#thatch

Corazon

You had known him for years.

You met him during a meeting arranged by his brother Doflamingo. Rosinante had appeared from the shadows in a swirl of red feathers, clumsy yet somehow silent, a towering man with sad eyes peeking out from a painted grin.

You weren’t sure why he stood out. Maybe it was the way he hunched his shoulders, as if he could hide from the world even while standing six feet tall. Maybe it was the glint of kindness you thought you saw beneath the black makeup.

From  that day on though you and him shared a special bond. Not physical, not yet maybe, but emotional.

Rosinante was unpredictable, clumsy, secretive and yet, maddeningly kind. The kind of man who made you coffee when you were sad, then spilled it all down his pants in the same moment. He smiled through bruised ribs and burned trust and always was there for you when you needed him the most.

But he also never let you touch him. Not really.

Not even once.

You assumed it was part of the act. Some odd quirk of his Devil Fruit.

But the truth came during a storm.

You slipped during a mission too dizzy to see straight and you collapsed but before you could hit the floor he caught you.

His hands closed around your arms, large and gentle. Your palms pressed against his chest.

Skin met skin.

And that cursed power surged through you.

He held you in his arms, barefoot on the sand, laughing under a sunset. Your head rested against his chest. No Marines. No Doflamingo. No war. Just peace. The vision switched and you saw yourself smiling up at him, untouched by blood or betrayal, wrapped up in his oversized coat, tucked beneath his chin. It wasn’t a vision so much as a flood. A torrent of feeling, thick and suffocating. You felt his desire like it was your own: a desperate, screaming need to protect you from everyone, he wanted you yes but more than that he needed you to be okay. And the thought he tried to bury so deep it cracked his bones “Please let me live long enough to tell them I love them”

You gasped as the vision faded, his eyes widened, looked wounded, and he quickly stuffed his hands into his pockets, stepping back.

“Are you hurt?” His voice was low and raspy, almost inaudible over the noise around you.

“I’m fine,” you lied, breathless. “Just… dizzy.”

He nodded once, but his gaze flicked around then he pulled something from his coat - a scrap of cloth, a bit of bandage. He offered it with both hands, avoiding your skin.

“For your hand,” he mumbled.

You looked down. In your panic, you had cut your palm and blood welled up in a small crimson pool.

Before you could protest, he crouched delicately wrapping your hand with the same tenderness you had felt in his desire. His fingers never brushed your skin again. He made sure of it.

But when his eyes found yours after he finished wrapping everything up he saw it, the ache in your eyes and he knew something had happened, he didn’t know exactly what it was but he knew something was different now.

After that… everything changed.

He avoided you. More than before.

Disappearing for days, coming back with scraped hands and tired lies.

And you, you tried to understand.

But it was like watching someone drown in a glass tank, fists pressed to the walls, refusing to let you in.

Until one night, the tension boiled over.

“You saw it, didn’t you?” he whispered, voice cracking. “When you touched me.”

Your breath caught. He had figured it out.

You nodded slowly.

His shoulders sagged as if the weight of the entire sea had landed on him. “I… I’m sorry,” he stammered, voice breaking. “I shouldn’t….I shouldn’t feel that way. But I do. And I… I can’t stop.”

Tears stung your eyes. Because you understood now that this wasn’t lust, or selfish obsession like the others. His desire was pure, painful, and impossibly kind. And it was tearing him apart.

“I don’t want you to stop,” you blurted, before your fear could catch up to your honesty.

His eyes snapped to yours, wide and vulnerable.

“I’ve seen what the others want,” you went on, voice shaking. “They want to break me. Own me. Use me. But you… you just want to save me.”

His cigarette fell from his lips, landing at his feet.

“You love me,” you whispered, cornering him in the hallway of some run-down safehouse.

His smile twitched. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

You stepped closer. “I saw it, Cora. You were holding me. Laughing. Wanting a future. Yours. Mine. Ours.”

