noble’s estate. Steal a sealed document before it gets shipped to the World Government. No casualties, no noise, no slipping up.

Simple.

Except nothing is simple when he’s with you.

Sabo walks beside you through the bustling garden party, dressed in dark formal wear that somehow makes him look more like royalty than a rebel. His hair is slicked back tonight, but one stubborn curl keeps falling in front of his eyes. You hate how much you keep noticing it.

“I told you we should’ve entered from the east wing...” you whisper through your teeth, smiling like a polite guest while your eyes scan the crowd.

He leans close, smirking “And I told you the west entrance had the least guards. What’s your plan, detective, run in heels again and scream ‘I told you so’ if we get caught?”

You don’t look at him but you can feel the smirk.

“I swear,” you hiss, “if this mission goes wrong, I’m blaming your giant ego and that dumb little curl on your forehead.”

He chuckles low “You like that dumb little curl. You looked at it twenty times already.”

You turn your head fast “You counted?”

He leans even closer, lips almost brushing your ear “You’re blushing.”

“I will punch you.”

“You’ll have to catch me first.”

And there it is again, that tension. That crackling space between you that’s always been charged, but now it’s like standing next to a fire and pretending you’re not melting.

Your heart beats a little faster as you both slip away from the crowd toward the private halls.

Inside, it’s quieter. Just soft footsteps and faint music echoing from the ballroom.

You’re meant to stay focused. There’s a vault. A document. A ticking clock.

But Sabo walks behind you with his hand ghosting near your back, and it’s suddenly hard to remember the full plan.

“You’ve been quiet” he says softly.

“I’m trying to think.”

“Mm. Dangerous.”

You stop walking. Turn around.

He nearly bumps into you, he’s that close. His breath catches.

You narrow your eyes “We’re in the middle of a mission, Flame Emperor. Don’t start.”

He lifts both hands like he’s innocent “I’m not doing anything. You’re the one who stopped.”

“I stopped because you were breathing down my neck.”

“You know what? I still can’t believe you kissed me first.”

You scowl “You want me to regret that?”

He smiles, cocky and soft all at once “Do you?”

You stare at him.

He stares back.

The moment hangs.

Heavy.

Then your gaze flickers to his mouth.

His does the same.

And like magnet to spark, you crash forward and kiss him.

Again.

Your hands grab the collar of his coat. His arm instantly slips around your waist, pulling you in, mouth hot and insistent. You kiss like it’s an argument neither of you want to win, messy, fast, like you’re both annoyed at how much you want this.

And damn it, you do.

You bite his lip lightly and he groans into your mouth, deep and low. His fingers tighten at your hip. One of your legs slides between his and you’re just about to press him up against the wall when...

“Focus,” he pants, breaking away just enough to whisper against your lips “Document. Vault. Revolution. Remember?”

You blink “…Right.”

You both take a deep breath.

He adjusts his cravat like kissing you hasn’t just fried his brain. You smooth your dress, refusing to look flustered.

“I hate how good you are at kissing” you mutter.

“I love how bad you are at staying focused” he grins.

You glare.

He winks.

And just like that, the tension resets, but it lingers in every step. Every glance. Every time your hands brush, or you lean a little too close to whisper, or he rests a palm low on your back to guide you around a corner like a gentleman with very impure thoughts.

But neither of you mess up.

The vault? Opened.

The document? Secured.

The guards? Unaware.

You slip out the west gate under cover of darkness, walking side by side through the city like two shadows.

Job done. Hearts racing.

And even though you don’t say it out loud, you both know you’re not just partners anymore.

You’re a storm.

“Dammnit! We just went in a goddamn circle, moss-head!” Sanji hisses, glaring at Zoro who seems indifferent, until a light yellow paw smacks his green fuzzy head.

“Hey!” He snaps, looking to the side.

“You followed, ME! Not the other way around!”

Sanji scoffs, ignoring him as he walks forwards.

“No, I made sure we stuck together—and you, didn’t listen and ran us back to the same damn place we started!” His tail snaps to the side, and his swirly brows furrow, glaring at the loud buzzing roads.

The two cats sit in a shallow alley, which is a mildewy mess, covered in wet cardboard boxes and dumpster trash. “I hate this place.” He sighs, lowering his head. “I hope Nami-Swan, and my dear Robin are alright..”

Zoro decides to hold his tounge, eye twitching. Of course you’re thinking about women...

“They’re fine, they can take care of themselves.” He manages, voice low. Looking up at the sky, Zoro spots a metal staircase heading to the rooftops. They might be able to see the city better from there…

“Oi, let’s get a better look.” He suggests. “Huh—?“ turning his head, Sanji spots the green cat; clumsily climbing an old, rusty stairway.

“Great idea..” he grumbles, watching the entire thing shake. And It looks like it’s about to give away any second…

Yet, Sanji doesn’t think he’d mind watching the idiot fall to his doom. After waiting a few seconds for Zoro to fall, he finally heads up after him. “Hey, wait up for me!”

“Yeah right! Get lost!”

Hopping up the last grate platform, Zoro parks his head over the building’s ledge, climbing onto the concrete roof. It’s warm against his paws, due to the sun and muggy climate.

“What do you see?!”

Impatiently, Sanji calls Zoro’s name—yet, he doesn’t seem to respond. The view in-front of the green cat left him speechless. It was outlandish, something he’d never seen, nor felt before; as the air was off here—thicker, making his sensitive nose twitch.

Smoke rose from a few buildings ahead, creating who knows what, and like rivers and secret paths; roads stretched for miles, with flickering traffic lights and zooming cars. They were completely lost.

Not only in another world—but different bodies, with zero strength or knowledge of where they were.

Short to say, they were royally fucked. “Woah..” Sanji breathes, letting out a gasp as he climbs up.

“This place is huge.” He mutters, looking around. Subconsciously, he feels the need to reach for a cigarette, yet his paw reaches no pocket—only fur.

“That’s just great…” he rumbles. It’s gonna be a long day…

Suddenly, a familiar shout echoes from below.

“No shit!” Usopp freaks, scooting back into the crates wall. “I’d have strangled you if I was her!”

“Yohoho, I would have thrown you out, Luffy.”

“Is that..” Sanji walks to the ledge of the building, looking down. As he spots your form, his eyes light up in hearts. “Graced by the heavens—“

“Move!” Zoro shoves Sanji out of the way, as if he doesn’t have the whole roof to look from. “What the hell are they doing in a kennel?” He grunts, “And who the hell is that?”

“She almost did,” Nami remarks, thinking back to this morning, “I just woke her up with music, Luffy’s the one who did the real damage.”

“Hey! It’s not like that—I was starving!” He objects, seeing their expressions, he huffs. “Really, I’m serious! Me being a cat has got to do something with it!”

“Oh, sure.” Nami deadpans, watching Luffy try to explain himself. “Being transformed into a cat makes you eat a whole fridge of food..” She looks down to Robin, who seems to be contemplating.

Watching the purple cat drift off across her paws, clearly thinking, she speaks up. “You okay, Robin?”

“It’s plausible,” she mutters, talking to herself.

“Huh?” Usopp blurts, “What’s plausible?”

“Did you figure out something?!”

“All of our bodies changed drastically since we transformed, yet I have a feeling those with devil fruits were affected differently.” She says, reminded of earlier when Brook wasn’t feeling well when they first woke up.

“You mentioned feeling lightheaded, and I felt rather heavy..” she admitted, “Nami, how is Chopper and Franky?”

“Oh? Their fine, Franky’s just been tired, and Chopper’s…” her voice trails off, and she hesitates. “He’s been a bit, scared.” She admits, “Anxious, I mean. Me and Franky had to talk him down the other night, he’s been really worried about you all.”

Usopp looks sad, showing a rather cartoon-like frown on his face. “Awh, poor Chopper,” he mumbles, whiskers drooping.

It’s silent for a moment, as everyone thinks the unsaid—yet, Usopp aims up to change that.

Gently shaking his head, to wipe the sad look from his face, he pipes “Hey—but, it’s okay! We’ll see them in a bit, right?” Usopp looks out the mesh window, then to Nami… and to Luffy, who looks rather impatient and bored.

“..uh, guys?”

“It’ll be a few hours.” Nami sighs, laying down. “What?!” Usopp squeaks.

“Yohoho, not that I don’t mind being stuck with you lovely ladies, but surely our owner here isn’t walking all the way home?”

“It’s getting rather late, and dark..” Brook comments, watching the sun set into a deep orange, and red shade.

“Nope, she takes some car-thing.” Luffy says, rolling on his side. He lets out a yawn, then a dramatic groan as he stretches his arms over his head.

“Car-thing?” Robin asks, looking to Nami for help. “And what may that infer?”

“Oh, It’s just some city-bus that gets us around town.” Nami explains, watching Usopp pale.

“It’s not dangerous, is it?! There’s no—!“ “It’s just a big car! Shishi, you’re such a scaredy-cat!” Luffy laughs, leaning comfortably back into Brook.

“Quite literally..” Robin adds, chuckling as Usopp looks at her with a dramatically betrayed expression. “What? He’s not wrong…”

_________________________________________

“Hurry up you stupid, cook!” Zoro shouts, out of breath. “We’re gonna miss them!”

“Dammit—you’re not the one dealing with a mutt!” Sanji hisses, running from a stray rabid racoon.

It’s gargled screeches sound from the alley, and the two slide off the sidewalk to cross a road, and then take a right. “Let’s try and lose it! Then we’ll catch up!”

“Great idea!” Sanji snaps, dodging the raccoon’s lunge, “I’ll be sure to follow—if it doesn’t eat me first!” The animal misses, tumbling into a pile of garbage.

“Stop being a wuss!” Zoro shouts, not bothering to look back,

“A WUSS?!”

As if boosted with a sudden energy, Sanji’s blue eyes alight like a flame—and he rockets forward surpassing Zoro, with a feeling for revenge. “I’ll show you, wuss! I hope it takes out your other eye!”

Zoro curses under his breath, picking up the pace to match his speed. Their shoulders clash while simultaneously dodging the raccoon, and their foreheads eventually slam together.

“What was that?!”

“You heard what I said! Not only are you half-blind, but you’re deaf too!”

Unaware of their surroundings, the two run straight into a busied road—cars honking as they’re in traffic. The racoon’s still hot on their tail, nostrils flaming and its mouth foaming. The wheels are almost 10 times the cats size, as they weave through the cars, still butting heads.

“When we get out of this, you’re dead!”

“Oh—shove it!”

Running under a large semi-truck, the vehicle hisses beginning to move. “Oi, look out!” Zoro snaps, shoving Sanji out of the way. The two cat’s tumble onto the other sidewalk, loudly hitting a lamppost that rings like a gong.

Exhausted, the two finally collapse back panting heavily. “Moss for brains..” Sanji grumbles, arms stretched.

“Curly brows,” Zoro glares, side-eyeing the cook.

Looking back, he can no longer spot the racoon—as it’s either road kill, or lost. Sanji hopes for the first. “I think it’s gone.” He mutters, crawling back to his feet.

“You would think!” The cook says, rolling to his side. “But no, it has to chase us for a damn mile before it finally gets squashed, and now we have to find the others again!”

“Stop complaining, they can’t be far.” Zoro sighs, shaking the dust from his head.

“Yeah, tell that to the street we have to cross, again…” Sanji grumbles, letting out a tired huff. Standing, the road buzzles with noise, cars roaming as beeps endlessly chatter.

“There’s gotta be another way to—“

“Hey, isn’t that the girl from earlier?” Zoro interrupts, his single eye narrowing.

Sanji pauses, looking left to spot a familiar crate that’s wheeled by your form. You’re currently stepping into a white and blue bus, with the kennel carrying his crewmates.

“Oi, it is! You aren’t completely useless!”

Sanji takes off, passing Zoro who glares as he runs past. With a huff and curse under his breath, he runs after him. “If it weren’t for me, you would’ve been squashed like that damn racoon!”

_________________________________________

“..We...almost, missed it..” Sanji pants, collapsing onto the buses bumper. He’s cushioned near a bike rack, as a few are hooked, nearby; serving as a windbreaker and shelter.

Zoro groans, thumping his head against a blue metallic frame. Tiredly, he stares through the buses back window. “Yeah, tell me about it.” He grumbles…

Looking inside, past the dusty dirty floor—and rusty cushiony seats, Zoro spots your form near the back, dozing off with the kennel resting at your feet. He can’t see inside it, but with every fiber in his body, he knows his crew is there, and… that they’re safe with you. “Wonder how they ended up with her..”

Sanji looks up, eyes curious, and they soften when they see your tired face. You look exhausted, yet despite your demeanor and state, you’d taken the crew into your care, and for that he couldn’t be more than grateful. The cook didn’t know your reason, not even your name—but he would soon.

A strong sense urged him to get to know you, as he felt you were a beloved mystery he had to solve.

“Me neither, but we’ll find out here soon, enough.” He said, resting on his side.

Before the cook could close his eyes, giving into a peaceful doze—a scent of metallic stung his nose. His eyes snap open, and he looks to Zoro who’s ignoring a bloody paw.

“When did that happen?” It’s a small cut, but it’s bled long enough to be noticeable. “None of your business,” Zoro replies, casually resting on his good paw. “I’ll deal with it later.”

Sanji doesn’t argue, but his eyes narrow before turning away. “Fine, but don’t blame me if it gets infected.”

_________________________________________

Waking up from a gentle hand and thick accent, you startle, eyes snapping open. “Miss, your stop?” Your bus driver asks, standing quietly beside you. Blinking away your tiredness, you rub your eyes, and weakly shake your head to clear your bleary vision.

You don’t know exactly what he said, but you reflexively respond. “Uh—yes, yes, I’m sorry..”

Looking up, you meet kind brown eyes and a wrinkly face that’s worn from smiles. He’s a father of two, as his girls rode the bus with him after school, doing homework. You often talked with them, helping with English homework.

“No worry,” he says, consonants slurring.

“It’s ok.” The man smiles, laughing quietly as he begins to walk back to the front.

Getting up from your seat, you tiredly nod—reciprocating the smile. “Thank you for waking me up, I probably would’ve missed my stop.” you fumble to get your things together, grabbing your bag, then the crates handle as you step into the aisle.

“Tough day?” The driver asks, looking back through mirror.

“Yeah, a hectic one for sure,” you mutter, pushing your hair behind your ear. You adjust your hood and begin your trek off the bus.

“I know the feeling! Have a nice night!”

“You too, thanks again!”

Walking home, the air is warm and the concrete beneath your feet feels like a heater. The cats are oddly quiet, wheels clicking quietly as they roll against the cracked roads. You tiredly look back, spotting a few curious heads turned your way.

“You guys are trouble, but you sure are cute.” Stepping into the forest covered path, that diverts from the road, you see the similar boulder that marks your almost home. Your shoulders sag, and you let out a breath.

Oh, how you just wanted a nap…

Opening the gate, the hinges creak and the wood is rough against your palm. Homely, you think, yet it’s rough enough to give you tiny splinters that are impossible to take out.

You really needed to sand and repaint that…

Standing at the front door, you try and leave the memories of the catastrophic day you’ve had behind, but you can’t. From being aggressively harassed, to the pet store, to having nothing to eat today, it’s honestly been a tiring.

Especially because this was your day off, as you’d been working overtime for the past week.

Letting out a sigh, you open the front-door and step inside. A warm vanilla floods your nose, and you close your eyes, shoulders sagging. When had you put on a candle?

Looking to the living room, it sits lit on your coffee table. Great…a fire hazard. Just what you needed.

How long had that been going?

Dumping the groceries off your aching shoulders, you grab the wall for balance when your weight shifts. Standing dead on your feet, you collect yourself before kneeling down to zip open the kennel.

“No fighting,” you murmur, pulling open the trap-door… “Nice kitties—“

Almost immediately, they flood out like a waterfall, meowing loudly.

“CHOPPERRR!!”

“FRANKY!!”

“GUYS!!”

You cover your ears, watching them seemingly reunite. Odd… you think. Well, at-least they’re getting along.

“You guys must know each-other, hm?” You say aloud, picking up the duffles of groceries, bringing them to the counter. Letting out a yawn, you feel too tired to put them away… so, you end up putting them in the fridge to deal with later.

“MEOWW—!!” Looking back at the noise, you catch a pink cat tackle the others into a playful ball.

“I THOUGHT ID NEVER SEE YOU AGAIN!!” Usopp cries, hugging onto Franky and Chopper with all his might. Brook joins the pile, and Luffy eventually launches himself onto them too.

“CAT PILE!!”

“Ow!”

“Luffy—“

Robin chuckles, covering her paw with her mouth, and Nami just lets her head hang tirelessly. “Well, at-least we’re together.” She sighs, looking back to Robin.

“Now we just have to find Zoro, and Sanji.” She murmurs, looking to you. “And who knows where they are…”

You take your coat off, and rub your eyes while draping it over a dining room chair. Nami notices your failed attempt, as your hands slip—your coat falling to the floor…

You let out a groan, eventually throwing it over the table.

“Robin!!” Chopper shouts, running head-first into the archeologist. “Oh, Chopper—“ she startles, ears perking up. Letting out a soft laugh, she gently pets his head with her paw. He’s the cutest little pink puffball she’s ever seen…

“How are you doing?” “Good! I’m just happy Luffy and Nami found you!” He says excitedly, eyes shining with tears. “I was so worried!”

“Well, we’re alright...” Robin assures, looking into the kitchen.

Then, noticing your sunken form her eyes soften. She watches you grab your head, grabbing a water glass before leaning against the counter. She lets out a quiet sigh, silently watching...

Robin wasn’t blind to the tears, nor’ fear when Luffy had caused a ruckus in the store, and she wasn’t unaware of the lingering anxiety around money.

She silently wondered if that was the cause of to your stress, as you didn’t seem to have a car of your own...

“What’s her name?” Robin asks, looking to Nami. “Oh—uh,” she pauses, nose scrunching. “We don’t know.” Nami lets out an embarrassed sound, looking away.

“You haven’t checked her ID or anything?” Robin asks, raising a brow. “There’s uh…been a lot going on!”

“I’m sure there was enough time for you to snag her money though, Nami.” Usopp blurts, hiding behind Franky when she looks his way. “Hey, it’s not even Beli—!”

Suddenly, glass shatters in the kitchen…

It’s silent, and everyone pauses—before Luffy’s the first to check on you. Slowly peeking his head around the counter, you’re holding the counter for balance, while leaning against the tiled floor. A clear cup is broken, smashed beneath your feet.

“What happened?” Franky asks, following after, “She okay?”

“Is anyone hurt?!” Chopper bolts, sliding around the corner. Usopp, and Nami are the next—while Robin walks around the other way, where the glass isn’t. Brook hops up onto the counter with her, black sunken eyes worried.

Shakily sitting against the cupboard, your limbs ache with exhaustion. Anxiety sits heavy in your chest, and it slowly grows. Eventually it hurts to think.

Rubbing your eyes—again, you tearily look to the shattered glass, then let out a frustrated sound. Leaning your forehead to your knees, warm salty tears soak into your sweats.

You only felt like closing your eyes for a minute, now look what happened… you couldn’t even pick up a cup without letting it fall.

“Meow?” Lifting your head, you spot the pink cat at your side, sitting quietly beside your arm. You hadn’t even given any of them a name yet…

More tears well, and you gently reach out to pet his head. “I’m okay...” You whisper, voice breaking. “I’m just tired,” shifting to your side, your head spins.

“Just need water and food…” you say to yourself, using the cupboard for balance. Another meow sounds, and you quietly look down to spot the lot of them around your kitchen.

You snort quietly to yourself, thinking how insane it looks. Oddly enough, they seem worried. Or are just hungry…

Regardless, it wasn’t the strangest thing you’d seen them do. Rubbing your eyes again, you shake your head and look to the glass… then, thinking again, you hesitate. You know, what? This can be a later problem… Right now, you had much more important things to do; and that was sleep and feed your cats.

Walking around the mess, the pink one follows as if observing you—sticking to your side like super-glue. “You hungry?” You ask, watching him quietly nudge your ankle.

Walking to the fridge, the large blue-ish cat blocks your path. He looks like he’s putting his foot down, in the most dad-way possible, as he’s firmly looking up at you. Rest; he thinks.

How human-like…

Tilting your head, you meet his eyes. “Wow, I drop a glass, and now my cat’s are stalking me?” You tease, leaning down to pet his head. “Just a sec,” pushing yourself back up, you open the door and pull out canned chicken and cat food.

“You’ve got to be kidding me..” Franky grumbles, “Can she not take a hint?” He sits at your feet, staring blank.

“You’re a cat, Franky.” Robin observes rather calmly, watching you grab the wrong container.

“Plus, she’s rather tired.”

“Yohoho, tired is an understatement,” Brook laughs, “You could say she’s dead on her feet, just like me!”

Usopp cringes, his brows scrunching. Shaking his head, he follows after your form with Chopper. “Technically—you’re not dead anymore, Brook.” He says, hearing Robin agree.

“Right… cause he’s a cat.” Nami mutters, pinching her face with her paw. “I still can’t wrap my head around it.”

“Neither can I!” Brook laughs, “I have blood and bones! I mean, not that the bone part has changed—“

Stepping over the long-nosed cat, you feel rather watched. The calico eyes you from afar, his expression unreadable… For some reason, Luffy’s been feeling oddly protective, like from before, when that asshole hadn’t left you alone. Even though you took care of yourself, something still pulled in his furry chest, for him to do things for you.

CRK—

Luffy’s ears perk as the can opens, and the smell of chicken floods the kitchen. Ok, maybe thinking could wait… He hops over the counter, bumping into your arm.

“Hey, careful,” you mutter, startling.

