#ace x reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds like something Pops would do.”

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

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

“Probably both.”

“How could he do both?”

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The wildfire was cuddling me,” you muttered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He stiffened slightly. “Sorry?”

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

“I… it’s not that hard.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh? There are layers?”

“There are.”

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

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

“Give me your attention.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t mind,” he said immediately.

“See,” you said. “He doesn’t mind.”

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

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

“Of course.”

“I want you to fu –”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Marco stopped so sharply that the door clipped his shoulder.

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s up on the deck,” Marco said.

“Thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A rather ugly one.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wasn’t meaning it that way.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“One conversation is more important to me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“By who?”

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

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

“Everybody can die. Marco is not immortal.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They’re together now.”

“Thatch is a brilliant mediator.”

“Is he?”

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

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

“Probably,” you agreed. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Being here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You want the phoenix fruit?”

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

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

“Beautiful?” he repeated.

Okay. Maybe he wasn’t concerned about that.

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

“Observant.”

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

“I’m the only phoenix.”

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

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

“Right?”

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

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

Below you, the ship creaked against the waves.

“Life energy?”

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

“You’ve been doing this for Pops?”

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

“For how long?”

“Since I first came aboard.”

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

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

“He asked me not to.”

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

“He’s the captain.”

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

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

“Yet you told the others?”

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

“Last night.”

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whitebeard said –”

“Pops is not a doctor.”

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

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

You pressed your lips together. “Yes.”

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

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

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

“Potentially. If I pushed it too far.”

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

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

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

“I know.”

“Do you?”

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

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

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

“Stop theorising.”

“What?”

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

Marco’s expression shifted. “You are?”

“I’m trying to.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Nobody has to choose.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is.”

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

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

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

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

“What don’t you understand?”

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

“You don’t have to try with me.”

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

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

“What do you want from me?” he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You leaned in before you could lose your nerve.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sure.”

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

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

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

For a moment, he sat perfectly still.

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

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

Your departure from the Moby was nothing like your arrival.

Whitebeard adjusted course after your conversation, and the sun set while you were speaking with the captain. When he dismissed you, you had nowhere to go except back to Ace, and that was a habit in need of breaking. You lingered on deck, keeping to the dark corners where you’d only be seen by someone actively looking. Not exactly hiding, but making it clear you weren’t in a sociable mood. It helped that so many of the men who stumbled by were well into their cups.

 There was nothing to pack. Your few worldly possessions were now property of the Marines, and you had nothing to recover from Ace’s quarters apart from one or two scraps of dignity.

Ace, still terrible at reading the bond and surrounded by concerned brothers, took up the traditional pirate pastime. You felt his presence growing slippery-bright with alcohol. More feeling than thought. It probably wasn’t his idea based on how he’d picked at his meal, but he was a pirate on a pirate ship, and pirates drank like it could solve all their problems.

You stayed above with the breeze and rising moon as Ace yanked at your link with irregular attention.

He wondered where you were.

He wanted to say things to you, but he didn’t know what they were.

He remembered drinking with you.

He missed you.

Ropes creaked overhead. Men sang in the distance, and the laughter drowned out the usual groans of the shifting hull.

A few crew members kept their eye on you while going about simple chores. Nothing that would take their full attention, but enough to be genuinely productive while they waited to see how well you behaved when no one was poking you with a stick. Jozu coiled loose ropes. Izou disassembled his gun where the pieces would reflect moonlight into your eyes. Others you didn’t know scrubbed the same pathways three times over.

You waited quietly, dropping to sit cross-legged when your knees started to ache as your one concession to comfort. The day’s bumps and bruises took the opportunity to go stiff. They kept you alert and reminded you the saga wasn’t over until Whitebeard fulfilled his promise.

As his men watched you and his newest son’s malaise spread mildew through your soul, you turned to the stars.

You’d made the right decision. Living a lonely life surrounded by your soulmate’s brothers would feel like this every night.

You may not be made for great things, but you could find a better place than this. The world was wide, and your patience wore down shackles.

Just before dawn, as the first hope of sunrise bleached the night, Marco joined your shadow.

“You ready?”

Climbing to your feet, brushing off the dust of another path, you nodded. “Yes.”

Marco looked down at you – impossibly tall, like everyone on this fucking crew – and heaved a dramatic sigh. He gave himself a moment, chin to his chest, eyes closed with his arms folded over his gut. You allowed him time to meditate on the facts.

You weren’t his to command. He must have come to gradually realize with the rest of them that fixing Ace’s soulbond was simply beyond his power. Guilt pinched his brows. Frustration pulled his lips tight.

When he opened his eyes, they asked you to change your mind.

“You sure about this?”

“Entirely.”

His shoulders dropped, but he nodded, accepting your decision for what it was.

He led you to the rail and burst into flames.

It surprised you into taking a half step back, and you eyed his talons distrustfully. You pretended you didn’t see his smirk.

“I suppose a jolly boat is out of the question.”

He shrugged. “You’re welcome to wait another day or two, but we’re too far from land right now.”

“No.” You answered too quickly. “No, I can deal with it. I want to go tonight.”

“Alright.”

Shifting, you scanned his fiery wings and sweeping tail. He had a man’s head and torso, but he looked more like a bird of prey. Instinct suggested you find cover.

And it wasn’t like your instinct was wrong. The last time you’d flown with him hadn’t been pleasant.

“How – uh,” you swallowed around the lump in your throat. “How do we do this?”

The Phoenix laughed, and his grin promised nothing but mischief.

“Like this!”

He leapt from the rail, wheeled overhead, and swept down to wrap his claws around your waist. The deck vanished from under your feet, and you shot into the sky.

You only screamed a little.

Marco only cackled more than a little.

The trip took an hour, and once your heart crawled down from your throat, you tried to appreciate the experience.

At least a little.

Sunrise was beautiful at sea.

It was magical from the air.

Blue melted into lavender, and the sun’s cresting disk lit the horizon pink and gold. It gilded the cusp of rising swells, and your breath stuttered as it struck you.

You’d never felt so far from the tunnels under the mountain.

No ceiling, no floor, no walls. Only light and air, waves and reflections.

Even if you never saw Ace again, he’d inspired you to escape and see the dawn from the air. You’d always be grateful for that. You’d always love him for it, too.

Marco sensed the shift in your demeanor and honored the silence.

He didn’t look down to see the tears the wind ripped out of your eyes, and because you didn’t have to make up an excuse, you didn’t have to name them.

Land breached the horizon, a small island with a sloping shore and wooden roofs poking between the trees. A few ships sat at anchor on the far side, and as you swooped lower, you spied Whitebeard’s flag over the docks.

Marco didn’t drop you off in town, for which you were grateful.

