#thatch x reader

Then, without a word, you pivot like a professional rugby player with Olympic instincts and vanish into the crowd. One clean, graceful escape.

Shanks freezes mid-laugh, hand still hovering in the air like a man suddenly realizing the joke was on him. “Was that—?”

Benn doesn’t even look up from his drink. “Yeah. That was her. Saw the mark.”

Shanks blinks once. Twice. “...Shit.”

He’s gone before anyone notices, tripping over a chair, losing a boot, and knocking over three bottles in what can only be described as the sexiest disaster exit in Grand Line history.

Cut to three days later.

You open your door to find him standing there barefoot, slightly sunburned, holding a lopsided bouquet that looks like it was stolen from several gardens and maybe a funeral. His shirt is half-tucked, his grin sheepish enough to count as a confession, and his hair somehow still looks good.

“Hey,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “So, about that noble…”

You stare. Then you close the door in his face.

There’s silence for a moment. Then a soft thud as he leans against the door with a defeated sigh. “Yeah. Fair.”

Benn Beckman

You find him at some dingy seaside bar, cigar in one hand, whiskey in the other, and someone perched far too comfortably on his lap. He’s smirking, voice low, the kind of charm that should come with a warning label.

Your soulmate mark flares like it’s personally offended.

He glances up mid-laugh and sees you in the doorway.

You stare. He stares. The mark glows brighter.

You turn on your heel and vanish so fast the door’s still swinging.

Benn just sighs, long and slow, the sound of a man whose night got complicated.

Shanks, from the next table, grins. “That her?”

Benn nods. “Yeah.”

Shanks smirks. “You gonna chase her?”

Benn takes a drag, blows out smoke, and mutters, “Yep. And she’s gonna shoot me when I get her.”

Narrator: She did, in fact, aim first.

Kaido

He is blackout drunk, shirt hanging open, bottle of sake in one hand, and a very enthusiastic woman in the other. He’s alternating between drinking and making out, somehow managing to look both victorious and tragic.

You step into the main hall of the Beast Pirates’ compound. The air reeks of alcohol and bad decisions. Your soulmate mark goes off like a smoke alarm possessed by God.

Kaido turns, lips wet, eyes bloodshot, blinking like a confused dragon seeing daylight for the first time. “Eh? Who’re you—?”

You freeze for half a heartbeat. Then your survival instincts kick in. You turn and sprint.

Kaido blinks again, realization dawning slowly through the haze of sake. “Wait. Was that my soulmate?”

He grabs his kanabo. “OI! DON’T RUN! I’LL MAKE IT UP TO YOU!”

The ground shakes. You dive over a table. Bottles explode. Pirates scatter. Someone screams, “EARTHQUAKE,” and another yells, “NO, THAT’S JUST THE CAPTAIN FLIRTING AGAIN!”

He’s lumbering after you, half-laughing, half-shouting, smashing through walls like they owe him money.

You nearly die five times in thirty seconds. Once from debris, once from terror, and the other three just from pure cardio failure.

You don’t stop until you’ve changed islands, possibly species, and definitely legal identity.

Back in Wano, Kaido stands shirtless in the rubble of his hall, squinting at the horizon, still holding the sake bottle.

“...Think she liked me,” he mutters.

King sighs. “She jumped into the ocean.”

Kaido nods solemnly. “Yeah. Love does that to people.”

King

He’s standing there like a statue while some brave fool is trying to kiss the metal half of his face. It’s not romantic. It’s deeply awkward. Sparks are flying, literally, because the person keeps hitting the wrong angle, and you can hear enamel scraping on steel.

You step into the doorway, your soulmate mark blazing like a flare from hell.

He turns his head slightly, one red eye flickering. You make eye contact.

It’s silent. Tense. A single flame flickers along his jaw.

Then you do what any reasonable person would do in this situation. You run.

No hesitation. No dignity. Just pure flight.

He doesn’t move for a full five seconds, standing there like he’s processing a software update. Then he launches.

The air cracks. Sonic boom. You hear him before you see him.

You scream. He’s flying overhead, silent as death, cape snapping in the wind. You cut through the forest like a fugitive from destiny.

Then he’s just there. In front of you. Not even breathing hard.

You hit his chest at full speed and bounce off like a rubber ball from a tank.

He catches your wrist effortlessly, looking down at you. “Stop,” he says, calm and final. “We’re bonded. You’ll adapt.”

You respond with the only reasonable gesture left in your arsenal—you grab a rock and throw it with heroic spite.

It cracks against his chestplate. The sound echoes.

He blinks once. Then his mouth curls, barely perceptible. He looks impressed. And a little too interested.

You turn and run again, faster, nearly crying, yelling over your shoulder, “I WILL NOT ADAPT!”

He sighs, flame sparking brighter. “You will.”

He’s already following again, silent, steady, terrifyingly patient.

By the time you reach the next village, people are whispering about the strange half-metal man politely setting trees on fire while chasing a screaming stranger through the countryside.

Thatch

He’s on a kitchen counter, kissing someone like it’s the final round of a cooking competition and the secret ingredient is tongue flambé. There’s flour in his hair, an apron hanging off one shoulder, and enough ego in the room to season a feast.

You walk in. You see him. He sees you.

Your soulmate mark flares like a warning siren. His eyes go wide.

You turn and flee like someone just yelled “Salmonella!”

He blinks once. “Wait—babe?”

Then he’s after you, apron flapping, spatula still in hand, yelling across the kitchen, “BABE, WAIT! I HAVE DESSERT! I DIDN’T KNOW YOU’D BE HOT!”

You’re already halfway down the hall, vaulting over a chair.

He keeps running, charming and chaotic, shouting apologies to passing crewmates as he goes. “MOVE! I’M IN LOVE AND ALSO ON FIRE!”

You dive straight out the window, hit the lawn, and keep running like your life depends on it.

Thatch leans out after you, spatula raised triumphantly. “SHE’S JUST PLAYING HARD TO GET!”

You weren’t.

Two hours later, the crew is still laughing while he’s insisting, “It’s a romantic slow burn!”

Marco

He’s very politely pulling back from a kiss with someone who clearly started it. It’s all calm and soft lighting, the sort of scene that would be tasteful if your soulmate mark wasn’t glowing like a cursed nightlight.

Then he looks up. Sees you. Sees your mark. Sees the exact expression of “divine betrayal and mild cardiac arrest” on your face.

You don’t say a word. You just run. Like your shoes are late on rent and you’re collecting interest.

Marco blinks once. Sighs. “Yoi… not how I wanted to meet you.”

Then he bursts into flames. Not metaphorically. Literally. Blue fire. Giant glowing bird.

He’s following from above, all calm and glowing while you’re down below, sprinting through the jungle like a feral tax evader.

“I can wait,” he calls, in the most soothing voice imaginable for someone currently on fire.

You trip over a root and eat dirt.

He lands beside you in one elegant swoop, feathers shimmering, posture apologetic. “Careful, yoi. You’ll hurt yourself.”

You look up, covered in mud, gasping for breath.

