#thatch/reader

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

A Sparrow at Sea (2/4)

MDNI

Whitebeard pirates/reader (fem? functionally gender-neutral)

I do not curate tag lists, but I reply to comments on each chapter when the next goes live.

Summary: Turned into a bird as part of a slave-smuggling operation, you get your revenge - and then your revenge gets you. Panicked and alone, you crash land on a very large, very famous ship full of very large and quite infamous men.

Warnings: mild body horror, technically kidnapping, reasonable fear of death

Master List

You blinked. You breathed. Your chest rose and fell much too quickly as you tried to determine if you were alright. Feathers on your chest fluttered in the stiff, ocean breeze, and the sensation carried down through the quills into your flesh.

It made you sick.

You weren’t sure you had the energy to roll over if you threw up, though. So best not.

Your vision was different. Without the mission, without the fear, rage, and adrenaline, you couldn’t help noticing just how wrong the world looked. There was too much, and your eyes didn’t focus the way you wanted them to. Your peripheral vision was overwhelming, and the narrow point of binocular crossover stabbed you with details you didn’t want or need. Bits of bird shit pressed in groves of the planks left from the last cleaning. An ant missing one leg. Scratches and dents where men stood on watch.

Aches clenched through unfamiliar muscles, and crackling agony radiated down toes that were too few and too long.

Your fucking teeth were gone.

And the exhaustion turned the glut of sensory information into a smokey haze, just like the fire you’d set. You wandered blind through your own thoughts, trying to find a plan, or some grounding sensation that didn’t horrify you the more you considered it.

Rest hovered out of reach, driven away by confusion and the human drive to fix all this before… before what? It stuck? You stayed a bird forever?

Fuck if you knew how that Devil Fruit worked.

Maybe you’d just pop back into your human skin, naked and unarmed on a strange ship at any second.

You stretched your feet. The tiny, useless talons flexed against the sky.

How long did sparrows usually live? Would this body follow bird rules that way, or would you live decade after decade trying to return to normal? If you survived the bigger birds. And the humans. And the weather. And cats.

Oh, shit.

You’d seen what cats did to birds. All blood and feathers. Hopefully this ship didn’t keep a mouser. Escaping the grasp of an owl to land in a kitty’s claws would be just your luck.

Freshly motivated to understand your surroundings, you craned your head back to get a better look at the sail billowing overhead. If it was anything but a private merchant or fishing vessel, it would fly some sort of colors. The Marines’ signature bird or a distinct Jolly Roger.

You caught sight of the colorful sketch on the sails, and your heart stopped dead in your chest.

Yeah. Your luck had not improved.

The Whitebeard Pirates controlled your stretch of the New World, and you’d seen their mark fly over every town, trading post, and port you’d ever visited. It grinned down at you now, larger than ever, and you strung the pieces of your fate together.

The whale figurehead.

The sheer size of the vessel.

The mustachioed Jolly Roger flying overhead.

The necklace of bad news beads clenched around your throat, and for a hot minute you went into shock.

No thoughts.

Only dead silence.

Waiting for the funeral bell to toll.

Because, while the Whitebeard crews didn’t go out of their way to cause trouble, they were still pirates, and if they figured out you were anything but a bird, they’d reasonably assume you were a spy. Or worse.

To make matters worse, their flagship carried an array of intensely gifted Haki users, and while you didn’t fully understand those abilities, observation was a big one. Someone was bound to notice a bird that didn’t act like a bird, or the Devil Fruit power may leave traces an observant fucker could spot.

There would be questions.

Unless you just stayed small. Stayed out of the way. Entirely avoided the entire crew until you could see land and fly off to your next fuck over. That was possible, right? If you stayed in your perch, or climbed higher into the rigging, you could just wait until something green, bumpy, and beautiful broke the horizon. Sparrows were tiny. And common. So long as you stayed away from prying eyes…

“I knew you weren’t a gull. Izou owes me a hundred Berri.”

Startled into a scream that came out as a sharp, biting note of birdsong, you rolled onto blistered feet, getting low and facing the voice like you were a human with a knife or a gun who could do something about the pirate smiling over the edge of the crow’s nest.

His eyes, framed on the left by a crescent-shaped scar, widened at your reaction.

“Hey, easy, okay? This won’t take long.” A palm bigger than your entire body blocked out the sun. “I just need to show you to my brother and you can take off.”

Like.

Fuck.

No one else would be touching you today. Certainly not a killer who’d apparently escalated your situation over a dumbass bet (with another killer who had one hundred shiny reasons to end your feathered ass).

Hopping, fluttering, and cursing him out with words your beak couldn’t translate, you launched into the air. Balanced as he was at the top of the rope ladder to the outlook post, the pirate’s reach was limited, and you moved too fast for him to do anything without losing his balance.

“Whoa! Hey! Wait!”

Noping nope.

He was going to lose that bet. Maybe fall, too. You wished him an ill voyage to the deck, but you had better things to do than assist gravity – like fucking off to higher climes. It wasn’t easy, especially because your body hadn’t gotten the memo that nap time was over, and you had the aerial coordination of a hedgehog in a strong breeze.

You tumbled through the air. Sometimes up, but just as often sideways. Or downwards. Once you cleared the crow’s nest the wind hit you like a wall. You weren’t ready to really leave the ship, but the gusts powerful enough to move the massive ship demanded you grab on or get lost.

The pirate’s shouting alerted everyone at work in the rigging, and safe landing zones dwindled as you fought to keep any kind of control over your course.

From far behind you, your would-be kidnapper shouted, “Marco, grab it!”

“Relax, yoi.”

The blasé reply barely registered before a great, winged shadow fell over you. Talons framed your peripheral vision, and you squeaked, trying to fight harder against the gale as they closed in.

But you lacked grace, speed, and energy, so the battle was over before it had even begun – with you trapped in a grip that put the owl Zoan’s to shame.

And dropping toward the deck fast.

You screamed – or tried to – wriggling and fighting for your life as the planks neared. A fall like that would snap every bone in your body. If this new fiend didn’t just eat you. Or land on you. Death by squish. What a sound. What a mess.

Closing your eyes, you pulled your feet into your chest and huddled as far into your own feathers as you could, bracing for the end.

Then you were free, but still falling, and you watched blue flames wheel away as you dropped.

Certain birds killed their prey by dropping them. Or ramming them on spikes. You fell with your back to the ocean and your belly to the sky, well aware that it was too late to catch yourself, and you imagined a sword below, waiting to skewer you for further inspection. It would be convenient. And damn on brand for pirates.

You waited for the pain.

Instead, you collided with human flesh, and long, pale fingers closed around you, keeping your wings and feet pinned as a man with make-up skills beyond your ken lifted you for a better look. His delicate brows furrowed, lips pursing as he turned his wrist, examining your dazed face.

I swear I didn’t mean to land here, you tried to say. I know I’m not a bird. But it’s not my fault, and I’ll gladly fuck off as soon as there’s somewhere to go, so I’m not a spy, and I’m not a bird, and please don’t stab me, or crush me, or throw me to your mouser, because I’m really not ready to die. And…

The man clicked his tongue, lifting his free hand. You flinched as it approached, entirely unready to feel your neck snap in his delicate grip, but death didn’t come. A knuckle ran down your beak, and the man spoke in a low, disgruntled voice that wasn’t aimed at you at all.

“We’re too far from land for sparrows.”

Flickering blue alighted beside you, and you craned to look over your shoulder as Marco the Fucking Phoenix landed. The man from the crow’s nest jumped the last few feet from the rope ladder, and all three began a conversation you had no part in.

As your heartbeat returned to a mildly elevated tempo, you started putting more names to faces. Pirates were proud of their bounties, and Whitebeard’s crew was no exception. They welcomed the posters in their territories, and all three men surrounding you had appeared on many a wall and bulletin board.

The man who made the bet and scared you out of your temporary shelter was Thatch.

He’d already mentioned Izou by name, and given a moment to breathe, you would’ve recognized his distinctive style without prompting.

Three division commanders. The best of the best among the strongest pirate crew in the world. You hadn’t been in a good position before, but somehow it had gotten worse. Nearly as bad as it could be.

Thatch swaggered up, bending down to look you in the eye and chuckle before swinging his attention to his comrade. “Not a gull, though.”

Izou sighed, closing his eyes with the put-upon air of a great martyr. “Not a gull.”

One hand reached into his robes as he handed you off to Marco, who didn’t give you time to even dream of escaping. Frowning, the First Division Commander turned you, checking from all angles as you imagined you were a statue. If you didn’t move, they may forget you were alive, and then they’d set you down so you could fly off into the sunset before they realized their mistake. There had to land somewhere, right?

“What’s got Thatch so happy?”

Another famous face strolled over, peeping around Marco.

Fire-Fist Ace.

Because it wasn’t hell until everything was on fire, right?

Marco raised a brow, lifting your itty-bitty talons with a finger to show the cost of setting fires without opposable digits.

“It’s hurt. Look at the feet, yoi.” He side-eyed Ace. “They’re burned.”

The bronze skin beneath the legion of freckles across the Second Division Commander’s face paled. He stepped back, waving his hands. “Don’t look at me! I’ve never seen it before.”

“It could explain why it’s so far beyond the usual range,” Izou mused, looking far too intently over your features with a knuckle resting on his chin. “But that only explains so much. This species isn’t native to the New World.”

Your heartbeat spiked again. Even if you still had a human’s lifespan, every minute in this body was shaving off years.

Grudgingly, you had to admit it made sense. Turning people into birds that weren’t local would make escapees easier to spot. It also validated carting so many around as merchandise.

It wasn’t your fault. Not that anyone would care whenever the effect wore off and you started screaming instead of chirping. Doomed, doomed, and more doomed.

Would it hurt less to die as a bird? Maybe you should be considering some long-term measures, like flying into a window before the torture started.

“Are you sure?” Thatch craned over you again, entirely too much in every sense. He smelled like a thousand spices and loomed tall as a lighthouse. “How do you tell sparrows apart?”

“No New World species has these marks.” A finger ran down the side of your head, following a stripe you couldn’t see. “A quirk of nature I learned studying Zoan-types. It pays to know when an animal is in the wrong part of the world.” The finger ran down the opposite side of your head, and you recommitted to your new life as a living statue. “No fruit creates a sparrow Zoan, though.”