You gently push him away, yet his eyes alight like stars. “God, you’re always so hungry.” You murmur, nudging him back, again.

“Yeah, tell us about it…”

Eventually, after dumping enough chicken in a dish to feed two full-grown men, you finally plop down on the couch with a yawn, resting your head against the armchair. Your lids grow heavier by the second, and you felt like walking on air…

You were too tired to get to your room, besides, the soft couch was comfy enough, and you’d camped out in the living room plenty of times before; especially after a long day.

Flicking on the tv, you put on a show before drifting off, yet before you do, 3 few furry forms lounge atop you, while watching it too.

Luffy’s sprawled across your hip, while Chopper and Franky are sitting between the lower of your legs. Robin rests above your head, and Brook and Usopp are between the couch’s pillows, and sofa.

Stretching your arms over your head, Luffy mimics the expression yawning. As Nami catches it from the corner of her eye, she rolls them. The navigator’s perched on a fluffy heart-shaped pillow, like some queen lounging comfortably.

Wow… they sure grew attached n’ comfortable fast, you think. Which you didn’t mind, it was just weird to think how they got along with each-other so quick. It was possible they came from the same litter, but they sure didn’t look it… not to mention they came from difference places entirely.

Taking a deep breath, you shake off the thought and let your mind rest… while the world fades peacefully.

_________________________________________

Not even 30 minutes later…

“Have you tried the upper window?” Zoro asks, scouting from the front door.

“What do you think I’m doing?! Everything’s locked, or closed up,” Sanji huffs, standing on the roof-top. He shakes his head with frustration, then, looking upside down through the front door’s window, he spots your form fast asleep with the lounging crew.

“Not that it’s a bad thing, though, I’m glad she’s careful about safety..” Sanji mutters, slowly looking to his side. “It must be hard living alone, like this…”

Then, spotting Zoro try and force his way through the living room window—he pales.

“Hey! What the hell are you doing?!” Sliding off the roof, Sanji skids into the hanging flower basket, beside Zoro. “Don’t wake her up, moss-head!”

“Well, how else am I supposed to get in?!” Zoro glares, budding heads with Sanji. “Our crew is literally. right. THERE!”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe a NICER WAY?! When I said use your head, I didn’t mean literally!” Sanji snaps.

“Well how else am I supposed to open it, then?!” Zoro growls, pushing back. As the two shred the last of eachother’s patience, Sanji and Zoro throw claws at one another—unaware that the basket chains, dangerously swings with them.

________________________________________

. . .

SLAM!

Jolting up, your heart races. Claws dig into your thigh, and you see Usopp jump 3 feet in the air, crashing into Chopper and Franky.

“MEOW!!”

You hold your chest, taking in a painful breath—What the hell was that?!

“What the—!“ Nami looks up, following the noise, which leads to the inconspicuous window; appearing normal, as if nothing had happened. Franky shakes a blanket from his head, an annoyed huff escaping his lips. The comforter drags off, creating a messy mohawk across his forehead.

“Not cool! Who did that?! Luffy!”

“Haha—Franky!”

“HUH?! It wasn’t me I was watching TV!” Luffy looks to you, watching you curl into the couch while you hold your chest. His brows knit with concern, when he sees your twisted expression.

“Chopper—” Robin says, slowly coming to your side…

Suddenly, a cat shriek sounds from outside. And you flinch, looking to the window. To you—it seemed like a fight cat, but to the others? Those chaotic sounds were, and are just a norm… maybe not hissing, though.

“You stupid curly-brow, I should’ve let that truck squash you!” Another crash sounds from outside. “Yeah right—I’m surprised the racoon didn’t take out your other eye!”

“I knew you would’ve looked better as roadkill—!”

Chopper’s on his way to check on you, but when you shakily get up—he slips from your legs into the others, tumbling back. As another shout echoes, Luffy looks up. “Is that—?!”

Using the fireplace for balance, you look out the window yet don’t notice anything out of the ordinary. But, you hear whatever’s going on, you just can’t see it. Luffy eagerly jumps up beside you, calling for his crewmates.

“Zorooo! Sanjiiiii!”

You wince as calico meows, and you begin to fumble with the metal latch. Deciding to get a better view, you push the window open—and peek your head out, unexpectedly getting hit with two an oddly colored cats.

They’re still hissing, lost in the midst of a fight, yet the two try and move before you get hit by them, but it’s too late. The damage is done—and you yelp as you stumble against the carpet, tripping back and crashing into the couch’s table; consequently, making another cup fall.

Immediately, your hands go to your head as you wince, shutting your eyes tight. “Shit—Mosshead, look where the hell you’re going!!” Sanji snaps, shoving Zoro off.

As if burned to the bone, the two immediately hop off of you, putting blame on eachother.“You’re the one that jumped in here—!”

“Yeah and you’re the one that followed—!” “You idiots!” Nami growls, pummeling both on the head with her fisted paws, “You could’ve hurt her!”

“That was rather reckless…” Brook comments, jumping quickly over to your form. “Yohoho, are you okay my lady?”

“She can’t understand you, Brook!” “You’re literally a cat, bro…”

“…Meow?”

Blinking through blearly eyes, tears subconsciously well from the pain in the back of your head. You slowly blink, watching the orange colored cat hiss and pummel at the green and yellow one.

Oh god… why is there more?

Mortified, you groan and lean your head back against the coffee table. You loved cats—with all your heart, but why so many? And why you?

“Ugh…” You already had enough going on… and you still had glass to clean up.

Chopper hops up beside you, nudging your ear with his little soft fuzzy one. You look to the side, blinking quietly up at him. He stands above you, looking down at you like you’re some mental patient.

It’s like he’s picking apart the little things you didn’t even know about yourself…

“Meow..”

“Well, she’s not bleeding…” Chopper says, letting out a sigh of relief, “But there’ll definitely be a bruise, so just watch it—“

Leaning up, Chopper’s interrupted when you sit against the table—looking to the two new cats…With a tired and teary expression, you gently lock eyes with brown ones…

Or—should you say brown one, as it’s the green cat, who only has one good eye while the other seems to be injured; yet long healed over.

He stands on a bloody paw, while the yellow one—with curly brows, seems to be perfectly fine despite a few new scratches…

Which, you could ultimately guess was from the green one.

Zoro tenses as he sees your watery expression—a pang of guilt shooting through his chest. From afar, he hadn’t thought much of you, but from up close… everything he antically assumed flew right out the window.

There was no way you had ill intentions, you probably didn’t even know they were people… you just looked, rather… innocent? Immediately he shakes the idea from his head, looking away as he grumbles a muffled apology under his breath.

“Damn cook is getting to me…”

The moment you shifted to see Sanji—was the moment his eyes lit up and transformed into gushing hearts. Your tears looked like waterfalls from the heavens, as your face was beautiful —if not prettier than treasured gold.

“Ahh—my heart! I’m so sorry, that brute made you fall!” The yellow cat quickly made his way towards you, his meow sincere, despite his gushy expression.

“Meow—meow!!”

Staring blankly at the cat, you sloly reach out and pet him on the head, rubbing your thumb gently behind his ear. “You guys are all so friendly…” you murmur, feeling the yellow cat turn to mush under your palm. He melts into a love struck puddle on the floor…

“You’re shameless, Sanji… absolutely pitiful.” Usopp deadpans, sitting beside Nami who’s dragging her paws down her face. “This is really a hard watch.” She groans, “I can’t even, we were better off without you guys.”

“I heard that.” Zoro glares, side-glancing Nami.

“Great, I can say it again if you’d like?” Robin shakes her head, letting out a sigh. “Look, what matters now is we’re all together. But, the real question is, what will we do next…?”

Silence echoes loudly throughout the living room… accompanied by Sanji’s satisfied purrs. Truely, the cook never thought being a cat could be this good. He absolutely NEVER wanted to go back.

“Maybe tell her?” Chopper suggests, “She might know something…”

Suddenly, Sanji jerks up. “Wait, she doesn’t know?!”

“You haven’t figured that out already??” Nami and Usopp snap. “She wouldn’t be petting you right now if she did!” She continues, seemingly genuinely offended.

“I’d, honesty cry if I were her…” Usopp says, watching you pick up Chopper and put him in your lap.

“Atleast she’s not pissed like earlier..” Franky sighs.

“Wait, what happened earlier?” Sanji asks. “Uh… nothing!”

Zoro sits still, silently watching the scene. His brows furrow when he comes to the realization of how obvious you are, “…So she just blindly adopted 6 cats out of the blue?”

“Pretty much!” Luffy beams, “And she’s awesome!”

“Awesome is an understatement..” Sanji swoons, collapsing dramatically aside your thigh. “Ew! Knock it off!”

“Hey, you’re hurt…” you mutter, scooting past the yellow cat, which meows sadly under the coffee table.

You scoot to Zoro on your knees, and he pales as you head towards him. “Oh hell no—“ Extending a gentle hand, you don’t yet touch him, noticing his frozen posture.

In the softest voice you can muster, you assure him. “It’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you…” But… it doesn’t seem to help. If his face could—it’d grow bright red, yet you only see him inch back slowly.

“She’s absolutely clueless…” Nami groans, leaning her head into the carpet. “Ugh, I can’t watch..”

“Tell me about it,” Usopp cringes, looking away.

“Uhm, guys, I think Sanji’s jealous,” Brook calmly comments, backing away from the coffee table that emits a dark aura. Sanji’s eyes aren’t flames, but they’re mimicking the slits of a snake’s.“Creepy..” Chopper whispers, sitting beside Robin.

“Oh wait—I’m a doctor! Zoro, I can help—!” The pink hairball sprints past Nami, and she only burrows her head further into the floor. “Ugh, I can’t..”

“Shishi, Zoro’s face is so red!!” Luffy laughs, rolling on his back, unable to contain himself.

Now, lifting Zoro up and over your head, you smile as his ears pin weakly back. “You’re so awkward,” you laugh, “It’s kinda cute..”

“Somebody kill me..” Zoro manages, his voice tight.

“Now let’s get your paw fixed up,” you mutter, holding him to your chest as you walk down the hall and into the bathroom. “Hey, wait up for me!” Chopper calls, meowing loudly, “I have little legs!”

“Ugh, where did I put the peroxide?” You say from the bathroom, “Hey, hold still—“ A gruff hiss follows after, and Sanji finally growls out a few words.

A shadow, swift as a whip, leaped from the darkness. A rubber arm—not elastic and wild as in battle, but firm and determined—wrapped around your waist.

"Waaah!" was all you could manage to exclaim before being gently but inexorably pulled inside.

The door slammed shut.

The room was dark, illuminated only by the moonlight streaming through the porthole. And there, standing with his back against the door as if guarding the most precious treasure in the world, was Luffy. He wasn't wearing his straw hat. His gaze wasn't that of a captain, nor that of a warrior. It was the gaze of a big kid who had been waiting his turn all night and had decided enough was enough.

"Luffy, what…?"

"Shhh."

He moved toward you, not with his usual boundless energy, but with a calmness that felt strange and deeply moving. He wrapped his arms around you, but this time it wasn't an explosive hug. It was a wrap. His arms extended and tightened around your back, pulling you against his chest with a firmness that offered no escape.

"You ignored me," he said, his voice a husky whisper that bordered on complaint, but without anger. It was the tone of someone stating an incontrovertible fact.

"I didn't ignore you, I was just…" "Yes. You did." He buried his nose in your neck, taking a deep breath. "You didn't even give me a cuddle."

There it was. It wasn't jealousy, it wasn't anger. It was Luffy's pure and simple need. For him, the world was divided into clear things: friends, enemies, meat, adventure… and your cuddles. And today, one of those essential elements had been missing.

"Luffy, it's late, we can…" "No."

He led you to his hammock, that tangled net that was his bed. Without letting go, he leaned back, pulling you with him. In an instant, you were both entangled in the fabric, him lying on his back and you on top, trapped in a warm, living knot formed by his limbs.

"Now it's my turn," he declared, as if announcing the most important law of the sea. His arms tightened around your shoulders, one of his legs gently coiled around your calves, immobilizing you with a possessive tenderness. “I won’t let go until you give me my cuddles.”

You tried to move, but it was useless. His rubbery body adapted to each of your attempts to escape, yielding only to wrap you more snugly. There was no brute force, just an elastic, relentless tenacity. It was like trying to escape a living, decidedly affectionate cushion.

“This is a kidnapping,” you murmured, unable to stop a smile from creeping onto your lips.

“Yes,” he admitted without a hint of embarrassment, finally smiling too. It was the wide, carefree smile you loved, but with a touch of triumphant mischief. “A love kidnapping. The best kind. Now, my cuddles.”

You surrendered. How could you not? You reached out and began to stroke his dark, tousled hair. With your other hand, you traced slow circles on his chest, over the X-shaped scar that meant so much.

A deep sigh, almost a twinge of relief, escaped his lips. The tension you hadn't noticed in his shoulders vanished instantly. His eyes, which had been watching you expectantly, closed. An expression of absolute peace took hold of his face.

"There…" he murmured, pushing his head against your hand like a kitten. "Right there…"

Minutes passed in silence, broken only by his breathing, which grew slower and deeper, and by the soft creaking of the hammock. His grip, though still firm, lost its gripping quality and became simply in a perpetual, comfortable embrace.

“Are you satisfied now, my jealous captain?” you asked softly.

He opened one eye.

“Never,” he said, as if it were obvious. “But for now, it’s fine.” He paused, his smile softening, revealing a rarely seen vulnerability. “Your laughter is for everyone. Your brain, for the maps. But this…” He pressed his hand against yours, which was still caressing his chest. “…this is only mine.”

There was nothing more to say. You snuggled into his rubbery embrace, finding the perfect space between his shoulder and neck. He, in turn, adjusted his limbs to your body as if they were the most personalized blankets in the world.

Outside, the Going Merry sailed on toward its next adventure, toward islands filled with danger and wonder. But there, in the captain's cabin, in the middle of a "kidnapping" of pampering, you had found the safest and most exclusive port of all the seas: the arms of your Luffy, where the only law was the need for a simple, silly and absolutely undeniable love.

“But this is faster” he grins, arms hooked under your thighs like it’s second nature.

You’re used to it. Kind of.

Everywhere the Straw Hats go, it’s the same thing. Town visit? Pick-up. Battle? Pick-up. Beach walk? Pick-up. You’ve lost count how many times he’s carried you.

“Oi, Luffy, you treating her like your personal backpack again?” Zoro calls out, amused.

“She is more comfortable than my backpack” Luffy says proudly.

“I am not a backpack” you mutter, crossing your arms from behind him.

But you don’t jump down. Luffy’s warm. His back is strong and steady. Plus…he hums when he walks, and it’s kind of nice.

Later that day, Nami wants to shop in the market square, so you tag along. You’re wearing a cute skirt, just something light and breezy. Totally forgot that Luffy might be Luffy.

You hear his steps behind you.

You turn slowly “Luffy, don’t you dare.”

“What?” he blinks.

“No pick-ups! I’m in a skirt!”

“Skirt?” he repeats, glancing down.

“Yes. Skirt. No pick-ups. Bad idea.” You point a finger at him.

He tilts his head like you just told him food is illegal “But I always carry you.”

You groan “Not today. Please.”

He frowns “…Okay.”

You’re shocked. He listens?

“Thank you—AH!”

Too late. Arms wrap around you, lifting you straight off the ground.

“LUFFY!”

“Don’t worry!” he says, grinning as you flail.

Then his hand tugs your skirt down, carefully holding it in place as he walks.

You freeze “…Did you just—?”

“Yeah,” he says simply “You said skirt.”

“…And you still picked me up.”

“Yup!”

You sigh, but your cheeks are hot. Luffy, meanwhile, just hums again like it’s the most normal thing ever.

“Next time, I’m wearing pants...” you mutter.

It’s been three days since the “skirt incident”.

You thought maybe Luffy would chill after that. Stop treating you like some kind of travel-sized accessory.

But no. You hear him before you see him.

“Y/N!”

You turn around, already tensing “Don’t you—”

Too late. He’s already in front of you. But this time, he doesn’t throw you over his shoulder or anything like that.

Nope.

He scoops you up. Like a princess.

Both arms under your back and knees. Smooth, gentle.

Your heart leaps into your throat.

“W-What the hell is this now?!”

“You said skirts were hard,” Luffy shrugs, totally calm “So I’m trying something new!”

“You can also not carry me at all! That’s also an option!”

He just blinks at you “But I like carrying you.”

Your face heats up. You glance around, Sanji’s dropped a tray, Robin’s smirking, and Usopp’s whispering something to Chopper.

“This is so embarrassing!” you hiss, curling a little into his chest.

Luffy just laughs “Why? You look cute like this.”

You go still “…What did you say?”

“Huh?”

“What did you just say?”

He tilts his head “You look cute like this. Why? Did I say it wrong?”

“No! I mean—yes! I mean—ugh!”

You bury your face in your hands as Luffy keeps walking down the Sunny like nothing’s weird.

“Nami’s gonna kill you” you mumble.

“She’ll get over it” he grins.

“I won’t.”

“Yes, you will.”

You kind of…do.

His arms are warm. He doesn’t drop you. He even adjusts his grip so your skirt stays down and your hair doesn’t blow in your face.

He’s just…too good at this.

You peek up at him “Luffy?”

“Yeah?”

“…You really like carrying me, huh?”

He grins wide “Yup.”

“…Why?”

He shrugs “Feels right.”

Your heart skips.

Stupid pirate...

Sunny is docked at a lively island. Music, food, games... perfect for a break. The whole crew splits up, scattering into the crowd like kids at a festival.

You’re with Sanji, trying a fried octopus ball he insists is “the best in the world”.

“Open up, mademoiselle~” Sanji offers you one with a big, cheesy grin.

You laugh and lean forward, just as—

“Oi.”

Luffy’s voice cuts in sharp and sudden.

You look over your shoulder, mouth full “Mmm?”

Luffy’s standing there, arms crossed. His usual smile is gone. That’s rare. Really rare.

Sanji raises an eyebrow “What’s up, Luffy?”

Luffy doesn’t answer. He just walks over, grabs your hand and picks you up.

Again. Princess style.

“LUFFY!” you yelp “What are you—?!”

“No more feeding her.” he says, glaring at Sanji like he just kicked Chopper.

Sanji sighs dramatically, flicking his cigarette “Jealousy doesn’t suit you... Captain.”

“I’m not jealous,” Luffy lies, squeezing you a little tighter “She’s mine.”

Your brain short-circuits.

“Yours?!” you squeak.

Luffy frowns “Yeah. I mean—not like mine-mine. But like—she’s my crewmate. I always carry her. You don’t get to feed her.”

Sanji puts a hand to his chest “How romantic.”

“Shut up” Luffy grumbles.

Your heart is pounding so loud you swear Sanji can hear it.

“Luffy, you really didn’t need to—”

“Didn’t like it...” he mumbles.

“What?”

“You laughing with him. Eating with him. That’s supposed to be with me.”

You stare at him, stunned “…You really are jealous.”

He scowls at the sky “I said I’m not!”

Then he stomps off with you still in his arms.

“Luffy, where are we going?!”

“Somewhere with no cooks.”

You’re now sitting on a quiet hill, eating takoyaki with your fingers while Luffy sits beside you, pouting.

“…So,” you say after a while, “do you only carry people you’re jealous over?”

“No,” he mutters “Just you.”

“…Why me?”

He doesn’t look at you “Feels right.”

You smile a little. Same answer. But it’s starting to feel like it means something more.

The sun’s almost down by the time you both make it back to the Sunny.

Luffy’s still quiet. Not sulking, just…thinking. You don’t see that often. He scratches his cheek, eyes on the sky, lips pressed in a line.

You’re walking this time. He hasn’t picked you up again.

And somehow, that feels weirder.

You glance at him “You’re not gonna carry me?”

He stops walking. Looks at you. Then shrugs “Didn’t know if you wanted me to.”

You blink “You’ve been doing it for months without asking.”

He tilts his head “Yeah, but… I didn’t know it made your heart beat fast until today.”

Your breath catches “Huh?”

“You always get all red,” he says, frowning slightly “I thought maybe you didn’t like it. But then Sanji made you laugh, and you got all red then, too. So now I’m not sure.”

You stare at him “Luffy… you noticed all that?”

He nods “I notice you.”

Your chest tightens.

He rubs the back of his neck “I didn’t mean to get weird about Sanji. I just… I like carrying you. Being close to you. Makes me happy.”

“…Even before all this? Before the skirt? The market? All of it?”

“Yeah,” he says, looking right at you “Since the first time.”

You step closer, eyes searching his “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I don’t know,” he says “Didn’t know what to call it. Just knew it felt right.”

You smile, heart thudding so loud now you know he hears it.

“So… what now?”

He grins slowly “Now I pick you up.”

You laugh “Right now?!”

“Yup.”

And just like always, you’re in the air, arms around his neck, legs cradled in his hold. But this time, his face is closer. Slower.

This time, he leans in.

His forehead rests against yours “Is this okay?”

You nod, cheeks burning “Yeah. It is.”

And then, finally, finally, he kisses you.

It’s soft. Just a brush. But it’s everything.

Luffy pulls back, still holding you like treasure.

“I’m gonna carry you everywhere now” he says.

You smile “You already do.”

You try to sneak back onto the Sunny quietly. You really try.

But Luffy is still carrying you. Princess style. Smiling like he just found a whole island made of meat. And your lips are pink, your hair’s a little messy, and you’re trying not to look like you were just kissed by the future Pirate King.

It doesn’t work.

Sanji spots you first “Mon dieu…” he gasps dramatically, hand over his chest “He kissed you, didn’t he?!”