He smiles gently. “We can talk when you’re done running.”

You throw a coconut at him.

Ace sighed and opened his eyes fully. “How could you tell?”

“You snore very loudly when you’re asleep.”

“Then why do you always read where I’m sleeping? Even when everybody else clears out?” He turned over to look at you, smile more playful than accusing. “It’s suspicious.”

“Is it really? Or did Marco tell you that it’s suspicious?”

“Marco says everything you do is suspicious.”

You rolled your eyes and put your book down in front of you. “I’m well aware. He’s told me that at least ten times since I arrived.”

There was a level of awkwardness that came with being trapped on a ship of this size when the second in command and chief medic didn’t like you much. Well, trapped wasn’t the right word. You could leave at any time but you didn’t turn down an important favour just because your presence ruffled some pretty feathers.

“Do you find me suspicious Ace?”

“Nah,” he said. “Kind of weird, sure, but I don’t think you’re up to anything.”

You laughed softly, finding no trace of malice in his easy smile. “Your captain trusts me. That’s enough, hm?”

“Kind of but that’s also the weird part. You’re like exactly the type Pops would want to swipe up but I haven’t even heard him ask you to stick around. And most of us really enjoy it when you visit.”

“Marco doesn’t.”

“What does he know?” Ace snorted softly. “He gets strange about you.”

You shook your head at the jovial response. “For your information, Whitebeard has asked me no fewer than four times. But all of those times came before even you joined. You forget I’ve been visiting longer than you’ve been aboard, kid?”

Ace huffed, narrowing his eyes at you. “I’m not a kid.”

“Sure.”

“Hey, look, I have a kid brother so I know what a kid is, alright?” he griped, sitting up properly and tugging his hat back onto his head.

Brilliant logic. You laughed under your breath and reopened your book. “You should go back to your nap. I enjoy that it keeps most of the crew away from me.”

He crossed his arms. “Maybe I would have if you didn’t call me a kid.”

“I’m sorry,” you said sweetly and he laughed, throwing his arms above his head in a stretch.

You took a second to glance over the top of your book and watch the ripple of his muscles against the warm sunlight. He caught your look and grinned, flexing his chest until you shook your head and went back to your book.

“You can keep looking,” he offered.

“As much as I’m sure you would like that, I’m reaching the climax,” you said. “Very important chapter.”

“Ha, sure.”

Ace did end up falling back asleep, sitting upright this time with his head tilted back and his hat dangling off. As loud as his snoring was, you couldn’t deny it did offer you some peace from the rest of the crew as they avoided whatever room he’d passed out in.

Which, on your latest arrival, had almost exclusively been whichever room you were in.

You’d originally thought Marco put him up to it but the more you considered him now, the more you saw something different lingering there.

Mainly because Izou, ever your favourite source of reasonable conversation on board, made mention of it later that night after Ace had to be dragged away from his seat next to you in the dinner hall.

“It’s like a schoolboy crush,” he said. “Even when you’re not visiting, he brings you up at least once a week.”

“How sweet.”

“I think he’s almost got it worse than Thatch.”

You snorted with laughter. “No, that’s not a schoolyard crush. That one’s because I have a pulse.”

Thatch was the one you’d been dancing around for as many years as you’d been visiting the Moby Dick. Everybody on board knew it. Your arrivals were a trigger for the chef to take on a personal mission to steal your heart with sweetened words and even better food.

But as tempted as you were – and you truly were tempted – you never indulged in anything more than flattery. You knew yourself better to try and force your heart to settle with him alone.

“If you’re sure,” Izou said.

He was far too observant for your own good and he smirked at you when you gave him a look. “Doubtful?”

“I know Thatch as well as I know you.”

“And what is it that you’ve seen?”

A strand of hair fell in his face and you had to fight the urge to brush it away. You knew how silken his hair was – having run a comb through it so many times when he asked for your assistance. Assistance you knew he didn’t truly need.

“You’ve been staying longer,” he noted casually.

“Am I unwelcome?”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

You could guess. The Moby Dick had long stopped feeling like the maze it once had on your first arrivals. You knew which parts of her creaked, which floorboards shuddered. Where Thatch kept foods you could snack on when nobody was looking and you recognised Whitebeard’s laughter from even the far reaches of the ship.

The crew recognised you too. Some far more comfortably than others.

“You’ve been looking tired though,” Izou said and his voice was quieter, conversation meant only for you despite the din in the hall.

You smiled. “I’m fine.”

He watched you carefully across the table, dark eyes steady beneath delicately brushed lashes. There was no accusation in his expression and yet somehow that made it so much worse when he checked in on you. Very little escaped him when he paid attention.

“You worry too much.”

“And you dismiss concern too easily.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then Izou sighed softly and stepped around the table, long sleeves brushing against the wood as he reached for you. His fingers smoothed lightly along the fabric near your shoulder before adjusting the collar properly into place.

His touch skimmed your skin for only a second, brief and familiar enough to make you still automatically beneath it.

“You should rest tonight,” he said.

You smiled up at him, lost in his beautiful features for a second before you responded. How enamoured you were with him. It was unfair how you looked to him regardless of your life’s problems.

Speaking of problems though, you heard your name and turned your head toward Marco with irritation already in place.

“Come,” he said. “Pops wants to see you.”

You sighed and rose, brushing your hand over Izou’s arm in gentle appreciation. “We can talk more about this later.”

“Of course.”

Marco could have let you make your way to Whitebeard by yourself but instead he followed several steps behind, steps striking steadily against the wooden floorboards while lanternlight shifted gold across the hall with the ship’s movement.

You deliberately slowed your pace just enough to irritate him, sure Whitebeard wouldn’t mind. He often laughed loudly at his son’s aversion to you.

Behind you, Marco said nothing for a long while.

“How much longer will you be on the ship?” Marco asked and you glanced to him.

“You talk to me now?”

“When it’s necessary.”

You made a point of shrugging. “I don’t know, birdy. As long as I need to be. I’ll ask him this evening, alright?”

Marco gave you a sharp look at the nickname but didn’t rise to it. “I asked Pops about it and he seems to think you’ll still be around for a while. I had thought you might have something else to do.”

“I don’t have much to do that’s better than annoying you.”

“You don’t annoy me.”

“Right.”

“I don’t trust you. That’s very different.”

There was no point in continuing this conversation, you’d already had it twice on this visit alone. You had never claimed to fully understand Marco’s distaste for you but it certainly began when you wouldn’t share your connection to his captain. Overprotective. And according to most of the crew, this behaviour was mostly reserved for you.

Which was a shame because in another life, you would gladly have tried to steal a few moments of his attention.

But one unreciprocated interest wouldn’t kill you. You had others that were far more doting.

Whitebeard confirmed, much to Marco’s annoyance, that he wanted you to remain on the ship for a few weeks longer. You hadn’t even hesitated before agreeing. You left him to debate it with his first mate while you returned to the galley, hoping to find something small to nibble and instead being presented with delicately crafted pastries.