Well, thank fuck for that. You may live to see sunset.

The men mumbled among themselves until Thatch asked, “What should we do with it? If it’s lost and hurt, I mean…”

They all fell silent. Something about the wording struck them dumb, and the vibe of the little huddle shifted. You couldn’t see all of their faces, but Ace had gone stone-still, wearing an expression far too serious for those damn freckles, and Thatch’s brows pinched, like he’d just gotten bad news from home. It wasn’t right for any of them to suffer such gravitas over a bird. Couldn’t they just let go and forget you, for fuck’s sake?

Marco adjusted his grip. “First thing’s first.”

The blue fire returned, and instinct threw you headlong into fight or flight. Since your wings were pinned, you tore at the nearest flesh with your beak, twisting and clawing aimlessly with your maimed feet. The flame rose, engulfing you. It would roast you, turn you to ash, and you wouldn’t even get a burial because there wasn’t much of you as it was; there wouldn’t be enough to sweep up after a cremation. Turquoise tongues licked up, and up, eating your sanity.

And then it was gone.

You panted, dizzy with fear even as you flexed your toes without pain.

Healing fire. Phoenix fire. Right.

And so, so, so wrong.

Ace whistled. “Little fighter, huh?”

Marco snorted. “Didn’t even draw blood.”

“Sure tried, though.” Thatch’s eyebrows reached for his pompadour.

The First Division Commander ignored Thatch, checking your feet for damage. You didn’t even pretend to resist. You couldn’t. It was like your crash landing in the crow’s nest all over again. All you could do was breathe and hope you’d be okay when you reunited with your body. If you were human, you’d call it a panic attack.

Did birds have panic attacks? What about people turned into birds? Surely, they deserved the right to flip their shit. You couldn’t think of a better reason to have a meltdown.

Besides being hunted by an owl.

And getting lost at sea.

Or winding up in the hands of the strongest pirates alive.

“Why’re you all so worried about it?”

Another enormous man lumbered over. His face rang a very distant bell, but he was no commander. Only a small part of a massive band. But he swaggered up to the others like they were the best of friends and no one batted an eye. Except for you. You blinked frantically, trying to keep up with the conversation that would determine if you lived or died. And how you’d do either, because the troop of commanders seemed very invested in keeping you in-hand.

Literally.

“Just a dumb animal.” The way the big-bellied newcomer grinned down at you did not put you at ease. It reminded you of an old nursery rhyme about a king who ate birds stuffed in pies. “Leave it to the gulls, or put it out of its misery now if you’re feeling merciful.”

Izou tsked, but Thatch grinned at the latest addition to the sparrow’s tribunal.

“Never have a pet, Teach?”

The stranger, Teach, laughed, putting a hand on his stomach as it bounced with his mirth. “Nah. Only belly I worry about filling is my own.”

As those two casually discussed your murder, Ace chewed on the inside of his cheek. His jaw twitched and the flesh pulled tight between his teeth. You could only hope he was considering how important it was to let wild things be free, not how your bones might crunch after a good roasting.

“We could keep it,” he mused. “Pops has a dog, so it’s not like pets are off limits, right?”

A future spent behind bars, forced to shit in your own space and peck at whatever a gang of man-children thought would be good for a bird to eat added fuel to your frustration. You fought to free yourself again, pleas falling on deaf ears.

You don’t have to do that. Please don’t do that. Why the fuck would you keep a sparrow, anyway?

“Not against the rules, but not encouraged.” Marco squinted at you again, like he was trying to read the future in the stripes that caught his brother’s eye. “This isn’t a regular situation, though. And it’s not like a bird would take up much space.”

I’ll take up even less space if I’m not here.

Your mad chirping didn’t convince any of them to let you go, and Marco turned on his heel, heading towards a door you assumed led below.

“I’ll keep it in my office until Pops makes a decision. We’ll figure things out from there.”

If he’d just open his hand and let you go, they could have all of this figured out here and now. But no one took your insight seriously. Your distressed chatter seemed to work against you, actually, and you took note of several of the men eying you with amusement and a possessive hint of care.

Like a little girl who found a stray kitten raiding the trash and dragged it to her parents for permission to name and collar.

“Remember,” Thatch called, “I technically saw it first!”

“I hear you, yoi,” Marco mumbled, clearly thinking about other things.

He stepped out of the sunshine, into the ship’s belly, and you wondered how the hell you’d landed in a worse situation than you started with.

[rollinouttahere-writes]

Breaking Point Chapter 2

Prev / Next

Whitebeard Pirates x Teen GN Reader

4.9k words

Summary: You awake on an enemy ship after failing to evade them the day before. Your mind is heavy with what is to come, and the actions of the people you know to be your enemies only serves to confuse you further. What have you gotten yourself into?

Warnings: suicidal ideation, mentions of previous suicide attempt, brief descriptions of past child abuse, dehumanization, burns, drugging, being unable to move, unhealthy relationship with food

“S-S-Sir!”

Akainu whipped around to face the marine that dared to intrude upon him. He is able to keep his magma from pouring out, but just barely. “What?! Spit it out! I don't have time to be listening to you trip over your own damn words!”

The pathetic excuse for a marine stumbles back, looking like he's on the verge of pissing himself. Why people like this joined the Marines was beyond Akainu’s understanding. Just as he was considering terminating him permanently, the whelp finally finds his words, “W-We got word that the Whitebeard pirates have picked up the medicine, sir!”

“Have there been any communications from them since the last?”

“No, sir!”

The lack of communication from them was grating on his nerves. He assumed this meant that the original plan was still on, but he would prefer confirmation. He needed to see that you were still alive. Akainu releases a sigh that teeters on being a growl, then waves off the marine, “Understood. Now get out of my sight.”

Fortunately, the marine didn't need to be told twice and promptly made himself scarce. Akainu isn't sure that he would have been able to control his temper if he hadn't left. 

It could not accurately be put into words how much Akainu hated everything about this situation. The fact that a bunch of pirates got their filthy hands on his child was bad enough; that already had his blood boiling. But what was really eating away at him was what he saw in the communication feed that had come through.

Since it was of a visual nature, he could see that this wasn't a bluff. They had you in their custody. There was a horrifying moment in the beginning when he thought they were showing him your corpse. The only reason the Marine base wasn't a molten wasteland was because he saw you blink. From there, he was able to also pick up on the steady rise and fall of your chest as you laid chained to some medical gurney by one of your wrists. Sea stone cuffs, surely. 

The look in your eyes was haunting him. They were completely lifeless. As the pirate, Marco, gave their terms, all you did was stare blankly ahead at nothing. He doubted you were even cognizant of the fact that you were being recorded. 

It was clear to him that those pirates had drugged you. That was the only way to explain why you were just laying there instead of fighting. You had never been the type to give up so easily.

Now it was down to a waiting game. The pirates adamantly refused to hand you over before the medicine was on their ship. He fought hard against these terms, but he ultimately had to yield. They had the more valuable bargaining chip, and they knew it. Sure, it was most convenient to get the medicine in bulk now, but it didn't appear to be particularly urgent. They could find more elsewhere at a later date, but Akainu couldn't do the same. If they killed you, that was it. He was backed into a corner, and he was loathing every second of it. 

The sound of someone clearing their throat comes from behind him. It would have made his temper flare even more had he not recognized it. He takes a deep breath to calm his nerves- as much as they could be- and turns to face the Fleet Admiral properly.

For a moment, Sengoku just stares at him with his usual frown. He then sighs and shakes his head, “Of all the people I expected to make a deal with pirates behind my back, you most certainly didn’t make the list.”

That made Akainu’s eyebrow twitch, and his teeth grind down on the cigar in his mouth, “Do you think I’m happy about this?”

Sengoku was undeterred by his subordinate’s behavior. “I never said you had to be, but accepting those terms on your own was out of line.”

“Time was of the essence, I couldn’t afford to wait for you to get here when my child is actively in a hostage situation.” His temper is already rising despite previous attempts to calm it.

The next sentence out of his superior's mouth only fanned the smoldering flame. “A hostage situation that they got themselves into, need I remind you.”

For a moment, he's too stunned to speak. When he finds his voice, the words are forced out through clenched teeth, “Do you want to run that by me again?”

“I know you aren't stupid, Akainu. You and I both know that (Y/N) was nowhere near where they were supposed to be.”

The vein on his forehead feels like it's about to explode. “What are you implying?”

“Do you really need me to spell it out for you? Are you that blind?” Sengoku pinches the bridge of his nose and heaves a sigh, “That kid has never wanted to be a marine. You know that at least, right?”

That did it. A fiery hole was punched into a nearby wall as what was left of his short fuse burnt away to nothing. “Bullshit! (Y/N) has given everything to the Marines!”

“What they've given is irrelevant to the point. It doesn't matter if they give their all to something if they didn't actually want to in the first place.” Sengoku meets Akainu's furious gaze with one of annoyance, “The point is that they did precisely what I expected them to do.”

The anger cools and is replaced by genuine confusion. “What?” Akainu squints his eyes and steps closer, “Did you plan for this to happen?”

“Not exactly. The Whitebeard's were a wildcard, admittedly.” Sengoku walks past Akainu and stares down at the base below through a window, “I'd had hopes for (Y/N) in the beginning, I really had. They were so promising, and I knew that if they would grow into and accept their role as a marine, that they would be an excellent soldier. Possibly even an Admiral some day. But I never saw that acceptance. They were always only ever following orders. A cog placed into a machine.”

A humorless chuckle escapes the Fleet Admiral as he pushes the window open, “Did you honestly think that I was so desperate for information on Red Haired Shanks that I would send a child after him? Please. It was all a test. I wanted to see what would happen when (Y/N) was cut from their lead and without supervision. Just as I predicted, they ran off as soon as they got the opportunity. It's a shame that so many resources were wasted, but it's for the best that they left now rather than sticking around to cause problems later.”

“Now you wait just a damn minute,” Akainu seethed. “Just because that snot-nosed brat of yours went awol doesn't mean that my soldier did. (Y/N) would never go against orders like that. Something went wrong. Shanks must have caught on to the mission, so they pulled back.”