Demonstrating how careful he could be when he wasn’t trying to punish his passenger, he set you down without so much as a bump in the soft sand. He landed at your side, wings folding away to arms as you found your balance. He might need a rest, though you suspected he simply had more to say before he really set you free of Whitebeard’s oversight.

“Any chance you’ll let me check those shrapnel wounds again?” he asked.

You shook your head. “I’m fine. I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled ruefully, “I’m beginning to get that.”

He dug into a pocket and fished out a stack of folded Beri notes.

You immediately held up your hands and moved back.

“Really not interested in taking anything else from the Whitebeard Pirates.”

“Be smart.” Marco frowned. Nothing angry, just terribly determined. “You ate earlier, right? You ate because you needed to, even if it was our food. It’s not really a secret that you lost all your stuff trying to help Ace yesterday. You’re going to need Beri, whatever you decide to do next.”

He waved the notes in the air between you. “This is food. This is a weapon. This is passage on a ship. We owe it to you, and the only reason you’re hesitating is because it hasn’t become those things yet. Please. Take this.”

When you still hesitated, he huffed. “Imagine you’re inconveniencing Ace and all his new brothers. Just a little bit. I’m sure you would’ve done worse if Pops kept you onboard.”

Well. He wasn’t wrong.

And you would have to get Beri before you made good on your escape. This would save time, and time meant distance.

You took the money, but you couldn’t quite bring yourself to thank him.

Instead, you tucked it away in your own pocket and said, “Take care of them.”

Marco nodded. “Take care of yourself.”

Turning your back on the First Division Commander, you headed toward the town and ships. Fire whooshed behind you, and you continued on alone.

Proper daylight broke over the trees. A well-used trail wound through the tiny forest to the edge of the village, and the local birds crackled and cooed as you disturbed their morning ritual.

In the back of your head, confusion blended with fear and pain.

Ace was awake. A little. Enough for a hangover to bloom and realization to dawn that you had not, in fact, simply returned to his quarters after speaking with his captain.

He reached, tugging on the bond like a lifeline.

Where are you?

Clearing the underbrush, you put your hands in your pockets and strolled toward the docks. A merchant ship would do. A fishing vessel would be a start. Without your own sails, hopping from island to island on others’ schedules was the best way to travel. Slow, but cheap. And hard as balls to track.

I can’t find you.

You bought a sweet bun from the only vendor open so early and sat on a piling to study the waterfront shops. You didn’t need much, but bringing your own food would save on passage, and you’d need a new flask, some soap, and maybe a handful of high value trade goods if you found a ship heading somewhere useful.

Every island had something another wanted. It was just a question of portability.

Please. Where did you go?

Life stirred on the larger ships as crews began the work of shifting cargo and handling local business. You brushed the crumbs off your hands and popped to your feet.

Time to get to work.

Ace called your name, and you left the plea to drift through the liminal forever you’d felt in the sky.

Nearly all your life, you’d dreamed of him calling for you. You’d waited for him to see. Feel. Understand who you were, even if he didn’t want to know what. Unfortunately, you’d learned the miracle in your souls left much to be desired, and it was a fragile thing to build a life on.

You saw a captain approaching the harbormaster’s office and made to intercept his path.

The water twinkled as the town stepped into a fresh morning, the air full of chatter, chimes, and the cries of gulls.

Please.

------------------------------------------------

You knew better than to approach an Emperor empty-handed.

Taking down an elk took longer without your rifle, but you’d spent most of your life hunting, and you brought one down without too much faff. Weaving together a small sledge with rope and evergreen boughs, you pulled your offering up the mountain.

It was a long walk.

The snow filled your old crew’s tracks ages ago, but Dueces’ cautious murmuring echoed under granite overhangs, and the path smelled like steam from Ace’s fire as he cleared a path for the rest of you. Ghosts of a dead life weighed you down, adding to the burden you dragged through the snow.

You kept your head down, eyes on the next few steps, letting your ears gather the mountain’s murmurs and warnings.

A scout had seen you from a high ledge and sprinted off a few hours ago, leaving a crystal rain of ice to blow through the gorge below that caught, melted, and frozen again in your hood’s fur.

Wolves followed you for about a mile after you made your kill. You stopped and stared until they decided the meal wasn’t worth facing down another predator.

A soft slope cracked and rushed down the mountain in a powdery wave of death to the west. Not a big avalanche, but you studied the ridge that birthed it so you could avoid others on your climb.

It took the entire day, but you made it to the cave where Ace once led you to thank a stranger on behalf of his beloved baby brother. You told yourself it wasn’t any kind of betrayal to retread the path alone. It wasn’t good or evil, only necessary, and practicality kept lone pirates alive.

Red-Hair was expecting you.

He sat, surrounded by his officers, and none of them so much as twitched as you strode in, lifted your snow goggles, and blinked through frozen lashes.

Vision cleared, you knelt on the floor, folded your hands, and touched your forehead to the stone.

The men stiffened. Shifted. Twitched. Beckman shared a long look with his captain, the moment measured in curls of smoke from his cigarette. Shanks didn’t let go of his sword as he leaned forward, trying to catch your eyes from off the ground.

“I didn’t know we had more business with the Spade Pirates.” He kept his voice friendly, nearly warm, but it was full of questions. Assessments in action as he looked you over.

Confident he wouldn’t run you through on principle once he’d started a conversation, you rose and sat back on your heals. Still lower than him. Still a submissive posture. You’d never been able to afford Ace’s careless bravado.

Bullets left marks on people like you.

“The Spade Pirates no longer exist,” you said. “I’m sure you already knew that.”

“Maybe.” His hand left the hilt and dangled over his knee. “Not sure what else to call you, though. You obviously didn’t shack up with Whitebeard like your captain.”

You imagined you were a stone. Expressionless. Non-threatening, but immovable.

“He decided he wasn’t my captain before Whitebeard decided he was his son.”

Far away, at the end of your tether, the Dickhead sensed something and reached after it. Like to speak of him was to summon him.

You ignored him.

Shanks nodded once and honored the wall you’d built. “Sorry to hear that. What brings you here?”

Beckman’s long side-eye spoke of rapid, unfavorable calculations.

“Don’t worry.” A self-deprecating smile brushing your face. “I’m not asking to join your crew.”

 Lucky Roux laughed. You wondered if he’d be so jolly if your continued presence was an actual consideration. “Eh, you’ve brought more meat to our table than most of the crew! If you’re half as good at fishing, I’d throw in my vote for you.”

You received the praise with a shallow bow, refusing to be too comfortable in another place where you hadn’t been invited to stay.

“Thank you. But I’ve come for a different favor.”