The galley smelled faintly of sugar and warm pastry when you stepped inside. Lamps cast a soft amber glow across the counters while the last lingering heat from the ovens wrapped pleasantly around your skin.

“What are these?”

Thatch looked far too pleased with himself, sleeves rolled to his elbows and flour still dusted lightly across one forearm.

“Thought you might be leaving and I couldn’t bear you not having something to remember me by,” he said with a grin. “But if you’re going to be staying, I suppose then they’re for celebration.”

You smiled at him, not reaching for the food yet, far more interested in the rich brown eyes you were staring into.

“I don’t know why I bother moving around the rest of the ship when I can get good company and even better food here,” you said. “All my needs fulfilled in one place.”

“And with absolute pleasure.”

“If you keep spoiling me so much, I’m going to think you have a different motivation.”

He chuckled good-naturedly. “I suppose you’ve caught me though I admit, I thought I was being quite obvious this entire time.”

“You have been.”

“And yet somehow, you still haven’t married me.”

You rolled your eyes and reached for a pastry on the plate, picking up your favourite and delicately taking a bite. Thatch watched you with proud satisfaction as you hummed happily around it. Obviously, he knew it was good.

“You’re very confident for a man whose greatest competition is his own cooking,” you said.

“My cooking has already won,” he said with a lazy grin. “I’m just waiting for you to realise you need me there too.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I’ll have to keep spoiling you until you surrender.”

“That sounds exhausting.”

“For you? Never.”

Before you could decide how to respond to that, voices echoed briefly from somewhere down the hall. You tilted your head over his shoulder and Thatch sighed dramatically at the familiar sound of his division.

“There goes my peaceful evening.”

“You do have responsibilities.”

“Maybe but you always tempt me to become irresponsible on your behalf.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, lips brushing dangerously close to the corner of your mouth. “Don’t disappear before I get back.”

You watched him step out with an undeniable fondness and reached for the next pastry when the door swung open again and Marco spoke.

“I had a feeling I’d find you here.”

“Good to see you too.”

Marco ignored your sarcasm entirely. He folded his arms loosely across his chest as he fixed you with the same tired expression he always reserved specifically for you.

“Do you encourage him on purpose?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

His gaze flicked to the pastries behind you before he glanced back at you, eyes narrowed. “I need you to stop distracting Ace.”

Ace? You frowned, confused now. “What are you talking about?”

He hadn’t entered the galley properly, as though doing so would trap him in a space far too small for both of you. Ironic considering the size of the place could fit the entire fourth division with ease. You didn’t beg for a response, just watched him. Him and his unfairly nice chest that became vastly more distracting whenever he irritated you.

“If you’re staying onboard longer, he can’t be this distracted. He’s missing things. Forgetting instructions. He follows you around constantly.”

You pressed your lips together. “Maybe he just enjoys the company.”

“This isn’t funny.”

“So, what? You think I’m going to corrupt him or something?”

“I think Ace gets attached too easily.”

“He’s a grown man.”

“He’s a twenty-year-old who throws himself at things without thinking about the consequences first. And you are not the one to teach him about them.”

You put down your dessert, getting offended now at his accusation. In everything you’d argued with Marco about int the past, this was something new entirely. He’d never become this annoyed at simple attention, not even when Thatch had first started.

What made Ace so special?

“Do you think I’m manipulative then Marco?”

“Aren’t you?”

Your jaw twitched. “You seem to be the only one who thinks so.”

For a second, silence settled heavily between you and then Marco pushed himself away from the doorframe. “I mean it,” he said as he turned away. “Leave Ace alone.”

The irritation that flared in your chest rose sharp and harshly. Your responses burned in your mouth but you didn’t bother to bark something after him. What a way to ruin your appetite…

You tucked the pastries away and left a note for Thatch thanking him before you retreated to your temporary quarters, slamming the door a little too hard behind you. Sometimes Marco really knew how to get under your skin. Manipulative, really.

You dropped into your hammock and reminded yourself that pushing him overboard would do you nothing. He could fly.

By the early morning hours, the ship had gone almost entirely quiet and your stomach was awake.

Only the distant groan of wood and the steady churn of ocean remained beyond the windows while moonlight spilled silver across the empty galley floor.

The pastries hadn’t been enough.

You stood at the counter finishing something small in the pan while warmth curled against your face from the stove. The sea beyond the windows looked endless in the darkness, black water reflecting faint streaks of moonlight whenever the ship shifted.

You could probably talk to somebody about what happened later but the irritation began to ebb away as you ate and pondered your thoughts.

Thatch may have had his whole division to clean the galley (and he’d assured you a hundred times it was fine to just leave everything out after your snacks) but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave any mess in his pride and joy. So, you cleaned everything far slower than you needed to until the creak of the door turned your head.

The bright orange hat stood out against the dark of the hall and ruined any attempts at stealth; destroyed further by the way he jumped when he saw you.

“Hello Ace.”

He looked confused to see you but far from unhappy, a pleased smile spreading over his face as he stepped in. “Hey! What are you doing up so late?”

“Cleaning up after a late-night snack.”

He glanced toward the pan you were cleaning and then looked around. “Thatch still up?”

You reached into your pocket and pulled out the key to the cupboard, twirling it around your fingers for him to see before you tucked it away again. “Nope.”

“Wow, you got unlimited access to the supplies? Huh. He must really like you.”

Was that a hint of jealousy? You raised your eyebrows at Ace who must have realised something crept into his voice because he hurried to hide the flush on his cheeks. You hadn’t thought he might get jealous of your relationship with Thatch but with Izou’s earlier warning in mind…

“I think he simply got tired of me waking him up whenever I got hungry,” you said, hoping the words soothed Ace’s heart somewhat.

He grinned at you in response, pulling his hat off and tossing it onto the counter. He snatched another cloth from beside you and stepped in to help you with the remaining two dishes you hadn’t managed to dry.

“I can handle this,” you teased.

“I know but company makes everything better.”

You smiled despite yourself, shaking your head slightly as you cleaned off the knife. It was one of your favourites in the kitchen with a smooth oak handle and a tiny engraving carved into the bottom. You had no idea where it came from but ever since you voiced your like of it, you’d noticed it stayed in its own separate spot in the kitchen, untouched unless you reached for it.

Ace sidled up next to you, his arm bumping against your own as he dried the plate and when your eyes flicked to him, he was already looking at you. You smiled and he immediately looked back at the dish in his hands.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“You’re looking at me weird.”

“You were looking at me first.”

“Yeah, well…You’re nice to look at.”

You laughed softly and turned back to the sink. The bubbles popped away as you let cool water run over them. Even if it wasn’t much, you found his help with your small domestic chore undeniably endearing.

“So how are you finding the new life as a commander?” you asked.

Ace shrugged. “It’s a lot,” he admitted. “Fun but like I think Marco is trying to kill me with paperwork. And also nobody’s listening to me properly in the division yet which is annoying.”

“They’re getting used to you,” you said. “But I’m sure you’ll whip them into line quickly.”