Sengoku’s reflection betrays the slight grimace on his face at the mention of Rosinante, but it's gone just as quickly as it arrived. Instead, it's replaced by a bitter scowl as he turns around to face Akainu directly, “You can't be this deluded. Not even Garp was stupid enough to force his family to become marines. You-” he lets out a hiss of a sigh, “It's like you're forcing a circle through a square shaped hole.”

“What the fuck do shapes have to do with any of this?” This conversation was going nowhere and getting more and more ridiculous by the second. 

“Just because you can force it to fit doesn't mean that's where it belongs. Was (Y/N) a damn good marine? Absolutely. No one will ever argue that, but they weren't meant to be one. The sooner you accept that, the better off you'll be.” Sengoku makes for the door, but stops just shy of it. “One last thing. If the deal you have with those pirates falls through and they don't hand (Y/N) over… I will not be permitting any further action against them.”

Everything said so far had been one sucker punch after another, but this took the wind from Akainu. His mouth opened and closed several times before he found the right words, “You want me to leave them to the mercy of a bunch of pirates?”

“Yes. They got themselves into that mess by abandoning their mission, they can get themselves out.” He meets Akainu’s shocked gaze over his shoulder, “I expect you to respect this. You're an Admiral, you have to put your position before your family ties.”

With that said, Sengoku takes his leave. Akainu stands alone in his office, thin wisps of smoke still filtering through the air from the smoldering drywall. 

—

It's the sound of turning pages that first starts to bring you out of your stupor. Bits and pieces of your memories seep into your foggy brain. 

Boats… you were looking at boats, but pirates tailed you after you left. The Whitebeard pirates. You got into a… fight? No, there was a chase, but they caught you. You were brought back to the ship and… Oh. That happened. 

When your eyes crack open, you're staring at the ceiling of an infirmary. You're still on the Moby Dick, so that's almost a plus. Definitely not ideal, but at least you haven't been handed back over to the Marines yet. 

God, your head is spinning. What happened to you? Did they drug you? Damn it, you can’t remember what happened. You try to reach up and rub your eyes, but you can't. Neither of your arms will budge. 

It takes a coordinated effort, but you're able to raise your head enough to see why you can't move your arms. Both of them are strapped to the bars on the sides of the gurney by a series of belts. You can't move them at all. 

You also take note of the picc line in your left arm. That definitely wasn't in there when you passed out. Your eyes trace up to the IV bag hanging above your head. Shit. They're probably keeping you on a steady stream of sedatives. That explains the lack of alarm you're feeling despite your current state of affairs. 

With your sleeve being rolled up for the picc line, one more thing was exposed. A large patch of scar tissue covering most of your forearm. A burn mark to remind you of one of the many times Akainu got too carried away while sparring with you. A plethora of similar scars littered most of your body, leading to you having a wardrobe consisting of shirts and pants that covered as much skin as possible. While many of your fellow marines took pride in showing off their scars, yours had always been a source of shame. Resentment. Hatred. Seeing one now only served to further sour your mood. 

“Oh!” 

The voice startles you out of your trance. When you follow it to its source, you spot a nurse sitting not far from you and holding a newspaper. You can immediately tell what her profession is because she has on the most stereotypical nurse's uniform you've ever seen. It's kind of odd to see such a sight on a pirate ship of all places. 

She gets up from the desk she was sitting at and hurries over to you with a smile plastered on her face, “Oh good, you're finally awake!”

Finally? “How-” You stop speaking and cough. Fuck, your throat is dry. Might be a side effect of the meds they have you on. 

Without even needing to be asked, the nurse fetches you a glass of water. She gently tilts your head up and allows the water to flow into your mouth at a steady pace. You greedily gulp it down in seconds. You watch the nurse closely as you drink, taking in her appearance. If you had to guess, she was in her early thirties. Coarse, blonde hair is held back in a ponytail with a few errant curls framing her round face. 

“Better?” The nurse sets your head back down and turns away from you, “You were out cold all night, we were starting to get worried about you. Well… more worried, I should say.” She coughs lightly and returns to your side with a clipboard in hand. 

“All night? What time is it?” Your voice was still a little croaky, but now you were thinking it had more to do with your brief coma than medication. You’re pretty sure it was only roughly midday when you got captured. You find it hard to believe you slept the rest of the day and through the night, but there isn't really any reason to lie about such a thing. 

“It's about a quarter till seven right now.” 

Damn. That shit really did knock you the hell out. You've always risen at five in the morning on the dot. Akainu would physically throw you out of your bed if you ever accidentally overslept, and then you'd have to run a lap for every minute. 

The nurse sat down on a nearby stool and smiled at you again, “I'm Elise. You'll probably be seeing a lot of me from here on out. Can you tell me your name, sweetie?”

Sweetie? The pet name made you cringe. You suppose you might as well answer her, though you can't imagine there's anyone on this ship that isn't aware of you and who you are. 

You tell her your name, making her hum in approval, “Very good! Now, can you tell me how you're feeling? Any dizziness or nausea? Difficulty breathing?”

“I'm… kinda lightheaded, I guess.” It's debatable if that's a side effect of the medicine or not eating for twelve plus hours, though. It could also be the result of prolonged sea stone exposure. Who knows?

Elise nods along and scribbles some notes down, “Good, good… Are you having any thoughts of harming yourself or others?”

For such a heavy question, she says it awfully casually, but the look in her eyes as she peers at you over the clipboard is anything but. You shift under her gaze. As much as you can, at least. The movement makes you realize that there are straps holding your legs down as well. 

What kind of question even is that? You're on an enemy ship, drugged, and restrained. How else does she expect you to feel right now? Especially with the impending doom of what is to come. 

Her stare doesn't let up for even a second. She isn't willing to let the question go unanswered, so you do what you have to. Lie. 

“No.”

It's evident to you that she knows that you're lying through your teeth. Mercifully, she doesn't call you out on it. After jotting down a few more things on the clipboard, it's discarded, and you're the center of her attention again. 

“I bet you're hungry after sleeping for so long. I'll ring the kitchen to bring something for you.” Elise picks up a transponder snail from nearby, “What do you like to drink in the morning? Coffee? Tea? Oh, I know! How about some hot chocolate?”

The response comes out before you can even really think about it, “I'm not allowed to have that.”

Elise gasps softly and brings a hand to her mouth, “Oh no, are you lactose intolerant? I think the kitchen has some alternatives they could use instead of milk.”

“No, I mean that it's too unhealthy. There aren't any benefits to drinking something like that.” Akainu never gave you the chance to form a sweet tooth. All of your meals were nutritionally dense with an emphasis on protein. Desserts were strictly prohibited.

At that statement, Elise frowns and puts her free hand on her hip, “Well that's just silly. Not everything you eat has to be “healthy”. A balanced diet is important, of course, but you're allowed to have treats.”

“But-”

“Ah, ah! No buts. I'm a nurse, so if I say it's okay, it’s okay.” Having made her point, Elise goes ahead and contacts the kitchen to order some breakfast for you. And a hot chocolate, apparently. 

Stubborn woman. But you suppose one has to have a firm foot and a backbone if they're on a pirate ship. Whatever. Might as well make the most of your last meal before you're sent back to hell. And subsequently executed for your misdeeds. 

The infirmary is empty, save for you and Elise. While you appreciate the privacy the vacancy affords you, it does leave you with a question.

“Where's The Phoenix?” You're honestly amazed he wasn't monitoring you directly given your perceived importance for the trade deal they had. 

Elise, having just finished placing the order for food, faces you again. “Marco? He left to supervise the retrieval of the medicine. A precaution in case the Marines try to pull something, I assume. Did you need something from him? He should be back tonight.”

Damn, they already have it? You thought you'd have more time before then. Your head drops down and your hands tighten into fists, “Oh. I'm guessing they'll be handing me over as soon as they're back…”

Genuine confusion flashes across Elise’s face, then realization, “Oh! No, no, no! We aren't going to be releasing you back to the Marines!”

Okay. You were officially lost. “You're… going to try and get more out of having me as a hostage?”

“That isn't it either!” Elise sighs and rubs her temples while quietly muttering, “Must be that medication's doing…”

“Am I missing something here?”

“Yes. One of the side effects from what we gave you initially is mild memory loss. It makes it hard to recall everything that happened right before the dose.” She approaches your bed and starts messing with the levers, “After your… outburst, Marco told you that you didn't have to go back if you didn't want to. Do you remember any of that?”

You wrack your hazy mind for the memory, but you're coming up blank. The last thing you remember is… a knife? Yeah, you got your hands on a knife and tried to stab yourself with it. Everything else seems to be lost. You aren't even completely sure if you just failed to stab yourself, or if Marco's healing abilities far exceeded Marine records. 

The lack of a response is an answer in and of itself. Elise shifts the upper portion of the bed up so that you're in a sitting position. The change makes your head spin a bit, but you keep that to yourself. 

A warm hand settles on your shoulder, and Elise speaks in a gentle tone, “No one here is going to make you go back to the Marines if you don't want to. You can relax.”

“But… if you're not turning me in, why am I still here? It sounds like you've already got what you wanted. I don't see why you'd be bothering with all this,” you nod vaguely at your body, referencing the straps and IV. 

“We can't in good conscience release someone in your state.” Her smile drops, and she stares down at you with what looks to you to be pity in her eyes, “You tried to end your own life, sweetie. That's something we must take very seriously.”

An uncomfortable lump forms in your throat, and your face feels hot with shame. You hated the way she looked at you just now. Like you were some poor, pathetic thing. Like she was looking down at some helpless rabbit ensnared in a trap. Like you were weak.

“I got this ready as fast as I could!”

You’re startled out of your thoughts by the infirmary door slamming open and the proclamation following immediately after. When you look up, you see Twin Blade Thatch entering the room carrying a tray with a mug and a bowl balanced on it. There is a twinge of familiarity in the back of your mind at the sight of him, and you don’t think it’s from seeing his bounty poster before. Did you see him yesterday? Maybe? You can’t be sure.

Thatch hurries over to you and sets the tray on the bedside table before turning to you with a smile on his face, “How are you feeling today?”

His question prompts you to look down at your restrained limbs and the- more likely than not medicated- drip bag, then back at him with an unamused expression, “Guess.”