His expression finally cracked.

“You know that this can never happen,” he suddenly said.

You froze not expecting these words from him.

“Why not?”

“Because this is dangerous, being with me is dangerous,” he said simply. “And if you get too close, you’ll go down with me.”

The silence between you hit like a gunshot.

“You’ve already decided, haven’t you?” Your voice trembled. “You’ve already written the ending without even giving me a choice.”

His jaw clenched.

“I need to go,” he said softly, voice raspy as ever. “There’s a Devil Fruit I have to steal. It’s the only way to save him.”

You turned to him, tears already welling up. “And if it gets you killed?”

He flinched. Then he reached out hesitant and cupped your cheek. His fingers brushed your skin. The curse activated, and his raw, desperate desire poured into you like fire.

“I wish I could stay. I wish I could take you far away from this world. I wish I could give you a life where you never have to run again. But I can’t. I’m sorry.”

It shattered something inside you.

You grabbed his wrist, pressing his hand closer. “Then don’t go. Stay with me. We can hide together. Please.”

He let out a quiet laugh—sad, hollow. “You know I can’t. If I don’t do this… that boy dies. And if he dies, everything I’ve tried to do will be meaningless.”

You leaned your forehead against his chest, breathing in the scent of his coat, the lingering smoke.

“Promise me you’ll come back,” you whispered.

He didn’t answer.

Because some people were meant to save the world…

…but never get to stay in it.

The next morning he was gone and you found Corazon’s goodbye letter.

It was folded carefully, tucked inside the coat you used to mend for him, sealed with a stain of black coffee (he spilled it. Of course he did).

But the ink? The ink held his truth.

To you, The one I wanted to choose, But never could— By the time you read this, I’ll be gone. Not forever, I hope. But long enough that it might feel that way. I want to start with this: You didn’t imagine it. What you saw through your cursed fruit, my desire to hold you, laugh with you, build something gentle with you it was real. It is real. You are the one place I ever felt… human. Not a spy. Not a Donquixote. Not a broken mess in clown paint. Just a man. Just yours. But here’s the part that never stopped clawing at me: I don’t get to keep you. Because if I choose you, I can’t protect him. And if I choose him, I can’t come back to you. You always saw too much. The way you looked at me like I was already forgiven. Like I wasn’t a walking graveyard of secrets and second chances. But I am. And I know it. And I won't let you bleed because I was too selfish to walk away. So here’s the deal: If I come back, I’ll come with clean hands and a promise. If I don’t… then let this be my truth, buried in paper and ink: I love you. I loved you when you laughed at my coat. I loved you when you yelled at me for disappearing again. I loved you when you touched my hand and saw everything I tried to hide. And even now, I love you too much to drag you into this war. Take care of yourself. Find someone who chooses you with both feet planted. Someone who’s not always halfway out the door. But if you ever feel like waiting for someone foolish, You know where to find me: Somewhere between a lie and a last hope. Yours quietly, always, Cora

Weeks later, you learned the truth. The Ope Ope no Mi was used to save Law but Corazon was gone. Killed by his own brother.

They said he died smiling.

You wondered if, in his last moment, he thought of you. You wondered if he felt your heart break as his stopped.

And you promised, as you read his letter over and over beneath the dawn light, that you’d keep living. That you’d carry the memory of the man who taught you love and the price it demanded. And you promised to keep looking out for the young boy Cora gave his life for.

💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

Whitebeard

You had joined the Whitebeard Pirates on a whim. Not as a fighter but as a mapmaker, someone who could laugh too loud and carry a bottle of sake twice their weight. Pops had taken you in like he did all the others: without question, with that massive grin and a hand on your head like a crown.

The first time Whitebeard touched you, it wasn’t grand.

It wasn’t a crushing grip or a possessive reach. It was the brush of his knuckles down your back after you slipped in the ship’s hallway.

“Careful, little one,” he said, voice a low, weather-worn rumble. “Wouldn’t want you crashing through the deck.”