He dried his hands, holding the kitchen towel a little too stiffly as you reached past him to take the plate. “I feel like I’m screwing something up every five minutes.”

“You’re doing fine so far.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I have eyes, sweetheart. Whitebeard wouldn’t have trusted you with this if you couldn’t handle it.”

The moment the nickname left your mouth, you saw his cheeks flame red. You gave him a second to recover, pretending you hadn’t noticed as you tucked the utensils away where you’d found them.

“Thanks. I know I’m strong,” Ace continued, quieter now. “That’s not the problem. It’s just… Feels like everybody expects me to know what I’m doing all the time.”

The words softened your heart slightly. For the first time since meeting him, he sounded less like the invincible young commander everyone boasted about and more like a man trying very hard not to disappoint everyone around him.

You sighed and closed the cupboard.

Slowly, you walked back over to him. He turned to you, expression lighting up for a second before panic set in as you stepped into his space. You lightly caught his jaw and he froze beneath your touch, pupils flaring wide when you smiled at him.

“You don’t need to be perfect,” you said. “Okay? Stop putting too much pressure on yourself. Do you think any of these idiots know what they’re doing?”

He swallowed thickly. “Do you?”

His voice cracked around the words and your eyes fluttered to his lips for just a second. They were very kissable. If that was what he meant then, yes, you knew what you were doing to him. It was painfully obvious.

“Most of the time,” you said. “Sometimes I doubt myself.”

Ace coughed and you let go of his jaw, trailing your fingers gently over the line of his throat to feel the warmth of his body. This was dangerous. Very much so.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to take that step away.

“Is something wrong?” you asked softly. “Maybe this isn’t what you want?”

“I…”

No further words escaped him but you waited, hand resting just beside his collarbone as his brain raced to catch up. You tilted your head to the side, waiting for him to do something. He reached for you slightly before he dropped his hands back to his side as though nervous to touch.

You took his hands instead, guiding them slowly to your waist. Ace inhaled sharply the moment his palms settled against you.

“I’m going to kiss you,” you warned softly. “So if you want me to stop, I need you to tell me.”

Ace stared at you like he’d forgotten how breathing worked. The kitchen suddenly felt far too warm, your bodies close enough that every uneven breath brushed against your skin.

You leaned in, close enough to feel his breath stutter over your skin as you gave him one last chance to move away before you kissed him.

Ace’s hands tightened at your waist instantly, fingertips pressing into the fabric there like the moment your lips touched he forgot every thought except you.

Heat rushed visibly through him. For one startled second his body went completely tense beneath your hands before he kissed you back hard enough to steal the breath from your lungs.

A quiet sound escaped him against your mouth, rough and helpless.

You softened the kiss instinctively before he could overwhelm himself with it but Ace followed immediately, chasing the contact. You drew back just enough to breathe and Ace stared at you with wide eyes, flushed from throat to ears, like you’d lit something inside him. He leaned in immediately and you raised a hand to his chest, nudging him gently back.

“Oh,” he said weakly.

You laughed softly despite yourself. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Okay,” he managed. “Wasn’t ready for that at all.”

“No?” you teased.

“No.” His voice dropped quieter. “Not even a little. But I really liked it.”

Ace still hadn’t let go of your waist.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The air felt strangely heavy, the kind that settled after a storm had broken open overhead. Ace kept looking at your mouth like he was trying very hard not to. And you… you were beginning to think Marco might have had a point.

Benn Beckman

Someone as suave as him has definitely tried most everything. With Benn? Probably twice. Nothing surprises him, nothing scares him. Anything you want to try with him, he’ll smirk and ask if you’re sure. If you remember your safe word. But this half drunken request? This got a raised brow. Yet, he had you strip and lay back on the bed. He made you watch as he cleaned his gun, rubbing the rifle slow and teasingly as he stared at you. When he was satisfied, he stood, bringing it with him onto the bed and setting the end between your legs. He manhandled your thigh in one hand, twisting and lifting you until the smooth wood and metal touched your most sensitive place. He easily moved both you and the gun to stimulate you, slowly at first. Then he made you cum on it. Dizzy with the forbidden and fucked up nature of it all, you were putty in his hands when he climbed onto you to have his turn.

Reiju Vinsmoke

The poison princess doesn’t have the easiest home life, so you are her lifeline, her hope. For as much as strength and invulnerability is something she strives for - to project anyway - in bed she often wants things softer, sweeter, comforting. On the days she’s wanting more though? She’ll drain your soul with her eagerness. Sometimes she needs to be dominant and take control, to test your trust and release her pent up emotions. If you want to be rough with her? Go ahead, her body can take literally anything you throw at her. On particularly raunchy nights, maybe she’ll tease about bringing in a few Germa soldiers to liven things up. Careful not to joke too much, they may be clone soldiers, but as it’s seen with the Vinsmokes, they’re men after all - lust can’t fully be removed from their dna.

Thatch

He loves cooking, and he loves you. And he loves spoiling you with your favourite foods. He makes sure you eat enough to keep up with your training and work on the crew, often insisting on seconds or dessert. And as you gain, muscle or weight or both, he’s even more obsessed with you. He has to hide his hard on when he sees your shirt ride up a bit to give a glimpse of your belly. In bed, he’s insatiable with your body, kissing and holding you endlessly as you fuck. And having the key to the pantry comes with other benefits, such as taking a bit of chocolate to melt on your chest, or syrup to lick off your skin. If you call him out on his fetishes and kinks, he’ll just fuck you until you can’t walk in punishment, smirking about how you love him anyway. He’ll fill your belly with good food and then with him. Quit complaining, okay~

X Drake

He’s a simp and a simple man. Everything you do is so precious and alluring. It drives his instincts wild - protection, affection, possession. He’s terrified to use his Zoan fruit with you, of course he’d hate himself if you got so much as a scratch. But if you insist? How the hell is he supposed to resist you begging for his dick? He sets strict rules, has an emergency kit on standby. Meanwhile, his care is just making you love him more - and amping up the anticipation. He starts with his half Zoan form, carefully having prepped you before pushing inside with this thicker cock. It’s nirvana for both of you. When he finally is persuaded to go full zoan and let you play with his enormous dick? Best have a shower ready and no plans for tomorrow - watching your little human body all over his cock like that, trying to take just the tip inside? He’ll turn back into his human size just to fuck you senseless.

Perona

Your rose haired lover is pushy, demanding, even manipulative when she wants something. Never more than when she wants you. She’s impatient, and has been known to use her negative hollow ghosts to utterly distract you from your work. She drags you back to your room and into bed, comforting you with her naked chest until you feel better. Her moods are unpredictable as to what she prefers - ordering you around and making you do all the work, making you lay back and take whatever she wants to get from you, or being the ultimate brat when you take the lead. If you’re a pushover, she won’t let you leave the bed until you’re both utterly exhausted (before demanding you go get some food from the kitchen, naturally.) But if you hold firm, she’ll definitely use such dirty tricks on you more often to get her way. Her ghosts are always ready to be released, after all.