The smile becomes visibly forced, sheepish even, and he averts his eyes, “Fair enough. Dumb question.” He clears his throat in a dramatic fashion, then recenters his gaze on you again, “I bet you’re hungry after sleeping for so long.” He picks up the bowl he carried in and tilts it toward you so you can see its contents. It’s a bowl of porridge with sliced fruit and nuts arranged on top in a visually appealing method.

But that’s not what you care about, there is a far more pressing issue at hand. You level him with a stern glare, “You better not be planning to spoon feed me. I will bite you.”

Thatch freezes and just stares at you with wide eyes for a moment, and that immediately makes you realize how stupid that was to say. You can’t even move, and you thought it was a good idea to start threatening people? What is wrong with you?! He could slit your throat right now if he wanted to, and you wouldn’t be able to do a single thing to stop him!

Instead of making your thoughts a reality, the pirate does something that shocks you. He laughs. You don’t know what to do with this. What are you supposed to do about laughter? Why is he even laughing? Did he find the absurdity of you spitting out threats despite your circumstances that funny?

“Oh, that’s a relief. You’ve got a sense of humor even after all that.” Thatch chuckles quietly and sets the bowl down before looking over to Elise, “We could take the straps off for now, couldn’t we?”

Huh?

Elise hums in thought, then nods. “I suppose we could, so long as you stick around for a bit to help keep an eye on them.”

Huh?!

They… They’re untying you? On purpose? This must be a trap. It has to be. They’re testing you. That’s the only thing that makes sense.

Your face is grabbed, and Elise makes you look her in the eye. “Do not,” she tilts your head down to look at the picc line, “try to rip this out. Understood?”

“Understood.” You knew better than to do such a thing. That’s a mistake you only make once.

After a particularly brutal training session with your father, you’d ended up in the infirmary. A regular occurrence, if you’re being honest. By the time you’d come to, the sight of the sun being high in the sky sent you into a panic. You were late, and Akainu loathed tardiness. In your rush to get out of there and beg for mercy for such a monumental fuck up on your end, you ripped the picc line out of your arm. Blood went fucking everywhere. On you, on the cot, on the walls. One of the nurses in the room fainted at the sight, followed shortly by yourself because all of your blood was now outside your body. You were out of commission for the rest of the day, and Akainu made certain that you made up for it the following day.

With your confirmation that you wouldn’t egregiously injure yourself, the two set to work on undoing the belts holding you down. Elise was making quick work of them, but Thatch abruptly stopped. You glance at him quizzically, wondering what the hold up was, only to see that his eyes are locked onto the opposing arm. You follow his gaze, and then you get it.

It was the burn scar marring most of your left forearm. Ah. This bizarre situation had distracted you from the fact that it was exposed. You can’t even cover it up because that’s the arm the IV is going into. Not that your other arm is much better. Or any part of your body, really. The skin of your face was the most intact, presumably because Akainu didn’t want to risk giving you the permanent handicap that came with losing vision in one or both eyes.

Elise loudly clears her throat and levels the pirate with a glare that honestly surprised you. How fearless she must be to behave in such a manner toward someone with a bounty like Thatch’s. This tactic, credit where it’s due, was effective. He snapped out of his one-sided staring competition with your arm and freed the other one.

Cautiously, you stretch your arms out now that they’ve been liberated from their confines. Mostly. The left arm stops short. You’d almost forgotten about the sea stone cuffs. It makes sense that they left that on, given that you’re a quite literal flight risk otherwise.

The tray containing your breakfast is carefully placed on your lap. The aforementioned bowl of porridge is on it, but so is a large mug that appears to be topped with a whipped cream. Is this the hot chocolate Elise had insisted upon? Your eyes flit up to the two people looming over either side of you. They’re staring at you expectantly.

All things considered, it seems unlikely that any of this is poisoned. They wanted you alive, that much was clear even if the particular reason behind it wasn’t. Besides, even if it was poisoned, you wouldn’t complain. Being freed from this mortal coil would be a blessing in your book.

Might as well do what they want. Maybe it’ll get them to stop breathing down your neck, if nothing else. You reach for the hot beverage first to see what all the hype is about. The mug is warm to the touch, but not so enough to burn you. Granted, that could just be the nerve damage talking. You’ll find out if that’s an accurate assessment based on whether or not this burns your tongue.

You bring the drink to your lips and sip at it. The cream is cold, but then a warmth trickles through and mixes with it. It’s very sweet. A stark contrast to the black coffee your father would drink and force upon you. The radically different flavor profile is borderline startling… but you don’t hate it. You quite like it.

Instead of savoring the hot chocolate and making it last, you continue tilting it up more and more until the cup runs dry. Okay. Perhaps Elise was onto something with allowing oneself treats such as this one.

“So it was a hit, huh?” Thatch is grinning proudly, “I made sure it would be the best you would ever have after Elise said you’d never had it before. Do you want some more?”

Mild embarrassment spreads into your consciousness at his observation of your enjoyment. This was a quirk of yours you never could really explain. Others seeing you experience contentment felt inexplicably wrong. Like you were doing something you shouldn’t be and being caught red-handed. You shake your head and set down the mug, “No. I’m good.” You promptly take the spoon on the tray into your hand and scoop up a mouthful of oatmeal in hopes of getting him to drop the subject.

The flavors of honey and cinnamon enhance the meal, making it taste far more pleasant than you’re used to. It’s all so good. You can’t stop eating it, and the porridge is gone almost as quickly as the hot chocolate was.

That familiar burn of shame reared its ugly head again. It would be bad enough to be so over indulgent at the best of times. What the hell were you doing doing so on an enemy ship? How disgraceful. 

“Good job! I’m so happy that you were able to finish it all,” Elise claps her hands together, looking weirdly elated over you eating. It’s unclear as to why that would matter to her. She continues, “Since you’re doing so well, how about we take you onto the deck for some fresh air and sunlight?”

“The deck? Like… of the ship?”

“Yeah? What else would it be, silly?” Elise moves behind the bed, clicks something, then begins to push it forward.

She’s trying to take you someplace where there will no doubt be a bunch of pirates. Some of which you may have even crossed paths with before. And you’re completely defensive. You look around at her and plead, “W-We don’t have to do that. I’m fine with staying in here.”

“Oh, hush. This’ll be good for you!” Undeterred, Elise proceeds to wheel you out of the infirmary with Thatch holding the door open.

Good for you? She’s trying to throw you into a den of wolves, and somehow thinks that’s going to be good for you? This was a set-up the whole time. They lowered your guard with a good meal just so they could rip the rug out from under you. Now you’re going to have to face the bulk of the Whitebeard pirates in your current hapless state.

All you can do is hope that pirates of all people will have the good grace to put you out of your mercy quickly.

Taglist: @twotrucksinatree @tigerstarstorm @mu5hro0m @brooks-real @one-piecelover

[alwayssassydreamer]

Undercover Love

A/N: sorry Mary that it took so long but I finally made it, I hope you like it

Summary: you and ace are inseparable and marco and thatch realize that there is more going on between you two though they can't believe how oblivious you two seem to be about it

Warnings: a silly fluffy story

Characters: Ace x F!Reader, Marco, Thatch

Ace was sitting cross-legged beside you, his eyes flickering to the horizon as you buried yourself in a book, one of the many novels you'd brought along during your travels. The two of you often found these moments together—quiet but meaningful, the kind where words weren’t always necessary.

He leaned over and lightly nudged your arm. "Hey, you missed a page."

You blinked and looked down, realizing he was right. "I swear, you’ve got a sixth sense for these things," you muttered, grinning and shaking your head.

"Maybe," Ace said, a mischievous smirk tugging at his lips. "I just pay attention."

You went back to reading, but a few minutes later, a small gust of wind blew a stray strand of hair in your face. You swiped it out of the way with a frustrated huff, but before you could get back into your book, Ace was already there, plucking the hair from your face with ease and then put his hat on you. You glanced at him and caught a glint in his eyes, something mischievous, yet gentle.

"Always looking out for me, huh?" you teased, but you didn’t mind. You were used to this.

"Always, besides my hat looks good on you" he replied without missing a beat, his voice low and warm.

Ace laned back, letting his head rest in your lap. It was a familiar feeling, his warmth against you, the softness of his hair beneath your hand. You absently ran your fingers through his hair as you continued reading, and you realized that in moments like these, words felt unnecessary. The quietness between you was comfortable, more than any loud confession could convey.

Not far from you, Marco and Thatch were watching the scene unfold with knowing glances. It was clear to them what was happening. Marco had once casually remarked, "You two are like an old married couple," and while you had laughed it off at the time, there was truth in his words.

Thatch, had even tried teasing you both, but Ace was too oblivious to pick up on it. You, too, seemed unaware of how others saw the quiet closeness between you and Ace. You both laughed, fought, and drank together, never seeing the way the crew looked at the bond you shared.

Ace would often poke fun at you, calling you out for being so serious with your books, but that was just his way of showing affection. You’d shoot back with playful jabs, calling him an "immature lighter," and somehow, that made the bond feel even more familiar.

The meals were the same. You’d pass each other bites of food without thinking twice, sharing everything from a chunk of meat to the last piece of fruit you’d managed to snag. When one of you found something delicious, the other was right there, eagerly taking a taste. It was a give-and-take that had become second nature. You fed each other, laughed, and even bickered about who had the better choice of snacks.

Even when Ace would casually remove objects in your way when you were - once again - buried deep in a book you didn't need to acknowledge it. It was just Ace being Ace, looking out for you in his own way. And you didn’t mind. You were used to it, almost as though you didn't even notice how often it happened.

The Whitebeard Pirates watched all of this unfold - the deeper feelings growing between you was something the crew saw clearly. They’d exchange knowing looks when you two were together, sharing silent smiles over the quiet connection they saw blooming between you and Ace. But you and Ace were wrapped up in your own little bubble, caught in a routine that felt natural and right.

When the crew started teasing Ace about you, calling him out on his "sweetheart" moments or making sly remarks about your "togetherness," he’d scratch his head and offer his usual cheeky grin.

"Stop it," Ace would mutter, shooting the crew a half-embarrassed, half-challenging look. "We’re just looking out for each other."

And you’d back him up, saying something similar.