“Shhh!” you hiss, trying to wiggle out of Luffy’s arms.

He doesn’t let go “Why? We’re dating now, right?”

You freeze “…We are?”

He nods “Yeah. That’s what kissing means.”

Zoro walks by, towel around his neck “Took you long enough.”

You blink “Wait—you knew?”

He snorts “Captain’s been carrying you like a newlywed for weeks. We all knew.”

Usopp pops his head out of the kitchen “I bet Chopper three berries you’d kiss by today! I won!”

Chopper stomps out after him “You cheated! You saw them holding hands earlier!”

Franky grins from above deck “This is SUPER romantic!”

Brook twirls his cane “May I write a song about this moment? Love On the Deck of Sunny?”

Nami appears last. Arms crossed. Eyebrow raised.

“So. Are you two gonna stop being weird now, or is the kissing gonna happen everywhere?”

Luffy grins “Everywhere.”

You slap a hand over your face “Luffy—”

“What? I like you,” he shrugs “I’m proud.”

Nami sighs “Great. The captain’s in love. We’re doomed.”

But there’s a soft smile tugging at her lips.

Robin, reading nearby, chuckles “Let them be. It’s cute.”

You finally give up and just hide your red face in Luffy’s shoulder. He laughs and holds you tighter.

The crew carries on bickering, teasing, laughing like always.

Only now… you’re his. And he’s yours. And he still carries you everywhere.

You’d come back from a long summer at camp and stare at your grandparents, their faces smiling and warm, but a blank slate to you. Panic would rise in your throat, a bitter taste you were too familiar with, until your mother, her voice a lifeline, would tell you to give them a hug. And you would, as if you had known them your whole life.

It wasn't just faces. The world was in constant flux, a blurry watercolor painting. Birthdays, anniversaries, the names of your childhood friends—they all slipped away. The only way you navigated this ever-shifting world was by latching onto the concrete, the things that couldn’t be forgotten. The jagged scar above your father’s eyebrow. The way your best friend in elementary school always wore mismatched socks, one red and one blue. Your neighbor’s laugh, a sound like a flock of startled birds.

But if someone blended into the background, if their face was too ordinary, they vanished from you the moment you looked away.

The older you got, the harder it became. The weight of it all pressed down on you. You learned to pretend, to nod and smile and laugh as if you understood the private jokes and shared memories. You held onto fragments, a mosaic of memories and details that kept people anchored in your mind. Without them, they became strangers again. No matter how many times you’d met them, no matter how much you loved them, they would always slip into the blur.

In second grade, your teacher knelt beside your desk to help you with a math problem. You smiled at her, the way you would any kind stranger who offered help. When she said your name, you flinched, a cold dread washing over you. You didn't know hers, even though you saw her every day. Later, she caught you staring, a confused frown on your face. With a gentle hand, she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, and you immediately locked onto the tiny silver star earring she wore. From then on, she wasn't Ms. Bailey to you—she was the teacher with the star earring.

At a middle school birthday party, you stumbled into an even more painful moment. A girl in a pink sweater handed you a soda, asking if you were having fun. You laughed, a sound that felt brittle and hollow, and pretended to know her. Her face, however, remained a blank. A flicker of hurt crossed her features as she frowned. "It's me, Y/N. Your best friend?" she said, and your stomach twisted. It wasn't until she raised her hand to push her hair back and her green charm bracelet caught the light that you finally recognized her. That was it—the only detail that made her real to you. The rest of her face might as well have been a stranger's.

High school was even crueler. You once walked right past your own mother in a crowded store, your shoulders bumping. You kept walking, not a flicker of recognition in your mind, until she called your name sharply. You turned, cheeks burning, realizing you had just ignored the woman who raised you. You told yourself it was the harsh fluorescent lights, the chaotic crowd, the way she'd changed her hairstyle. But deep down, you knew it was you.

And then there was the boy you liked. You never confessed your feelings, not because they weren't real, but because you couldn't hold onto him. His laugh echoed in your head like a favorite song, and his voice was a comfort. But his face? Each morning, with each fleeting glance, it slipped away. You tried to memorize him, staring a moment too long, burning every feature into your mind. But the second you looked away, the image blurred and smeared like wet ink on a page.

You've lived your life creating a catalog of people based on a single detail: a scar, a ring, a freckle, a hairstyle, a laugh. But never a face. Faces never stay. They never have.

The moment you stepped onto the deck, the air hit you—a sharp, briny taste on your tongue. The horizon stretched out before you, so vast and wide it was impossible to ever fully grasp it. And for the first time in your life, your forgetfulness didn't feel like a curse. On the Grand Line, people changed as fast as the weather. A friend one day could be an enemy the next, sometimes both in the same hour, and faces and names were as fleeting as a passing cloud. Pirates, Marines, bounty hunters, merchants… no one stayed long enough for you to need to remember them.

You found new ways to remember. The tavern keeper with the perpetually stained apron who always hummed a different sea shanty. The pirate with the ridiculous feathered hat that bobbed with every booming laugh. The bounty hunter who carried the distinct scent of gunpowder and oranges. These weren't just details; they were your anchors, enough for you to know who they were when it mattered and to forget them when they were gone.

This life of adventure suited you perfectly. The ocean was a living thing, restless and ever-changing, and you could finally melt into its rhythm without the familiar weight of guilt. Forgetting things no longer made you an outcast; it made you just another wanderer among countless others who drifted in and out of each other's lives. No one expected you to remember their name a week later, because they didn't remember yours, either. No one blamed you for staring blankly at their face, because by tomorrow they might be a ghost of a memory, lost to the tide.

Of course, it wasn't perfect. Sometimes, when your crewmates would laugh about something that had happened a month ago, you'd smile along, not remembering a thing. Sometimes you’d feel a jolt of panic when a stranger on the docks called out your name, a frantic scramble to place them. But you’d just tell yourself it didn’t matter. Out here, there was no past and no permanence—only the next island, the next storm, the next fight.

And maybe, you thought, just maybe, if you kept moving forward long enough, forgetting wouldn’t feel like losing anymore. It would feel like freedom.

You never intended to become known, but the Grand Line had a way of turning whispers into legends. At first, people just laughed at you—this peculiar girl who couldn't remember a face, who'd reintroduce herself twice in the same conversation, who'd call someone by the wrong name without a trace of shame. But your forgetfulness became a sort of charm. You were never cruel about it, just blunt. If you couldn't remember someone, you'd tell them straight. And somehow, people found it funny. Refreshing, even.

It helped that you never pretended to be more than you were. On Sabaody, when a group of mercenaries tried to start a fight with you, you beat them soundly—then, minutes later, you forgot who they were and asked if they wanted to grab a drink. In Alabasta, you saved a caravan from a sandstorm and promptly forgot the leader’s name three times in the same hour. He laughed until he cried, swearing he'd never met anyone like you. On Skypiea, you were celebrated not just for surviving the climb but for calling their High Priest "feather-hat guy" to his face.

Everywhere you went, you left people smiling, shaking their heads, retelling the stories of the strange traveler who couldn't remember faces but somehow remembered everything else.

Your journey carved a path few could ever claim. You walked among the women of Amazon Lily—an outsider, but accepted, because they admired your boldness and the way you laughed at their teasing without fear. You drank sake under the cherry blossoms of Wano, watching the lanterns float down the river, and the people there said you were odd but kind, and worth welcoming. You'd stood at the edge of the Florian Triangle, slept on Water 7's rooftops, and even stumbled through the frozen wastes near Drum Island.

It wasn’t always easy. You lost track of allies, sometimes even enemies. But you quickly learned that fame filled the gaps your memory couldn't. People recognized you even if you didn’t recognize them. They'd shout your name across a crowded harbor, tell stories of the places you'd been, the battles you'd fought, the sheer ridiculousness of your forgetfulness.

And so you made a name for yourself—not because you remembered the world, but because the world remembered you.

It had been years since you’d stepped foot on Amazon Lily, but the moment your ship touched the shore, the memories came rushing back—not of faces, not of names, but of a feeling. The smell hit you first: sharp and sweet, like sun-warmed fruit bursting open in the trees. The air itself felt heavy here, humming with life, sticky with the scent of blossoms that grew only on this island. You remembered the crunch of the soil under your bare feet, the way it always felt softer here, springy, and alive.

You couldn’t picture the people—you never could—but you remembered the little pieces of them, the fragments that stuck.

There was the tall woman with the feathered snake coiled around her shoulders, its beady eyes blinking as if it was just as curious about you as she was. There was another who always tied her hair up in thick braids and wore beads at the ends, so you remembered her not by her face, but by the clattering rhythm of those beads when she turned her head. And the trio of sisters—you remembered them because of their snakes. One snake had patterns that looked like painted flames, another was so big its shadow stretched farther than the hut roofs, and the third’s scales shimmered like emeralds in the sun.

You remembered the fruit they offered you—the one with a tough rind you needed a blade to cut through, but inside, it tasted like a mix of honey and citrus. You remembered the sound of the village waking up in the morning, women laughing as they fetched water, the steady drum of feet as warriors trained, and the wind whistling through the carved pillars that lined the paths.

Even now, standing on the dock again, you realized you couldn’t recall a single face waiting for you. But you remembered the warmth of the island. The smells. The songs that drifted through the jungle. The hush of the tide against the shore.

And that was enough to feel like coming home.

The moment your feet touched the docks, the island seemed to exhale around you. Voices rose all at once, familiar to them but strange to you—a chorus of laughter, gasps, and cries of your name. Women rushed toward you in a wave, their smiles wide, reaching for your hands and telling you how long it had been.

You blinked at them, caught off guard. Their faces swam in front of you, a blur of lines and shapes you couldn't hold onto. But then the details clicked into place: the clatter of braided beads, the shimmer of emerald scales, the feathered snake tilting its head in recognition. You smiled automatically, nodding, your laugh soft and a little awkward as you echoed their warmth back to them.

And then she came.

Boa Hancock, her presence like a blade in silk. The crowd parted without thought, heads bowing as she drew near. She stopped in front of you, her shadow long and elegant across the dock, her lips parted as though she were about to say something only she could say.

“It has been far too long,” her voice carried, low and rich. You froze. There was nothing to cling to here. No scar, no trinket, no detail bold enough to anchor her in your mind. Just a blur—someone impossibly striking, but faceless all the same.

The flicker of hurt in her eyes was sharp, almost hidden, but you caught it. “You… do not remember me?” she asked, her tone dipping into something dangerous. The women around her stilled, and the air tightened with tension.

You laughed nervously, shifting the bag from your shoulder. “I—I’m sorry,” you said honestly, because lying never worked for you. “Faces don’t stay with me. But…” you quickly pulled out the gifts you’d gathered from your travels: shells polished smooth by the waters of Water 7, a delicate hair ornament you'd bartered for in Wano, fruit seeds from an island that bloomed only under moonlight. You handed them out freely, and the women gasped with delight as they examined the treasures.

The tension cracked as the villagers’ joy bubbled over, their voices rising with gratitude, their hands touching your shoulders and arms. They didn’t expect you to remember them—most had long accepted that you never would.

But Hancock lingered, her arms folded, her face unreadable. She was “the most beautiful woman in the world,” after all. She had always believed beauty made her unforgettable. To realize even she could be erased from your mind felt like a wound she couldn't quite conceal.

And still, she didn't turn away. She watched you with a storm in her eyes, as if trying to decide if she was insulted, or if the fact you treated her like anyone else... somehow made her more human than she had ever been allowed to be.

For a long moment, Boa Hancock said nothing. Her gaze lingered on the seashell in your open palm—a soft shimmer of white and pink, carved smooth by distant tides. It was the kind of trinket no one would ever dare offer her. The Pirate Empress was showered in gold, silks, and jewels—treasures meant to prove devotion and worth. But a seashell? That was something a child might find and think beautiful simply because it was.

She hesitated, then—almost reluctantly—reached out. Her fingers brushed yours as she took it, a touch so delicate and careful it was as if she feared breaking something fragile. The crowd of women hushed, watching in stunned disbelief. Boa Hancock, who had once declared even kings beneath her, was accepting a seashell from a girl who couldn't remember her face.

But Hancock remembered you. She remembered the first time you set foot on Amazon Lily years ago, how your laughter had carried through the jungle like sunlight breaking through the clouds. She remembered your kindness, your curiosity, the way you never looked at her with fear or envy. You had treated her like a person, not a goddess, not a tyrant, not a slave marked by her past.

And now, standing before you, she felt something ache deep within her chest. You reminded her of a time before chains, before the Celestial Dragons, before her name was spoken with reverence and fear. You reminded her of an innocence she thought had been stolen from her forever.

The corner of her lips softened, almost against her will. She lifted the shell closer, cradling it as though it were the most precious thing in the world.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, so only you could hear, her voice stripped of its usual grandeur.

You smiled at her, your eyes bright, not because you knew who she was or what she carried, but because you were glad she liked it. That was all you ever wanted—to make people smile, to ease the weight they carried, even if you didn’t always understand the weight itself.

And maybe that was why she kept you close that night. Why she allowed you to sit beside her at the feast, why she let you chatter about the fruits you’d brought from other islands, and why she listened when she normally demanded silence.

Because in you, Hancock saw a piece of herself she thought long dead. And though you might never remember her face, she swore silently to herself—she would never forget yours.

The celebration stretched into the evening, lanterns swaying gently in the jungle breeze. You wandered between tables stacked with fruit and roasted meats, greeting women who waved you over. Their faces were a haze of indistinguishable lines, but you navigated the crowd with ease, letting their details guide you—braids, snakes, beads, scars.

And then you saw her.

A small, bent figure leaning on a gnarled staff, standing apart from the crowd with sharp eyes that seemed to miss nothing. You blinked, tilting your head, trying to place her. Her face wouldn't stay with you—already slipping away as you looked—but something tugged at your memory.

The cane. You remembered the sound it made when it struck the ground, a sharp thwack, thwack as she scolded warriors twice her size. And then, it clicked: the flower print robe she always wore, faded but stubbornly bright, as if she had stolen springtime for herself.

Your lips curved into a smile. “Ah! Flower-robe lady!” you said brightly, pointing at her as if you had just solved a riddle.

The old woman's eye twitched. With surprising speed, she raised her staff and brought it down on the top of your head with a resounding bonk.

“Ouch!” you yelped, clutching your head and laughing through the sting.

The woman’s voice was as sharp as ever. “Tch! You’ve got a worse memory than an old crone like me, girl!” she snapped, though a hint of amusement laced her words.

The gathered women burst out laughing, and even Hancock hid a smile behind her hand. You rubbed your head sheepishly, bowing a little as if the smack were a blessing instead of a scolding.

“I remember you,” you said, eyes bright despite the lump forming under your hair. “I just… don’t remember your face.”

Gloriosa snorted, clearly unconvinced, but the corner of her mouth twitched upward. “Hopeless child,” she muttered, shaking her head as she shuffled off. Still, you caught her sneaking another glance at you—something warmer than irritation hidden in her gaze.

And as the laughter rippled through the crowd again, you grinned. Even if you didn’t remember her, she clearly remembered you.

The forest behind Amazon Lily was a sea of green, thick with knotted vines and pierced by slivers of dappled sunlight. The air was a heavy perfume of damp earth and wild blossoms, and you let it pull you deeper into the quiet. Every leaf, every twist of root and curl of moss, was a new, fleeting wonder. A small thrill of solitude hummed through your veins, a moment you knew you'd cherish even if you forgot it by morning.

And then you saw them.

Two figures. Men. On Amazon Lily. Your heart seized. It felt impossible, a jarring note in the tranquil harmony of the jungle, and yet, there they were.

One was a young man, a force of pure, untamed energy. His hair was a chaotic mess of black ink, and his eyes, wide and bright with an almost ridiculous intensity, seemed to drink in the world. A straw hat hung crookedly on his back, and when he grinned, it was a grin too big for his face, a joyful, unburdened thing. He laughed like the world itself was a punchline only he understood, a sound that rang with a wild, infectious freedom.

Behind him, another man stood with a quiet authority that drew your eyes. Older, taller, his hair slicked back with streaks of gray. His presence was solid and purposeful, the build of a man who had weathered countless storms. A jagged scar ran down his left eye, a testament to battles fought and survived. He seemed to hold the chaos of the younger man at bay with a steady hand, a silent anchor in the whirlwind.

Your chest tightened, a small alarm buzzing in your mind. You stopped, ready to retreat. Then the older man's voice cut through the air, low and calm.

"Y/N."

Your name. It hit you like a physical force. Your heart stuttered, a familiar panic rising in your throat. You knew that voice. You knew it better than your own heartbeat, a sound that had been a silent anchor in your chaotic mind for as long as you could remember. And yet… the face remained a blur.

The young man with the straw hat shifted, his eyes sharp and alert as they darted between you and his companion. He had a lean, disciplined build, a body honed by countless hours of training. He was cautious but ready, every muscle poised. A brief, fractured image flashed in your mind—a memory of the two of them, the older man as a teacher, the younger as a student—but the moment you tried to grasp it, it crumbled into dust.

The older man, Silvers Rayleigh, offered a faint smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "You don't need to be afraid. It's just me. And... him." He gestured subtly at the boy.

Recognition clicked slowly, not with a jolt, but with a quiet settling of pieces. You knew this boy. You had known him before. Your stomach twisted. But the straw-hatted one? No, there was nothing. He grinned again, oblivious to your silence, and waved a lazy hand. "Hey! You're Y/N, right?"

You just blinked. Nothing. The chaos in your mind tried to match the chaotic energy radiating from him, but no faces came, no recollection of news, posters, or the Marineford headlines. Just a wave of heat, of life spilling from him in a way that made the ground feel unsteady.

"Are… you okay?" Rayleigh asked, his gaze as steady and calm as the sea on a windless day.

You nodded, because the overwhelming confusion in your chest was also… familiar. And in the blur of memory, you somehow knew you weren’t alone anymore.

You froze completely, blinking as if the forest had swallowed your thoughts whole. The two men watched you, but Rayleigh's expression softened as a weary kind of recognition dawned on his face.

He knew you. Of course, he did. He’d trained you years ago, taught you the basics, drilled you until you could barely stand. He had always been aware of your memory—or lack thereof. Faces didn't stick for you. Names rarely did. But he had thought, perhaps, after all those long days and nights together, that you might at least remember him.

Instead, you just stood there, your mouth opening and closing, your eyes wide with confusion. Finally, words stumbled out.

"Ruh... Reh... Re—" You pointed at him, your voice a little crooked, the syllables twisting into something unrecognizable.

He chuckled, the sound rich and warm, like sunlight breaking through the canopy of leaves above. And just like that—you remembered. Not his face, not his name perfectly, but that laugh. That exact laugh, low and carrying a weight of mirth, patience, and kindness. Your lips curved instinctively, and the first spark of recognition struck.

"R—Reh-ly!" you said finally, more of a shout than a sentence, and he laughed harder, shaking his head.

"Close enough," he said, amusement shining in his eyes. "I'll take it."

You blinked again, and then your voice took on a new lilt, a hopeful, uncertain thread. "You... taught me... the... the moves... the sword stuff... with the—uh, the big pirate?" You waved vaguely, trying to gesture at the memories you did hold. "And... you... Roger's crew? Yeah. Roger's crew!"

Rayleigh's smile softened, almost fond, and he shook his head. "Not bad," he said. "Not bad at all. You remember some of it, and that’s enough."

The raven-haired boy, who had been standing quietly beside him, watched your entire interaction. He tilted his head, a small frown of curiosity on his face. You were a whirlwind of memory and confusion, yet somehow... somehow, you had anchored Rayleigh. And for a moment, in the rustling quiet of the jungle, it felt as though the past and present had folded together, allowing fragments of old days to reach out and touch you again.

Before Rayleigh could reply, the straw-hatted boy erupted in laughter, a sound so loud it echoed through the trees. “Wait—Reh-ly? That’s what you call him?!” he howled, clutching his stomach and staggering slightly. “Man, I’ve never heard that before! Hahaha, that's great!”

Rayleigh groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose, but you couldn’t help smiling. There was something infectious about the boy’s energy—it was carefree, wild, and utterly unbothered by etiquette.

He waved a hand at you, bowing slightly in a comical attempt at charm. “Hey! I’m Luffy! Monkey D. Luffy,” he said proudly, flashing a grin that was entirely too large for his face, but somehow, it suited him perfectly.

You hesitated for only a heartbeat before stepping forward and holding out your hand. He took it immediately, gripping it firmly, his eyes bright with excitement. He was around your age, maybe a bit taller, and you could feel the energy radiating off him like sunlight trapped in a bundle of motion.

“Nice to meet you,” you said cautiously, letting your fingers brush his. There was something simple about him, an easy honesty that was impossible to fake.

Luffy’s grin widened even more, as if you had just said the funniest thing he had ever heard. “Yeah! Nice to meet you too!” He gave your hand a hearty shake, up and down, up and down, almost enough to make you stumble, but you held on.

Behind him, Rayleigh shook his head, muttering something about "chaotic as ever," but you didn’t notice. Your attention was entirely on this energetic, laughing boy, whose presence somehow made the forest feel brighter, as if the leaves themselves were swaying in time with his excitement.

And for the first time that day, surrounded by confusion and forgotten faces, you felt a spark of certainty—at least about one person.

Sunlight filtered through the jungle canopy, casting bright, dappled patterns across the ground as you wandered with Luffy. He was a force of nature, running ahead and then doubling back with a laugh, pointing out strange, colorful fruits and bizarre-looking birds. He’d show you the perfect vine for a quick swing over a creek, and you’d laugh, sometimes stumbling to keep up. But every time you did, he was there, a steady, grinning presence, making sure you never fell too far behind.