Shanks leaned back, smiling as you moved into negotiations. For all his antics, he could handle the business of being an Emperor very well. Very little showmanship. Threats meant more when they came rarely, and violence never arrived without warning. You didn’t have Ace’s history with him, but you could appreciate why so many respected the man.

“What can the Red-Hair Pirates do for you?”

Meeting his eyes felt wrong in some deep, instinctive way. But when your gaze snapped to his, shedding the majority of your humility, a dawning thrill crackled down your spine.

Some people would kill you for daring.

He was more powerful than you’d ever be, but he had no claim on you. No one had a claim on you. Your labor, blood, and loyalty were your own. That was a different kind of power. No captain would protect you, and none would speak for you.

You took that honor for yourself.

“I seek permission to settle in your territory.”

The room’s energy stayed high, but men towards the back of the cave returned to lounging, drinking, and doing whatever pirates did on furlough in a snowy cave. Whatever you were, it was the captain and commanders’ business, not something that would touch any of their lives. After your time with the Whitebeard Pirates, the casual disinterest was refreshing.

Beckman lit a new cigarette and stepped around his boss to a spare barrel. He shook out the match. “Got somewhere in mind?”

“Not particularly. Somewhere quiet.”

Yassop threw back his head, howling, shattering the steady murmur of the cave. “Quiet? Good luck finding that in the Grand Line!”

His humor infected the rest. It sent a wave of little chuckles and hums rolling through the cave, and the firelight felt warmer in its wake.

You allowed your smile room to breathe, increasingly confident.

“Quiet is relative.”

“Wherever you go,” Beckman rumbled, “you’ll need a new rifle. Look wrong without one.”

You nodded, because he wasn’t wrong. You felt unbalanced without it. When you walked, when you tried assessing a situation, when you needed something to do with your hands.

“So,” Shanks said through a grin, “a quiet island with a good gunsmith. Anything come to mind, Snake?”

Building Snake, wrapped in no less than three blankets, sniffed. He glared at you through his dark glasses - in a friendly way, you assumed. “Gonna be a short list.”

Finished tormenting his navigator, Red-Hair pulled a bottle of sake from the depths of his coat and poured himself a cup.

“I can give you some recommendations, but it’s not like I can tell you where to go.” The following pause gave him time to drink, but you had no doubt it was purely for dramatic effect when he smacked his lips with a happy sigh.

“I’m not your captain.”

Your smile stuttered.

The bastard winked.

You crossed to the small table and the half-circle seats built around it, settling into your usual place before reaching for your drink.

“They’re going to have to accept the theory that my caffeine addiction has worsened then,” you said. “Because they’ll get no other answer.”

And what more could they assume? None would suspect a member of the revolutionary army was sitting in your quarters.

That would be ridiculous.

He hadn’t bothered hiding from you, just as he hadn’t three weeks earlier when you first met him. You’d entered your cabin after setting sail to find him waiting, a book in his lap, and a pipe resting against his side. Why he’d chosen your ship to hitch a ride on, he wouldn’t say but it was a gamble he’d taken regardless.

“You’ve changed course,” he said, looking out the window. “Should I assume we’re sailing to my arrest?”

“Nothing so exciting,” you said. “You might have considered a better choice of transport next time. We’re moving to intercept a ship of scavengers. It’ll be done by tomorrow afternoon and then we’ll make our way to resupply.”

He tilted his head. “This has been a much shorter trip than anticipated then.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Have you not brushed with danger enough? Should you leave tomorrow, you’ll have spent two nights more on a Marine vessel than any criminal would want.”

“Danger would imply you meant to arrest me,” he said. “You keep leaving your gun by the door.”

“I don’t work in my cabin,” you said. “This is my private space. Not even reports dare to be brought to me here.”

He chuckled softly to himself. “You know, sometimes I really think you’re messing around with all your rules.”

“Then you’re putting a lot of faith in that chance.”

“I am,” he acknowledged. “But I’m looking at the fact that you had dinner delivered both here and to your office this evening.”

You hummed. “Did I? My mistake. I suppose I’m finally suffering from the pain of overworking.”

“I don’t think you know the meaning of the word.”

Your smile was tight as you leaned back in the seat. No, but it was excuse enough that none of your men would question your ‘mistake’ earlier. You looked through the porthole toward the night sky, glittering with stars. With only one lantern burning, your cabin was dark enough to give you a clear, unobstructed view through the glass.

Boots at the door made you turn your head. “Patrols,” you noted. “They’re looking for stowaways.”

They were certainly not but it was a quick reminder, if nothing else.

“Do you get those often?”

“Not even once.”

Sabo nodded at the information, his gaze lingering on you until you looked over, unwilling to let him think he could study you without your knowledge. As interesting as this little test of his had been, you still weren’t sure what the end goal of it would be. You had little interest in understanding the mechanisms of the revolutionary army though.

At the very least, his test allowed you to look at him properly. Moonlight caught along the edges of his hair and the bridge of his nose, leaving the scar over his eye darker by contrast. He looked almost composed enough to belong. Almost.

You reached for your cup to find the drink inside cold. You must have been delayed with rerouting for longer than you had thought.

“Do you plan to sit here like a statue all night again?” you asked.

“Most likely. These seats are comfortable.”

“They had better be,” you said. “When I got the ship, they were one of the first things I changed. Since then, I’ve changed a decent amount more. So much so that I dread my promotion and having to do it all over again.”

He looked around with a small nod. “I’ve noticed. Have you named it?”

“The ship?” You raised an eyebrow. “Surely you don’t think of me as so sentimental.”

“I don’t know yet,” he said. “It’s one of those things I’m still trying to work out.”

You laughed softly. “I suppose I’ll let you keep the mystery then. But no, I haven’t named the ship. It’s actually outlined in our training that we should refrain from doing so. They’re tools, not personal vessels, and so we are to treat them as such.”

Sabo glanced toward your bed. “Not personal and yet, those are not standard-issue sheets.”

You followed his attention, interested that of the few personal effects in the room, it was the first one he made mention of. It was obvious, you supposed, in comparison to the rest which remained tucked away in drawers and wardrobes.

“That’s a strange thing to acknowledge,” you mentioned. “You’re aware of what standard-issue sheets look like?”

He smiled and gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Not from any intelligence or anything. We have some. Found a wreck once with a considerable number of textiles being moved and amongst them, useable sheets. They’re awful.”

You snorted at the idea. “They are. I don’t know why anybody would bother picking them up.”

“They’re better than nothing.”

You shook your head minutely, refusing even the idea of it. “No. If you’ve tried these, you’ll find you prefer nothing to whatever scratchy felt those things are made of.” You stood, stepped away from the seats. “Come. I’ll show you what I mean.”