The Moby Dick had just docked on a new island, and you and Ace walked side by side down the gangplank, both excited for a change of scenery. The bustling atmosphere of the market greeted you immediately, with vendors shouting their wares and colorful stalls lining the streets. The salty air mixed with the smells of food, fried fish, roasted meat, and sweet desserts.

As you wandered, you couldn’t help but point out things you found interesting, a new fruit you wanted to try or a beautiful piece of clothing that caught your eye. Each time, you’d grab Ace’s arm to guide him over, his larger, muscular frame easily following you as you tugged him along. It had become a sort of unspoken habit between you two, an easy way to share the things that sparked your interest.

But it wasn’t just you pulling Ace around. Every now and then, Ace would grab your hand without thinking, drawn by the enticing smell of something delicious. You’d laugh at how quickly he could get distracted by food, his hand slipping into yours as he led you to a food stall. It was such a natural, effortless thing. No hesitation, no questions asked.

As you made your way through the market, Marco and Thatch were trailing behind, watching the two of you with bemused expressions. They exchanged a glance, their eyes filled with unspoken understanding.

"I don’t get it," Thatch muttered under his breath, shaking his head. "How can they not see it?"

Marco, ever the calm and collected one, just sighed. "Maybe it's just how they are. I don’t know how much more obvious we can make it for them."

"You think they’ll ever figure it out?" Thatch asked, a teasing grin playing at the corners of his lips.

Marco just smirked. "Who knows? But right now I doubt it"

Later that evening, the Moby Dick rocked gently in the harbor as the crew gathered for a casual dinner. The mood was lighthearted, everyone still buzzing from the excitement of exploring the island. You and Ace were once again side by side, as always, laughing, sharing stories, and just enjoying the company of each other.

But that didn't go unnoticed by Marco and Thatch. They casually approached you both, their expressions a mixture of patience and mild amusement.

"You two," Marco began, his arms crossed as he looked between you and Ace, "have been attached at the hip all day. You've barely left each other's side. And honestly, this 'just friends' act is getting a little old."

Ace glanced at you and chuckled, oblivious. "What, we’re just hanging out. What’s the big deal?"

Thatch grinned and leaned in, pointing between you and Ace. "The thing is, you two spend way too much time together. It’s like you're... I don't know, cozy together. You walk around with your arms linked, feeding each other food, sharing quiet moments—hell, you even lay your head in her lap, Ace!" His grin widened as he observed the subtle look that passed between you and Ace, both of you completely unbothered by the comment.

You blinked, furrowing your brows. "What’s wrong with that? I can’t help it if Ace is always hungry and needs someone to share food with."

"That’s not what we mean," Marco added with a sigh, rubbing his temples. "We’re saying that you two are, well, really close. More than friends. Like, ridiculously close."

You and Ace exchanged another confused glance.

"I don’t get it," Ace said, scratching the back of his head. "We’ve always been this way. What’s wrong with hanging out together?"

Thatch leaned back dramatically. "It’s not about hanging out, Ace. It’s about... being together, together. You know, in that way."

You stared at them, still not catching on. "You mean... like, how we’ve always been? Why does it need a label?"

Marco facepalmed, clearly struggling to find the words. "What we’re trying to say is, you two should really be together, in a... you know, romantic way."

You blinked again, your mind still in denial. "But we are together, in a way. We’re best friends. That’s... that’s enough."

Ace gave a small nod. "Yeah, exactly. We’ve always been this close. No need to overthink it, right?"

The tension in the air was palpable, and it was clear that Marco and Thatch were beyond frustrated. Thatch leaned back and crossed his arms, giving up. "You two are hopeless."

Nearby, Whitebeard, who had been listening to the conversation, let out a hearty laugh, shaking his head in amusement. "You two are truly something else," he boomed, his deep laugh echoing through the ship. "I can't believe you’re this thick-headed."

You and Ace both looked over at him, still not quite getting the joke. "What do you mean, Pops?" you asked.

Whitebeard chuckled and just shook his head. "No one’s ever been this clueless about that before."

It was at that moment, as you both stood there, still completely confused, that Ace suddenly stood up with a grin, clearly eager to move past the conversation. "Well, I don’t know about all this, but I’m in the mood for a dance."

You blinked, surprised by his sudden suggestion. "A dance? Now?"

"Why not?" Ace grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Let’s make the night a little more fun."

You hesitated for just a moment before a grin tugged at your lips. "Alright, I’m game," you said, not entirely sure where this was going but willing to play along.

The two of you found a clear space on the deck, and Ace, in his usual carefree manner, pulled you into a loose, playful dance. It wasn’t anything formal - just a bit of laughter, spinning, stepping in rhythm to the sounds of the crew's ongoing chatter. You both were far from professional dancers, but the simplicity of it felt easy, like everything else between you two. You would rest your head on his shoulder or he would pick you up and spin making you laugh even harder.

As you spun in Ace’s arms, you caught a glimpse of Marco and Thatch in the corner of your eye. They exchanged knowing glances, clearly still in disbelief at how long it was taking for you two to figure things out.

"You know," Thatch said, his voice loud enough for both of you to hear, "this is almost exactly how a couple dances."

Marco raised an eyebrow. "And they still don’t get it."

Whitebeard, still chuckling at the sight of you two, added, "Maybe this will be the night they finally wake up."

Ace laughed as he spun you one more time before pulling you back into his arms. "I still don’t know why they're so worked up about us," he muttered, his grin wide. "But I’m having fun."

You couldn’t help but laugh, your heart light and full of warmth. "Me too."

The dance with Ace had quickly turned into something more energetic than you expected. His infectious enthusiasm had you both laughing and spinning around the deck, your feet stumbling over one another more than once. You hadn’t realized just how out of breath you’d gotten until Ace finally slowed down, his arms holding you steady as you both tried to catch your breath, grinning at each other like you’d just won a battle.

"You’re gonna wear me out at this rate," you teased, your breath still coming in ragged bursts, your forehead resting against his chest as you leaned into him for support. The steady beat of his heart was like a calming rhythm against your cheek.

Ace laughed softly, a little winded himself, but clearly enjoying every moment of it. "Hey, if you can’t keep up, that’s on you," he joked, wrapping his arms around you loosely, his cheek resting atop your head for a moment.

Despite the laughter and the warmth between the two of you, Marco, Thatch, and Whitebeard stood off to the side, watching the scene unfold with wide eyes, clearly in disbelief. Marco’s face was a picture of exasperation as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"They’re really not getting it, are they?" Marco muttered to himself, shaking his head in disbelief. "How can they not see it?"

Thatch chuckled, crossing his arms as he leaned against the ship’s railing. "This is too good. We’ve practically had to spell it out for them, and they’re still acting like nothing’s happening."

Whitebeard, standing nearby, just laughed heartily, shaking his head at the young pair.

"You’d think after everything today—hell, the way they’ve been acting all this time—they’d get it," Marco said, still stunned. "But no, they’re just... friends. Sure."

Meanwhile, you and Ace were still wrapped up in the warmth of the moment, his arms around your waist and yours around his neck, enjoying the simplicity of each other's company.

You pulled back slightly, looking up at Ace with a smile, and he met your gaze with his signature grin, still blissfully unaware of the whispers around you. "Well, that was fun," you said, your voice still light from laughter. "I don’t think I’ve laughed this much in ages."

"Same here," Ace agreed, before you both let go of each other. He gave you a playful nudge, then glanced back at the others. "You guys should join in next time, you know? No need to stand around looking all serious."

The next few days passed in the same easygoing rhythm. You and Ace continued to spend nearly every waking moment together, and it was clear to everyone around you just how close you two were. Whether it was sharing meals, joking around, or just enjoying each other's presence, it seemed natural—so natural, in fact, that neither of you thought much of it.

You’d walk together, arms linked, holding hands, or sometimes Ace would casually slide his arm around your waist as you both strolled across the ship, laughing at something ridiculous that had happened. Every time Ace was hungry, you’d end up sharing your food with him, like it was second nature. Even when he’d lay down on the deck to rest, his head would always end up in your lap, both of you lost in the peace of the moment. It was nothing out of the ordinary, at least, not to you.

However, as the days wore on, it became more and more difficult for the rest of the crew to ignore just how cozy you two were. Every little gesture, every shared look, every soft laugh - it was all starting to make a lot of sense to the others.

One day, as you and Ace walked across the deck, lost in a conversation about something trivial, Thatch couldn’t help but watch. He exchanged a glance with Marco, who had a very similar look of resignation on his face.

“Alright,” Thatch muttered under his breath, nudging Marco. “I think I finally get it.”

Marco raised an eyebrow. "You do?"

“Yeah,” Thatch said, leaning in closer as the two of you passed by, still oblivious to what was going on. "They’re not just clueless. They’re extremely innocent and on top of that plain dumb."

Marco sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "I’ve never seen anything like it. They’re acting like a couple - but -" he paused, as if trying to process the ridiculousness of it, "they genuinely have no idea."

Thatch grinned. "Every single thing they do together screams couple. And still, they look at us like we’re speaking some foreign language when we try to explain it."

Marco, too, found it hard not to laugh at the absurdity of it all. "You’d think after all this time, they’d at least get the hint."

It had been days of watching you and Ace and Marco and Thatch couldn’t take it any longer.

One evening, after dinner, Marco casually called you over to sit with him and Thatch. You and Ace were both in the middle of chatting, but after a quick exchange of glances, you found yourselves being pulled toward the two men who were clearly on a mission to finally make you understand what had been going on.

Marco and Thatch sat across from you and Ace, looking like two men about to embark on the most difficult mission of their lives. Marco rubbed his temples, while Thatch was already looking like he regretted getting involved.

“Alright, listen,” Thatch started, leaning forward like he was about to deliver top-secret information. “We need to have a serious talk.”

Ace, lounging lazily with his arms crossed, blinked at them. “About what?”

“You two,” Marco said, pointing between you and Ace like it should be obvious.

You and Ace exchanged a glance before you shrugged. “What about us?”

Thatch groaned. “Okay, how do we put this… You do everything a couple does. You drink together, laugh together, share food—”

Ace nodded. “Yeah, so?”

Marco threw up his hands. “You sleep in each other’s beds!”

You tilted your head. “It’s comfortable.”

Thatch’s eye twitched. “Ace carries you around when you’re tired.”

“Well, walking is exhausting,” you replied.