That was the last thing you heard before your knees buckled and the vision hit you.

A vision so vivid your ribs ached from the weight of it.

You saw yourself, years older, laughing. Sitting at a massive table beside him. His hand in yours. A feast. A family. You saw his sons, your “brothers” and a small little girl. You felt the crushing warmth in his chest, the longing, the bone-deep ache that wanted nothing but time and a family…..time to grow old with you and his family.

The vision shattered as you gasped and almost stumbled again.

He caught you with a frown this time no skin to skin contact. “You alright?” he asked a little worried.

All you managed was a small mumble he didn’t quite understand before you turned and fled the deck, your heart in your throat.

Because that vision wasn’t lust. It wasn’t even really romance.

It was something more dangerous.

He wanted a future with you and the crew. A quiet one.

And he knew, you both knew, that the world would never allow it.

He didn’t come after you at least not at first. Whitebeard was many things but he wasn’t reckless. He waited. Watched. Gave you space.

And you… You avoided him like he was fire and you were soaked in oil.

But even from a distance, the vision clung to you. You saw it in the way he sat in silence after he watched the crew, after they laughed and smiled. You saw the way he glanced at the empty chair next to him – your chair.

He wanted you there beside him.

“You’ve been runnin’.”

Marco found you perched on the edge of the ship’s figurehead one evening, staring at the sea like it might swallow you up and keep the truth down with it.

“I’m not running,” you murmured.

“Then tell Pops why you can’t look him in the eye anymore.”

You clenched your jaw. “I touched him.”

Marco blinked and then frowned.

“I saw it. The desire. The future he wanted. It was…” You looked away. “Too much.”

Marco sat beside you, voice gentle. “He doesn’t want to scare you.”

“He didn’t,” you whispered. “That’s the worst part,” you whispered softly with that familiar ache in your chest.

Marco looked at you and then placed a hand on your shoulder giving it a slight squeeze. “You should talk to him” he said before he turned and walked away leaving you with your thoughts.  

Later that night though, Whitebeard came to you.

He waited until the ship was asleep. Until even the ocean seemed to hold its breath.

You heard his footsteps before you saw him, slow, heavy, deliberate and unmistakable.

He came to your side, towering over you as you sat there. His presence wrapped around you like the tide inescapable, steady.

“Why do you avoid me little one?” he asked cautiously.

“I didn’t mean to…I just when you touched me I..” you stopped yourself from revealing too much not wanting to bother him with this or have him know. He already had enough on his plate you didn’t want to add up on it.

“I saw it,” you said, finally. “What you want.”

“You what?”

“I felt safe and you caught me a little off guard, your hand is really warm and it felt not bad” you said not outright a lie but also not the whole truth.

A beat of silence spread between you two and the he smiled at you.

“You know sometimes I dream about peace, just us, you, me, the boys, sailing across the sea without all the chaos in the world. Living a peaceful and long life. Watching you and those idiots grow old together and see who will have the most wrinkles” he confessed suddenly.

“I know” you said “I mean I know that feeling I…..I’d want that too” you added.

“It’s a desire, a wishful thinking,” he said carefully before he closed his eyes, his massive frame casting long shadows over the deck.

“Don’t say that”

“Little one you know as good as me that the world won’t let us have this. Not now. Not with all this chaos. I’m not saying that there will never be any peace but I’m saying that when this will happen I will no longer be with you,” he explained voice firm and yet you could hear the yearning in it, the sadness.  

You were crying now, not loudly, not brokenly just… quiet, unbearable tears because you remembered the vision and now hearing him talk about the fact that he had already made peace with the fact that his desire will never come true was heart-breaking.

He looked down at you, his eyes for once looked human. Not like the eyes of the world’s strongest man, not the Yonko.

Just a man who was tired.

“Don’t cry little one, we still got some time together before you get rid of me” he joked softly and you let out a small chuckle through the tears.