Brook

Your boyfriend is a freak. He’s nasty and pervy and kinky and you know this. Once he finally gives in to the fact that he loves you, that you most definitely love him, and that you know how to make sex work? He’s insatiable, wanting to try everything. Every possible position, every kink, every fantasy. He’ll play a cheerful song for the crew and then come over and whisper to you, asking whether you’ve thought about the latest crazy thing he wants to try in the bedroom. Using his fingers inside you is unlike anything else, feeling every ridge and knob of his bones. Finding odd attachments for the strap (the tentacle one is still his favourite). He’s up to finding inappropriate uses for just about anything if he gets to watch your body using it. And finding inappropriate uses for his own body? Nothing beats it.

Jinbe

Having a human for a lover has always made him a little nervous. You’re just so small. Kissing is a careful thing with his tusks, his hugs are measured, laying beside one another is only for when he’s awake just in case he were to crush you. He keeps you on his chest and belly, making a nest of blankets on either side of him to keep you both comfortable. But secretly, he is obsessed with the size difference. Everything about him is big, including his cock. It’s worrisome thinking about hurting you, but damn if it isn’t the sexiest thing he’s ever seen to watch you struggle and finally manage to take him inside. The mess is considerable when he finishes, but he’s always happy to take care of you after. He loves holding any part of your body, so small and soft and warm, all for him, his brave and wonderful little human lover.

Viola of Dressrossa

You are her favourite lifeline. Her joy comes to revolve around you, on her mind all hours of day and night. And once, she was tempted to use her devil fruit to see where you were. Of course she worries. And she missed you. Seeing you going about your day was more fulfilling than she’d expected though, and she started peeking in more and more often. But never when you were home alone. She respected your privacy of course. Until… a particularly lonely evening. She burned with shame and arousal as she watched you… taking care of yourself. The next time she saw you, she mentioned something about your pajamas. Something she shouldn’t have known - they were new. Dying of embarrassment, you assured her it was flattering that she needed to see you so badly, and that she’d stay to watch the show. You make her promise to look in now and then - you’ll put on a show just for her on the nights you have to be apart.

Silvers Rayleigh

As his lover, of course he’ll train you. You need to be able to protect yourself when he’s not around, after all. And as serious as he takes your training, he’s also an unrepentant pervert and hornball. At least once per session, he’ll tease you. Holding his blade to your throat when you’re on your back, wandering hands as he adjusts your stance, offering prizes or punishment based on your success in doing as he says. When you’re too exhausted afterwards, he’ll help you wash up and reward you sweetly. But when you’re up for more? Of course haki resistance is just as important as wielding it, so he’ll use his incredible strength with it to overwhelm you. In something parallel to primal play, he’ll try to overwhelm you, fucking you in punishment if you fail. He can essentially pin you down by manipulating your own haki on top of it all. You end up with world class skills in haki and fucking both.

Koby

Your lover is so sweet on you, no matter how stressed or exhausted he is from training or work, he’s always kind and gentle with you. His desire to make it up to you for all the time he’s away makes him eager to give. While he’s always bashfully grateful when you insist on taking care of him, it’s a point of pride for him to be able to give you the best of him. The best you’ll ever have. His competition against himself grows more intense, and he starts testing his observation haki on you to try to determine what you really need. And he gets damn good at it. He knows what your body will do before you do, careful to switch things up at just the right moment. He holds you close as often as he can when he gives you those earth shattering orgasms, praising you the whole time.

Fujitora Issho

To choose him for you lover is to choose your own personal teddy bear of a lover, a cuddly tiger who delights in slow evenings and good meals with you. He’s protective and gentle, but he’s a man. And you awaken in him feelings he’s never experienced. His lust for you is embarrassingly endless, and his strength to see to your needs all night long is no question. So in those long nights of indulging lust, sometimes he can’t get close enough to you. Sometimes he wants to see you fall apart even more thoroughly than usual. So he’ll use just a hint of his devil fruit to pin you to the bed. Safe in his hands, but controlled and consumed by him. Not that he needed extra strength to hold you down, but it adds to the adrenaline when he’s taking you deep and hard.

Madam Shyarly

Your mermaid lover is twice your size, and you both can’t help but be turned on by it. Her breasts are so big to you, and your body is so cute and small. A single finger of hers is usually plenty to fill you, two when you’re needing more. She loves it when you fist her. Keeping you in her lap is her favourite. Being a fortune teller, and prone to anxiety, she’s collected crystals she feels helps channel her energy. Many of them are smooth, and late one night, already hazy from the pleasure you’d given each other, she dares to get one off its shelf. She rubs it against your skin, your sensitive places, then between your legs. She teases it to your entrance, letting the rounded end just slip in. It’s so sensual and taboo that it becomes a regular occurrence. You have a locked box now that only she has the key to, filled with crystals that have nothing to do with fortunes.

Kuma

He is always such a careful and intentional lover, always gentle and tentative in learning new ways to pleasure you. It didn’t take long however, to discover the… pleasurable potential of his devil fruit paw pads. Rubbing them on your chest, stimulating your nipples. Softly grinding his palm between your legs. With the give, they’re even more effective than his broad fingertips. He needs a bit of encouragement before doing anything harder, needing to be assured it won’t hurt you. But he learns the right pressure to hold you in his palms, how to use the smaller pads to add additional stimulation. He’s too shy and modest to ever put his hands down your clothes in public, but in the comfort of your own home, sometimes he’ll be persuaded to rub you with them, carrying you to bed when your legs give out to give you his full attention.

Okiku of Wano

She was shy at first when it came to intimacy with you, but once she was assured of your love and your ability to make her feel feminine, she grew bolder. A lifetime of avoidance and repression made her curious and eager to try everything. She bought Wano’s version of the Karma Sutra, jade eggs, and quartz wands for the bedroom. With your help, she trained to be able to use them on herself with you, and if you’re willing, to use them on you too. The eggs rest inside, adding extra stretch and pressure to penetration. The wands help her prepare for you, and make for a tantalising show to use in front of you. It helps her affirm herself just as much, and sometimes asks you to use it on her.

Hongo, Dr. of the Red Hair Pirates

Regardless of your… equipment, your doctor lover is determined to never hurt you. He’s oddly adamant on training your pelvic muscles once you two reach the point of regular intimacy. He insists on using dilators to prep you, even on days you’re not planning to sleep together. Even if you say you can do it yourself, he insists on being there to make sure you insert them properly. Can’t have you getting hurt, now. Anally or otherwise, he’ll carefully push them inside you, and when it’s time to remove it, he’ll reward you for obeying your doctor’s orders with an orgasm or two. When he’s trained you well enough, he’ll suggest something crazy and possibly not medically sound - taking both one of the dilators and him inside at the same time. Are you adventurous enough?