Marco pointed a finger at Ace. “And you tuck her in when she falls asleep on the deck!”

Ace huffed. “I don’t just leave her lying around like some abandoned crate!”

Marco leaned forward, trying to get through to you like a teacher dealing with the class clown. “And doesn’t that mean something to you?”

You and Ace exchanged another glance before looking back at them. “Uh… yeah?” Ace said slowly.

Thatch perked up, hopeful. “Oh? It does?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “It means we’re really close friends.”

Marco made a sound so strangled it could’ve come from an injured seagull. “No! Not just friends! You’re together-together!”

You frowned. “We are together. I mean, we’re here right now, sitting together.”

Thatch looked at Marco. “I swear, they’re killing me.”

Marco took a deep breath, then leaned forward with the patience of a saint trying to explain something to a particularly stubborn toddler. “Okay. Listen closely.”

You and Ace nodded attentively.

“When you see each other,” Marco continued, speaking slowly, “do you feel warm inside? Maybe like… butterflies?”

You and Ace exchanged another glance.

“…From drinking?” Ace asked.

Thatch smacked the table. “NO! From love!”

You tapped your chin. “Hmm. I mean, I do like Ace.”

Ace grinned. “Yeah, and I like her.”

Thatch and Marco both perked up. “Okay, great! Now—”

“But, like, friend like,” you added.

Ace nodded sagely. “Yeah. Deep, deep friendship.”

Marco dragged a hand down his face. “You’re messing with us, right? You have to be messing with us.”

Thatch was now pacing, waving his hands around like a madman. “Okay, fine! Let’s break this down further. When you touch, like when you hold hands, doesn’t it feel… different?”

Ace thought for a moment, then shrugged. “I mean, her hands are pretty soft.”

You nodded. “His are warm.”

Thatch’s eye twitched again. “No. No. Not physically! I mean, do you feel a spark? A rush? Maybe a deep longing?”

Ace frowned. “A deep longing?”

You blinked. “For what?”

Marco groaned into his hands. “To be together!”

Ace and you exchanged yet another confused glance before turning back to them. “But we are together,” you said slowly.

Thatch threw his hands up. “As a COUPLE!”

There was a pause. You and Ace both sat there, staring at them with blank expressions, as if they had just tried to explain rocket science to two particularly dense sea kings.

Then, Ace nodded thoughtfully. “Ohhh… I get it.”

Thatch and Marco sighed in relief.

“You think we should be a couple,” Ace continued.

“Yes!” Marco and Thatch shouted in unison.

Ace scratched his chin. “Hmm. Should we?” He turned to you, eyes casual. “Wanna kiss?”

You gave a nonchalant shrug. “Why not?”

Marco's jaw literally dropped, and Thatch choked on his drink, sputtering in shock. Whitebeard, who usually held the wisdom of the seas and the authority of a captain, was now wide-eyed, blinking in utter surprise. They all stared at you, processing what had just happened.

"Did... did you just say... 'Why not'?" Marco managed to ask, his voice half disbelieving, half amused.

"Yeah," you replied, still as casual as ever, "I mean, it seems like the next logical step, doesn’t it?"

Ace, looking just as unfazed as you, gave a relaxed grin and you both leaned in and kissed each other, as if this was the most natural progression in the world.

“OH MY GOD, STOP!” Marco shouted.

Thatch practically leapt out of his seat. “That is not how this works!”

Whitebeard, who had been listening from his throne, suddenly let out a deep, rumbling laugh. “Gurarara… I have never seen two people be so dense.” Marco and Thatch nodded vigorously.

And then it happened.

You couldn’t hold it in anymore. The laughter bubbled up from deep within you and you burst into giggles. It was so sudden, so unexpected, that even Ace shot you a confused look.

"Hey! Stop!" Ace said, trying to keep his own grin hidden, though it was clear he was fighting a smile. "You're ruining the act!"

But it was too much. The act, the drama, the whole charade - you couldn't keep up with it any longer. "I’m sorry!" you managed between laughs, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "I just couldn't keep it up anymore."

“…Wait,” Marco said slowly.

Thatch narrowed his eyes. “Are you two…?”

Ace grinned. “Oh yeah. We’ve been together this whole time. Of course we knew what was going on between us. We just thought it was funny watching you guys try to explain it to us.”

"You guys... you guys really thought we didn’t know?" You leaned against Ace’s shoulder, still chuckling. "We’ve been together together the whole time. The whole time, guys."

Silence.

“You little shits.”

Thatch looked personally betrayed, and Marco just sighed, leaning back as if he had aged ten years in five minutes. Whitebeard, who had been listening nearby, suddenly let out a deep, booming laugh, shaking his head.

“I should’ve known,” he chuckled. “Only Ace would turn his love life into a prank on the crew.”

Marco stared at you both in disbelief. “You......You mean to tell me we just wasted half an hour-”

“More like weeks,” Whitebeard added with a chuckle.

Thatch collapsed onto the table, face down. “I hate you both.”

Ace laughed, throwing an arm around you as you grinned. “Aw, come on. You gotta admit - it was really funny.”

Marco just stared at the two of you, shaking his head in disbelief. "I... I honestly can’t believe this," he muttered. "You two were playing us this whole time?"

You simply shrugged with a smirk. "Yeah, you were so cute trying to explain it, though. We just couldn’t resist."

Ace laughed again, his arm still around you as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "Guess we got a bit of a kick out of watching you all scramble."

Marco groaned, standing up. “I need a damn drink.”

Thatch pointed at you both. “You’re menaces.”

You looked at Ace, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. You intertwined your fingers with his, feeling the warmth of his hand in yours nefore leaning in again to kiss him.

Whitebeard was still laughing, Thatch and Marco still muttering about you two being a pain in the ass as you and Ace simply leaned into each other, fully enjoying the absolute chaos you had caused.

[bbyjackie]

𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐂𝐄'𝐒 𝐆𝐅 — ♡

one piece social media + dating pt.2 feat: ace

♡ liked by chef.thatch, marco_o and 11.4k others

_ynln: mad he lost a handstand contest to some kid 🥱🥱

tagged: ace

ace: tell me how i got rated a 6/10 and that rat of a human got 9/10 🫤

↳ marco_o: you definitely got bullied as a kid with that attitude (liked by chef.thatch, _ynln, yamatoto)

↳ _ynln: MARCO JWVFIJBVFQO 😭😭

↳ ace: just letting you guys know, i wasn't bullied. i was the bully 💪💪

↳ izou.u: that does NOT make it any better

↳ saaaa_bo: why are you proud of that, all you did was bully luffy

↳ ace: now i'm not saying i stand with bullying but.. ☝️

↳ yamatoto: BUT WHAT???

p1rateking_luffy: Hehe Ace remember when we used to have handstand contests and Makino was the judge! 😁

↳ _ynln: omg that sounds adorable

↳ ace: yeah and you would fall on your head

↳ ace: makes sense why you're so stupid

↳ p1rateking_luffy: what does that mean

↳ ace: see what i'm saying

↳ saaaa_bo: you're literally the last person that can say anything

♡ liked by nicorobin, p1rateking_luffy and 9.6k others

_ynln: girls don’t want no scrubs!

[music: No Scrubs - TLC ♫]

tagged: lovenami, nicorobin

nicorobin: had so much fun with you 💗

↳ _ynln: I MISS U ALREADY

ace: YOU ARE SO BEAUTIFUL I CAN'T STOP LOOKING AT THESE PHOTOS 😍😍❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥💝💞💕❣️❣️

ace: I AM NOT A SCRUB GIVE ME A CHANCE!

↳ _ynln: stop i have a boyfriend

↳ ace: screw him, i'll fight your boyfriend

↳ _ynln: he'll mess u up

↳ ace: HE PROBABLY STINKS

↳ _ynln: yeah he does LMFAOO (liked by saaaa_bo, marco_o)

↳ ace: 😐😐

ace: PLEASE ONE CHANCE PLEASE 😩😩

↳ _ynln: YOURE SO ANNOYING 😭😭

lovenami: WHEN CAN WE HANG OUT AGAIN

↳ lovenami: I MISS MY HUSTLE PARTNER ALREADY

♡ liked by iampops, sh444nks and 13.1k others

_ynln: i want to be that dog so bad

tagged: ace

marco_o: holy shit i've never been jealous of a dog

↳ ace: dw u can kiss me anytime 😘

↳ marco_o: bruh no i meant i want to sock you in the face

sh444nks: HAHAHA this is so good

↳ _ynln: omg i made it in life, redhair shanks commented on my post????!

↳ iampops: Yn I comment too

izou.u: first photo made my day, thanks yn

↳ yamatoto: real!!1!

p1rateking_luffy: AHAHHAHAH THIS IS SO FUNNY HAHAHHA

saaaa_bo: this photo is free therapy

ace: WOW THIS COMMENT SECTION MADE ME REALISE ALL MY FRIENDS ARE FAKES

↳ yamatoto: so glad ur self aware!!

↳ _ynln: love u i swear!

↳ ace: u r full of shit

↳ _ynln:❣️

♡ liked by saaaa_bo, iampops and 18.4k others

ace: my pookie dookie 💩 💗

tagged: _ynln

_ynln: words can't explain how much i hate that caption

↳ ace: my sweet white mocha frappuccino with two pumps vanilla, chocolate drizzle and one scoop of java chips

↳ _ynln: omg wow i was so close to pressing the block button

_ynln: rare photo of ace w a shirt on ‼️

saaaa_bo: @_ynln blink twice if u need help

iampops: W photo 💪

↳ ace: POPS WHAT

↳ marco_o: WHO TAUGHT YOU THAT

↳ iampops: Big slay ☝️☝️

↳ iampops: Yn no cap 🚫

↳ izou.u: someone literally needs to come get their grandpa 😭

↳ _ynln: pops using colloquial language needs to be protected in a museum (liked by ace)

p1rateking_luffy: Yummy food 😋😋

[hannahbarberra162]

Fully Human (Sci Fi AU, Marco x Reader, dark, dead dove, non con, humans as pets)

18+ MDNI | on Ao3 | the other parts

Summary: Humans had been the best incubators ever found; their little bodies seemingly designed only for sexual reproduction. They had no horns, hooves, claws, scales, fangs, armor, or venom - only smooth skin, soft hair, and tight holes. Too bad their species went extinct many cycles ago.