Gently, so gently, his hand came up to your cheek to brush the tears away.

And this time you let it happen let the vision, painful as it was, consume you.

Once again you saw yourself older, the crew older and him sitting on his usual throne like chair on the Moby Dick, a little girl on his lap, a girl who had his smile. The crew was being a chaotic mess but his chaotic mess and you felt the warmth, the safety and the feel of home.

When the vision ended you blinked a few tears away and looked up at him smiling before you leaned into him fingers curling around his coat as you held onto it like a lifeline.

“I’ve fought gods, demons, and kings,” he said, voice low and broken. “But I don’t know how to fight the part of me that just wants to be yours,” he suddenly said as his hand came to rest at your back holding you.

“You don’t have to fight it,” you whispered. “You just have to let yourself have it”

After that night everything changed.

Not out loud.

He didn’t call you his lover. Didn’t pull you into his bed or kiss you in front of the others.

But he always looked for you when he laughed and you always found him when he was quiet.

You started sharing sake just the two of you in shared private moments were words weren’t needed. A ritual for two ghosts in waiting.

And every time your fingers brushed, your Devil Fruit showed you the same vision: A future full of love, peace, you, the crew and a little girl by his side.

But then came the war.

You knew no matter what you said he wouldn’t stop from rescuing Ace because that was just how Whitebeard was.  

He looked at you with that old grief. The kind that said he had already made peace with dying.

And he touched you again.

Not by accident, not to steady you.

His massive hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin.

The vision flooded back.

The two of you on the Moby Dick. Older. Scarred. But alive. A daughter on your hip. Laughing. And the crew behind you. He looked… happy, peaceful and like he finally found his own personal One Piece.

“I dreamed of that once,” he murmured.

You looked up, startled. “You… know?”

“Aye.” His thumb lingered. “I knew the moment I touched you. The fruit… showed you what I buried.”

You wanted to cry but fought the tears. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

He smiled, tired and soft. “Because I’m not a man who gets to want things, little one. I’m a man who protects them.”

You wrapped your fingers around his wrist. “Then protect me by living.”

He laughed quiet and rough and heartbreakingly fond.

“I’ll try. But if I don’t come back, know this,” he said. “I never regretted loving you.”

The night before he left to save Ace you ended up in his bed for the first time, giving in to the desire between you two.

Whitebeard died standing, died protecting his family.

And in his final moments, he held something in his hand: a folded scrap of parchment.

You recognized it when it washed ashore weeks later.

It was your handwriting.

One line.

“If ever you forget yourself, remember there’s a man inside you a man I loved, a man the world never saw but I did.”

You sat long nights at his grave, hand on your belly and sometimes when you were quiet, when the sea was still, you swore you felt a hand at your back, steady as the world, whispering "I never regretted loving you."

Years later, on Sphinx island, you sat by a dock with a little girl who had his smile.

Your daughter.

Your only treasure.

And when she asked why you cried when it rained, you told her a story.

About a man who was the strongest man in the world and was called a monster for that.

But you?

You knew better.

He was a man who once dreamed of peace, a family and loved you so quietly, it nearly broke your heart.

💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

Ace

You didn’t mean to brush against him. The table was too small. The conversation too loud. The meeting too crowded. One wrong lean, and his hand grazed yours.

Bare skin touching and that was all it took.

A vision flooded your brain, no, not a vision. A need. A longing so powerful, so raw it made you gasp before you could hide it.

You saw his hands on your cheeks, trembling—not with lust, but desperation. His voice hoarse, whispering your name like a prayer. His forehead pressed to yours, his eyes shimmering with something like relief… or grief. His whole body shaking with the desire to keep you. "Don’t go. Please… don’t leave me." It wasn’t desire in the way you had expected. Not hunger. Not lust. It was deeper. It was love. But not the sweet, easy kind. This was haunted love, fragile and fierce and terrified. He wanted you like a dying man wanted air. Not because it was beautiful but because he didn’t know how to keep breathing without it. He never thought and never let himself believe he deserved this, deserved you.