Sabo stayed seated, expression suddenly wary. As though the invite implied you had an ambush hiding beneath the covers.

“You’re inviting me to your bed?” he asked.

“If you wish to see it that way.”

You stepped around the post, moved past to your wardrobe and removed your usual sleeping clothes, placing them on your pillow to change in the bathroom.

But first, you sat down with your back to him and withdrew your transponder snail from your pocket, tucking him into his usual spot beside your bed. The poor thing was already half asleep from the long day, its head drooping even before you settled him there.

Sabo didn’t walk very loudly.

You still heard him stand, though, just barely. If you hadn’t been listening carefully for a whisper of fabric, you may not have noticed him until you felt the mattress move beneath you, weight dipping to your right as he sat.

His coat brushed your arm as he placed a gloved hand between both of you, his gaze mildly playful as he looked to you. The lantern’s light flickered over his face.

“They’re alright,” he said. “I’ve seen better.”

You rolled your eyes and caught his wrist.

Sabo stiffened immediately, arm going tense as you lifted his hand from the bed. You looked down, rather than at him, your thumb resting against the inside of his wrist while you gently drew off the glove.

You placed it carefully on the bedside table, beside your sleeping snail. His pulse moved steadily beneath your thumb.

“You can hardly form an opinion when you’re wearing so much clothing,” you told him, your voice loud against the quiet of the moment.

His fingers flexed once.

You moved his hand down, pressing his palm flat against the bedding as you smiled. “See, much better?”

You released his wrist and finally met his eyes again, question hovering in your gaze. The unspoken offer hung heavily in the air between you as you leaned back to give him the slightest space as you waited for an answer.

His hand remained firmly where you’d placed it for a moment longer before he shifted, moving his hand over the sheets slowly enough that you could have pretended it was accidental when he brushed against your thigh briefly.

“Much,” he agreed, soft enough that you might have missed the word if you weren’t so close.

You turned slightly toward him. And the movement brought your knee against his, testing the limits of your interest.

You should have moved away. Instead, you tilted your head and studied the faint crease that had appeared between his brows. For all the confidence he’d shown in coming here in the first place, he was waiting now.

Not uncertain. But patient.

Patient in a way you cared very little for.

“You’re still wearing too much,” you mentioned, looking toward his still-gloved hand briefly.

His gaze dropped briefly to your mouth. “So are you.”

You smiled. Then you caught the front of his shirt and pulled him closer.

Sabo moved without hesitation. One hand caught the mattress beside your hip as his mouth met yours, bracing his weight before the force of it could press you backwards. His surprise lasted only a heartbeat. Then his bare hand found your waist and drew you against him with an eagerness that betrayed just how long he had been waiting.

Far more than the walk to your bed.

His mouth was warm against yours; the first touch measured despite the grip tightening at your side. You slipped the cravat from his neck and his restraint vanished.

He followed when you drew back, forcing you to turn until your shoulders met the mattress and his knee settled between yours. You released his shirt only to catch him behind the neck.

Sabo exhaled softly against your mouth and you found you quite liked that sound.

His hat bumped against your forehead and you broke away to grab it, gently tossing it off the bed. Blond strands fell untidily across his brow as he looked after it for only a second before he kissed you again.

He smiled faintly into your mouth, movement far lazier now. As though he was faintly humoured by something.

You broke the kiss again and he adjusted himself; one hand planted beside your shoulder as he looked down at you, cheeks faintly flushed beneath the low light.

“Are you planning on staring at me?” you asked, sliding your hand away from his neck and to the buttons of his shirt.

“I’m considering things.”

“I warn you, this is a pretty poor time for an interrogation.”

He laughed softly, eyes flickering back to your mouth as the first button popped free.

“Just not what I expected here, of all places.”

“What other reason would you have for sneaking into my room?” you hummed. “My office would be far better for intel.”

“Do all your stowaways get this welcome?” he asked.

“No,” you said, firmly enough that something flickered over his face.

Something you weren’t examining closely. You pulled him down again and he accepted the diversion without protest. Any careful pace disappeared as the kiss deepened and your back pressed against the bed.

His hand slid from your waist to your side, slipping under your shirt to press against the skin there.

Sabo drew back just enough to look at you, bare hand brushing over your ribs. “Hard to remember you could have had me shot when you found me.”

“I didn’t,” you said. “Which I think was the right choice, no?”

“I definitely appreciate it.”

He kissed you again and the next several minutes vanished beneath the quiet drag of fabric and the heat of his hands. His coat slipped from his shoulders somewhere beside the bed, his shirt hanging open beneath your fingers by the time cool air reached your skin. His mouth moved from yours to the edge of your jaw, then lower, and you tilted your head before you could decide whether allowing it was wise.

The ship’s bell rang above deck, marking the hour, and you both slowed.

Footsteps passed beyond your wall. Two men spoke as they changed shifts, making their way past your cabin and toward the crew quarters. You listened to them go, uninterested in it but far too aware of the stiffness creeping back into Sabo’s shoulders.

Sabo lifted his head from where it had been buried in your neck, expression painfully composed for somebody in the state he was.

“I hate that bell,” you said and he laughed softly, the sound caught somewhere between disbelief and humour.

You let your head fall back against the pillow.

“This is probably a poor time,” he said then, his hand moving away from your waist. “You have an early morning catching scavengers.”

The loss of contact annoyed you more than it reasonably should have. “It’s exceptionally stupid too,” you said.

He nodded. “That too.”

He sat back and gave a very poor attempt at fixing his clothes, fingers far from steady. You reached down and picked up your nightclothes from where they’d slipped to the ground.

“I hope I’ve proved my point enough that you’ll stay the night at least,” you commented.

His attention moved over your face, searching for a condition hidden behind the offer. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you only have one more night. You may as well stay in the bed.”

The wariness had returned to his expression, but it was far from the playfulness he’d shown earlier. It seemed that the idea of sharing a bed concerned him more than removing half his clothing or pressing you into a mattress.

“Just an offer,” you said. “I’m getting changed.”

When you returned, his coat and hat had been moved neatly to the chair. Both gloves lay next to it as he sat stiffly on the other side. As though he was ready to leap through the porthole the moment something happened.

You gave him a look and extinguished the lamp, slipping beneath the covers.

Darkness settled over the room, broken only by a thin moonbeam spilling through the porthole. Then the mattress moved, covers adjusting just slightly enough for you to notice them doing so.

If he did manage to actually sleep that night, you didn’t get a chance to ask him because the next morning, you were roused from your sleep by three harsh knocks on the door and a sharp, agitated voice. You didn’t bother to look for him before you stalked your way onto the deck, already barking orders.

The scavenger ship flew no flags and clearly hadn’t expected a marine presence but they didn’t hesitate to open fire.