Kyros of Dressrossa

He’d been used to living without his leg for years, and even with his balancing skill, it wasn’t always practical to hop everywhere. So you found him a cane. It was beautiful but simple, with a classy sheen to seal the wood. It took him a long time to warm up to it, but whenever he had a longer way to go, it was the lifesaver you’d promised it would be. As his lover, your job is often to make him rest. But he still pushes it. So once when he was out late, you were tired and desperately horny and a bit drunk, and took the cane that he’d left behind for the day and rubbed yourself against it. He was stunned speechless when he came home. But you were just so devastatingly sexy that he came to join you on the bed, holding the long rod himself to help you get off on it. His heavy accent in your ear didn’t hurt in that effort.

Cheap bonus: Whitebeard

Clothes? Check. First aid kit? Check. Matches and firestarter? Check. Food and water? Check. Hygiene supplies? Check. Emergency shelter? Check. Money? Check.

Looks like you’re all set. After settling your hat into your head and pulling the bill down over your eyes as you always do, you steel your resolve for what is to come.

With your backpack slung over your shoulder, you march out of the barracks so you can begin your mission. At least, that’s what everyone thinks you’re doing. You’ll let them keep believing that.

A sharp call of your name brings you to a halt, and you instinctively stand at attention. The empty halls allow for the sound of his footsteps to echo all around you. It’s debatable which is louder. The Admiral’s footsteps, or your own heartbeat. 

Akainu comes to a stop in front of you, glowering down at your form. His piercing eyes scrutinize your appearance. Instead of your usual uniform, you’re in civilian clothing for the mission. Spying in a Marine’s uniform would obviously not go well.

“At ease.” You robotically relax your posture at his command. “I trust that you don’t need any further briefing on your mission?”

“No, sir.” Despite the man in front of you being your biological father, this is the only way you referred to him. Both in and out of work. “I understand the assignment in full.”

“As you should. I expect you to come back with results.”

“I will, sir.”

The Admiral stares at you a moment longer, then nods sharply, “You are dismissed.”

“Yes, sir.” With that, you take your leave, stepping down the halls of the base to leave. Just as you’re about to pass the threshold, you hear your name spoken again.

Akainu’s expression is as terse as ever as he stares a hole into you. He then sighs and turns away, “Don’t disappoint me.”

Of course those are his last words to you. Resentment twists inside you like a knife. Fuck this. You can’t wait to never have to see this bastard’s face again. You don’t respond to him, and you know that he doesn’t expect you to.

You hurry out of the base, eager to leave. The swinging doors are thrown open unceremoniously in your rush to put as much distance between you and Akainu as possible.

"Oh? Were you planning on leaving without saying bye to me? I'm hurt." Slowly drawled out words greet your ears, bringing you to a halt and making you whip around.

"Uncle!" A rare smile sneaks across your face, "I thought you were still away on a mission."

"I was. I got back a little bit ago. Just in time, too" Kizaru pushes his lanky body away from the wall he was leaning against and meanders over to you. His hand reaches out and flicks your hat off before gently rustling your hair. If anyone else did this, you would break their arm for the audacity, but you make an exception for him.

If he could indulge you by allowing you to refer to him as Uncle after what was initially just a little slip up thanks to hearing Sentomaru say it so many times, then you could tolerate the mussing of your hair. Just tolerate. You totally weren't enjoying the attention or anything like that.

"So, what is this mission of yours? I heard that you were going to be spying on Red Haired Shanks, but that can't be right."

You shake your head, "That is right. They wanted to send someone that he would be less likely to recognize if he spots."

Kizaru withdraws his hand and sighs in a drawn out fashion, "You don't sound very concerned. You do know that's an Emperor, yes?"

"I know that," you grumble and roll your eyes at his lack of faith in you. "I'm going to be careful. I promise you, he'll never even see me." If only he knew just how true that was going to be. Shanks would never see you. Nor would his crew. Or anyone in his general area, for that matter.

The Admiral stares at you, and you squirm ever so slightly under his gaze. There was no way for him to know what you were up to, but that didn't stop the irrational fear from taking root regardless.

Finally, mercifully, he breaks eye contact and looks away with another beleaguered sigh. "I hope you're right." Kizaru ducks down to pluck your fallen hat off the ground. He dusts it off and drops it onto your head. It's noticeably crooked. You figure that he did it on purpose. "Will you promise your uncle something?"

"Of course." The response is almost instinctual.

"Come back if it starts to get risky. That mission isn't worth losing your life over."

His concern for your safety creates a conflicting storm of warmth and guilt within you. Returning to the Marines was out of the question, but you obviously couldn't say as much. Instead, you do what any rational soon-to-be traitor would do under your circumstances. Lie.

"I'll leave as soon as it gets dangerous, I promise." It's a half truth. Yeah, you'll never be anywhere near Shanks, but you will be leaving danger in a sense.

"Alright." Kizaru pats your head, "Take care of yourself, (Y/N)."

"I will. Goodbye, Uncle." You turn your back to him and fix your hat. "Tell Sentomaru I said bye."

A hum of acknowledgement is all you get in response from Kizaru. There's a 50/50 chance that it'll slip his mind until much later, but what can you do? That's just how he is. You'll miss him and Sentomaru when you're gone.

But that's neither here nor there. You need to leave before Akainu notices that you're still here and lollygagging. You stride toward the docks where a privateer vessel is waiting for you. It was a small, inboard paddlewheeler with an enclosed helm that doubled as a sleeping quarters. A nice ship. Shame you’re going to have to ditch it soon.

“(Y/N)!” There was a call of your name yet again. The imposing figure of one of the men under your command is looming over your ship. He's too big to be getting on it, so he's left standing on the dock near it and tossing some boxes of provisions to someone on the boat. He turns to you with a broad smile across his scarred face. "We've got 'er ready for you!"

A wisp of a smile graces your typically stern features, “Thanks, Sven. I appreciate it.”

The person that had been in the helm squeezes out of the door and joins you two on the dock. Nesca may be on the short side for a fishman, but she's still a couple heads taller than you. The modified dorsal fin sprouting from her head that anglerfish were named after bounces and sways as she makes the jump.

She flashes you a smile filled with needle like teeth and winks, "I snuck some extra snacks in for you with the rest of that stuff."

"Nesca, they're going to notice that when they take inventory later."

"So what? What are they going to do? Fire me for making sure you don't starve while on your mission?" As expected, she was entirely unbothered by the threat of disciplinary action. She was the type to go with the flow of things regardless of where exactly that flow took her. She couldn't care less if it gets her in trouble.

Sven lets out a bellowing laugh, "Besides, we both did it, so they're going to have a hard time pinning down who did it!"

"Might not be that hard if you keep yelling it." You roll your eyes and have to make a considerable effort to suppress the smile threatening to show itself again.

"Well, whatever. Nothing that they will do will be as much of a blow to our egos as being held back from joining you on this mission." Sven crosses his muscular arms and scowls at the base in the distance, "They're letting a kid go and stake out an Emperor, but they won't let us, actual adults, tag along to make sure you have support if things get hairy. If that isn't a kick in the teeth, I don't know what is."

"Yeah," Nesca chimes in, "we've been through so much together, but now is when they separate us? Talk about ridiculous."