And when the image vanished and you were back, staring at the man across from you, you couldn’t breathe.

Not when Ace was still looking at you with that dumb, sunlit smile, oblivious to what you now knew. What you now carried.

You avoided him for days.

You said you were tired. Sick. Busy. Anything to keep from touching him again.

Because how could you look at him when you knew? Knew that behind every laugh, every teasing nudge, every casual, friendly grin was a heart that ached for you?

And he didn’t even know you knew.

That was the cruellest part. You knew too much while he didn’t know at all.

He found you three nights later, sitting at the edge of the deck under a moonless sky.

“Hey,” he said softly, voice without its usual spark. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

You didn’t answer.

He walked closer and sat beside you, letting his legs hang over the edge like yours.

Silence stretched between you. Wind tugged at your shirt. The sea below shimmered, black and restless.

“You mad at me or something?” he asked.

“No,” you whispered.

“Then why won’t you even look at me?”

You hesitated and you could feel him watching. Waiting.

Finally, you forced yourself to meet his gaze.

“I just…” You swallowed. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

He blinked. “What? Why would you—”

Your voice cracked. “Because I know.”

He froze. “Know what?”

You turned away. Hands clenched in your lap.

“Ace… when you touched me. I—I saw it.”

His voice dropped. “Saw what?”

You looked up at him. Moonlight caught in your eyes, even if there was no moon.

“Your desire,” you said. “What you want. The Yoku Yoku no Mi... it showed me.”

He stared at you like you had ripped the air out of his lungs.

You kept going, voice barely a whisper. “You want me. Not just like that, not like the others. You want me like it’s killing you. Like you’re scared if you ask that I’ll disappear. Like you’d rather burn than be the one to hold on too tight. I saw that you were afraid to let yourself feel loved because you think you don’t deserve it.”

You saw it all of it. Every moment he kept buried under fire and smiles. The loneliness. The fear. The way he’d convinced himself you deserved better. The way he wanted to stay beside you but never dared to hope.

“I saw it,” you said again, softer this time. “I felt it.”

He looked away, his shoulders tense.

For a long moment, he didn’t speak.

When he finally did, his voice was low. Barely there.

“…Guess there’s no point lying, then.”

Your heart clenched.

“Ace—”

“I didn’t mean for you to find out,” he muttered. “I thought… if I could keep it quiet, maybe it wouldn’t ruin anything.”

“It didn’t ruin anything,” you said quickly.

He laughed bitterly. “Didn’t it?”

You reached out with a trembling hand. Slowly, you touched his fingers brushing his knuckles.

It was enough.

The desire flared again, faint but familiar. That same image. His lips against your forehead. That quiet, desperate plea:

“Don’t leave.”

But this time… it didn’t hurt.

Because now, you wanted it too.

“Ace,” you said gently. “You don’t have to be scared. Not with me.”

His head dropped forward. Hair hiding his eyes.

“You don’t get it,” he whispered. “People leave. Or I leave them. It’s just how it goes.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“You say that now.”

“I mean it.” You turned his hand over and placed your palm flat against his. A full contact.

He closed his eyes, a bitter laugh escaping.

“You think I deserve love?”

Your heart shattered at that stupid question.

“I know you do.”

But you felt it the way the distance between you two seemed to suddenly grow. The fear of being vulnerable was a wall you couldn’t break at least, not yet

“I’m sorry,” he whispered pulling away. “I can’t be what you want, what you deserve.”

You wanted to scream, to beg him to stay, but all you could do was watch him walk away fire burning behind his steps, and your heart burning with him.

Later that night when everything was still, but your world felt shattered, you stood alone on the deck in a small corner until you saw Ace walking up to you stopping before you, the flickering lanterns casting shadows on his face the same face that once smiled so freely, now etched with pain and resolve.