He talked constantly, a rambling, joyful stream of everything and nothing, and somehow, it was the most comforting sound in the world. You noticed your stomach coiling and fluttering around him in a way it never had with anyone else. His energy wasn't overwhelming—it was protective, in a strange, effortless way. With him, the world felt safer, and you found yourself relaxing, your usual hyper-awareness of your surroundings fading just enough that you could finally breathe.

At some point, you stopped near a small waterfall, the mist a cool relief against your skin. Luffy perched on a slick rock, swinging his legs with an impossibly carefree air. You wanted to say his name—you’d been calling it in your head all day, trying to lock it down—but when you opened your mouth… your mind went blank.

“I… uh…” you stammered, blinking at him, your cheeks warming with a familiar embarrassment. “I… I can’t… remember your name.”

He tilted his head, a single eyebrow cocked, but the bright smile never left his face. “You… don’t remember?”

You shook your head, your voice small. “No. I have a bad memory. Faces… names… they just don’t stick. I can usually only remember little things about people. Something they do, or a small detail. Things that stand out. It’s… it’s hard sometimes.”

He laughed—a warm, booming, and entirely genuine sound that made the nerves in your stomach flutter and untwist into that familiar, easy coil. “Then I guess you’ll just have to remember me by this,” he said suddenly.

Before you could even ask what he meant, he leaned in, his lips pressing against yours. It was soft at first, but steady and surprisingly tender. Your heart thumped against your ribs so loudly you were sure he could hear it. Everything seemed to fall away—the dense forest, the weight of forgotten memories, the constant confusion—and all that remained was the warmth of his lips and the quiet rhythm of the moment.

When he pulled back, just slightly, he was grinning like it was the most natural thing in the world. You could only stare, cheeks burning, your heart still racing. Somehow, amidst all your forgetfulness, this—this kiss, this feeling—you knew you would carry it with you forever. Even if you forgot his name, you would always remember him.

You stumbled back a step, your face flushed and your words tumbling out in a flustered rush. “I—I… wha—” You ended up lightly smacking his shoulders, a clumsy, embarrassed attempt to regain control, but he just laughed, undeterred, his grin wide and his eyes sparkling with mirth. “Hey, hey! Calm down, Y/N! You’re all red!”

You huffed, pressing your hands to your burning cheeks, but a smile broke through. Somehow, his energy made everything feel lighter, warmer. There was no judgment in his eyes, only that chaotic, reassuring grin that made your stomach flutter in the best kind of way.

You spent the rest of the day wandering through the jungle with him, the sunlight filtering through the canopy in bright, dappled patches. You shared stories on sun-warmed rocks, laughed at each other’s clumsy missteps, and simply watched the world move around you. You lingered close, your arms brushing and your shoulders touching, and it felt natural, as if you had always been meant to be near him. You felt safe.

At one point, you watched Rayleigh train him. Luffy moved with an odd combination of carelessness and raw instinct, striking, dodging, and leaping as Rayleigh corrected him gently, occasionally rolling his eyes but never scolding too harshly. You leaned against a tree, fascinated by the dance between teacher and student, and by the way Luffy’s eyes always sparkled when Rayleigh smiled or nodded in approval.

Later, as you sat beside him by a trickling stream, he spoke softly about his crew. His tone shifted when he mentioned Ace, his voice heavy even though he tried to mask it with a small laugh. “He… he was my brother, y’know? And…” he trailed off, his fingers picking at the water’s surface. “Sometimes I feel like it was my fault… that I couldn’t save him.”

Your heart twisted at the pain in his words. You reached out, your hand brushing his, and looked him in the eyes. “Don’t you dare think that,” you scolded softly, your voice firm but comforting. “Ace… your brother… it’s not your fault. You were doing everything you could. Stop blaming yourself, Luffy.”

He looked at you then, really looked, and a small smile broke through the weight he had been carrying. You stayed beside him, and somehow, sitting there together, the two of you seemed to glow—not literally, but in the way the world seemed brighter when you were near him. The light caught in your hair and his eyes, warmth pooling in your chest, laughter spilling easily, comfort wrapping around you both like a shield.

For once, forgetting faces and details didn’t matter. Because here, in this moment, you remembered how he made you feel—and that was enough.

It became a silent pattern, a wordless agreement between the two of you. Whenever your mind slipped, and you opened your mouth to call him by the wrong name or blanked entirely, Luffy would simply grin and lean in, pressing a quick, reassuring kiss to your lips. It was never long or complicated—just a soft touch to anchor him in your mind. Every time, your chest would hum, your cheeks would warm, and your memories of him would solidify, even if only for a little while.

Months passed swiftly. You stayed on Amazon Lily longer than you ever had before—a week turned into two, and now it was closer to a year. You and Luffy were inseparable, your routines intertwined. You explored the forests, raced along the cliffs, and laughed under the sun. He would tell you stories of his crew and their adventures, his voice softening when he spoke of Ace. In return, you would listen, offering comfort when the past pressed on him too heavily, and he would fill your days with laughter and a gentle lightness.

But of course, secrets have a way of finding their way out. One afternoon, Boa Hancock appeared without warning, the air seeming to part for her presence alone. You had been laughing at something ridiculous Luffy had just done—he’d tried to swing across a vine and ended up sprawled in a pile of leaves—and when she saw the two of you, she froze.

Her eyes narrowed, sharp and glimmering, and her usually calm, composed demeanor faltered. Luffy was leaning close to you, his arm brushing yours, laughing freely as you teased him. And you… you were glowing in a way that wasn’t just from the sun. Your laughter, the warmth between you, the easy, comfortable closeness—it all spelled out the truth.

Hancock’s jaw tightened. She had always liked you—perhaps more than she would ever admit—and she had, foolishly, assumed Luffy’s attention would eventually come her way. She had imagined him noticing her first, always her. But now… she saw everything. Luffy liked you.

For a moment, she said nothing, then quietly, almost to herself, she muttered, “So… it’s her.”

You didn’t notice at first, lost in laughter with Luffy, until a sudden hush fell over the clearing. You looked up, cheeks still flushed, and met Hancock’s gaze. She said nothing else, but the weight in her eyes, a complex mix of jealousy and reluctant acceptance, told you everything you needed to know.

You glanced back at Luffy, who grinned like nothing had changed, completely unaware of the silent storm you had just witnessed. And you realized—half a year, a year—time on Amazon Lily had changed more than just your routine. It had changed you, it had changed Luffy, and now it had changed even the Pirate Empress in ways she hadn’t expected.

And somehow, despite the awkward tension, you felt safe. You felt… like you were home.

The day arrived far too quickly, and the air felt heavier than usual as your time on Amazon Lily drew to an end. Your hands trembled slightly as you packed your few belongings, your heart tight in your chest. You had never stayed anywhere this long before—never allowed yourself to grow so attached. Leaving Luffy, leaving this island, felt like ripping a piece of yourself away.

You found him waiting at the dock, his straw hat perched crookedly on his back. His grin was as bright as ever, but you could see the worry in his eyes, a small flicker of something he couldn't quite hide. You swallowed hard, forcing a smile to your lips.

"I… I’ll see you again, right?" you asked softly, your voice catching.

He stepped closer, tilting his head. "Of course! I’ll see you again. I’ve gotta sail with my crew for a bit, but… I will find you. And when I do, we’ll meet again, I promise." His grin widened, and it was impossible not to believe him. "You wait for me, okay?"

You nodded, your heart thumping, your hands tightening around the straps of your bag. "I’ll wait," you said, your voice barely a whisper. "I promise."

Luffy reached out, his hand cupping your cheek gently, and he leaned in. The kiss was soft but firm, a grounding, anchoring touch that made your chest ache with warmth. You could feel him in your mind, in your heartbeat, a piece of him solidifying so that even if your memory faltered, this moment would stay.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested briefly against yours. "Don’t forget me, Y/N," he said, his voice low, teasing, and filled with an absolute, unwavering certainty.

You blinked, your cheeks flushed, and you managed to whisper, "I… won’t."

He gave you one last brilliant grin, tugged his straw hat into place, and stepped back. "Then I’ll see you again, I promise."

And as your ship sailed away from the island, you pressed your hands to your chest, feeling the memory of his kiss burn bright against your skin. A deep, soulful ache of parting settled in, but you let yourself smile. Somewhere out there, you knew, Luffy would be keeping his promise—and somehow, you would find your way back to him.

The days on the ship blurred into a rhythm of wind, waves, and the endless horizon. Amid the constant motion, you felt a hollow ache of absence, a quiet weight in your chest. You remembered him—the feeling of him—more than anything. You remembered the warmth in his laugh, a sound that could make the sun feel smaller beside it. You remembered the way his grin was so big and bright it was almost impossible. You remembered the straw hat he’d plopped on your head whenever you looked lost, the careless tilt of it that somehow made you feel safe. You remembered the soft press of his lips, the way his energy seemed to fold around you and hold you steady when everything else felt uncertain.

But his face… that slipped. Slowly, inexorably, the edges blurred. The sharp tilt of his jaw softened, his messy black hair lost its texture in your mind, and even the brightness of his eyes began to fade. You tried, so desperately, to hold onto him, to memorize every detail, but it was like trying to clutch smoke. The harder you gripped, the faster it slipped through your fingers.

His name, too, twisted itself on your tongue. It was there one moment, teasing at the edges of memory, and gone the next. You found yourself stammering when you thought about him, calling him “the straw-hat boy,” or “the funny pirate,” anything to give shape to the empty spaces in your mind.

At night, when the ship creaked and the stars reflected off the dark water, you pressed your hand to your chest and felt the echo of his kiss. The warmth lingered like a memory that didn't need a face. You missed him fiercely—missed the way the world felt lighter with him near, missed the easy comfort of his presence, missed the spark that made your heart hum so violently.

Even as time moved forward, even as other faces and other places crowded into your memory, the space he had filled stayed hollow, a constant tug at your chest. And though you couldn't picture him clearly or say his name aloud without stumbling, you carried him with you—the way he made you feel, the way he made you remember being alive.

At every port, in every crowded harbor, your eyes searched desperately. You scanned faces in the streets, in the taverns, along the docks—searching for him. The one you could never quite remember fully, whose name slipped through your mind like water, whose face blurred no matter how tightly you clutched the memory.

You didn't know what you were hoping for, exactly—a spark of recognition, a familiar laugh, even the tiniest flicker that said he was near. But your chest twisted every time someone’s eyes weren't his. You found yourself tracing the curve of strangers’ smiles, the tilt of their hats, the careless energy they carried, hoping, always hoping, that it was him.

And always, it wasn’t.

A year passed in this pattern. You wandered from island to island, a part of your life consumed by the chase for someone you could barely remember. Each time a crowd parted and you glimpsed a flash of messy black hair or wide, laughing eyes, your heart would leap, your stomach fluttering as if it recognized something your mind could not name. And each time, it was a stranger.

Still, you refused to stop. You clung to the way he had made you feel, the warmth in your chest when he was near, the reckless safety of his presence. Even without a face to anchor, even without a name to hold, that feeling alone was enough to pull you forward, crowd to crowd, island to island, always searching, always hoping, always believing that someday—you would find him again.

You tried everything you could think of to lock him in your mind. Alone in the quiet of your cabin at night, you sat with your eyes closed, your hands pressed to your temples. You repeated the fragments you remembered over and over—his laugh, the weight of his grip, the careless tilt of his straw hat. You traced imaginary lines across his blurred features, willing your memory to pull him into focus, willing your mind to make him whole again.

You whispered names under your breath, one after the other, hoping one would stick. "R... Reh-ly?" No. "L... Luff—Luffa? Lufan?" You winced at each failed attempt. The syllables stumbled out wrong, twisting into shapes that weren't his, no matter how much you tried. You knew, somehow, that his name started with an "L," but even that small detail mocked you.

Sometimes you wrote it down, jotting combinations of letters over and over in your journal, crossing them out in frustration, tracing the lines with your fingers until your palms ached. You stared at the pages until the ink blurred, hoping the act itself would etch him into your memory, even as his face refused to come.

You tried to retrace your steps from Amazon Lily in your mind, recalling the warmth of the forest, the feel of his hand brushing yours, the way his energy seemed to fold around you like a shield. But all you could hold onto was the feeling—the fluttering in your stomach, the thrum in your chest—and the fragments of laughter and stolen kisses.

Every attempt ended the same way: a hollow ache, a failed name, a blurred face, and the stubborn, undeniable certainty that he existed somewhere out there, waiting for you to find him again. And so you kept trying, day after day, island after island, clinging to the hope that one day, the memory of him—and his name—would finally come back.

A year had passed—or maybe even longer—since you last saw him, since the straw-hatted boy had pressed a kiss to your lips and promised he’d see you again. Two years had passed since you first met him on Amazon Lily, and the memory of that day had become a constant ache and a quiet warmth all at once. The details were hazy, the faces blurred, but the way he made you feel… that lingered.

Now, you were on a small, unassuming island, one of the many waypoints travelers used to stock up on supplies, mend sails, or simply rest. It wasn’t a bustling hub like some of the Grand Line’s larger ports, but it had a quiet charm—a collection of low, sun-bleached buildings, marketplaces shaded by cloth awnings, and the salty tang of the ocean carried on the wind.

You’d been here for a while, known to the locals not by your face, but by your energy. They knew you by your bright laugh, by your kind words, and by the helping hand you always offered. Merchants greeted you warmly, children waved as you passed, and the few visiting pirates who lingered eyed you with curious respect. You had made a name for yourself here, just as you had across the Grand Line: the girl with the bright laugh, the strange memory, and the uncanny ability to make people feel seen.

Even so, every morning you would wander the island, your eyes scanning the small crowd of travelers, sailors, and merchants. You were half-hoping, half-praying to see him again. You didn’t know why you kept looking—the odds were impossibly slim—but your chest still ached for him, and no memory loss could erase the pull he had on your heart.

Some days, you helped a merchant carry crates, laughing at the way their parrot squawked angrily at your clumsiness. Other days, you sat by the dock, watching ships come and go, tracing the lines of their sails and imagining him among the crowds, imagining his grin appearing just over the horizon.

And even as you moved among people who knew and liked you, your eyes always searched the edges of the crowd. Always. Because somewhere out there, across oceans and islands and endless seas, he existed—and maybe, just maybe, today would be the day your paths crossed again.

You were weaving through the bustling marketplace, your eyes flicking over crates of fresh fruit and bundles of dried herbs, when someone bumped into you. It was a jolt, a stumble, and you looked up.

Standing before you was a man with curly hair and a long, unmistakable nose, his eyes wide and slightly apologetic. He was lanky, his arms long and a little awkward as he tried to balance the precarious stack of crates. A spark of recognition flashed through you, but your mind scrambled immediately. Long nose… his crew… that's right, isn't it? Or no? Did he even say that? You must be wrong…

"I—I'm sorry!" you exclaimed, stepping back to give him space.

"No, no, it's my fault! I wasn't paying attention—too many crates," he said quickly, shifting them in his arms. His voice had a nervous energy to it, and you noticed the way he twisted his mouth when he spoke, as if every word required extra effort.

Without thinking, you stepped forward and helped him adjust the load, stacking a few crates more securely. "Here, let me help," you said, your hands steadying one of the larger bundles. He blinked at you, his eyes slightly startled, then nodded gratefully.

As you worked together, your gaze lingered on him, trying to trace a memory. "Have… we met before?" you asked cautiously, your voice low. Your stomach coiled nervously. You didn’t know why the feeling of familiarity tugged at you—he wasn't him, but… something about this man made your chest flutter, like a tiny spark of recognition you couldn’t quite grasp.

He tilted his head, furrowing his brow. "I don't think so… unless you've bumped into a lot of people with long noses carrying crates," he said with a nervous laugh, brushing some stray curls from his forehead.

You chuckled softly, still staring at him as if hoping the right connection would magically appear. "Yeah… maybe… or maybe not. I just…" You paused, shaking your head slightly, frustrated with yourself. "I—I can't quite remember."

He smiled gently, still slightly flustered, and shifted the last crate into place. "Well, at least we're good now, right?"

"Right," you said, brushing your hands off and glancing at him again. There was something so familiar in the way he moved, in the nervous tilt of his head, in the careful way he balanced the crates. You couldn't place it, and it frustrated you endlessly. But still, a small warmth bloomed in your chest.

Maybe I’ll remember… eventually.

And for now, helping him had anchored you to the present, even if the past refused to reveal itself.

You followed the lanky man with the curly hair and long nose through the docks, carrying a few of the smaller crates beside him. He moved with a nervous energy, constantly glancing around and muttering about how heavy everything was and how the sun was “way too bright for this much work.” You couldn’t help but smile; there was something endearing in the way he fussed over every crate, adjusting them a dozen times before he deemed them “perfect.”

"Uh... so… you’re helping a lot," he said, scratching the back of his head, his voice a little high-pitched with embarrassment. "Most people would just watch me struggle or… or yell at me."

"Well," you replied, smiling, "I figure if someone’s struggling this much, I can help. It's easier together, right?"

His eyes lit up, and he nodded vigorously. "Yeah! Exactly! Together! You're… you're really nice." He looked away quickly, embarrassed, then muttered, "I'm Usopp, by the way. Long nose… yeah, that's me."

"Y/N," you said softly, offering your hand again. He blinked and shook it, careful as if it might break.

Together, you carried the crates toward a strange ship docked just beyond the pier. It was a beautiful vessel—curved and bright, with a figurehead of a lion smiling boldly. You didn’t quite understand what the Thousand Sunny was or why it mattered, but the ship seemed alive somehow, as if it belonged to people who were full of stories.

Usopp jabbered happily the whole way, telling you about how the ship could float on just about anything, how the decks were “super safe,” and how he always had to keep an eye out for pirates or any kind of danger. You listened, fascinated, feeling that flutter in your stomach again—not like before, not him, but the same kind of warmth that came from someone whose presence made you feel safe and alive.

When you finally stepped onto the ship, the first person you met was a woman with bright orange hair, sharp eyes, and a scolding glare that seemed to cut through Usopp’s nervous energy like a knife. She folded her arms and stared directly at you.

"Usopp! Why did you bring a stranger onto the ship without telling me?" she demanded, her voice firm but not unkind.

Usopp flinched, scratching his head. "I—I just… she was helping me with the crates! She's really good at it!"

You stepped forward, trying to smile, your hands raised a little in a calming gesture. "I'm sorry if this is… unusual. I didn't mean to cause any trouble. I just wanted to help."

The orange-haired woman’s eyes softened slightly as she studied you. She nodded slowly, but her gaze flicked back to Usopp, who was still mumbling excuses.

"I’m Nami," she said finally, turning her attention back to you. "And you… seem… earnest. That's rare. But Usopp better not do this again."

You chuckled lightly. "I'll be careful," you said. And though the first encounter was a little tense, there was a warmth in Nami’s gaze, like she recognized someone genuine—someone who cared without needing a reason.

Usopp breathed a huge sigh of relief beside you, muttering something about a “scary navigator,” and you laughed quietly, feeling the beginnings of a strange, new kind of family forming around you.

After setting down the last of the crates, you leaned against the railing of the Thousand Sunny, finally letting your shoulders relax. Your hands still smelled faintly of salt and fruit, and your heart still thumped from the day’s work—but you felt a small thrill in your chest. You had helped, truly helped, and no one had scolded you (well, not too much).

Usopp was busy fawning over the ship’s deck, pointing out how sturdy the wood was and how the railing was perfect for keeping a lookout. His long nose twitched as he chattered to himself, a constant murmur of nervous energy. You followed along quietly, curious about the ship, but also feeling a strange sense of anticipation.

Another figure appeared from below deck—tall, broad-shouldered, carrying a crate that seemed impossibly heavy. His hair was a vibrant green, short and slightly messy, and his eyes held a sharp, calculating edge. You knew, somehow, that he was someone important, someone strong, though the details of why escaped you. He set down the crate with a grunt, then glanced at you briefly, his gaze cutting through your quiet curiosity.

You noticed the way he moved—deliberate and precise—and the quiet confidence in his stance. Even without words, he gave off an aura of strength. Usopp immediately stiffened beside you, muttering, “Y-Yeah… that’s… that’s him… Zoro.”

“Zoro?” you repeated softly, a frown creasing your brow. It was strange to hear a name attached to a person you barely remembered—or maybe you had never seen him before. Still, the green-haired man gave you a brief nod before returning to his work, ignoring the nervous banter around him.

You watched him for a moment, cautious but captivated. There was something about the way he carried himself, that calm intensity, that drew your attention even as your memory refused to fully anchor him. You didn’t say anything, just observed, storing the impression—another piece of this strange new world you had stepped into.

Usopp, still flustered from the encounter with Nami, sidled closer to you. “Don’t worry about him,” he muttered nervously. “Zoro’s… scary sometimes, but he’s really strong. And he’s… well… he’s a good guy.”

You nodded, still keeping your gaze on the green-haired man. You sensed that this crew—these people—were going to be more than just names or faces. Somehow, you could already feel the warmth and the strange, new connection, even if you didn’t yet understand it fully.

You stayed near the crates with Usopp for a while, the two of you chatting as the sea breeze blew through the Sunny’s sails. Usopp was surprisingly easy to talk to—he had a way of filling silences with stories, sometimes grandiose, sometimes clumsy, but always full of a nervous, infectious energy.

“And then—boom!—with one shot, I saved an entire village from a massive fish-man army. Everyone was cheering my name: Usopp! Usopp the Brave Warrior of the Sea!” he declared proudly, hands on his hips, his chest puffed out.

You tilted your head, skeptical but amused. “Really? …all of that?”

“Of course!” Usopp nodded vigorously. “Why would I lie about that?”