“Take the sails! We need the vessel intact!”

Smoke rolled across the water between both ships. The scavengers were lighter and considerably faster, cutting across the current in an attempt to pass your port side before you could bring the full line of cannons around.

One of your shots tore through the lower rigging. Another struck the mast just above the deck.

Wood split with a crack loud enough to carry across the water. The mast lurched sideways, dragging half the patched sail with it. Men scattered beneath the falling ropes as the scavenger vessel lost speed.

Their next shot struck low.

The impact shuddered through the ship beneath your boots. Wood groaned and the deck shifted sharply to one side, throwing two of your men against the railing. Somewhere below, somebody shouted about water.

“Damage report!”

“Port side, below the waterline!”

You cursed and caught the edge of the cannon before the list could knock you from your feet. The scavenger ship had lost most of its control, but momentum carried it into the fast-moving current between the islands. Its ruined sails snapped uselessly as the water pulled it away.

“Bring us after them!”

“We’ll worsen the breach if we turn at speed, sir!”

Another report came from below, this one confirming what the tilt had already told you. The pumps were holding for now, but only barely. Continuing the pursuit before the hull was patched would risk turning one damaged section into a split seam.

The scavengers were drifting rather than sailing. Without their mast, the current would only carry them so far before weakening along the next stretch of coast. They would be dead in the water once it released them.

Assuming nobody else reached them first.

“Mark their direction,” you ordered. “Then find me the closest emergency port on our route records. I want the breach sealed and every cannon checked before we continue.”

By the time you stormed back into your room, your mood had darkened considerably.

Sabo was fully dressed and seated where he had been the evening before, as though the night had folded itself neatly away with his coat. He blinked at you with mild curiosity.

You glared at nothing.

“We’ll be making land soon,” you said. “Unexpectedly.”

“You’re taking on water.”

“That current’s only going to take them so far,” you muttered. “We’re going to make repairs at the closest island and then continue the pursuit. You can depart during that time if you want.”

He hummed, tapping a pattern against the chair. “Probably for the best.”

“Don’t get seen.”

“I won’t.”

You hesitated, wondering if you should return to the deck before annoyance drew you to remove your coat from your shoulders, hanging it beside the door instead. You had at least twenty minutes and nothing you did would make the ship sail faster.

Before you could remove your gun, somebody knocked on the door. You opened it barely a crack to look at the subordinate.

“Yes?”

“Sir,” he said. “We have pirate ships on the horizon.”

“Are they sailing for us?”

“No, sir. Alongside us.”

You knew where you were. You didn’t need to ask to know whose flag would be snapping against the wind now. But you had little choice. Without knowing how bad the damage was, you couldn’t change course to another island. And then you would risk losing your quarry even if the currents eventually left them stranded.

“Stay our course,” you said. “If Whitebeard’s men are looking for a fight, I’d prefer we take one at land rather than in the open ocean.”

“Yes, sir.”

You closed the door and sighed. Of course. One thing after another.

“I was thinking,” Sabo said. “That chasing a scavenger ship around doesn’t quite suit the work of a rear admiral.”

A thousand other things to speak of and he chose your work. If it hadn’t been for your skin still being warm from the night before, you might have snapped at him for it. As it was, you gave him a look.

“It’s considered punishment work,” you acknowledged.

His attention snapped to you, curiosity shining in his eyes. You spoke of it with ease because what good would such information serve him anyway? He could hardly bring any trouble by knowing that your superiors were currently not in a good mood with you.

“Punishment work rather than a demotion?”

You took the seat beside him again, gaze sharper than it should have been. “I’m far too good at my job for that.”

“Then why the punishment?”

“I don’t know if I should be telling you that. Feels a bit private to share.”

His lips curled up into a faint smile. “That’s too private?”

“It is.”

He was uncomfortable. You hadn’t had an opportunity to watch him since the night before but he hadn’t tapped such a pattern into the fabric before. Perhaps the acknowledgement of what happened had finally caught up with him. You could hardly fault him for his mask of fake confidence now.

You did not wish to discuss it when you were already on edge.

“If you do sink,” he said, “there might be people close enough to notice. A signal off the port side could earn you some help.”

You hummed, suddenly interested by his claim.

It made sense. He would not take this risk without a backup plan and yet, you hadn’t suspected anybody was trailing you until he mentioned it. You were almost impressed by their secrecy.

“If we sink,” you said. “We’ll see.”

The tapping against the fabric stopped, though he was still wound tight. Then his gaze dropped to the pistol still secured at your side.

“You kept it.”

“We were fired upon less than an hour ago.”

“I thought you didn’t work in here.”

“I don’t.”

He leaned closer, attention remaining on the holster. “Then which rule wins?”

His fingers moved toward the fastening and you caught his wrist before they could touch it.

For a second, you merely stared at him with a raised eyebrow. His arm had gone still beneath your hand, though he made no attempt to pull away.

“That’s a bit forward,” you said.

“Your limits are very interesting.”

You hummed and brushed your thumb against the edge of his glove, catching the narrow strip of bare skin between leather and sleeve.

“They’re sometimes softer,” you said. “But that one I wouldn’t try again.”

“I’ll remember.”

You held him for another heartbeat before releasing his wrist. “See that you do.”

He sat back, but the tension in his shoulders had eased slightly.

“You should be careful,” he said. “I’ve heard a lack of sleep causes your judgement to lapse.”

“It hasn’t done so yet.”

The island made its opinion of you known before the gangplank touched the dock.

Conversation along the harbour thinned as your damaged ship drew closer. A pair of fishermen gathered their nets and moved inland without looking back, while shutters closed above two nearby shops with sharp wooden cracks. Even the gulls seemed louder in the silence left behind.

There was nothing for it. Water still seeped through the temporary packing below deck, and the tilt beneath your boots had worsened during the approach.

The shipwrights were willing to work for beri, although the amount they demanded suggested they considered repairing a Marine vessel a personal insult. You paid without negotiating and ordered half your men to gather supplies while the rest remained aboard to guard the ship and assist with the breach.

It wasn’t the best atmosphere, something you knew even as you stepped away from the ship, walking along the port with your boots clicking steadily against the ground. You meant only to get the lay of the surrounding harbour to be sure the scavenger vessel hadn’t found its way here too.

Instead, you found flickering flames and Fire Fist Ace dropping from the railing of one of his ships. A broad grin spread across his face when he saw you.

“Hey!”

The other pirates who lingered aboard looked nervously at one another, clearly uncertain if they should draw their weapons. There weren’t many of them but even the commander himself was enough to cause trouble if he wanted to.

But he didn’t look like he wanted a fight even with your coat hanging from your shoulders. He actually looked obscenely pleased.