These two have been under your command since you became a lieutenant. For every achievement and failure you've had in your career, they've been right behind you. Of course, there have been many more people in your units over the years, but these two were among the three that had been consistent through every promotion. The third... he wasn't here anymore.

"They probably don't want to risk Red Haired Shanks becoming suspicious from seeing a trio following him around." That, and neither of these people could exactly be considered conspicuous. Sven was damn near ten feet tall, and Nesca was a fishman. They would absolutely call attention to you if you three were to go on this mission together.

Nesca was less than impressed with the explanation. "I guess that makes some sense, but I still don't get why they're okay with sending you off like some sacrificial lamb. Can your dad seriously not be bothered to give enough of a shit to at least try and pull some strings to get you backup?"

Hearing Akainu getting referred to in such a cozy term of endearment makes you want to reprimand Nesca, but you refrain. You know that she doesn't mean anything by it. Despite her concerns, Akainu's inaction has worked in your favor. Having anyone with you would have been a massive hindrance to your plan.

Another hindrance would be Akainu coming over here if he notices you're still here and not diligently heading toward your destination. You shoulder past your comrades and leap onto the boat, “I’m not a sacrifice. The rank of Commodore wasn’t handed to me, I earned it. I’ve been trained for this for as long as I can remember.”

"I know, I know." Nesca waves her hand dismissively, "We're just looking out for you. You better be careful out there."

Sven easily unties the rope anchoring your boat to the dock and tosses it to you. “Good luck, (Y/N)! I can’t wait to hear about everything when you’re back!”

"I will! You two stay out of trouble while I'm gone!" While you do hope that they'll behave for their sake, that first part was a lie. You won’t be back. Never. You’d rather die than ever set foot on a Marine base again.

—

Several weeks have passed since your departure and covert runaway. At this point, they still believe you to be on assignment, and if everything continues as planned, it should be several months before your absence becomes known. Due to the high risk nature of spying on an Emperor, there would be zero communications until you got back. Sengoku wasn’t willing to risk you being found out if the Red Haired Pirates had a black transponder snail on them. Not only would it jeopardize your safety seeing as that you were alone and didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell against an Emperor’s crew, but the discovery would likely make them much harder to tail going forward since they would now know to be wary of this tactic.

Of course, you were nowhere near where that crew had been sighted lurking about. Your end goal was to get out of the Grand Line entirely and start life anew on some remote island where no one would ever think to look for you. Ideally, you would be assumed dead. Killed in action while stalking a predator you had no hopes against. 

If anyone knew you were still alive and just deserted the marines… Well, you’ve seen what Akainu does to people like that, and you aren’t naive enough to think that you’ll get special treatment purely because you’re his child. If anything, that would incentivize him more to make an example out of you. To prove that he would never go easy on anyone.

All in the name of his precious Absolute Justice. 

Currently, your biggest hurdle was the calm belt. Even if you hadn’t ditched- and burned- your original vessel, it would have done little to help you cross it. Sure, the absence of wind and ocean currents wouldn’t have slowed it down, but its wooden structure never would have stood a chance against the dense population of sea kings lurking in the depths of that part of the sea.

What you needed was something sturdy and fast. A high powered engine in a preferably metal boat that could take a few hits if need be. On top of that, you needed some weapons to assist you in fending off the beasts. As powerful as you were, even you could only do so much against the likes of such a creature.

Despite all of the risks, you feel relatively confident in your plan. All that you need to do is make it at least halfway through. After that, you think you’ll be able to fly the rest of the way out or at least island hop to the North Blue. Of course, you being a zoan devil fruit user came with risks, but hopefully the fear of drowning if your wings grow too tired will motivate you to persevere through exhaustion.

As long as you can pull this off, and do so without calling attention to yourself, you’ll finally have the freedom you’ve yearned after for so long. It’s so close that you can taste it.

“Commodore (Y/N)! Fancy seeing you here.”

W h a t ?

Once hot blood runs cold as ice through your veins. Who the fuck said that? You slowly turn your head to look over your shoulder to see who just recognized you. This could ruin everything. You can’t risk a sighting. You’ll have to kill whoever saw you.

“Whoa! If looks could kill, I don’t think I’d survive that one!” The man laughs and jumps down from the rooftop he’d been perched upon. Oh, fuck. That’s Fire Fist Ace. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-

Another person drops down in front of you, prompting you to whip your head back around only to see Marco the Phoenix blocking the other exit to this alleyway. Oh, this couldn’t get any worse! What’s next?! Is fucking Whitebeard himself going to appear, too?!

More Whitebeard Pirates filter into the alley, but Ace and Marco appear to be the only Division Commanders here. Your hands clench into fists at your sides, “What the fuck do you want from me?”

Marco holds up his hands in a placating manner, though it’s anything but. “Nothing much,” he steps closer, “I promise that none of us want to hurt you, but we’re in a bit of a bind.”

“And? How’s that my problem?”

“We need to pick up some medicine for our pops, but the only island that has enough of it right now has a Marine base on it. This medicine is really important, we can’t risk it getting destroyed in an attack, so that’s where you come in. In order to guarantee its safety, we’ll let them know that we have an Admiral’s kid in our custody, and that you won’t be released unless we get what we need.” Marco smirks, “Now are you going to make this easy or difficult? Because I can promise you, you’re coming with us whether you like it or not.”

No. No, no, no, no, no, no! This isn’t happening! This can’t be fucking happening! You were so close, and now everything is going to be ruined because of some fucking pirates! Your hands are shaking- no, your whole body is! Your heart is pounding, adrenaline is spiking, your nerves are on fire. No. You aren’t about to give up and let them take you and ruin your life.

“No… you can’t do this to me.” You shake your head and meet Marco’s lax eyes, “I won’t let you!”

In a split second, your arms transform into wings, and you shoot yourself up into the air. Your legs turn next, shifting into clawed talons that you use to send an attack at Fire Fist and the people clustered around him. Everyone but him dives out of the way as the strike slashes through the cobblestones and walls. Ace tanks the hit directly, but all it does is go right through the logia devil fruit user.

“Not bad, but you’re going to need to do better than that to actually hurt me!” Ace erupts into a column of flames and directs it right at you. Just what you wanted. You flap your wings hard, blasting the fire right back at him- but more importantly- the people around him. They all scream as their clothes catch to fire, making Ace immediately panic and focus on them rather than you.

Not wanting to waste a single precious second, you take off, cutting through the air with remarkable speed. That much is to be expected of someone with the Tori Tori no Mi Model: Peregrine Falcon. As one of the fastest animals on the planet, your speed was generally unmatched. Kizaru was the only person that could ever really challenge you in terms of speed. Escaping these pirates should be a breeze.

“You’re pretty good! I wouldn’t expect anything less from an Admiral’s kid!” The voice of Marco comes from above.

You look up just in time to dodge him swooping down to try and grab you. Fuck, he’s fast! It’s time to engage in some real evasive maneuvers. You rip off your backpack and chuck it at him, then shift into your full beast form.