Before you could answer, a man with blond hair swept over dramatically, hearts practically glowing in his eyes. His long legs carried him with a kind of dancer’s grace, and he practically skidded to a stop in front of you, bowing low enough for his hair to brush the deck.

“Mon chériiiiiii!” Sanji sang, his voice dripping with devotion. “A goddess has graced our ship! Please, allow me to cook you the finest meal you’ve ever had in your life! One taste, and you’ll never forget me—Sanji, your humble servant!”

Your face flushed red, caught off guard, and you laughed nervously, glancing at Usopp for backup. Usopp just rolled his eyes. “Here we go…” he muttered under his breath.

Sanji gently took your hand, looking at you as if you had descended from heaven itself. “What is your name, angel?”

Before you could answer, a tiny figure came bounding onto the deck—a reindeer? Dressed in a little hat and a backpack? You blinked, unsure if you were imagining him.

“That’s amazing!” the reindeer squeaked, staring up at you with big, round eyes. “You’re so pretty! Are you going to be sailing with us?! Can I check your vitals, just in case?!”

You laughed again, crouching down to eye level with the small creature. “You’re… talking?”

“Of course I can talk!” Chopper huffed proudly, puffing his little chest. “I’m the doctor of this crew!”

“Yeah,” Usopp added with a grin, “don’t let the size fool you. He’s a genius.”

Before you could properly respond, a tall, elegant woman approached, her dark hair flowing in the breeze and her calm eyes fixed on you. Robin’s presence was… different. She was serene, composed, and yet there was a quiet intensity in the way she observed you.

“A new face,” Robin said gently, her voice smooth as silk. “You must be the one Usopp invited aboard.”

You nodded slowly, feeling suddenly smaller under her gaze. “I… guess so.”

Robin smiled faintly, a reassuring expression instead of an intimidating one. “Don’t worry. You’re safe here.”

And before you could fully process that, the ship seemed to shake slightly, and a booming laugh echoed as a towering man with mechanical arms stomped across the deck. Franky’s shades glinted in the sunlight as he struck a ridiculous pose.

“SUUUUPER!!” he shouted, flexing his metal arms. “So you’re the cutie Usopp dragged aboard? Don’t worry, this ship’s my masterpiece—no safer place on the seas!”

You stared at him, baffled, while Usopp muttered, “Here we go again…” under his breath.

And then, as if the deck couldn't hold one more surprise, a tall skeleton in a suit and top hat strode forward, his cane tapping on the wood. He bowed with perfect form, his skull grinning endlessly.

“Yohohoho! What a vision!” Brook chuckled. “Might I see your pa—”

“BROOK!!” Nami’s furious voice cut through like a whip as she smacked him on the head.

You couldn’t help it—you laughed, the sound bubbling out of you like a release. The crew was chaos, pure chaos, and yet… the warmth of it tugged at something deep inside you.

Something that almost felt like home.

The deck was still buzzing with introductions when a familiar voice broke through the noise—sharp, bright, filled with life.

“Y/N!”

You froze. The world around you seemed to fall silent, your name hanging in the air. Slowly, you turned.

He was standing there—messy black hair, straw hat tipped back, and that smile. That smile.

Your breath caught in your throat. He was laughing, bounding toward you with the same careless energy as though no time had passed at all. “I knew I’d find you!”

Confusion rippled through you, your lips parting as if to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. “W-wait, I—”

Before you could piece it together, before you could ask who he was or why your chest suddenly ached with a forgotten memory, Luffy leaned down and pressed his lips to yours.

The crew erupted in shock.

“LUFFY?!” Nami’s voice cracked, her eyes wide as she grabbed the railing for balance.

“Oi, oi, oi! Since when—?!” Usopp yelped, nearly dropping the crate he was still holding.

Sanji’s cigarette fell straight out of his mouth, his jaw slack. “Wh-Wh-WHAT?!?!”

Chopper’s eyes bulged, his little hooves flailing. “LUFFY’S KISSING SOMEONE?!”

Brook staggered back with a rattling laugh. “Yohohoho! Young love right before my eyes—though I have no eyes!”

Robin’s smile grew soft, her eyes narrowing in quiet amusement.

Franky punched the air, booming, “THAT’S SUUUPER!!”

And Zoro… Zoro just lifted a brow, half-asleep where he leaned against the mast, muttering, “Finally.”

But you didn’t hear them—not really. Because the moment his lips touched yours, it all came rushing back.

The training grounds. His laughter. His hat on your head when you felt lost. The warmth of his hand in yours. His lips against yours when words weren’t enough.

The name you had struggled for months to recall was suddenly clear, ringing in your heart like a bell.

Luffy.

Tears welled in your eyes as you broke the kiss, breathless and staring at him. “It’s you,” you whispered. “I remember.”

Luffy grinned so wide it hurt, pure joy spilling out of him as he held onto you as if he’d never let you go again. “I told you I’d find you.”

And on that deck, surrounded by his stunned crew, your world finally felt whole again.

Your knees nearly gave out beneath you. One second you'd been unloading crates, politely meeting strangers, and the next—he was here. Him. The boy you'd been searching for, the boy whose face you could never quite remember, whose name always slipped through your fingers like water.

Now, he was holding you, smiling at you, his laughter ringing in your ears.

Your hands flew up to cover your mouth as your chest heaved. “It’s you—it’s actually you—oh my god, I—I couldn’t— I tried for so long, I—” The words tumbled out in a frantic rush, your voice breaking.

The Straw Hats were frozen in stunned silence, their eyes blinking between you and their captain.

Luffy just kept grinning, as if he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. “I told you you’d remember me!”

You shook your head furiously, tears spilling before you even realized it. “No, no, you don’t get it—I lost you! I couldn’t even hold onto your name or your face. I only remembered little things. The way you made me laugh, the way my chest felt when you looked at me. The hat. Your smile. Your laugh. I—I kept looking in crowds, I kept trying to find you, but—” Your hands dropped helplessly to your sides as you let out a shuddering breath. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

Nami’s eyes softened despite herself, her arms folding across her chest. “So… wait. You two actually know each other?”

Usopp’s jaw dropped. “Hold on—this is her? The girl you mentioned that one time?!”

“Wait, Luffy actually mentioned a girl before?” Sanji snapped, grabbing Usopp by the collar. “Why wasn’t I informed?! This is important!”

Chopper hopped up and down frantically. “Luffy, you—you didn’t tell us it was like this!!”

Robin tilted her head, her lips curving into the smallest of knowing smiles. “Interesting… very interesting.”

Brook let out a dramatic “Yohohohoho!” before clasping his hands together. “A reunion after so much time apart—this is romance!”

Zoro cracked open one eye and muttered, “Could’ve told us sooner, dumbass,” before leaning back again.

You let out a laugh through your mess of tears, looking at all of them in disbelief. “You’re… you’re his crew?” Your eyes bounced from their faces to the ship, to the flag fluttering high above. “The Straw Hats… I should’ve known.”

“Yeah!” Luffy laughed, pulling you closer to his side without hesitation. “They’re the best crew ever! And now you finally remember me.” His grin softened, his eyes locking with yours. “That’s all I wanted.”

You laughed again, breathless, still crying and still trying to explain yourself all at once. “I remembered the way you made me feel, Luffy, even when everything else slipped away. That’s why I couldn’t stop searching for you.”

The Straw Hats just stood there, wide-eyed, finally piecing it together. Their captain hadn't just found a girl during the timeskip—he had found someone who clearly meant the world to him.

And now she was here.

The sun began to set, painting the sky in fiery hues of orange and pink, but on the deck of the Thousand Sunny, the mood was warmer than the fading light. After a long, stunned silence, the crew finally seemed to be piecing together the full story. Luffy, with an unwavering grin, had pulled you over to the grassy deck, sitting with his arm slung around your shoulders as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Nami, her initial shock replaced by a mix of curiosity and soft understanding, was the first to approach. She sat down across from you, her gaze studying you with a gentle intensity. "So," she began, a small smile playing on her lips, "our captain mentioned you, you know. He kept talking about this girl who was 'kinda weird' but 'totally awesome.'" You flushed, and Luffy just laughed, squeezing your shoulder.

Usopp, his initial panic forgotten, sat beside Nami, his long nose twitching with fascination. "He said you were so strong you could take on a whole army! And you... you couldn't remember his face?" he asked, his voice filled with a genuine, childlike wonder. You nodded, and a wave of quiet understanding passed between you and the crew. They saw you not as an oddity, but as someone who had navigated the world with a unique kind of strength.

Later, Sanji brought out a tray of his famous desserts—a medley of cakes and pastries that looked almost too beautiful to eat. He presented them to you with a flourish, his eyes still shining with devotion. "For my goddess! A meal worthy of your beauty!" he declared, and you laughed, taking a small bite and marveling at the flavors. He watched you intently, a genuine smile on his face as you ate. You were no longer just a stranger to him; you were the one who made his captain's heart smile.

Even Zoro, after a few drinks, offered a gruff toast. "To the girl who can remember the important things," he muttered, taking a long swig of his sake. The words were simple, but they carried a weight of respect.

“You act like nothing matters!” you snap, glaring at him.

Ace crosses his arms, irritation flashing in his dark eyes “And you act like everything does!”

“Because it does!” You throw your hands up “This crew, the people we care about, you—none of it is guaranteed, Ace! But you just charge ahead without thinking, like you’re invincible, like nothing can touch you!”

“I can handle myself” he says, jaw tightening.

You shake your head, frustration clawing at your throat “That’s the problem! You think it’s just about you, but it’s not! We... I care about what happens to you!”

Ace scoffs “Right. Because you love worrying so damn much. Maybe you should focus on your own fights instead of wasting time on mine.”

The words cut deep as your breath catches.

You shake your head, frustration boiling over “You act like nothing can touch you... but newsflash, Ace, you’re not invincible! One day, you’re gonna get yourself killed, and—”

He scoffs, cutting you off “And what? You’ll cry about it?”

You freeze.

The air shifts.

Ace seems to realize what he just said, but his pride keeps him from taking it back. The damage is done.

You inhale sharply, forcing yourself to push down the sting “Got it,” you say flatly “You don’t need me watching your back or even care about your damn life. Noted.”

Before he can respond, you turn and walk away.

Ace watches you go, his fists clenched. He should call after you. Should apologize. But he doesn’t.

Then the Marines come fast and hard, hitting the town before anyone even realizes what’s happening.

Civilians scatter as armed soldiers flood the streets, and the Whitebeard Pirates instantly snap into battle mode. Marco takes to the skies, Thatch barks orders, and Ace ignites.

He fights like he always does, fast and reckless, flames cutting through the chaos. But his mind keeps drifting, eyes flicking toward the battlefield, searching for you.

He sees you in the distance, fighting off a wave of Marines. You’re holding your own. Of course you are.

And then someone shouts “Retreat to the ship!”

The command echoes through the town, and the crew begins pulling back toward the harbor. Ace doesn’t see you right away, but he assumes you’re moving with the others. You’re strong. You can handle yourself.

He fights. He runs. He gets to the ship.

And he doesn’t notice. Not yet.

The Moby Dick sails away from the island, the battle fading into the distance. Everyone is breathing hard, wounded but alive. The crew takes a moment to regroup, catching their breath, tending to injuries.

Then Marco speaks.

“Alright,” he says, rolling his shoulders “Let’s do a count.”

Ace leans against the railing, arms crossed. His chest is still tight with lingering anger, but he tells himself he’ll talk to you once you’ve both cooled off.

“One, two, three… is anyone missing?” Marco is counting the division commanders first, then working his way through the rest.

The atmosphere is still tense, but there’s relief too. They made it out. Everyone’s here.

Until Marco stops and looks at Ace with a frown.

Ace barely registers it at first, lost in his own thoughts.

Then Marco lifts his head “Where’s Y/N?”

Silence.

The world seems to stop.

Ace’s heart slams against his ribs. His stomach drops.

“I don't know... We had a fight, she's probably just avoiding me?” he says, too sharply.

Marco scans the deck again, his expression darkening “So... she’s not here.”

Ace laughs shortly, disbelieving “What are you talking about? She was fighting, I saw her—”

“And did you see her get on the ship?” Marco’s voice is serious now.

Ace opens his mouth, then stops.

A cold, terrible realization creeps up his spine.

No.

No, he didn’t see you board.

He assumed. He thought you were strong enough to make it back. That once you were safe on the ship you were just avoiding him. That you needed space.

But now...

His hands start shaking.

“Turn the ship around” Ace demands, voice low, dangerous.

Marco’s expression is grim “Ace...”

“TURN THE SHIP AROUND!”

Flames burst from his body, flickering wildly with his panic, his fury at the Marines, at himself.

He left you behind.

He left you.

And if the Marines wanted you enough to set a trap for the whole crew... Ace’s breath catches. His vision blurs with pure, unfiltered rage.

He doesn’t care if he has to burn the entire damn ocean.

He’s getting you back.

Pain.

That’s the first thing you register when you regain consciousness. A deep, searing pain spreading through your body, sharp and unrelenting.

You try to move, but your wrists are bound, shackled in heavy seastone cuffs that sap your strength. Every inch of you aches, bruises blooming across your skin, blood drying where fists and rifle butts had struck you.

The Marines didn’t go easy on you.

“You’re awake.”

A voice.

You lift your head, forcing your swollen eyes open. A high-ranking Marine stands in front of you, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

“You’re quite the prize,” he muses “A rare Devil Fruit ability, strong enough to stand alongside Whitebeard’s division commanders… No wonder they keep you so close.”

You glare, lips cracked, but you manage to spit out, “Go to hell.”

The Marine smirks “I think you misunderstand your situation.” He steps closer, his shadow stretching over you “The World Government has big plans for you, Y/N. You have two choices: cooperate… or break.”

You bare your teeth, eyes burning with defiance “Screw your choices.”

The Marine sighs like he expected that answer. Then his fist collides with your ribs, hard enough to make you choke on the pain.

You don’t scream. You won’t give them the satisfaction. But deep down, there’s a gnawing fear.

Where is Ace?

Does he even know you’re gone?

Or did he leave you behind without a second thought?

Aboard the Moby Dick, Ace has never felt this kind of terror before. Not when he faced death, not when he fought impossible odds.

But now that he knows you are out there, captured, hurt, alone… It’s unbearable.

The moment Marco looks everywhere on the ship and then confirms you’re missing, Ace doesn’t hesitate. His flames surge, wild and desperate, as he grips the ship’s railing “We turn back now.”

“Ace!”

“NOW!” His voice cracks, his body trembling.

Marco exhales, sharp and frustrated “You think we don’t want to?! The Marines planned this... if we storm in recklessly, we could lose more than just Y/N.”

Ace knows that. He knows.

But all he can think about is the last thing he said to you. The way your face had twisted in pain before you walked away.

The regret is suffocating.

“Then tell me where they took her,” he growls “I’ll go alone if I have to.”

A heavy pause.

Then a voice cuts through the tension “We’re not leaving her.”

Ace turns. Whitebeard stands at the helm, his expression unreadable “She’s family,” he says simply “And we don’t abandon family.”

Ace’s breath shudders.

They’re going back.

He’s getting you back and nothing in the world will stop him.

Your head throbs. Your body is battered. The seastone cuffs burn against your skin, draining your strength, making every breath feel heavier.

Time is a blur, hours, maybe days, lost between moments of pain and exhaustion. But you refuse to break. Even when they strike you. Even when they try to force your cooperation. Because if there’s one thing they’ll never take from you it’s your will.

Footsteps echo down the corridor. A different Marine this time, younger, hesitant. He kneels in front of you, his voice low “I don’t know if you can still hear me,” he mutters “But Portgas D. Ace?”

Your heart stops.

He leans in, glancing around as if afraid of being overheard “He’s coming for you.”

A weak, broken breath escapes you.

Ace.

The Marine shifts uncomfortably and mutters “Looks like he's ready to burn the world down.”

You close your eyes.

And for the first time since you were captured, hope flickers in your chest.

Ace is coming, and he’s bringing hell with him.

Later on the Marine base is eerily quiet, the dim torchlight casting long shadows against the damp stone walls. Somewhere outside, the sound of crashing waves echoes, but inside your cell, there is only the distant clatter of boots and the dull throbbing of your wounds.

You’re too exhausted to keep your head up, but you force yourself to stay conscious. Every second you stay awake is a second they don’t win.

Then the door creaks open again.

“Still alive?”

You barely react, but the voice isn’t one you recognize.

Another Marine, older this time. Not the usual guards. His uniform is crisp, and his presence carries an air of authority. He steps closer, hands behind his back, looking down at you like you’re some rare specimen.

“You’re lucky, you know,” he says casually “Most pirates we capture don’t get this much attention.”

You don’t answer. You don’t have the strength to waste on his games.

“You’re valuable,” he continues “And I’m not just talking about your affiliation with Whitebeard.” His sharp eyes scan your injuries, as if calculating how much more you can endure “Your Devil Fruit, that’s what the higher-ups are interested in.”

You don’t flinch, but inside, your stomach knots.

Of course. Your ability to manipulate minds with a single command. A fruit so rare, so dangerous, that in the wrong hands, it could change the tides of war. Or worse.

“Imagine what we could do,” the Marine muses “With just one word, you could make entire enemy fleets surrender. You could make criminals confess. You could turn Yonko commanders against their own crews.” He kneels in front of you, voice dropping lower “Or you could make Whitebeard himself bow.”

Your jaw tightens.

They don’t just want to use you.

They want to turn you into a weapon.

For a moment, you don’t say anything. Then, through cracked lips, you force out a bitter laugh.

“You think I’d help you?”

The Marine tilts his head “You will. Eventually.”

Your glare is unwavering “Never.”

“You’ll come around.” he smiles “Or I could just kill you and find the Devil Fruit later on so that I can eat it myself. One way or another. The question is how much pain you’ll endure before you give up or die. Either way we win.”

Then he turns to leave.

“Get some rest,” he says “Tomorrow, we start breaking you properly.”

The door slams shut.

You squeeze your eyes shut, swallowing down the fear creeping in your chest.

They won’t break you. They can’t.

Because Ace is coming, and when he does, this whole damn place is going to burn.

Aboard the Moby Dick, Ace is losing his patience.

It’s been a day since they turned the ship around. A day too long.

He paces the deck like a caged animal, flames flickering around his fingers, jaw clenched so tight it hurts. The crew keeps a careful distance, no one is dumb enough to try and calm him down.

No one can.

He keeps replaying it in his head. The argument. The way you walked away. How he let you.

And now you’re gone.

“Oi, Ace.”

Marco’s voice cuts through his storming thoughts.

Ace turns, his glare sharp, but Marco doesn’t flinch.

“We found the base.”

Everything inside Ace goes still.

“Where?”

Marco tosses him a map, already marked “Marine stronghold, isolated island. Not heavily fortified, but enough of a problem if we’re reckless.” He gives Ace a pointed look “We need to be smart about this.”

Ace grips the map so tightly it crumples “They have her.”

“I know,” Marco says evenly “And we will get her back. But you losing your head won’t help.”

Ace’s fists tremble. He knows Marco’s right, but all he can think about is you, locked in some cell, hurt, alone, and how he left you.

“How soon can we be there?” he demands.

“By sunrise,” Marco says “We’ve got a plan. But Ace...”

Ace looks up, and Marco’s expression is grim.

“You better be ready for what we might find.”

Ace doesn’t hesitate “I don’t care if she’s at death’s door. I’ll bring her home.”

His flames surge brighter, hotter.

He will get you back, and if the Marines think they can keep you than they’ve never seen what happens when fire goes unchecked.

The moment the Moby Dick reaches the Marine base, chaos erupts. The crew descends like a storm. Thatch, Marco, and the others carving a path through the soldiers, clearing the way for Ace.

But Ace barely registers any of it. All he knows is that you’re in there, and he needs to find you.

“Ace!” Marco calls, dodging a Marine’s sword “Stick to the plan!”

But Ace is already breaking away.

He storms through the base, his fists burning, taking out anyone who gets in his way. The halls are a maze, twisting corridors that all look the same, and with every empty cell he passes, his panic tightens like a noose.

Where are you?

His breathing is ragged, flames licking at his skin as his frustration builds. She should be here. You should be here.

He shoves a Marine against the wall, his grip searing into the man’s uniform “Where is she?” Ace growls, his voice sharp with fury.

The soldier screams, thrashing “I—I don’t know!”

Ace snarls and knocks him out cold.

Then he runs.

And runs.

And runs.

But every hallway looks the same. Every door leads to nothing. He’s not finding you.

A new kind of fear claws into his chest, but he knows he can’t think like that. He won’t.

“Ace!”

Marco’s voice.

Then hands gripping his shoulder, yanking him back.

Ace whirls around, flames flaring “What?!”

Marco doesn’t let go. His expression is firm, unwavering “You’re wasting time.”

Ace shoves his arm away “I’m finding her!”

“No, you’re panicking!”

Ace’s breath is uneven, his vision blurred with frustration “She’s not here, Marco!” His voice cracks, desperation leaking through “I don’t—I don’t know where she is!”

Marco’s gaze softens just slightly “Then we regroup.”

Ace shakes his head violently “No.” Every second he isn’t moving is a second you’re suffering, a second too long “You don’t get it—”

Marco grips his collar, dragging him close “I do get it” he says, low and fierce “But if you let yourself fall apart now, we lose her for real.”

Ace stops breathing for a second.

Lose you.

The thought is unbearable.

Marco keeps his hold steady “We will find her. But not like this.”

Ace swallows hard. His body is still shaking, fire curling around his fists but he forces himself to listen. To stop running in circles. To think.

He exhales sharply “Then tell me what to do.”

Marco nods “We need intel. And I know where to get it.”