His eyes searched yours, desperate, but guarded.

“I can’t,” he said softly, voice breaking. “Not like this. Not with all this… inside me.”

You reached out, fingers trembling, but he stepped back, avoiding your touch.

“I’m not the man you deserve. I’m fire that burns too fiercely, too recklessly, there is so much bad blood in me.”

“Please,” you whispered, tears blurring your vision “don’t leave.”

He shook his head, a bitter smile flickering.

“Sometimes love means letting go. For your sake… and mine.”

His hand brushed your cheek, gentle, warm, a fleeting touch that said everything words could not.

A small vision that showed you how much you meant to him but how much he feared letting you close

“I’ll carry you with me,” he promised. “Even if we never meet again.”

And with that, Ace turned away, the weight of his pain heavier than the sea wind that tore at your hair.

You stood frozen, the echoes of his footsteps fading into the night, and the silent ache of goodbye settling deep inside you.

Time passed until you found yourself on the battlefield, the roar of battle thundered all around. Smoke choked the air - screams tore through the chaos. You found yourself pressed between chaos and desperation only one thing was clear, save Ace.

You had to reach him.

Through the blood and fire, you pushed forward, heart pounding.

And then there he was standing next to his younger brother Luffy. Ace’ proud, fierce eyes locking onto yours, a flicker of hope in the storm.

He smiled just for a moment but it was enough to make your heart flutter.

“I’m okay,” he said, breath ragged. “Didn’t think you’d make it.”

You swallowed tears. “I’m not leaving you.”

He reached out, fingers brushing your cheek, skin against skin, and your cursed fruit flared.

Not battlefields. Not dying screams. Just you and him, safe. A quiet smile, a gentle touch, a whispered promise. “I want to live for you because I finally see that I deserve it, I deserve you.”

But fate was cruel.

Before you could hold him, the world tilted, the strike came fast and then Ace fell.

You screamed, reached for him, but the weight of the impossible dragged him away as he collapsed against Luffy.

His eyes found yours one last time as you rushed to his side, pain, love, and regret mingled there.

“Forgive me,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I can’t stay.”

And then the light faded.

You collapsed beside him, tears burning hotter than any flame.

The cursed fruit’s visions haunted you, not just desire, but loss, the unbearable cost of love in a world broken by war.

💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

Thatch

Most of the time the things you saw when you touched one of the crew, it was harmless. Boring. A snack, a promotion, a quiet nap, a woman for a night.

But then came Thatch..

You had tripped on the stairs. He had caught you, calloused hands gripping your bare forearm.

It was instinct. Reflex. He held you like it was nothing.

But it hit you like a cannonball.

A vision, a future you didn’t know he imagined.

You laughing in a kitchen filled with light. A ring on your finger. His jacket over your shoulders. His lips on your neck as he hugged you from behind. A home. A love. You and him. Happy.

You jolted, gasped, scrambled away like he burned you. The tray crashed to the ground. He blinked, confused.

“…You okay, sweetheart?”

You stared at him. Too long. Too hard.

And he looked at you like you were precious, like you were the One Piece.

“You’ve got eyes like a trap, sweetheart. I walk in, and I don’t wanna leave.” He said with a charming smile.

And you suddenly couldn’t bear it.

You thought maybe if you gave it time, the feeling would pass. His desire would fade. He’d meet someone else, flirt with some girl at a port bar like he always did.

But it didn’t fade no in fact it only grew stronger.

Every time he touched you, you saw more and more and always you and him together, always a ring on your finger, always him cherishing and loving you.

And the worst by now you wanted it too.

But what if it was just a fantasy? A fleeting thought sparked by the fruit? You couldn’t trust what you saw. You shouldn’t trust it. So you kept your distance because you were a coward.

And Thatch noticed.

“Did I do something?”

His voice was quieter than usual. No teasing. No smug grin.

You looked up from your mug. You hadn’t even realized he was in the galley.