“Most pirates offer far less pleasant greetings of admirals,” you commented to him. “I suppose luck would have it that we bump into each other again.”

He grinned and hopped from the railing with ease. Everybody was looking at him and you could feel the tension crawling up your back. You glanced over your shoulder toward your ship, still in need of repairs and unable to return fire if this turned into a fight.

“Pretty good luck,” he agreed. “I knew you were an officer. Didn’t think you were a rear admiral though.”

You hummed and rested your hand upon the stock of your gun. Bullets would do nothing against him but it reassured you faintly.

“Shocking information all around.”

“So, uh, I’m guessing you’re not here looking for pirates again, are you? Which means we’re good?”

It was a very simplified explanation from your last meeting and yet you found it was true. You weren’t looking for pirates although that didn’t mean you were particularly friends with the ones you bumped into. Even if they were wearing their hats too far back to block out any sun.

“Are we?” you asked.

He hummed. “Maybe. You shouldn’t really be docking here. Marine routes aren’t meant to come through this area.”

“I know,” you said. “But we were taking on too much water and required a patch repair before we sank. It isn’t a long stop although we are prepared for another fight, if that’s what’s waiting for us.”

“Yeah, that’s probably meant to be from me,” he said. “The fighting thing.”

You nodded. “I presumed as much. Are we going to fight, Fire Fist?”

He thought about it. “I don’t know. I guess it depends if you’re nice to me.”

He was teasing and even in your foul mood, you couldn’t help but offer him a faint smile in response. You likely shouldn’t be indulging this so much but he was so eager and your mood had improved significantly while speaking to him.

“I try not to be nice to pirates,” you said.

“Not true. You were nice to me a few weeks ago.”

You scoffed. “I wouldn’t consider that nice.”

Fire Fist shrugged. “I mean, you shot down a net for me, then you lied about where I was, and you touched my chest. Which… the last one was probably like a thing for you rather than me but still.”

You rolled your eyes. “Definitely not for me. That was because you apparently don’t know how to follow orders.”

He nodded. “I do get that a lot.”

“I’m not surprised. Fine. What would it take for me to be ‘nice’ to you then?”

He paused, seemingly not having expected you to offer it. You really hoped whatever answer he gave wasn’t going to take too long because this entire thing was already a waste of time and you did not look forward to returning to your headquarters later.

“Want to get something to eat?”

You frowned, momentarily confused. Because you’d maybe expected monetary wealth or being asked to leave the island early but that… that was an interesting request, to say the least.

It wasn’t like you didn’t have time before the repairs were done and your men were sweeping the ship for residual danger already. Something that reminded you that certain stowaways should probably disembark soon.

And if it saved you a potential conflict, it was hardly a problem.

“Alright,” you said. “What would you like to eat?”

For a second, Ace blinked as though he wasn’t expecting that as a response and then he grinned, looking back at his ship and the flag billowing on it and waving. The others frowned even as he nodded for you to follow him, mouths open with unspoken questions.

“I know a pretty good place,” he said. “But uh… the owner doesn’t like marines very much.”

You looked toward your very obvious uniform. “He doesn’t like marines but he tolerates pirates?”

“Well, yeah. Pops’ protection is what keeps this whole place safe.”

That sounded like an absolute paradise for criminals and yet, you imagined it wasn’t too much of a concern if you had one with you. You slipped the coat from your shoulders, hiding the largest insignia over your arm.

You still looked like a marine but at least, it was somewhat less obvious.

“Is this better?”

Ace grinned. “I was going to say I could buy stuff and bring it to you but that works too. You look much better like that, anyway.”

“I’m sure you think so. Less like a rear admiral.”

“Do you want me to carry it?”

You raised an eyebrow at the mildly humorous idea of a very wanted pirate strutting around with a high-ranking officer’s coat on his arm. If Morgans got even a hint of that… well, it would be funny to see Sengoku turn red but no.

“It’s fine,” you said. “Lead the way.”

With him at your side, the town’s attention became far more welcoming. It was an almost startling change in comparison. His easy grin seemed to put most of them at ease and a few even came up to tell him that there were marines in the area before they noticed you at his side, if they even noticed at all.

“They’re not causing trouble,” he reassured. “We’re watching them.”

“We?” you clarified.

He gestured to where you were standing. “Well, I know exactly what you’re up to so technically.”

You hummed. “I suppose that could hold up. Though there are far more men on my ship than just me which would mean this meal is as much a distraction for you, no? You won’t be able to tell if anything starts there.”

“They won’t. You’re the biggest threat there.”

“Am I?”

“You’re in charge, aren’t you?” he asked. “When I saw you last time, everybody listened the moment you spoke.”

You appreciated the notion even if the entire situation had started expressly against your permission the last time. Though he was right. You had no rookies travelling with you this time. If your men saw the pirates, they’d stay their hands.

“True,” you said. “My crew do understand orders. Unlike certain pirates I know who think a safety retreat is optional because they would rather experience life as a fish in a net.”

He held his hands up in his defence. “Hey, I don’t know why you’re complaining. It gave you an excuse to touch me.”

You laughed. “That was not a reason to touch you.”

“I mean, you could have touched anywhere else. You chose skin to skin.”

You took a second to look him over, gaze lingering with a very mild appreciation of his sun-kissed skin and toned frame before you noted the problem with his idea. “Considering that you aren’t fond of shirts, I have a feeling anywhere else would have been far more suggestive.”

“But still…”

“No,” you corrected though you found you couldn’t help but smile. “Come now. We’re walking very slowly and I only have so much time.”

“You have somewhere to be?”

You weighed up the idea of sharing the morning’s events with a pirate. Although this one seemed far more interested in food than whatever business you had. It didn’t make him any less of a threat – you knew that – but he was a threat that had very little to do with this work.

“We were ordered to intercept a scavenger ship,” you explained. “We shredded their mast and sails but they were lighter and the current took them while we took on water. They’re dead in the water once our repairs are done.”

Ace’s smile faded slightly. “A scavenger ship?” he said. “There shouldn’t be any of those this close.”

“It wasn’t far from the island at all. Could have even stopped here.”

You made no mention of the potential marine intelligence on board. Pirates were drawn to potential treasure by nature, even that which didn’t glitter. And he had a ship in far better condition than yours currently.

“It’s weird because one of the other divisions found a weird ship like a week ago,” Ace said. “Close to here too but it was empty. No people or loot or anything. But it was flying a flag we hadn’t seen before.”

“This one didn’t bear any mark,” you said. “Had we not received orders to move into its path, if we’d seen it on the open waters, I would have let it past.”

“They told you to reroute for it?”

You shrugged. “It happens, at times.”