Pain is a familiar companion now.

You don’t know how long it’s been. Hours? Days?

It doesn’t matter. You’re still here. Still breathing.

Your body is too weak to fight. Your mind too drained to resist. But you keep holding on because you know he’s coming.

Even when the Marines laugh about how the Whitebeard Pirates will never breach the base. Even when they say you’ll be locked away forever.

You know better.

Then a distant explosion. Shouting. Gunfire. And fire.

Your heart lurches.

He’s here, but the door doesn’t open, and the sounds of battle grow further away.

Your stomach twists.

Did something happen?

No. No, you won’t think like that.

You force yourself to move, just slightly, leaning against the cold stone wall. You don’t have much left in you. But if there’s even a small chance, you have to believe Ace will find you. He has to. Because you don’t know how much longer you can last.

“Alright, talk.”

Ace slams the Marine officer against the table, his fire dangerously close to igniting the man’s uniform. Marco stands behind him, arms crossed, while the rest of the Whitebeard Pirates keep the room secure.

The officer trembles, sweat dripping down his forehead “I—I don’t—”

Ace tightens his grip “Wrong answer.”

The flames grow hotter. The Marine yelps, eyes wide with terror “Okay! Okay!”

“Where is she?” Marco demands.

The officer swallows hard “She—she’s in the lower dungeons. Isolated. Special containment.”

Ace’s flames flare. Of course... Seastone.

That’s why he couldn’t find you. Why his Haki wasn’t sensing you.

Ace lets go, and the officer slumps against the chair, gasping for breath.

Then Ace turns and runs.

Your vision is swimming now.

You don’t know how much longer you can hold on.

Then an explosion. Not distant, but actually really close.

And then your cell door is ripped open.

A burst of fire floods the room, bright and blinding. And through the smoke you finally see Ace.

You think you might be dreaming.

Because his face, his expression... he looks destroyed. Like something in him has been broken ever since you disappeared.

Then he’s kneeling in front of you, hands hovering over your battered body like he doesn’t know where to start.

“Y/N.” His voice is raw, barely more than a whisper.

You try to smile “Took you long enough.”

Ace lets out a shaky breath, a laugh, but not really. More like he’s trying to keep himself together.

“Shut up,” he mutters “You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

But he doesn’t sound convinced.

His fingers tremble as he undoes the seastone cuffs, his flames immediately warming your ice-cold skin. His touch is so careful, so gentle, like he’s afraid you’ll break apart in his hands.

You lean into him, too weak to do anything else.

His arms wrap around you instantly, pulling you close.

You feel him shaking.

“I thought I lost you” he chokes out.

You close your eyes.

“I knew you’d come.”

Ace swallows hard, burying his face in your hair.

Then, quietly “I’m so sorry.”

But there’s no time to say more, because the base is still burning and the fight isn’t over yet.

Ace holds you tighter, his fingers pressing against your bruised skin like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his grasp again. But you barely register it.

The exhaustion, the pain, the relief, it’s all too much.

The world tilts and then everything goes dark.

When you wake, everything seems slow and heavy, like surfacing from the depths of the ocean, your body weighed down by the bruises, the fatigue, the lingering ache of the seastone cuffs.

You shift slightly, wincing at the pain, and that’s when you realize there’s warmth. Ace.

He’s slumped over at your bedside, arms folded against the mattress, his head resting there like he’d been watching you and passed out. His face is hidden by his wild mess of black hair, but his breathing is deep and steady.

He looks exhausted.

You blink slowly, taking in the dim light of the infirmary, the distant sound of the waves outside. It’s quiet. Safe.

You made it back, and Ace never left your side.

You manage to lift a hand, your fingers brushing against his hair.

He tenses as his eyes snap open, unfocused for a second before locking onto you.

“Y/N.”

Your throat is dry, your voice barely a whisper “Hey.”

For a second, he just stares, like he’s trying to convince himself you’re real.

Then his jaw clenches, and he sits up, running a hand down his face. “Shit.” His voice is raw, hoarse, like he hasn’t spoken in hours “You—you scared the hell out of me.”

You offer a weak smile “Pretty sure you did more damage than I did.”

Ace exhales sharply, his fingers twitching against the sheets “Don’t joke about that.”

His voice is too tight. Too strained.

And when you really look at him he looks like hell.

There are dark circles under his eyes, his skin paler than usual. His hair is messier than normal, his hat discarded on the floor. His usual reckless energy is gone, replaced by something quieter.

Something heavy.

“You didn’t sleep, did you?” you murmur.

Ace scoffs, but it’s humorless “How was I supposed to sleep?” His hands curl into fists “They had you. They hurt you. And I…”

He cuts himself off, looking away, jaw clenched so tight it might shatter.

Guilt.

That’s what it is.

The weight of everything he said before. The things he didn’t say.

You swallow, shifting slightly, ignoring the way your ribs protest “Ace.”

He doesn’t look at you.

You push yourself up on weak arms, reaching for him “Ace.”

His gaze flickers to you.

“I should’ve been there.” His voice cracks “I should’ve gone after you the second you walked away. I should’ve—” He shakes his head violently “I let you go. And because of that, they took you.”

You take a slow breath “Ace...”

“You could’ve died, Y/N” His hands tremble where they grip the sheets “Because of me.”

You watch him carefully.

This isn’t just guilt.

It’s fear.

You reach for him again, your fingers curling around his wrist “But I didn’t.”

His eyes snap to yours.

“And you found me.”

Ace swallows hard “Barely.”

“But you did.” You squeeze his wrist, grounding him “Ace, I knew you’d come for me. No matter what.”

His breath is uneven, his entire body tense “What if I had been too late?”

“You weren’t.”

He shakes his head, but this time, his shoulders tremble “I can’t—” His voice lowers, raw and broken “I can’t lose you.”

Suddenly, all the anger, all the bitterness from your fight before, it feels so small. Because none of that matters now. Not when you almost lost each other.

You tug gently at his wrist, and after a second, he moves. Slowly, hesitantly, he leans forward, resting his forehead against yours.

His skin is warm. His breathing is shaky.

But he’s here and so are you.

Your fingers lift, brushing against his cheek “You won’t lose me.”

Ace lets out a shuddering breath, his hand coming up to cover yours, pressing your palm against his face like he never wants to let go.

You stay like that for a long moment, the storm inside him settling just slightly.

Then he whispers “I’m sorry... For everything.”

You smile softly, thumb brushing over his cheekbone “I know.”

He exhales, pressing his face further into your touch “I love you, Y/N.”

Your heart clenches.

Because despite everything, despite the pain, the fear, the regret, you never once doubted that.

You smile, fingers tangling in his hair.

“I love you too, hothead.”

Ace lets out a breathless laugh, wet and shaky, but real.

And when he finally kisses you it tastes like fire, and ash, and home.

He holds onto you like you’ll disappear if he lets go. His forehead is still pressed against yours, his breath uneven. You can feel the heat of his skin, the way his fingers tremble slightly against yours.

Everything feels so fragile. Like the moment could slip away if either of you move too fast. But you don’t want to move. Not yet.

Not when you can feel the way his heartbeat stutters under your touch.

Not when he’s finally here, safe, with you.

And then, quietly “You really scared me, y’know.”

You let out a breath “You scared me,” you murmur “Burning down a whole Marine base like a lunatic.”

Ace scoffs, but his grip on you tightens “Would’ve burned the whole damn world if I had to.”

You believe him. You always believed in him. Even when you were angry. Even when you walked away.

That fight. The reason you stormed off in the first place. It feels so distant now. But still, it lingers.

You take a slow breath “Ace…”

He pulls back slightly, eyes searching yours “Yeah?”

You hesitate “Before all this… before we landed on that island…”

Ace tenses. He knows what you’re talking about.

Your fight.

The argument that hadn’t been resolved before everything spiraled into chaos.

Ace shifts, running a hand through his messy hair “You were mad at me.”

You raise an eyebrow “Oh, you think?”

Ace sighs “I know.”

You look away, your fingers gripping the blanket draped over you. The memory of the fight comes rushing back. You had been reckless during a raid. You thought you had it handled. But Ace had jumped in, flames blazing, telling you to stop being so damn stubborn and let someone help you for once.

And you had snapped because it wasn’t just about the raid. It was about everything.

The way Ace always threw himself in danger, like he had to do it alone. The way he always acted like his life didn’t matter as much as everyone else’s.

And when you told him that, when you yelled at him for it, he threw it back in your face.

And now, after almost dying, after being taken, after him almost losing you, the weight of it crashes down on both of you.

Ace lets out a heavy sigh, leaning back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Guess I really was an idiot, huh?”

You cross your arms, raising an eyebrow “Oh? Now you realize?”

Ace groans, dragging his hand down his face “You’re really gonna rub it in while you’re still half-dead?”

You smirk “Absolutely.”

He exhales sharply, shaking his head, but then his expression softens. His golden eyes flicker with something raw, something real.

“You were right” he says quietly.

That makes you pause.

Ace doesn’t say things like that often.

“You were right,” he repeats, voice hoarse “I do act like that sometimes. Like it doesn’t matter what happens to me. Like…” He swallows hard, gaze dropping “Like I don’t deserve to be saved.”

Your chest tightens.

“But then you got taken,” he continues, voice barely above a whisper “And I—” He clenches his fists “I would’ve burned the whole world down to get you back. No hesitation. No second thoughts.”

He looks up at you then, something pleading in his expression.

“And that’s how you felt, isn’t it?”

You don’t answer right away, because you don’t need to. Ace already knows.

You sigh, leaning back against the pillows “You do deserve to be saved, Ace.”

Ace exhales, rubbing the back of his neck “Yeah, well. Guess I finally get it now.”

You shake your head with a small smile “Took you long enough, hothead.”

He lets out a weak laugh, then leans forward again, pressing his forehead against yours.

It’s warm. Comforting. Safe.

You close your eyes, exhaling softly “Next time we fight, can we just skip to this part?”

Ace huffs out a laugh “What, the part where I almost lose my mind looking for you?”

You nudge him weakly “No. The part where you admit I was right.”

Ace groans dramatically “Ugh, never mind. You’re insufferable.”

You smile, your fingers brushing against his. But then you feel something wet against your skin.

You pull back slightly, confused “Ace…”

He blinks, startled “What?”

You reach up, brushing a thumb under his eye.

“You’re crying.”

Ace freezes. For a second, he looks caught off guard, like he hadn’t even noticed.

Then, before you can say anything else, he lets out a choked laugh, rubbing his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

He sniffles slightly, then smirks at you through his tears.

“Look who’s the one crying at the end.”

You stare at him. Then you laugh with him. A real, genuine laugh.

Ace grins, his hand finding yours again, fingers lacing together. His grip is warm, steady, alive.

It's your turn to laugh. "Since when did you get so romantic?"

"I'll have you know, I'm extremely romantic. Always."

"Always, huh?"

"Mhm." His chest swells as if he said something incredibly smart.

"You stumbled when we first kissed, Ace. You can't fool me."

"You caught me off guard! You gotta warn a man, first!"

You can't stop your grin. "The famous Fire-Fist Ace, reduced to a red, blubbering mess. If only your crew could see it."

"Alright, now you're gonna get it," his fingers threaten your sides. You squeal.

"No! Anything but that!"

"You asked for it, only fair!"

In the midst of your banter, a crack forms in your chest. You pause, and he immediately catches it. "What's up?" His thumb finds your cheekbone, rubs it a little.

"I'll just--" your grip on the vivre card tightens. "--I'll just miss you, is all. I can't come with you, and..." The crack deepens. "I want to see the world, too."

Ace gives you a smile, one you can't read. "You will be able to. One day. And I promise I'll be there with you, we can see the world together."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." His nose bumps yours before he kisses you. Full and proud, he pulls you close, as if to seal the promise he just gave you. As he deepens the kiss, the crack in your chest starts to heal.

Together.

You want to ask if he can also promise forever, but you don't.

--

A year later, as you started doing daily idle chores, a sound rings through your ears. You perk up. It's not a normal sound--a match being struck against a rough surface. Heart racing, you storm through each and every room, clawing through clothes and cabinets, hoping to find whatever it is that is making this horrific sound.

You check your room last.

On your desk, where you placed your pencils and your journals and every single letter Ace sent you over the many months of his travels, the vivre card that was once full of life and would chase him to the ends of the earth, is fading. Your heartbeat is in your ears, your breathing ragged as you stumble towards it.

This isn't right.

It's not.

His life isn't ending--it can't be.

There is still so much you want to do. Still so much that needs to be done.

"Ace. No. Please," you grab what remains of the paper, it crumples under your hold. "Please no. You promised me we'd see the world. You..."

His smiling face is the last thing you see as the card vanishes from your fingers. As does the word forever.

("Oh, wait, Ace!" You called to him, watching as his little boat sailed off. The sunset behind him caressing his entire body, as if he was made of it.

"Yeah?"

The words caught in your throat. They wouldn't budge. You sighed, it wasn't meant to be. "Be safe!"

Whitebeard laughs so loud it shakes the sky “Drink up, family!”

You cheer with everyone else.

Ace sits across the fire from you, one leg up, drink in hand. He’s already shirtless, of course. His smile is big and wild.

"You can't even hold your cup straight." you tease when he almost spills sake on himself.

He smirks “Please, this is nothing. I could drink you under the table.”

“Oh yeah?” you raise a brow “You’d be on the floor crying after two shots.”

“Big talk for someone who turns red after one.” He points to your cheeks “Look. Tomato.”

You gasp “That’s the light from the fire, idiot!”

He leans forward with a lazy grin “Nah, it’s me. I make you hot.”

Your whole face burns now. The crew laughs around you, not really paying attention. But his words? His eyes?

He’s teasing. Of course. He’s always like this with you. Flirty. Playful. Stupidly hot.

You laugh it off and push your cup at Thatch “Refill, please.”

"That’s your fifth." Marco warns, but he’s smiling.

"Then it’s my lucky number tonight." you grin.

You keep drinking. So does Ace. Everyone’s louder now, stories flying across the fire like waves. Jozu starts dancing terribly. Someone spills a bottle. Izo makes a toast to "the best damn family ever".

You laugh, laugh, and laugh some more, until you feel that weird flutter in your chest, that heat crawling under your skin.

Ace looks at you again, smirking like he knows what you’re thinking.

He licks his lip, slowly “Still red.”

You stand quickly, too quickly “I... just need air.”

You walk away before your heart bursts. Down the deck, behind the crates, into the darker part of the ship where the stars are brighter, and the sea sounds louder.

You exhale.

“Stupid Ace,” you mumble, pressing a hand to your hot cheek “Can’t do this in front of everyone…”

You’re not sure what “this” is.

But your skin is on fire, and your thoughts are a mess, and you can still taste sake on your lips.

You close your eyes and lean back against the wooden rail.

Footsteps.

You turn.

It’s Ace.

Of course it is.

“Didn’t think you’d follow.” you say quietly.

He grins “You looked too cute to leave alone.”

You cross your arms “I needed space.”

“Liar.”

You blink “Excuse me?”

He steps closer “You always leave when I get too close.”

You swallow hard “You’re drunk.”

“So are you.”

You don’t reply.

He’s standing just in front of you now. Moonlight makes him look soft. His eyes aren’t teasing anymore.

"Why’d you run?" he asks.

You open your mouth but nothing comes out.

He’s close. Too close.

Your heart? It’s racing.

Then... he leans in.

The silence is heavy.

Ace is standing in front of you. Close. Closer than friends should be. His eyes are dark, not from anger, but from something warmer, something deep. His body radiates heat and sake, and your brain short-circuits as he leans in.

He's going to kiss you.

Ace is going to kiss you.

Your heart slams against your ribs, and suddenly...

You laugh.

A short, loud, stupid laugh.

At his face.

His brows twitch. His lips stop inches from yours.

“...What the hell?” he mutters, blinking.

You slap a hand over your mouth “I—I don’t know!”

You’re laughing harder now, gasping for breath. Your chest hurts, your eyes sting. It's not even funny, but you can't stop.

Ace steps back, face flushed... not from sake. From full-on embarrassment “Seriously?”

“I’m sorry!” you say between laughs, holding your sides “I—God—I just panicked!”

“You laughed. At my face.”

“It wasn’t your face! I mean... okay, maybe a little! But you leaned in and—and my brain just broke!”

He glares, but it’s weak. His ears are bright red now “You’re so stupid.”

You wipe your eyes “I know!”

He looks at you for a second. And then, with a groan, he throws his head back.

“Ughhh—you’re so cute to be this idiotic.” he mutters, half to himself.

You freeze.

“…What did you just say?”

“Nothing.” He turns away.

You grab his wrist “No no no—say it again.”

“I said you’re dumb.”

“You said I’m cute.”

He groans again, tugging his hand back, but you don’t let go.

“You’re drunk.” you say, your voice quieter now.

“Yeah,” he admits “But I still mean it.”

You stare at him. He doesn’t look at you. He’s chewing his lip, eyes on the deck like he regrets everything.

You feel dizzy, and not from the alcohol.

He liked you. Or still does. Maybe. Or maybe he's just being Ace and doesn’t even know what he’s doing to you.

“…Were you really going to kiss me?”

Silence.

Then he asks softly “Would you have let me?”

Your throat tightens.

You whisper “...I think so.”

His eyes meet yours, burning. The heat between you rises like a wave.

He doesn’t say anything else.

He just moves.

Suddenly, his hand is on your waist, pulling you in like you weigh nothing. His other hand cradles your cheek, fingers warm and a little shaky from the alcohol. But his lips? Firm. Confident.

His mouth crashes onto yours.

It’s not sweet. It’s not careful. It’s desperate... hot and messy and way too real.

Your fingers dig into his bare chest without thinking. You feel him groan against your mouth, feel his grip tighten on your waist. He kisses you like he’s starving. Like he wanted this forever.

And maybe he did.

Your back hits the wooden rail, but he follows, pressing into you, breath short between kisses.

“Still laughing now?” he mutters against your lips, voice husky.

You gasp “Shut up.”

He grins, then kisses you again, deeper this time.

Your legs feel weak. His lips trail down your jaw to your neck, slow and burning, and your hands fly up to tangle in his hair.

“You smell like fire.” you breathe.

He chuckles, mouth still on your skin “You smell like trouble.”

You pull back slightly, just enough to meet his eyes.

“We're drunk.” you whisper.

He licks his lips, still breathless “Yeah. But I still know exactly what I’m doing.”

You don’t reply.

You just pull him in again.

And this time, you kiss him first.

Your eyes open slowly.

The sun is already pouring through the porthole. Too bright. Too warm. Your head throbs, but it’s not the worst part.

You feel it right away.

The kiss.

Last night.

You sit up fast.

The heat of Ace’s hands still clings to your skin. His mouth, his voice, all of it floods back in broken flashes. His lips on yours. Your hands in his hair. The way he said, "I know exactly what I’m doing."

Did he?

Or was that just drunk Ace talking?

You don’t know if it meant anything to him. Maybe it was just a game. Knowing him it probably was. Or maybe the heat-of-the-moment, sake-fueled chaos.

You pull on your clothes quickly, your heart hammering.

You need air.

The deck is already alive when you step out. Some pirates are still nursing their hangovers. Others are already laughing and working like the party didn’t just go until sunrise.

You spot him.

Ace.

He’s laughing with Thatch, sitting on a barrel like nothing happened.

Like he doesn’t remember.

Your stomach twists. You freeze in place.

He doesn’t look over. Doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t even glance your way.

Not a single flicker of recognition.

Your throat burns.

You walk the other direction.

Fast.

You avoid him the entire day.

You skip meals. Stay out of sight. No more jokes. No more sitting by the fire. You lock yourself in your cabin with excuses and a pillow over your face.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

What were you thinking? That he meant it? That it was something real?

You wish you’d just laughed and walked away like before. At least then, your heart wouldn’t feel like it was cracking open.

Later, you hear a knock at your door.

“Y/N?”

His voice.

You freeze.

He knocks again “Hey. You alright?”

You don’t move.

“You didn’t come to dinner.” he says “Marco said you’re sick? You okay?”

You press your fist to your mouth.

Sick? Yeah. Sure. Sick in the heart. Sick in the brain.

Sick of hoping.

He knocks one more time “You mad at me or something?”

You squeeze your eyes shut.

Then silence.

You don’t hear him walk away, but you know he does.

You curl under your blanket.

And you tell yourself it was nothing.

That it didn’t mean anything to him.

That he forgot.

Even if you never will.

You’re on deck again the next morning.

Pretending nothing happened. Pretending your heart didn’t split open the night before when he knocked on your door sounding so normal.

You didn’t sleep. You didn’t cry either, not really. You just lay there with your eyes open, heart screaming quietly inside your chest.

Now you smile at Thatch. You laugh at Marco’s grumbles. You help Izo fix his coat.

All while avoiding Ace like he’s the goddamn sun.

But he comes to you anyway.

Of course he does.

“Hey,” he says, walking up behind you like he doesn’t hold your soul in his hands “You feeling better?”

You force a smile before you turn around “Yeah. Must’ve just been the sake.”

He scratches the back of his neck “Yeah. We all went kinda hard.”

“Mm.” You look away.

“Uh, so,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, eyes suddenly glued to the sky, “I just… I kinda wanted to say sorry. You know, if I said anything dumb last night.”

You freeze inside.

He’s doing this?

You laugh, fake and light “You? Dumb? Nothing new.”

He chuckles, but it’s tight “You know how it is. Everyone says weird stuff when they’re wasted.”

You nod slowly “Yeah. No big deal.”

“No big deal.” he echoes.

You both stand there for a second. Not looking at each other.

You want to scream.