You are a few credits away from being able to afford the medicine you need for your sister. Everything is going to work out just fine and you'll be able to get back to Lafftale.

Until Marco of the Whitebeard Pirates finds out you're fully human.

A/N: You might be thinking "Hannah, *another* work where someone gets kidnapped by the Whitebeard Pirates and taken to the Dick?"

I would answer "yes."

Lore heavy in this chapter, the sexy stuff really kicks off in the next. Just roll with the sci fi tropes, I'm not world building from scratch here.

Thank you to @tryingandfailingtowrite for beta-ing this for me <3

Marco walked down the dim hall of the dingy merchant ship, his eyes on his data pad. He was nearly done taking stock of the meager but helpful supplies they’d requisitioned from the ship. Thatch would be pleased, Marco thought, since the ship evidently dealt in trading spices and foodstuffs. The merchant ship had the misfortune to be within magnetic range of the Moby Dick , the Whitebeard Pirates’ main ship. It was their standard operating procedure to board all foreign vessels and raid their stores for anything useful. Since the little ship wasn’t aligned with Whitebeard’s territory, they were fair game for the taking. The Pirates would leave enough supplies for the ship to get to its next location but other than that they’d take whatever was deemed useful.

The 4th division had raided the merchant’s wares after putting the few crew members in containment cubes. The crew hadn’t put up a fight so no battle had taken place; the few beings that worked on the ship were merely being restrained to prevent any annoyance that might occur. Whitebeard wasn’t in the business of causing undue damage to ships or beings, especially not those on the periphery of his territory. All Marco had left to do was to scan all the beings on the foreign crew for their human DNA percentage and he could go back to his own division. 

Along with taking supplies, it was standard procedure to scan all foreign crew members for their human percentage. Humans as a species had been extinct long before Marco was born, but a few creatures in the galaxy had high percentages of human DNA. The higher the human DNA (hDNA), the better chances were for the being to be compatible for reproduction across species. Creatures with hDNA were in great demand but the availability was incredibly low.

Humans had been the best incubators ever found; their little bodies seemingly designed only for sexual reproduction. They had no horns, hooves, claws, scales, fangs, armor, or venom - only smooth skin, soft hair, and tight holes. It was like the universe had made them for fucking, every curve and line of their weak bodies enticing to all species across the galaxy. Once the first human had been found, their planet had been quickly raided for humans in their fertility window and sold across the galaxy as incubators and sex pets. 

Unfortunately many humans did not survive the transition from their planet to another. One of the issues was that humans were delicate, only able to tolerate a very small range of temperatures and conditions. Most had died quickly, unable to bear the harsh conditions into which they were sold or placed. As more humans were taken, other species learned what humans needed for survival through trial and error. 

And humans made for incredible incubators. Almost all races were compatible with humans, the females able to carry young from an incredible range of alien races. The birthing process was messy and complicated but many found the process worthwhile. Many alien races were saved from the brink of extinction by mating with human females, their children slightly weaker but able to carry on their genetic lineage. Human males were mostly kept as pets; they were less commonly used for mating but it did happen from time to time. 

Those who did not need humans for incubation found they made excellent pets if kept within narrow life supporting conditions. Humans were amusing, social, crafty, but ultimately foolish creatures. It had been determined that they did best when they had a singular master controlling their lives and issuing commands. Many aliens came to love their human pets, elevating them nearly to the status of a partner. Alas, full blooded humans did not last long in the universe.

The problem was that so many humans were taken and sold off to different races that no one thought to let the humans reproduce with one another to create more humans. Not only that but pure blooded human children took an incredibly long time to develop into adults, needing tending long after most species would be considered matured. No one wanted to spend the time or effort breeding humans with one another, everyone wanted humans for their own ends. 

Which meant that after only a few short galactic cycles, all the pure blooded humans were gone. It was said that the Galactic Government had a small cohort of humans that they kept for themselves but Marco had never heard of anyone actually seeing the humans. Those born of humans were later mated themselves, leaving each subsequent generation with a lower and lower hDNA percentage. Many beings had some hDNA in them, but not enough to make a significant difference. 

Even after humans themselves went extinct, their descendants still carried on some of their genetic capabilities, particularly around reproduction. So the higher the hDNA, the more desirable a partner would be for mating and reproduction. Anything above 20% was highly sought after, though exceedingly rare. It had been many galactic cycles since humans had gone extinct and the percentages dropped with each subsequent generation. Females would boast about their hDNA numbers as long as they weren’t too high. Beings with high hDNA percentages over 30% ended up getting trafficked into slavery and sold to the highest bidder unless they could find a mate who could protect them from such a fate. 

Marco didn’t have great hopes for high hDNA percentages given the crew members he saw in the individual cubes. Containment cubes were a useful tool used widely in the galaxy - able to be sized to almost any size of cargo, nearly unbreakable walls, able to be moved with a hover pad, and the walls could be made transparent or opaque. Most ships used them for their intended purpose of storing and moving supplies. The cubes weren’t initially designed to store living beings but the off label use was extremely helpful. 

Still, when ships would be raided, it was common to access everyone’s hDNA percentage. Whitebeard was firmly against the slave trade but he wasn’t above keeping beings for his own purposes if the need arose. Whitebeard was unique among the Emperors in that he specialized in collecting strays - most of the Commanders were the last of their kind of species, Marco included. Pops had always encouraged his crew to try and multiply their numbers, and humans were their best best. Unfortunately no crew Marco had ever scanned had anyone with a hDNA score over 20. 

In his youth, Marco viewed every scrap of information he had found on humans. He was completely fascinated by their kind and had thought through how he’d take care of one before many of his sleep cycles. It had been his dream to find a full blooded human and become their master, to have someone to take care of who would depend on him for everything. He also fantasized about mating a human female in order to continue his dying species. Marco spent hours pouring over documents, images, and videos of humans that had been taken before their untimely demise.

Oh, the videos. Marco had watched every human mating video he could find, fisting his cock and imagining he was the one plunging into the female humans. The females were diminutive and soft, their skin easily marred during a rough taking. Both sexes made incredible noises when aroused, the sounds never failing to make Marco hard. But what he really enjoyed watching were videos where the females were brought to orgasm themselves, their tight holes clenching around the partner they’d been given. It was not always a given that the female came in the vids. Most species did not care one way or another for the pleasure of female humans since it was not a requirement for successful breeding. But Marco searched video archive after archive, looking for vids where the female was lost in herself, completely succumbing to the sensations her partner brought to her. How he wanted to see a human's little face scrunch in pleasure as she milked his cock. It was one of his most enduring fantasies, lasting longer than any other. 

Alas as he got older, Marco realized the naivety of his quest but his heart still harbored a secret wish to find a human and mate them. It was why he personally scanned all foreign crews despite being the Commander of his own division and a physician besides. Sighing again, he looked at the small row of containment cubes stacked on top of one another.

Various common species were present but Marco still dutifully scanned them all. Marco pointed the device at the first cube, which seemed to contain a calm looking Kumate. It was also important to scan and determine what races every being was in case of an aggressive species, you couldn’t just tell by looks alone. 

“Two percent human. Kumate.” 

Marco had a knack for correctly guessing what most beings were after scanning and meeting so many for years. Moving on, Marco scanned the next cube with a bored looking Torino inside. Marco suspected they’d been raided before, it was all part and parcel of running merchandise outside of the Galactic Government’s system. 

“Five percent human. Torino.”

Marco was feeling bored himself as he scanned the next cube. It looked like there was a sweating Three Eye inside, laying on her stomach in the small rectangular prism. Marco considered the female, who was steadfastly avoiding eye contact with him. She was much more agitated than her counterparts, moving about as much as she could within the small container. It was too bad she was a Three Eye – they outwardly looked the most similar to humans but couldn’t be crossbred since the males had three pronged genitalia and the females had a matching vagina. They could only reproduce with each other and weren’t often found without another Three Eye since the race preferred telepathic communication. Curious.

“100 percent human. Human.”  The robotic voice chirped. Marco stopped in place and looked at the scanner. 100 percent? Not possible. After shaking the device, Marco scanned the cube again. The Three Eye inside had gone pale and wasn’t moving around anymore.

“ 100 percent human. Human. ” Now Marco was sure the scanner was broken. He pointed it at himself and activated it, waiting to see if it said he was 100% human too.

“ Eight point five percent human. Phoenix. ” the scanner read out loud. Now Marco’s brow furrowed even more. That was his correct percentage and species, so why was it malfunctioning on the Three Eye? Marco hummed and tapped the top of the containment cube with his finger. It was connected to the controller cuff around his wrist – they’d procured some shipments of the newest cuffs available and Marco hadn’t had time to look through all the features yet. Even so, he could use it for something as simple as containment cubes. The cube hovered and awaited his movements, programmed to follow behind him. Even though Marco had no doubt the issue was a simple scanner malfunction, his blood was pumping with the fantasy that he’d found a human.  

Your POV

You were so fucking screwed.

You’d joined Nacl’s crew precisely because he didn’t look too closely and didn’t ask you any questions beyond if you could lift 50 weight units. You thought you would work with him for a few galactic cycles, make a few credits, and move along to bigger and better things. Namely, getting more resources needed at the Outpost before heading back home. No one had told you to go on this mission, in fact they'd forbidden you from going. So you had commandeered one of the two working space vessels and taken off into the void before anyone could stop you. 

And things had been going great for a while - you learned some of the more recent technological advancements you hadn’t seen on the Outpost, you worked, and you’d even been able to taste something you’d been wanting since childhood - chocolate. You had a few credits to your name and you only had a few more to earn in order to afford the medicine you needed. Then you could head back to the outpost and put this whole stupid misadventure behind you. 

Until the fucking Whitebeard Pirates showed up out of nowhere. 

You weren’t completely unaware, you knew it was a possibility. But you thought it was a possibility in the way that a star exploding was a possibility, or like being sucked into a black hole was a possibility. The Whitebeard Pirates didn’t bother with small fry like Nacl’s ship, or so you thought. They fought the Galactic Government, other Pirates, and generally protected the planets under their control. You thought you would be safe, your identity hidden behind a shoddy Three Eye disguise.

You weren’t.