He hummed and turned toward a restaurant, pushed the door open and gave a cheerful greeting to the owner, a surly-looking man with thinning hair. His attention locked on you immediately, glare sharpening at the coat on your arm before he seemed to accept that you’d come with somebody trustworthy.

“Still weird,” he said. “Maybe they lowered their flag to try sneak past you?”

“If they did, we’ll find it when we catch up.”

“If you do find one when you grab them… any chance I could get a look at it? Pops would want to know if they’re connected.”

The owner hadn’t brought you a menu. You glanced toward him to find he was already preparing something in the kitchen. Funny. You hadn’t realised that going out for lunch with Ace meant you might have something pre-emptively ordered for you.

You could only hope it wasn’t poisoned.

“I’ll consider it,” you said, fingernails tapping against the wood of the table. “Depending on how good the food here is.”

Ace leaned back in his chair with a relaxed smile. “It’s good. How would I find you?”

“Details after the meal,” you said, amused by how eager he seemed to be.

The owner returned with both arms crowded by plates. Grilled meat still spat quietly in its own fat, surrounded by roasted vegetables, thick slices of bread and a bowl of rice large enough to feed several ordinary people. Steam carried the scents of pepper, charred herbs and something rich enough to make you realise how little you had eaten since before sunrise.

He set everything down with more force than necessary, gaze pausing on the coat folded across your lap.

“She’s good,” Ace said.

“Such a stellar recommendation,” you responded to him. “Coming from a division commander of an incredibly dangerous pirate crew.”

He grinned and the owner made a short sound that might have been a laugh. Whatever reservations he had about serving you were apparently outweighed by Ace’s two-word endorsement. You still let him dig in before you reached for anything.

It was good food. That you couldn’t deny though you ate far slower than he did, plates disappearing under his grasp.

“Is it flag-level good?” Ace asked.

You laughed. “It’s acceptable. But I have been awake since before sunrise and I slept quite poorly. My appetite may well override my judgement.”

“You like it.”

You smiled at him. “Maybe. I appreciate it not being poisoned.”

“You thought it might be?”

“I considered the possibility.”

He chuckled. “I’m not that kind of pirate.”

“I see that.”

Your acknowledgement was short but his grin softened regardless. The restaurant filled slowly around you, most of the people who entered greeted him by name. Some stopped by just long enough to ask after names you didn’t recognise and a few you did.

None of them really looked to you. You didn’t mind it. It gave you time to watch them before you tilted your head to him after a small group of women continued on their way.

“If there is a flag,” you said. “I suppose I could have a messenger bring a sketch or something similar to you.”

“You wouldn’t do it yourself?”

“I somehow don’t think I’m going to be allowed to sail aimlessly around Whitebeard’s territory looking for one of his commanders under that excuse,” you reasoned.

“You don’t know until you try.”

You took another bite, looking past him toward the harbour visible between the buildings. The masts of your ship rose proudly above the rooftops. You might be able to find a reason if you thought hard enough but there were limits to what you would do. Ignoring something was far more work than excusing it.

Ace followed your attention. “Any of your guys get hurt?”

The question surprised you enough that you paused, if briefly, before responding.

“A few. Nothing our doctors can’t handle.”

“It was a hard hit,” he said.

You nodded. “It was. When I return to headquarters, I’ll have the shipwrights patch it up properly. Even if it grounds me for a few weeks.”

“That’s going to make it hard for you to bring me the flag though.”

You laughed softly. “I suppose it might be a lesson in patience then.”

Ace’s eyes brightened. “Wait, you’re actually going to do it?”

“No.”

His expression fell and you laughed softly as he returned to his food. “You’re so awful. I’m glad you didn’t catch me.”

“You should be,” you said. “Though as I said, it might have gotten me quite the promotion. Not that I want it right now but at least I wouldn’t be sailing after random scavenger ships.”

“You wouldn’t be having lunch either.”

“I would be. Just at headquarters with far worse company.”

Outside, a bell rang from the direction of the harbour. You turned toward the sound, recognising the request for return. Were the repairs completed already? That had been considerably faster than you expected.

Maybe the shipwrights here just wanted an excuse to get marines off their island.

You stood and put down more than enough money on the table to cover the obscene amount Ace had eaten, not yet putting the coat over your shoulders.

“You’re paying?” he asked.

“Repairs are completed,” you said. “I have somewhere to be. You’re welcome to continue eating.”

But he was already standing, falling into step alongside you with an easy grin. Outside, the sun had lowered enough to cast long shadows between the buildings. You were running low on time to catch up.

“Are you still watching me?” you asked Ace curiously.

“Yup. Till you leave,” he said. “Do you want to take a different route back? This road’s got a much better view.”

You shouldn’t have considered it. Not even for a moment. And yet, your feet slowed for just a second as you thought about following him to see if his recommendation was any good even if the route was visibly longer.

Then you shook your head. “No. I’m taking a direct path.”

His disappointment was measurable but he forced a smile. “Alright. Next time.”

You didn’t plan on ever returning to this island but you inclined your head regardless. As you approached the docks, you lifted the coat and pulled it back into place over your shoulders, weight settling heavily over your arms.

Ace’s eyes followed the fabric. “That thing looks uncomfortable.”

“It’s not.”

One of your officers raised a hand when he spotted you, words already flowing before he noticed who you were accompanied by. “Rear Admiral, the repairs are complete. Supplies have been loaded and – ”

Ace stopped as the officer’s hand dropped for a weapon. The others behind him reacted an instant later, guns drawn in a sharp chorus of metal. Ace straightened beside you, earlier grin tightening into something more arrogant as they levelled barrels in his direction.

You raised a hand and the weapons lowered.

“Then we will be off,” you said. “We will not require another stop.”

“You’re leaving now?” Ace asked.

“Yes.”

He hesitated before he spoke again, a faint smile lingering that was real despite his discomfort. “Will you be coming back?”

It made you pause; question strange enough that it caused a similar reaction from your men. You would later insist it had sounded more like a warning not to make a habit of docking there, yet you heard something underneath. A nod to your earlier promise.

You should have rejected the notion entirely.

“If the need arises,” you said. “I don’t follow the rules of pirate territory.”

And instead of looking annoyed as he should have at the blatant disrespect to their claim, he grinned as though you’d offered him something far better. He stepped away, gesturing toward your ship.

“You should go,” he said. “You have limited time, right?”

“I do.” You turned to your men without looking back. “With me. I don’t want to waste another night’s worth of supplies floating here.”

Your men didn’t hesitate to fall into step, showing their concern over Fire Fist only through a few cautious glances in his direction. He really needed better self-preservation instincts. You just hoped he didn’t start taking this as a sign all rear admirals would be so accommodating.