You want to grab his shirt and shake him and say, then why did you kiss me like that? Why did it feel like everything I ever wanted? Why did I let myself believe it meant something?

But instead, you smile again. And this time it’s worse, because your lips are trembling.

“Well,” you say, taking a step back, “I’m gonna go clean the kitchen. Thatch made a mess.”

“Right,” he nods “See you later.”

You walk away.

And your chest aches so badly you have to lean on the wall when no one’s looking.

What were you even expecting?

Of course he didn’t mean it.

Of course he forgot.

He’s your best friend. He was drunk. He was probably just being… Ace.

You bite your lip so hard it stings.

This is fine.

You’re fine.

Meanwhile, Ace watches you walk away.

And his fingers curl into fists at his sides.

He saw the look in your eyes. He saw the smile not reach them. He saw everything.

But he thinks you regret it.

He thinks you hate that it happened.

So he tells himself this is what’s best.

Even if it feels like cutting off a piece of his own heart.

You're helping Marco carry boxes toward the kitchen, chatting casually, finally managing to smile without pretending.

Ace is nearby, laughing with Haruta, stretching in the sun, shirtless as always like he doesn’t know what it does to people.

You haven’t spoken much to him since the “nothing happened” talk. You’ve been civil. Careful. Safe.

And then...

You reach down to pick up a dropped cloth, and Ace does too.

His fingers brush yours.

It’s barely a second, just skin on skin.

But it’s enough.

Your entire body freezes. Your breath stops. Your hand jerks back like you’ve been burned. And when your eyes meet his, it’s like being struck by lightning.

He looks just as stunned. His lips part, but no words come out.

The air between you crackles.

The crew notices.

Izo pauses mid-step. Thatch tilts his head. Marco narrows his eyes.

But you don’t say a word.

You just turn on your heel, and walk away.

Fast.

You hear his voice behind you, sharp and panicked.

“Wait, hey! Y/N!”

You keep walking. Down the hall, around the corner, out of sight.

Footsteps pound after you.

“Y/N!” he calls again, louder now “Don’t walk away from me!”

You whirl around “Why not?!”

He stops in his tracks.

You’re both breathing hard. Faces flushed. Emotions straining at the seams.

He stares at you for a long second, chest rising and falling like he’s about to explode.

And then he does.

“Did... UGH, did you hate that kiss so much?” he shouts.

Your heart slams.

“…What?” you whisper.

He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated, voice rough “I’ve been trying to give you space, I thought you were mad. I thought you regretted it, so I pretended like I didn’t remember because I didn’t wanna make it worse! But now I'm tired!”

“You what?” your voice cracks.

“I remember everything!” he says, stepping closer “Every second. I wasn’t that drunk. I knew what I was doing. I meant it. All of it.”

You just stare at him.

He laughs bitterly, eyes shining with something like anger, something like hurt “And you looked at me like I ruined everything.”

“I thought you forgot...” you choke out “You acted like it meant nothing, Ace.”

His mouth opens, then shuts again.

Silence.

Then, softer “You… you really thought that?”

“I’ve been losing my mind for days.”

His face falls. His voice breaks “So have I.”

You blink fast. Your throat is tight. Your eyes sting.

You laugh weakly, tears pricking “We’re so dumb.”

He steps forward “Yeah. We really are.”

His hand reaches out, tentative this time, fingers brushing your cheek.

You don’t move away.

“I didn’t hate it.” you whisper.

His voice is barely audible “Good.”

He leans in again.

But this time, it’s not messy or rushed.

It’s soft. Slow. Sure.

And when he kisses you again, it feels like everything unspoken finally makes sense.

After the storm, after the yelling, the hurt, the kiss that finally felt real, you and Ace just… stand there for a while.

He holds your hand like it’s made of glass. You lean against him like you’ve been trying to for years. And even though your faces are still hot, and your hearts are still beating out of sync, you feel calm.

“Should we… go back?” you ask quietly.

Ace hums “Eventually.”

You both stay like that a few seconds more.

Then, together, you walk back toward the deck.

Like absolutely nothing just happened.

The crew spots you immediately.

You're both laughing softly, trying way too hard to act normal. Ace scratches his nose. You twirl a lock of hair. Suspicious. So suspicious.

Thatch squints “Okay... what the hell was all that?”

Marco tilts his head “You two just ran off like your hands caught fire and now you're smiling like idiots.”

Izo crosses his arms “Yeah... Explain to us, please.”

You open your mouth, but Ace beats you to it.

He drops onto a crate like he owns it, leans back, throws an arm across his knee, and goes “Well... funny story.”

The crew leans in.

Ace grins “Basically, we kissed when we were both drunk during the celebration night.”

The world goes silent.

You stiffen beside him, eyes wide “Ace!”

He raises a hand “Wait, I’m not done, it's just right that they know too. Then the next day Y/N got mad at me because she thought I forgot the kiss…”

The crew slowly pans to you.

You try to smile. It’s awkward. So awkward.

Ace continues, still far too casual “But I actually thought she regretted the kiss, so that's why I pretended to forget about it.”

He shrugs “Just a big BIG misunderstanding. Funny, right?”

You both laugh.

Quietly.

Awkwardly.

No one else does.

Silence.

Still silence.

Then Thatch stands up like someone slapped him.

“YOU KISSED?!”

The deck explodes.

“WHAT?!”

“WHEN?!”

“WHO KISSED WHO FIRST?!”

“WHAT THE HELL DID WE MISS?!”

“ARE YOU TOGETHER NOW?!”

“IS THIS A THING?!”

Thatch grabs Marco’s arm “I feel betrayed.”

Izo dramatically covers his eyes “I knew there was tension, I just didn’t think they’d be so stupid about it.”

“You guys are literally the worst at communicating.” Haruta sighs.

You bury your face in your hands. Ace just laughs harder.

“Well,” he says, nudging you with his shoulder, “they took it better than I thought.”

You peek at him “You mean the screaming?”

“I mean the lack of violence.”

Thatch walks by and smacks him on the head.

“Okay, yeah, there it is.”

You both laugh... this time, not awkward.

The sun beat down on Baltigo’s training grounds, and sweat rolled down your temple as you lunged forward, blade meeting a staff. You were stronger now—smarter, sharper—but today wasn’t about technique. Today, your sparring partner was Sabo.

“You’re overthinking your footwork again,” he said with a crooked smile, twisting out of your strike with maddening ease.

“And you’re underestimating me again,” you snapped back, trying not to stare too long at the glint in his eyes.

He laughed, the sound warm and disarming. “Fair enough. But I like watching you think.”

You faltered, and in that pause, he caught your wrist and spun you into a harmless lock. His voice dropped a little as he leaned close. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Your breath caught, heart thudding faster than your body could justify. “You promise?”

“I swear on my hat,” he murmured, tugging the brim of it playfully over your eyes.

It was stupid how fast you fell. But it was Sabo—loyal, brave, brilliant Sabo. How could you not?

⸻

Months later, you were still with the Revolutionary Army, your days filled with covert missions and letters sent back to the Sunny. But your nights… your nights were his.

You sat on the roof of HQ, legs tangled with his, head resting against his shoulder. Sabo’s gloved hand traced idle circles on your knee while the stars blinked overhead.

“Do you ever miss anything from your past?” you asked quietly, half-afraid of the answer.

He paused. “Sometimes. But it’s hard to miss something when what I want is right here.”

Your heart stuttered.

“Sabo…”

“I mean it,” he said, looking at you. “I never thought I’d feel… safe with someone again. But I do—with you.”

You smiled, but a soft ache pulsed in your chest. There were still things he wouldn’t say. Parts of himself he tucked away like classified files. But you told yourself it was enough.

It had to be.

⸻

Koala entered the training room with her usual energy, towel slung over her shoulder. “Sabo! You promised you’d go over the new intel drops with me.”

Sabo looked up from where he was seated beside you. “Right. I forgot.”

You gave him a smile, already pulling back. “Go ahead. I’ll see you later.”

Koala glanced at you with a small smile. “You’re getting really good. Your form’s almost as clean as mine now.”

You forced a chuckle. “Almost?”

She grinned, oblivious. “I’ve been at this longer. It’s nothing personal.”

But that was just it—everything about her wasn’t personal. It was natural. Easy. Koala knew his favorite meals, the way he fidgeted when nervous, how to calm him after nightmares. She’d been there through it all—before you.

And lately… you couldn’t shake the feeling you were trying too hard to catch up.

⸻

The skies over Baltigo had turned a dull gray, the wind restless with oncoming rain. You sat on the rooftop ledge outside your dorm quarters, overlooking the cliffside where ocean waves churned in quiet rage. Below, the base pulsed with activity—soldiers training, officers reporting in, laughter echoing from the mess hall. It was the same as always.

But not for you.

You hugged your knees, the usual warmth you felt in this place now replaced with something colder. Lonelier.

Sabo hadn’t noticed that you’d been skipping meals. You doubted he noticed the way your conversations had shortened, the way your laugh didn’t reach your eyes anymore.

He hadn’t said anything about how you trained alone now, or how you stopped waiting for him after meetings. And if he had noticed… maybe he’d just assumed it was nothing. Maybe, to him, it really was.

You rested your chin on your knee, blinking hard as the wind tousled your hair.

The thing was—you liked Koala.

She wasn’t mean or smug or spiteful. She was kind. She smiled at you during meetings, gave you water during long missions, even complimented your form after training. She was smart, sharp, a born leader. Everything the Revolution stood for.

She just also happened to know Sabo’s soul like the back of her hand.

You’d caught moments—little ones. The way she’d nudge him when he was brooding too long, and he’d instantly soften. The way he touched her shoulder gently when she looked exhausted, with a familiarity that required no words.

They’d been through so much together. You knew that. You’d heard the stories. You’d even seen the scars.

But that didn’t make the ache in your chest any less real.

⸻

Two days later, you were walking past the war room when you heard them.

Sabo and Koala.

“I still remember that night at Minerva,” she was saying, laughing softly. “You were so high on painkillers, you thought I was a marine.”

“And you hit me with a clipboard,” Sabo said with mock offense.

“Because you groped me, you idiot!”

“That was an accident!”

You stood there for a second too long, frozen in the hallway. The kind of laugh Sabo let out… it was deep. Free. Like something from a time before he ever knew you.

You turned away before they noticed, footsteps retreating down the corridor.

That night, you didn’t go to your shared room. You slept in the empty archive library, curled up between dusty ledgers, where your name wasn’t next to his on a clipboard or etched into a memory of war.

⸻

You told yourself you weren’t pulling away—you were just giving him space. You were just keeping busy.

That’s why you trained past sundown, sparring dummies until your knuckles bled. That’s why you volunteered for every boring logistics run, every solo recon mission. That’s why you smiled when you passed him in the hallway, even if it felt like a knife each time he said, “You okay?” without really looking.

You were afraid to ask for more—afraid he’d say no.

Afraid he’d look at you like you were just being needy.

Pathetic, a voice in your head whispered. He chose you, didn’t he? Isn’t that enough?

But late at night, when the base was quiet, and you were alone under the stars again… it didn’t feel like enough.

It felt like you were slowly being erased from your own relationship.

⸻

It was nearly midnight when he finally found you.

You were sitting alone at the edge of the cliff near HQ, the same one where you and Sabo used to sneak away to talk, to kiss, to just be. Now it felt too big, too quiet—like the wind itself could swallow you whole.

You didn’t turn when you heard his footsteps behind you.

“I’ve been looking for you,” Sabo said, voice carefully neutral.

“I’ve been here,” you replied softly, your gaze fixed on the crashing waves below. “I always am.”

He paused behind you. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

You gave a bitter little laugh. “You noticed.”

That made him frown. “Of course I did. I’m not—what’s going on with you?”

You finally looked at him. He looked tired. Concerned. But distant—like he didn’t quite get it. Like you were speaking in a language he never learned.

You swallowed. “This… this isn’t working.”

Sabo blinked. “What?”

“I feel like I’m drowning, Sabo,” you whispered, the words trembling out of you. “And you don’t even see it.”

He stepped closer, eyes narrowing in confusion. “Where is this coming from?”

“From everything!” you snapped, standing up suddenly. “From the way you never talk to me unless I ask first. From the way you light up when Koala enters a room, and I—”

You caught yourself, but it was too late. The word had left your lips.

Sabo’s expression changed instantly. “This is about Koala?”

Your fists clenched. “No. Yes. I don’t know. It’s not about her—it’s about what she means to you.”

“She’s my friend.”

“I know,” you said, stepping back. “And I like her, Sabo. That’s the worst part. She’s everything I want to be for you. She’s strong. Loyal. She’s seen every version of you—your past, your pain, your scars. She knows you in a way I never will.”

Sabo looked stricken, as if you’d struck him. “Y/N… that’s not fair.”

You shook your head. “Isn’t it?”

“She’s like a sister to me—”

“And I’m not asking you to stop loving her like family!” you cried. “But you treat her like she’s part of your core. And me? I feel like a shadow sometimes. I’m just… something soft you hold when the world’s too loud. But never someone you really let in.”

He ran a hand through his hair, agitated. “You’re making this into something it’s not.”

You flinched.

“I’m not making up how I feel, Sabo.”

He sighed harshly. “Then what do you want from me? To erase Koala from my life? To give you every memory I’ve ever had?”

“No,” you whispered, throat tightening. “I just wanted to feel chosen.”

Silence fell. Sabo stared at you, eyes unreadable.

“I gave you everything I had,” you went on, voice cracking. “I gave you my loyalty, my heart, my time. And I get scraps. Half-answers. Smiles meant for someone else. I waited for you to meet me halfway. You never did.”

His jaw clenched. “You’re being unfair.”

You looked at him, really looked at him—and that was the moment you knew.

He didn’t understand.

He loved you, yes. But not in the way you needed to be loved. He loved you like a flame loves air—quietly, conditionally, consuming you only when it wanted to.

And you were done setting yourself on fire to keep the illusion of warmth alive.

You stepped back. “You don’t get it. And maybe you never will.”

Sabo opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

You turned away before he could see your tears fall.

Behind you, the cliff wind howled.

⸻

The world was burning.

Smoke coiled through the air as the Revolutionary Army clashed with marines at a remote outpost. You moved through the chaos with practiced precision, dodging bullets, parrying blades, your haki flickering with every movement.

Sabo was beside you, his pipe smashing down on an opponent with crushing force. You locked eyes, wordless but perfectly in sync—until a sudden tremor split the ground.

“Split up!” Sabo shouted.

You nodded and dashed toward the northern flank, fighting through the smoke. But the explosion came too fast.

A wall of debris erupted behind you, sending you crashing into the wreckage. Dust filled your lungs. You tried to stand—tried to call out—but your vision was swimming, blood trickling from your scalp.

“Sabo…” you croaked, searching the smoke.

You saw him, just ahead.

He was scanning the battlefield—then his gaze locked onto something.

Koala.

She was crumpled near the east wall, unconscious and bleeding.

He ran.

You raised a hand weakly, voice barely above a whisper. “Sabo—”

He didn’t look back.

You watched, chest tightening, as he knelt beside her, cupping her face, panic clear in his voice as he called for medics.

Your hand dropped to your side.

He didn’t even see you.

⸻

The med bay was quiet, save for the beeping machines and the soft shuffle of nurses. You stood by the doorway, arms crossed tightly, your body still aching from the battle.

Sabo was at Koala’s bedside, his hand resting on hers. She was stable, her breathing even, the color slowly returning to her cheeks.

You didn’t speak.

Not until he finally turned—and froze when he saw you.

“Y/N,” he said, standing quickly. “You’re here. I was going to come find you—I didn’t know you were hurt—”

“No,” you said flatly. “You didn’t.”

He stepped closer, hesitating. “I… Koala was down. I thought she might be—”

“And I wasn’t?”

He flinched.

“I called for you,” you said, voice cracking. “I was bleeding, buried under debris. I called your name. And you ran right past me.”

Sabo’s expression contorted with guilt. “I didn’t see you. I didn’t know. If I had—”

“But you did see her,” you cut in. “That’s the difference.”

He reached for you, desperate now. “She’s like my sister, Y/N—”

“I know,” you whispered. “And I don’t blame you for caring. But it wasn’t just about the battle, Sabo. It’s everything. Every time I try to reach you, you shut me out. Every time I needed you to choose me, you looked somewhere else.”

“That’s not true,” he said, stepping forward. “Y/N, please—you’re the one I come back to at night. You’re the one I think about when I’m out there risking my life. Don’t do this.”

“I don’t want to do this,” you said, tears blurring your vision. “But I can’t keep pretending I’m okay with being second to someone you’ll always love more deeply.”

His voice cracked. “That’s not what this is.”

“Isn’t it?” You took a step back. “When I’m hurting, you don’t see it. When I’m afraid, you tell me I’m being dramatic. I can’t be the only one fighting to hold us together.”

Sabo’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I love you.”

You let out a trembling breath. “Then why didn’t you choose me?”

Silence.

He looked at you, devastated.

“I would’ve,” he said finally. “If I’d known—if I could take it back—”

“But you didn’t,” you whispered. “And I can’t keep bleeding for someone who only notices after I’m already broken.”

Sabo closed the distance, his voice cracking. “Please. Don’t go. We can fix this. I’ll do better—I promise—”

You touched his hand gently, then pulled away. “I believe you mean that. But it’s too late.”

He stared at you, eyes wide, breath shaky. “Please… don’t leave like this.”

You looked into his eyes—those eyes you’d once trusted with your whole heart—and felt it splinter.

“I love you,” you said. “But I need to love myself more.”

You turned, walking out the door as the sound of his breath hitched behind you. He didn’t chase you.

This time, he knew better.

At first, you were nothing more than his close friend, one of the people he valued most in the crew. From his point of view, he treated you just like everyone else. You were his equal. He admired your strength in battle, taught you to be free, and enjoyed spending afternoons with you when Chopper or Usopp weren't playing with him.

It was Usopp —after meeting in Sabaody for the first time in two years— who made him stop and think about you for a second. "Why don't you leave her alone? Do you like her or something?" Joked the sniper, unaware that this would completely change the relationship between Luffy and you.

Certainly, the rubber boy saw something more in you. Something in his relationship with you differed from the affection he felt for Nami or Robin. You relaxed him, your entire presence gave him a silent promise that today and tomorrow would be fine. And once he confirmed his feelings for himself, he did nothing about it.

Luffy didn't change his personality or behaviour. Or at least, that's what he thought. Being as unromantic as he was (because you wouldn't get your hopes up about Luffy, knowing his personality), you would never have guessed at first that he had feelings for you.

He lived his daily life normally. He chased Chopper around the deck, teased Zoro, asked Sanji for food, admired Franky's inventions, sang with Brook, hugged Jinbe, got beaten up by Nami, bet with Usopp on silly things, laughed at Robin's weird comments, and followed you around the Sunny.

But who were you trying to fool? You adored your captain. Your heart threatened to leap out of your chest every time you saw him being himself, and everyone on the ship seemed to notice it except him.

Luffy always got what he wanted. In some things, he didn't have to try very hard. He wasn't aware of the effect he had on you, and since he was a child he had been cheerful, so it was natural for him to give you his brightest smiles, the ones where he closed his eyes and a soft "shishishi" escaped from his lips. He didn't realise that you would be capable of anything to see them.

And that's why he got his way over and over again.

"Robin, the book you recommended to me was amazing. I liked that the main character put herself first in the end." You said to the woman sitting next to you.

She covered her mouth with her hand, trying not to let out a giggle as she watched what was happening on your other side while you looked at her. Luffy stretched out his arm and stole your meat.

"Y/N, Y/N. Are you going to eat that?" He would ask other times when you left food on your plate. And Usopp would get offended, because he didn't ask him anything before stealing his food, but he asked you.

Why was Luffy suddenly being considerate towards you? He deserved to be treated that way too!

Luffy would not take no for an answer. If he wanted to explore an island, no matter how dangerous it was, he would take you with him without a second thought. He wanted you to be part of all his adventures, no matter how small. He couldn't imagine being without you on any of them.

Sometimes you would be doing the most mundane thing in the world, like tasting a new tea prepared by Sanji or reading a book recommended by Robin, when suddenly long rubber arms would wrap around your waist, squeezing it tightly before pulling you up and sending you flying through the air. By the fifteenth time this happened, you lost count of how many porcelain cups you had to replace for Sanji or how many days it would take you to buy Robin new copies.

Punk Hazard was a nightmare for you because of the weather, and being separated from him in Dressrosa was torture for both of you. You didn't know if he was okay, so your reunion in Zou was all the more exciting.

Luffy rarely spoke about his traumas. But he did with you.

One night, you couldn't sleep. The forest in Zou was surprisingly relaxing for such an occasion. The quarters where the minks lived under Inuarashi's command were comfortable, and the terrace gave you a great view of the starry night.

You were about to sit down when you saw a figure sitting a few steps away, also admiring the stars. You approached to see who it was, and to your great surprise, you discovered Luffy. One of his legs was bent, his knee touching his chest, while the other was stretched out in front of him.

One thing led to another, and he confessed that he couldn't sleep. That he had constant nightmares, reliving his brother's death over and over again. That he missed him terribly. That he lived for him, for his dream, and for the crew. He talked about the events in Dressrosa and how happy he was after that. The hours passed like this, until he fell asleep in your lap and you leaned back against the wooden wall. One of your hands got tangled in his hair.

That night, another slight change happened between the two of you.

And if Zoro was the one who found the two of you like this after getting lost the next morning, he didn't say anything.

Luffy was clingy. He loved being on top of you and would find any opportunity to lift you up or hug you. He would rub his cheek against yours, and please, someone had to forbid him from drinking at the feasts.

With Wano liberated, the festival that was taking place was huge.