With your body shrunk down to the size of the bird your devil fruit is modeled after, taking the backpack with you would be impossible. You’ll have to come back for it later, or maybe not at all depending on how poorly this goes. 

In your true form, you’re able to take full advantage of the speed the peregrine falcon is known for. Buildings all meld into a blur as you rocket through and around them. A family shrieks as you speed through one open window and out the other, then you’re weaving through lines upon lines of laundry, and next you’re in an open market.

As quickly as you shot off, you stop and slip under a table, the cloth on it easily concealing your presence. Your heart is pounding and you’re panting hard as you wait in silence. The tablecloth doesn’t get ripped off by your pursuer or anyone else, so you’re cautiously optimistic that you succeeded in losing him. Now you just had to figure out how to get out of here without being spotted again. All of those pirates saw what you look like in all of your forms, which was going to be a major problem. The second you leave this sanctuary, you’re going to be at risk.

There isn’t a clear, easy option. You’re just going to have to take a gamble and hope that your beast form will be unassuming enough to not catch their eyes again. You peek under the tablecloth to see if any of the Whitebeard Pirates are lurking nearby. It doesn’t look like any of them are here.

Okay, here goes nothing. You fly out from your hiding spot and high into the air at what should look like a normal speed for a bird. Flying as fast as you can would just draw attention to you. So long as you look like a normal bird at a glance, you should be able to get away unnoticed.

“There you are.”

Before you can even blink, a taloned foot closes around your small form. You squawk in surprise, then immediately shift into a half-bird form to try and break Marco’s hold. Something cold snaps around your wrist, and all of your energy is sapped away in an instant, right along with your powers.

Sea stone cuffs. They came prepared. You fall through the air, but only briefly before Marco catches you. He lands hard on a rooftop, but remains upright and doesn’t drop you. He grins, but his eyes have an odd gleam to them that you don’t recognize, “You’re good. I didn’t think they still made Marines like you anymore.” Why is he complimenting you? Freak.

You start to struggle in his hold, but he’s faster than you and locks the other cuff around your free hand. Now you’re completely at their mercy. This is awful. This is a worst case scenario.

“Now then, let’s get you back to the ship.”

—

The journey from the small seaside town to the Whitebeards’ ship was lost on you. You weren’t processing any of it. As soon as reality sank in, you went completely numb. Every word said by the pirates bounced right off you.

They were going to know. You’re nowhere near where Shanks and his crew are. They’re going to know you deserted. He’s going to know you deserted. It’s over. Your life is over. These pirates signed your death certificate as soon as they locked those cuffs on you.

Distantly, you glance at your surroundings. You’re chained to a cot in what looks to be the ship’s infirmary, if all the nurses milling about are anything to go off of. Only one of your hands is cuffed, the other is free again. They aren’t concerned about a devil fruit user being dangerous while sea stone cuffs are eating away at their strength. What a disaster. Years of training, and this is how it ends. How humiliating.

And to make it worse: your hat is gone, leaving your face bare for all to see. Now that you're thinking about it, you probably lost it during the initial chase. You were so consumed with getting away that you can't even recall when exactly it was lost.

Fingers snap in front of your face, and you look up sluggishly at the person disturbing you. Twin Blade Thatch is at your bedside, looking… confused? Sad? This is another expression that you don’t recognize.

He smiles slightly, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes, “You okay there, kid?” When you don’t answer, he looks over his shoulder, “Did you give them something?”

“No,” the voice belongs to Marco. “They’ve been out of it since we caught them. They’re… really upset about getting captured, it seems.”

Thatch lightly claps you on the shoulder, “Don’t beat yourself up about it, kid. It’s not like you got caught by a weak crew. There are plenty of Marines well above your rank that wouldn’t have won that fight either.”

“Yeah, you actually gave us some real trouble there at the start.” Ace was in here too, apparently. “Not many people are able to use my own powers against me, that was pretty smart.”

“Before I forget to ask, do you have any allergies? I don’t want to accidentally kill you with my cooking.” Thatch stares at you expectantly, but his smile fades as you neglect to answer his question. “Is that a… no? Come on, I’m just trying to help you out here, you don’t need to be so guarded. I can even make you your favorite meal to make up for the situation we put you in.”

“It doesn’t matter…” Nothing does.

“Don’t say that. We’ve gotta feed you, kid.” That weird expression is on his face again. You wish he’d stop making it at you. “It won’t take long to get the medicine we need. You’ll be back with your old man before you know it.”

No!

“I won’t go back!” Hot tears start to drip down your face, then pour as the last thread of sanity within you snaps, “I’m not going back! You can’t make me go back to that place! To him! I won’t let you!”

Ace is standing close enough that you’re able to lunge at him and rip the dagger from his belt with your free hand. He tries to snatch it back, but your frenzied state gives you the speed you usually only have with your devil fruit’s help. You aren’t going back, you’ll make sure of it! Marco might be able to heal, but he isn’t a necromancer. Even he won’t be able to do anything about a corpse. Dying by your own hands will be better than being burnt alive by the magma Akainu will use on you.

You raise the knife high, then plunge it down at your stomach. A wide, manic grin breaks out across your face in what will be your final moments. You've taken control of your fate. You've won against Akainu. You can die happy knowing that.

Blood splatters all over your torso… but you don’t feel any pain. You blink once, then twice. Your eyes finally focus on the sight in front of you. The knife is stabbed into a hand. It then closes around the hilt and snatches the weapon from your hands. Ace lets out a string of curses as he stumbles back and rips his own dagger from his hand.

All you can do is stare at him. W… What? Why did he do that? That shouldn’t have hurt him. Why would a logia devil fruit user let himself get hurt like that?

Nurses rush toward him, but also you. All of your limbs are pinned down by them. Not that there was any need. The fight had left your body as your mind grew hazy again. You didn’t get it. You couldn’t comprehend what just happened or why.

A prick to your neck snaps you out of it. Your head was being held down, but your eyes flit to the side and see that Marco had a needle pressed into your neck and was injecting you with something. In an instant, a warmth spreads through you, and your body goes completely slack.

Marco heaves a sigh and sets the syringe aside. His hand gently strokes your hair for reasons you couldn’t understand. He speaks softly, “There we go, just calm down. You don’t have to go back if you don’t want to. It’s okay.”

On the other side of the room, Nurses are fretting over Ace’s wound. One even goes so far as to scold him, “What were you thinking? You have logia powers! Why would you let yourself get hurt like this?” Even in your sluggish state, your ears perk at the interrogation. You wanted to know this, too.

Ace looked almost offended by the question. “What do you mean “why”? If I’d let that go through me, it would have gone into them instead. Better my hand, than their guts.”

His answer did nothing but spawn more questions. What did he mean by that? Why would it be better for him to get hurt than for you to die? Your life was of no real significance to him. All that you were was a bargaining chip, and you didn’t even need to be alive for that. They just had to make the Marines believe that you were.

None of this makes sense. What is wrong with these people? You’re an enemy. Your death should be celebrated, not prevented. You don’t get it, and your mind growing more and more foggy by the second isn’t helping.