Four days later, the owner of the restaurant looked at you with far more recognition than you preferred. Even without your coat, left aboard the small ship you had borrowed, his shoulders tightened.

You smiled as calmly as you could and placed a sketch of the flag on the counter, followed by enough beri to ensure it reached the correct hands.

“For Fire Fist,” you said.

The man looked down at the image and then back at you. He shrugged and took it, tucking it somewhere behind the counter. “You’re not welcome here.”

“I didn’t plan on lingering.”

Tag List: @miwn8 ; @aceincase ; @chaeisrichnow ; @aceidentallyinlove

• On that topic though, you cannot switch your brain off while you're with them out and about, it'll 100% end in chaos. Either Deuce will get you lost or you'll zone back in and find Ace doing god knows what, and you're always inevitably dragged into whatever messes they cause.

• It's a very comfortable relationship tbh, they've already seen you at your worst and when you're not all put together, so it's not hard to get closer from there. The same goes for you, especially after a few sleepovers at Ramshackle where you got to see them mellow a bit and have the occasional (somewhat) serious conversation.

• Ace and Deuce's bickering does get worse, like yes Ace loves you both but.... he can't help it! Deuce's reactions are just too funny (and you have to agree, much to his dismay)

• They're so boyfriends tbh. They're just guys. Very chaotic yes but so great nonetheless. They're the coziest of guys and an adeuce sandwich when they're actually calm and chilling for once is like heaven on earth 🥺

• I do think they're both blanket hogs, but Ace is more evil with it while Deuce is just knocked tf out. When Deuce takes it you go cuddle with Ace for warmth and Deuce gets pouty about it in the morning while Ace is all smug. However, Ace would also totally hog it for you two and poor Deuce is left abandoned. Whenever he does that you grab it from him and cover yourself and Deuce in retaliation and he's left feeling betrayed 💔 your dorm needs more or bigger blankets for this sleeping arrangement to work..

• Grim is not surprised by this relationship, but he's still disappointed. Surely you can do better than these fools!! He acts like he doesn't go along with all their schemes and nonsense and make things even worse 😭

• Deuce gives you his sweater once because of the cold, and suddenly it's a competition between the two of them with giving you their clothes or reacting to things quicker when it concerns you. They will shove each other to hold the door open for you first and it's like a gentlemanly competition except neither of them are very good at being proper gentlemen 😔 It's barely even about you anymore, they just want to be faster for bragging rights and so you'll thank them lol. Now you're just swimming in a pile of all their sweaters, so it's technically a win for you, although you do have to deal with the consequences when one of them ends up shoving the other too hard (often Deuce, though he does feel bad about it..sort of)

• They're like the devil and angel on your shoulders except the angel likes to switch it up and keep you guessing 😭 they're bad influences despite Deuce's best efforts, you're either going to have to deal with it or really lock in on fixing them up, and even then, the chances of Ace getting you both to skip on occasion are quite high..

• Study dates at cafes in town!! The people there will definitely give you looks for how loud you're all being and you almost always have to be the one to remind them that you're in public although you tend to forget too, spending time with them is always lively and at least a little chaotic. The productivity is very low but !! Quality time ☺️

• During these dates, Ace teases Deuce a bit about his studying and you do your best to reassure him that he'll get there eventually so he doesn't get discouraged. Ace also calls you a tryhard for being so strict about focusing on your work, but will more often than not end up asking you for your notes later on..he's so shameless

• The professors will lecture you about letting them drag you down unfortunately.. you've grown on them and they don't want you to waste your potential because you're having fun. Although they like you, they won't play favourites and you'll all get punished equally for slacking and given extra work when you decide to skip class together.

• Movie nights!!! They both get in trouble afterwards for sneaking out to see you but it's worth it to them 🥺 you guys get all cozy and cuddle up, with Grim in your lap too for extra coziness. Ace likes horror, he likes to see you guys get scared lmao though he also likes to comfort you two afterwards. Even if his tone may be teasing, he loves it. Deuce likes action and fantasy stuff, and you all rotate between who gets to pick for the night. It's all just so sweet, there is no shortage of body heat and it makes up for the worrying lack of warmth in Ramschackle

• You go to both their club events and practices and act as their cheerleader.. always bringing the other with you 🥹 you do push them a bit when it comes to cheering for each other because they act all embarrassed about it but they get fired up super quick and become louder than you 😭

• Despite all the silliness they are really good at supporting you emotionally if you're ever feeling down. Their pep talks might not always be the best, as in Ace's case he can come across as too blunt and there might be a bit of anxious rambling on Deuce's end, but they try their best. When they're quiet and just comforting you with their presence and physical affection, it does a lot to help your nerves. Afterwards, you're far more calm and collected, and it's much easier to open up about whatever's bothering you.

• Of course, you provide emotional support for them as well! Whenever Deuce is feeling insecure about his academic shortcomings, you comfort him by reminding him of the progress he's made since he made the decision to improve himself as a person. Ace also has his rare moments of vulnerability, where he might question his importance and magical abilities. In these cases, he seems to respond better to direct words or even challenges, rather than gentle encouragement.

• Regardless of who it is that needs comforting, you always end up in a cuddle pile. The weight and shared warmth is too nice to refuse, even when one of you has obligations to get to.

• Cannot emphasize enough how lovely hugs are when they're just chilling. The coziest place in the world is with them just cuddling especially if they have hoodies on and it's a little cold so you're at the perfect warmth and you never wanna leave... it's a trap but so comfy 💔 but also I feel like Deuce really likes skin to skin so he likes to cuddle while wearing tank tops so he's spooning you from the back while you cuddle Ace from the front while he has his hoodie on. I think Deuce would run pretty warm so he doesn't really need much, it keeps you warmer more easily and it's just really nice being between them

• In terms of affection and PDA, they're quite different. While Deuce prefers to limit public displays because it's not befitting of an honours student, Ace is often trying to catch you two off guard to see your flustered reactions. Though if one of you initiates instead, he'll act like he's above it lol

• At one point, you try to find matching charms and similar items for all of you, but it's hard to find good matching stuff for 3 people. Because of this, you take it upon yourself to just make them from scratch. You all end up with cute little personalized bag charms, likely made out of different fabrics and materials you managed to find. Ace and Deuce really cherish them because of how personal it is, and especially because you made them yourself.

• They totally let you do their makeup in the mornings, even if it's not the best! They'd also definitely draw their card symbols on you too if you ask!! You definitely wear both at the same time at least once. There's a lot going on, but it's okay because it's a statement of your love~

• Overall, this is truly The relationship ever. Don't ever expect a full week of peace with these guys but the chaos is wonderful and they're so loving in their own unique ways.