Luffy had agreed to participate in a drinking contest against Yamato and Zoro. Big mistake. Zoro's resistance far exceeded anyone else's, and you would be the one paying the berries they bet, because the straw hat boy had nothing with him but a piece of freshly cooked meat.

Sitting next to him, you could only watch how tipsy Yamato and he were. Their cheeks were slightly red as they laughed at the smallest stupid thing the other said. At some point, Nami and Robin had joined them, with little Otama and Toko carrying caramelised apples.

"Oi, Luffy! Ace didn't tell me you had a girlfriend!" Yamato said, pointing at you.

"Shishishi, yes, she's my girlfriend."

The blush that spread across your face was unlike any you had ever experienced before. He had said it so naturally, as if being his girlfriend was something the two of you had agreed on long ago. Except that he had agreed on it alone.

Nami gasped. Robin giggled delightedly. Yamato congratulated you and asked to be invited to the wedding. Otama ran off with Toko to spread the news throughout Wano. And Zoro just kept drinking.

Luffy was selfish. Starting from the fact that he wouldn't consider your opinion, because his head was filled only with his own.

"Since when am I your girlfriend?" You asked, stunned, sitting in the aquarium on the Sunny Go. You had found a moment to talk to him alone, ignoring how everyone called you the girlfriend of the yonko straw hat.

"Huh? Since the gyojin island when you started sharing your food with me." He said with a finger in his nose. "Didn't you know? Are you dumb?"

Of course you didn't know anything, and of course he would call you dumb.

Now you just had to live with it, because all this time you were his, and he doesn't share what's his.

Luffy doesn't really know how to share his space when sleeping. Nights can start with both of you snuggled up in bed, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist and his head resting on your chest.

You love him, but the boys' room is smelly. Brook snores. Zoro strangely sleeps with his katanas by his side. Sanji mumbles nonsense about sweet ladies in his sleep, Franky farts.

And Luffy... Luffy moves around a lot in the middle of the night. More than once, you ended up returning to your comfortable room with Robin and Nami when your boyfriend kicked you out of his bed and settled into a strange position. His arms and legs spread out like a starfish and his mouth open, indicating the depth of his sleep.

The next morning, he would pout because you left him alone.

Maybe over time, you'll improve the way you sleep together. Or maybe you'll ask Franky to finally build that single cabin for the captain.

Luffy steals your kisses. Are you sitting talking to Nami? Well, he'll run up to you, kiss you on the lips and walk away as if nothing happened to continue playing with Chopper. Are you eating something? He'll steal it from your hand, kiss you and eat it. Are you training with Zoro? Somehow he'll find the right moment to interrupt, kiss you and let you continue.

His lips are soft when they touch you. Luffy kisses sloppily, and you have to teach him to keep a rhythm. He learns quickly, more quickly than you would like. It's no surprise that the next day you lose control of the kisses and are forced to follow his rhythm, hungrier, more desperate.

Luffy lends you his straw hat. Not always. You don't ask him for it, knowing how much it means to him and that you would be immediately refused if you did. But there are rare occasions, such as when the weather suddenly changes and the sun is unbearable, that he puts the hat on your head. Or if you are walking around an island, it is unconscious for him to let you have it, showing that you are his.

Your heart beat fast every time he did it, every time he willingly gave it to you, a great demonstration of how much he loved you to entrust you with his treasure.

Luffy loves sharing with you. Little by little, he was creating a new habit. Nami was surprised, and Sanji even more so. Seeing him put something on your plate instead of stealing it brought sweet smiles to Robin's face.

"Shishishi, you can't go on adventures on an empty stomach!" He said smiling as he put fruit in your backpack. More food, even though Sanji had already prepared a backpack full of food just for him.

Luffy hates arguments. If you fight or get angry with him, he gets angry too. Neither of you wants to give in, but in the end, the one who is wrong is the first to apologise. That's how you work. You can be apart for a whole day, but you will always try to make things right when night falls.

He doesn't understand healthy relationships and toxic relationships like you do, so you're surprised at how healthy he is. He tries to communicate with you. He accepts your apologies, knowing you won't do it again, and you do the same with him. Because you shouldn't repeat the things that hurt you. He understands them even without you telling him.

Luffy introduces you to Sabo and doesn't know what to do. He regrets it the second the blond teases him and starts telling you stories about when he was a child. The times he chased Ace, the times he was stung by bees, the beatings from his grandfather Garp, all his crying, and how he earned the nickname "crybaby."

He threw a tantrum all day until Sabo left, leaving him sulking with his arms crossed and his lips pressed together, sitting far away from you because he wasn't going to listen to you laughing at him.

And as for his older brother? Of course he gave you a warning about his little brother. You were forbidden to hurt him.

Luffy considers you his treasure and includes you in his dream. He always included his crew in his dream, but now it was different. You were no longer just a friend, now you were his girlfriend.

Becoming the pirate king meant a new dream: you were to become the pirate king's wife. Over time, it became an unspoken agreement among those outside the straw hat pirates that they should not touch you.

They could admire your beauty, and Luffy didn't mind the looks you got. You were beautiful, and he could confirm that, although he didn't fall in love with you because of your appearance. In fact, that was the last thing that attracted him to you. He wasn't jealous, and you were grateful for that, even though more than once you wished he would show some kind of reaction.

And those reactions came from other sides. If someone touched you and made you feel uncomfortable, Luffy reacted immediately. And if someone raised their hand against you, even slightly, Luffy didn't give them time to react before knocking them down with a blow.

Luffy has a heart as warm as the sun. His love is sweet, protective, daring, adventurous, stubborn, and playful. Being with him is quite an experience, but one that everyone should have more than once in their life.

- Luffy -

Everyone knows that Luffy's most prized possession is his straw hat. It is always on his head or within his reach wherever he may go, and if it was not, he would be sent into an untamable panic that almost always ended with tears if the hat was not found within the day. However, unbeknownst to most, there is now a second possession he cherishes just as much: his wedding band.

The simple strip of gold around his ring finger adorned with crushed rubies was a fitting wedding band you had picked out just for him. And though Sanji often berates his Captain for wearing such precious jewellery during battles, his concern was for naught; you had sought Franky's help, ensuring the band could survive Luffy's battles and keep up with his elasticity.

Thanks to those facts, the ring remained on Luffy's finger indefinitely, just like the iconic straw hat on his head. It reminded him of his wedding with you upon his ship; the banquet far larger than any he had thrown before, the lively music and laughter, the utter joy. But more importantly, it reminded him of you and your pledge to stay by his side as he became the pirate king; it was an oath you undertook with pride every day of your life.

So, imagine his utter despair when he realises it has gone missing.

You were sitting at the dining room table with Nami and Robin, the three of you chatting and looking over magazines away from the harsh summer sun when you heard a familiar shout. You startle along with the two women you sit beside, meeting glances with utter confusion.

"What was that-"

You barely get to finish your sentence when the door to the kitchen slams open, revealing a wide-eyed Luffy who looks as though he is about to be sick. Your brows furrow together, Sanji looking over from his kitchen and about to give his Captain a piece of his mind, but you are concerned seeing your husband look as though on the brink of rare dread.

"Lu, what's wrong?"

You stand from your chair and run up to him but he already has comical tears almost pouring from his eyes. He is on his knees and instantly grabs your hands, and shakes them in his despair.

"[y/n] it's gone!!!"

You are still lost in your confusion as you look at him, his straw hat still attached to his head. You remember his outbursts in the past when he had thought he lost his hat for good, so you look down at him confounded at why he is having a similar breakdown with it still on his person.

"But Luffy, you still have your straw hat. It's on your head."

Luffy shakes his head like a downtrodden puppy as he looks up to you with tears falling from his eyes.

"No, my wedding band, it's gone!!"

Your eyes widen for just a moment as you look at the hands that still hold yours, noticing for the first time that there remains a tan line where Luffy's wedding band used to be. You feel your heart drop lightly at the predicament, and at that point, your friends had also gathered around in the fuss their Captain seemed to cause. Sanji seemed shocked the most whilst Robin and Nami frowns in concern behind you.

"What?! You lost the wedding ring [y/n]-san especially bought for you?!"

Sanji starts berating Luffy but you can hardly be mad at him when he looks so genuinely upset and in despair on the ground before you. You instantly kneel down to his level, and caress his raven hair gently trying to soothe the turmoil in his eyes. "W-wedding band-" He murmurs, and you are touched by how much he seems to hold the simple piece of jewellery so dear, to the point where he reacts to losing it just as he does his straw hat. You smile gently, and pat the straw hat that remains atop his head.

"It's okay Lu. I'm sure we'll find it."

"W-what if we don't?!"

You sigh as he looks at you imploringly, but you take his hands and help him to his feet.

"We'll all look for it, surely we'll find it then."

You turn to the cook who stands beside you, still glaring at his Captain as though he had committed the worst crime in the world.

"Right, Sanji? You'll help us too right?"

Sanji instantly perks up at the mention of his name past your lips and turns into a puddle of nods and affirmations.

"Of course, [y/n]-swan-"

You sigh at his never changing demeanour but turn to your husband who seems to have collected himself and nods in grim agreement. You smile as you take Luffy's hand, ready to search every nook and cranny of the ship. Nami, Robin and Sanji also help, with Chopper joining in when he bumps into you all searching the ship for a glimpse of gold and red. You force Luffy to retrace his steps entering the rooms he went to the past day for the glimmer of jewellery, but soon hours pass with no sign of his beloved ring.

"W-wedding band-"

You had all returned to the kitchen, Luffy now with his head on the table and tears pouring down it like a river of defeat. Chopper tries to cheer up his Captain but it is for naught, and you pat his shoulder in comfort whilst the others look on sympathetically.

In his mind, Luffy cannot believe that he has lost the one piece of jewellery he thought he would cherish until the day he died. Gold was often a mere bonus to him as a Pirate amongst the sea; an afterthought often intertwined in his adventures on the path to becoming Pirate King. But the gold around his finger was another story.

"I'm sorry Lu, I'll ask Franky if he can make you another one?"

But Luffy seems inconsolable as he is adamant the one he received on his wedding day, was the only one he wanted. However, before you can even input another word, the door smacks open, revealing the very man you had just spoken about. What's more, in his hand, the shine of gold and red reflected from the kitchen lights; Luffy's wedding band.

"Here you go Luffy! Sorry, it took a while but I promise I added some SUUUPER upgrades to keep up with your SUUUPER gears."

For a moment, there lasts a long and lingering silence in the wake of Franky's words, when suddenly, Luffy sits up like he was told the day's weather.

"That's right, I did give it to Franky yesterday."

Everyone falls off their chairs in utter bewilderment at Luffy's words; the day spent searching that could've been solved by one trip to Franky who had been working away all day, or by lack of Luffy's dense memory. Sanji instantly stands back up, kicking the underside of his Captain's head in utter rage and causing his head to hit the table.

"Idiot! We searched the whole day for that damned ring!"

But Luffy seems unfazed, and you have to let out a small laugh as he collects the ring from Franky and puts it back in its rightful place. You don't know if your laughter comes from relief or discomposure at the stupidity of the scenario you were in, but Robin joins you, your other crewmates more agitated. When Luffy looks up to you, however, with his wide and satisfied grin, ring shown proudly on his ring finger you can't help but get up and kiss his cheek lightly.

"I found it!"

He was an idiot, but he was your idiot.

- Sanji -

Sanji adores you, he is utterly in love with you, and if anyone asks what the happiest day of his life is, they don't even need to wait a second before he tells them about his wedding day. The gorgeous atmosphere, the pleasant music, the wedding cake he pondered and spent hours making just right, you adorned in your beautiful white dress. He could speak hours on his love if you let him, and he is not afraid to shout it out for everyone else to know and hear: you were his and he was yours.

If there was anything that symbolised the depths of your love and his, it would be the wedding ring around your finger and the wedding band around his. Yours was gorgeous but simple, a beautiful diamond reflecting the strength of the love you both shared. His was personal and beautiful, a gold band etched with sapphires, engraved with the date of the wedding until the end of time.

He adored it, he adored the weight of it on his finger, a reaffirmation of the oath you both pledged. He adored showing it off to people, just as he adored seeing you pointing to your ring when asked if you were taken. He would only remove it when absolutely necessary, such as when he prepared meals for his crew, but even then it stayed close to him where he could never misplace it. He told you he would look after it forever, but amongst Sanji's abundance of thoughts, there was a moment where the location of his prized ring slipped his mind.

Sanji has been absent all day, hastily making meals, moving swiftly from your side, and not even a murmur of hello as he leaves every room you enter. You are confused and slightly hurt, but most of all you are concerned.

Have you done something?

Was he feeling okay?

Why was he avoiding you?

When you asked your crewmates about his behaviour, however, they said similar things. How his answers had been short, unable to request meals due to his haste to enter the next room, even Nami and Robin claimed he had seemed more distracted. So you frown at the entrance of the kitchen; you had just seen him enter and knew you could try and talk to him now. You only hoped he would share in his troubles.

As the door to the kitchen creeps open, Sanji freezes at the sound of your footsteps and looks up at you standing before him. When your eyes meet you catch guilt and trepidation in the depths of his, and you are instantly more worried than before.

"Sanji, what's wrong? You're not being yourself."

Your husband grits his teeth in regret, and you catch a slither of tears amongst his lower lash line, causing you to reach up and caress his face in concern. But in his mind, Sanji feels as though he does not deserve your touch or your care. He had lost his wedding band and could not for the life of him remember where he put it. He felt as though he had been searching the whole day, but as the hours passed, he felt his hopes withering along with the sun.

His most prized possession, a symbol of your love and a remnant of the best day of his life, was lost due to his carelessness.

His eyebrows furrow together as he reaches out and holds your hand that lingers on his face, his words low and softly spoken.

"I lost my wedding band. I- I'm so sorry love."

Your eyes widen slightly in surprise, and Sanji readies himself for the disappointment and your swift anger, rejection, your swift dismissal of him from in front of you. But instead, you collect yourself before continuing to bear the concern in your gaze mixed with what looked like understanding; finally knowing why he was acting this way.

"It'll be okay Sanji, no need to work yourself up. We'll look for it together, I'm sure we'll find it."

Sanji's eyes spark open in his own surprise at your kind words and conduct. God, he didn't deserve you. Guilt still travels freely within him, especially as he feels the coolness of your own wedding ring against his cheek; you had looked after your ring with so much care.

"I'm sorry love."

You smile but you release the touch on his face in favour of grasping his hand in comfort.

"It's okay, now come on, let's retrace your steps shall we?"

The next few hours are spent all around the Sunny, every room Sanji had been in before he remembered losing the ring was searched from the roof to the floor. You asked your crewmates if they had seen the mix of gold and blue you both are so adamant to find, had looked in every small crevice that may contain the precious jewellery. And as the sun started to dim, you were now looking in your shared chambers one last time.

Your hair was ruffled like his, clothes wrinkled under the time spent trying to find the ring, but to Sanji, you were still the beautiful, thoughtful and loving wife he married. You had spent all day trying to find something due to his own mistake, and he was never more regretful for losing the wedding band, nor more grateful for having you as his wife than he was now. Moments pass in silence, but finally, you let out a delighted gasp.

"Sanji!!"

Your husband instantly perks up from the other side of the room and in your hands is the wedding band, finally found. Your smile is wide, as you quickly run over to him, taking his hand and sliding it on his ring finger where it lay as perfect as it did all that time ago at your wedding. Sanji meets your gaze with such gratitude he cannot describe and impatiently presses his lips to yours. You smile as you return his fervour and pull away.

"Thank you, my love."

You let out light laughter as you roll your eyes.

"Of course, I am your wife you know? You can come to me about these things."

Sanji's heart warms even more than he thought possible as he tucks away a loose strand of hair from your face, admiring your features.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

Sanji makes you your favourite dinner and dessert as a thank you for your help and your love. You never see him without the ring on his person, again.

- Zoro -

Among the straw hats, Zoro seemed the least likely to be intertwined with thoughts of love and rings and weddings, well at least that's what the Strawhat crew initially thought. But as time passed, he fell for you, and what would you know, suddenly he is asking Robin and Nami about weddings and dresses and ceremonies; how it works, what would you like, how soon could he pledge his love and you yours? In utter reluctance and on rare occasions he would even approach the 'idiot cook' for advice; something he would often regret afterwards.

But suddenly, the two of you were married and had rings on your fingers and he was your husband and you were his wife. The ring he got you was surprisingly thoughtful, and you knew the girls had something to do with it as it looked so much like how you wished it to be when you talked to them. His was simple. A gold band, but on the underside there etched your name. He very rarely took it off, and it became a part of him just like the earrings he wore or the three swords always at his hip; secretly finding strength in the piece of your love always present.

Zoro is a man, adamant about loyalty, and it is one of the things he adored most about you. The rings symbolised that for him; that an oath had been pledged and the two of you belonged to the other. It was something you both took pride in every day, and he found satisfaction watching the crestfallen faces of men when they spotted your wedding ring, just as you did when you saw women leave him be when they spotted his wedding band. He took care of it and treasured it, more than he would allow you to know, so he is honestly shocked when one day, he finds it missing.

Zoro feels cold sweat rising on his skin, and he honestly can't remember a time he felt more stressed. He is looking down at his hands again and again, as though he can't believe the absence of jewellery he always had on his finger.

He looks frantically around your shared chambers, looking in drawers of bedside tables, under the bed, and every nook where gold might enter his vision. He spent many moments, searching in utter silence, but he finds no semblance of a ring anywhere.

The door suddenly creaks and Zoro stands upright, hair and clothes slightly ruffled, swords leant against the wall in his haste to find the missing ring. You enter your room, looking up in surprise at the rare presence of your husband in the middle of the day, but it was lucky for you as you had been searching for him.

"Zoro," you smile, before your eyebrows pull together in confusion. "Are you okay? I thought you're usually in the crow's nest about this time?"

Your husband freezes, static under the weight of your searching eyes and scouring for an excuse. You step closer, and instantly his hands go behind his back, causing you to stare at him in bewilderment at his strange behaviour. You eye his discomposure, his hidden hands and his guilty expression with suspicion.

"Zoro what are you hiding?"

"N-nothing woman just got up from a nap. I'll be in the crow's nest-"

He doesn't let you continue your words and is out the door in a swift movement. You frown but shrug looking down into your hands. Ussop had found Zoro's wedding band in the bathroom, no doubt from the shower you had somehow forced him into this morning. You had simply wanted to give it back but decided to wait until a better time when he wasn't in such a hurry to get to his training. As you are about to let the matter go, however, you spot three familiar swords on the wall of your room where Zoro left them.

You frown at the sight, just what was your husband up to?

Meanwhile, Zoro is moving at speed throughout the Sunny, every room he barges in, searching in what he hopes is discretion before running off in frustration again. Many times he left his crewmembers in utter surprise at his uncharacteristic demeanour, usually he was training or napping, not found running around deck in discomposure.

You had bumped into a few of your friends who shared the same concern you had earlier; his strange behaviour and franticity. Nami complained that he had barged in while she was making a map, ruined due to her shock, Robin said that she had been reading on deck when he had been looking closely at the floor for something, Luffy exclaimed that he thought he was looking for some sort of treasure but quickly left in his boredom of nothing found.

You start to put the pieces together and begin to realise, that he was looking for something. And that something was probably the ring the Ussop had turned to you, so even if Zoro did check the bathroom it wouldn't have been there for him to find. You sigh as you quickly get up, trying to find him, Robin assuring that she had last seen him enter the kitchen and with the sounds of two men fighting, you supposed she was right.

When you open the door to the kitchen, Sanji and Zoro who seemed as though they had been arguing look at you blankly before crossing their arms and looking away from the other. You hear Zoro murmur something along the lines of, "Don't tell her," but you ignore it, hoping to relieve the tension in the room.

"Hey guys, everything alright?"

You ask, and Sanji sighs at your words before walking out of the kitchen; he seemed disappointed in your husband, more than usual. "I'll be outside [y/n]-san." You turn back to your boyfriend in Sanji's absence and you furrow your brows in concern.

"Zoro-"

"I lost my wedding band."

Zoro interrupts you before you can continue or pass him the ring in your grasp. You pause at the abruptness of his words, and the surprising amount of regret and hurt in his downcast eyes; he looked as though he had failed you.

"Zoro, it's okay I-"

"No, it's not okay, dammit." He looks to you then, and his eyes betray the stress and worry he had held onto all day, softening at the sight of his wife - you - looking at him in concern when he has just lost a treasured possession you had given him. You watch the way your husband's eyebrows pull together, and a frown makes its way to your face at the sight of him so worked up over the ring.

"It was my wedding band, a part of an oath we pledged on our wedding day, and I- I lost it. I should've looked after it better, I know that. I'm sorry."

You look, wide-eyed at the sight of the swordsman apologising to you. One of the rare times he would, but you realise now how much he placed importance on what the ring symbolised and what guilt must've filled his senses at his readiness for your disappointment. You step forward, caressing the curve of his face with one hand, as his eyes look at you, emotion betraying his eyes, but you smile softly and unravel your other hand. A moment of shock enters your husband's vision at the sight of the golden band he had almost turned the ship over for.

You smile sheepishly then, "I'm sorry, I tried telling you and giving it to you earlier but you were, you know, you seemed busy. Ussop found it in the bathroom."

You expect him to become irritated, having searched so long for something already found, but instead, Zoro smiles wide, kissing your lips suddenly in one swift movement. When he pulls away, he puts the ring back on his finger, satisfied by the light weight of it on his hand. "Thank God," he murmurs before looking at you so determinately it makes you blush. "I won't lose it again." You collect yourself before nodding, warmth spreading in your chest at his rare emotion in front of your eyes.