“…No,” you said quickly. “I’ve just… had a lot on my mind.”

He nodded slowly.

Then, he walked to you, stood close and gently placed his hand on yours.

The heat surged and another vision flooded you.

You and him under the stars and him leaning in kissing you underneath the moonlight. Whispering your name like a prayer, his eyes full of love. “You’re the only one I’d never stop chasing because you’re worth it.” And then he knelt and pulled out a small box with a ring inside, it was his dream idea to ask you to marry him.

You bit your tongue when the vision ended.

“I think about you a lot,” he said. Honest. Low. “Not just in the way you probably think. Not just for a night.”

You swallowed.

“I know you’ve got secrets. Everyone here does.” His thumb brushed your knuckle. “I won’t ask for them. But if you ever want to talk, or, hell, even yell at me, I can take it.”

You didn’t respond.

You were afraid if you opened your mouth, you’d tell him you saw every secret he didn’t know he had.

And god how you loved him for it and that was eating at you.

A few days later Thatch burst into your quarters with the giddy energy of a boy who found buried treasure.

“You won’t believe what I found”

You blinked blearily from your hammock. “If it’s more spiked jam, I swear I’ll kill you.”

“Nope. Better.” He held out the chest.

Inside sat a strange black fruit, spiraled and sinister. It gave you a strange feeling.

“…Is that a Devil Fruit?” you asked cautiously.

He nodded. “I checked the book. Yami Yami No Mi. Darkness. Gravity. Crazy stuff.”

You sat up. “Where did you get this?”

“Found it,” he smirked brightly.

“You wanna consume a Devil Fruit that gives….really bad vibes” you asked carefully and he just gave you that charming smile.

“Probably, you should have seen Teach I think he’s a little jealous that I found this beauty” Thatch joked but you didn’t think this was a joking matter.

“…Thatch, I don’t like this”

He waved you off. “Ah don’t worry sweetheart, I’m still debating when to bite into it, by our rule – finders keepers.”

“Just be careful,” you muttered.

He chuckled. “Aren’t I always?”

You looked at him.

“No. You’re not that’s why I said it.”

He smiled and stepped close and before you knew it cupped your cheek. His thumb grazed your skin and the desire hit again.

He wanted to tell you he loved you. Not someday. Tomorrow. Out on the deck. You and him the morning breeze the sun rising and him holding your hand, kissing you and telling you those three words.   

Your heart was racing, your cheeks heating up and you almost said it back.

But fear won again and you still didn’t dare telling him about your power about the fact that you felt for him, what he felt for you. You sighed….tomorrow, tomorrow you’d tell him, tomorrow when those three words would leave his lips you would tell him everything you decided.

The next morning you woke up to shouting. Marco. Vista. Ace.

You staggered out of bed barefoot, heart thundering.

You knew, you felt it that something was wrong.

“Where’s Thatch?”

No one answered you but the looks on their face said enough.

You stormed onto the deck and found him there. Face down. Crumpled. Bleeding.

Your knees gave out.

The Yami Yami no Mi was gone. So was Teach.

Thatch’s lips were still. His body still warm.

And all you could think was: He died wanting me. And I never said it back.

They buried him at sea. You didn’t cry. Not at first. You were too angry. At yourself. At Teach. At fate.

But that night, alone on deck, you finally whispered the words:

“I saw you. Every time you touched me. I saw how you felt and I loved you too. ”

The stars said nothing.

You swallowed, grief and regret washing over you. Regret you never told him, you never let him in on your secret, on the fact you felt the same, that you wanted to kiss him as badly as he wanted to kiss you.

“I felt it too. But I was afraid… that maybe it wasn’t real. That it was just the fruit messing with my head.”

You touched your own arm, where he used to hold you.

“…But it was real, wasn’t it?”

You smiled. Broken. Tired.

“I would’ve said yes, Thatch. If you had asked.”

The wind carried nothing back but salt and silence.