Not when you saw Marco the Phoenix personally scanning your crew members, the device reading out everyone’s species and hDNA score. He looked similar to his wanted posters but they didn’t do him justice. He was incredibly tall, his bird-like legs ending in sharp talons that clacked against the floor as he walked. He had a rather aquiline face, his mouth almost beak-like. His arms were normal but ended in taloned hands, unlike your own blunt fingers. But his most grabbing feature were his eyes - large teal eyes with a dark ring around them. Even though you didn’t want to attract his attention, you couldn’t stop yourself from staring at their beauty. Eventually you broke your stare and looked back down at your hands.

He was humanoid in this form, but he had others as you’d seen on various video feeds. Marco could also change his anatomy and turn into a full Phoenix, a deadly opponent on the battlefield. The Whitebeard Pirates were a favorite among your crew to watch on vids and you were glad that at least you knew who you were dealing with and how strong they were. 

You’d gone into the containment cube without protest, trying to copy the demeanor of your crew members. The Silk Road didn’t have the same kind of fancy equipment as the pirates did, they only had hover cubes that functioned as basic storage units. Fred the Torino said that they’d been raided before and if there was no fighting they’d be left in one piece. You thought that meant the Whitebeards would free you once they’d finished taking the spices and food the ship had been transporting. You hadn’t expected the First Division Commander Marco to personally be scanning the crew for hDNA percentages. You didn’t even know they had mobile hDNA scanners. 

Technology on Lafftale Outpost was old and outdated, transferred from person to person as the need arose. You weren’t up to date on the most recent technology and it had almost cost you your cover several times. The Silk Road, Nacl’s ship, was a technological wonderment to you and you had to fake understanding of many things before you got the hang of everything.

But now it was all for nothing. This stupid fucking pirate was going to scan you and take you and sell you and you’d have to be a sex pet or breeder for some disgusting jelly alien or a tentacle alien or they’d freeze you to death or serve you only raw food you couldn���t eat and your sister was right you should have listened you-

Ok, you needed to calm down before you hyperventilated. You took a deep breath and held it in your lungs, expelling it slowly. You weren’t completely out of options. You’d just have to wait and plan your escape before they sold you at the nearest slave auction. There were a few escape pods still on the Silk Road, you would need to get to one before they figured out exactly what you were.

Except it looked like he was taking you to their massive ship.

Fuck.

Marco POV

Marco had the containment cube trailing behind him to the next available transport beam, his mind mulling over the facts thus far. The Three Eyes was even more agitated than before, testing the containment unit for any faulty design that would open the hatch and release it. It wasn’t possible but he did give you credit for trying. You still hadn’t spoken to him, which was understandable. He had a fearsome reputation in the galaxy, his bounty in the billions. Many creatures were scared to be in his presence, even though he wasn’t particularly aggressive unless provoked. 

Your agitation steadily increased as he approached the transport beam in the next supply room, your three eyes wide and fearful as you watched cargo being beamed aboard. Thatch was overseeing the taking of the cargo and hailed Marco as he came up. Thatch himself had a high hDNA percentage, a fact he kept carefully hidden. Humans weren’t known for their fighting abilities and he didn’t want to appear weak, especially as a Whitebeard Commander. The rest of his DNA was comprised of a warrior species, complete with scales, forked tongue and muscled tail, but Marco understood why he was one of the few who knew Thatch’s secret. 

“Whatcha got there? A Three Eyes? Cute, but why are you taking her?” he asked, looking you over in the cube. You bristled and tried to hide your face from his perusal. You were cute, Marco thought to himself, but that didn’t have anything to do with it. 

“Abnormality on the scanner. I want to examine her more closely on the ship. Come by after you’ve completed your duties if you’d like,” he said, making sure his tone was casual. Marco did want to talk to Thatch but didn’t want to make his findings known in front of anyone else. Besides, the most likely outcome was that she turned out to be a Three Eyes and Marco sent her on her way with an apology and put in a ticket to have his scanner adjusted. 

The cube trailed behind Marco as he stepped into the beam. The being had all three of her eyes trained on the beam, crouching as far back in her cube as she could, which wasn’t very far. Her face drained of blood and she looked like she was going to scream, though she still hadn’t spoken to him. Strange , Marco thought, transport beams were invented by her race. She should have been well familiar with them. Just one more mystery to solve, he supposed. 

He had the two of you beamed to the port closest to the infirmary, walking briskly after the beaming was completed. You were panting heavily, as if relieved that you’d made it through without disintegrating. Marco’s gut was telling him there was something unusual about you, and he’d been on the Grand Line long enough to trust it. He was going to discover whatever secrets you were hiding.

Entering into his private lab in the infirmary, Marco turned to you as the doors locked behind him automatically with a tiny snick. You were scanning the room, likely looking for an escape route. Marco watched you for a few moments until you realized all his attention was on you. You stilled and licked your lips, watching him closely.

Marco leaned over and tapped the cube with his left hand. It turned vertical so your feet were now by the floor of the lab. A quick tap in succession and the cube’s hatch opened, dropping you to the floor with a small thud. The cube folded itself up until it was the size of his talon and placed itself within the inventory in his controller. You were watching the proceedings like they were magic instead of the commonplace technology available throughout the galaxy. The Three Eyes were technologically advanced, he was certain you would have seen this kind of thing before.

After the cube was gone, your eyes snapped to him, as if you finally realized you were trapped in a room alone with him. Marco nearly smiled, you telegraphed your thoughts and feelings so clearly he didn’t need to be from a telepathic race to understand your next move. Marco leaned against an examination table as you fidgeted in front of him. As a powerful Commander, he was used to making others uncomfortable with his presence alone. He was going to use that to his advantage.

“Why does my scanner show that you’re one hundred percent human?” Marco asked curiously, his eyes roving over your smaller form. 

“It’s broken,” was your quick reply, the sound of your true voice detectable even as your words were translated. Marco’s head tilted slightly – your universal translator was external? He hadn’t seen one of those since he was a child many cycles ago. They’d all been replaced by internal translation units for a long time. External translators were faulty and finicky and internal ones were cheap – why were you using one?

“It functions correctly on your crew mates and myself. So why not on you?” he continued. He stood up, his talons clacking against the metal floor. He advanced towards you, watching your every movement with his sharp eyes. You swallowed and took a step back for each of his steps forward until your back hit the wall. You were fairly short, the top of your head only reaching to the middle of his chest. Not uncommon across the galaxy, but further settling in a suspicion Marco was more seriously considering.

Marco reached for your arm, feeling your wildly racing pulse as he took your slim wrist in his hand. He removed a thin metal bracelet from his controller and Marco snapped it on your wrist before you could react. You licked your lips and stared at it, as if unsure what it was. 

“A few more tests and I’m sure I’ll be sending you back to your crew,” he said quietly, watching you squirm against the wall. He should really have backed up to give you space but something in him liked having you underneath his body, your body heat radiating onto his front. Your scent alone had his cock hardening, you bore a scent that he couldn’t quite place. He wanted to sniff you all over and find the source, lick it off you with his tongue. The smell was yet another abnormality since Three Eyes tended to smell like mold, especially the females. Whatever it was, you were making him harder than he'd been for many cycles.

“Is this mandatory?” you asked, your eyes looking anywhere but his face. Your translator gave your voice a metallic tinge, Marco wondered what you’d sound like without it.

“Yes.”

Your POV

You didn’t know what nearly anything in the room was for nor what any of the tests Marco was running were for. The Silk Road wasn’t very technologically advanced, which was why you were able to covertly learn along the way and fake your way through various tasks until you were proficient. Now you were trapped with Marco, in an examination room, and no closer to getting away from him or the ship. 

You startled as the thin bracelet around your hand chirped twice, a green light flashing. You watched it, trying to make sense of what it was detecting. Marco gently pushed you towards an examination table, needing to pick you up to set you on the high platform. You would have protested but your attention was drawn by the bracelet’s lights changing colors to red.

“Hey, what’s this-  ow!” you yelped a moment later. It had jabbed you quickly with a small needle. Not enough to hurt, but enough that it wasn’t a pleasant surprise. Marco barely gave you a glance as he looked down at his data pad. His was fancier than any you’d seen before but that didn’t mean much. His eyes were practically glued to the information it was spitting out even though his stance was still the same. You tried discreetly pushing the bracelet off your wrist but it tightened as you tried to get it over your thumb joint.

“It stays on. Measures your vitals, blood flow, oxygen saturation, things like that,” Marco explained absently, scrolling through the information with a taloned finger. He finished reading and looked at you, as if seeing you anew. 

“Lean back against the chair,” Marco ordered, placing his data pad on a nearby counter. You eyed the door but decided against making a break for it. He hadn’t directly said anything about you being a human or reacted in any way towards the test results. Maybe he didn’t know? Maybe the tests weren’t identifying you since humans were de facto extinct? Either way, he was much stronger than you and if all he wanted was you to lean back, it wasn’t so bad. You’d comply for now until you saw an opening to get away. 

The bench shifted before your eyes. Instead of being a bench it was now a stylized chair, almost like a dentist’s chair you’d seen once in an old human book. You put your arms on the armrests and settled your legs down, trying to calm your racing heart with a deep breath.

Until ionic cuffs bound you to the chair.

The red forcefields seemed to come out of the air itself, binding your wrists and ankles to the chair. You struggled, bowing your middle outwards in an effort to get away. Marco frowned and tapped the control panel on his data pad. Ionic bonds wrapped around your midsection, neck, elbows and knees, pulling you flush against the chair. You were completely trapped. 

“Let me go!” you yelled as the bottom half of the chair split. Your legs were now separated from one another, every part of your body immobilized by the bonds. Marco came closer to you, his taloned hand reaching for your head. You shrank back, you definitely knew what was coming next. You regretted yelling, and bit your lip to stop from crying out when he hit you. Marco’s frown deepened. 

Marco POV

Marco’s eyes kept rereading the reports as the data came from the creature’s blood. The results were conclusive.

You were human.

A fully, completely, one hundred percent human female.

Marco kept his features and body language the same as his mind raced with the information but he couldn’t keep his thoughts from straying with every errant thought that came to mind. There was so much he needed to do, so much he needed to prepare for you. The fact that he had a human, a female human in breeding range, was monumental. He’d have to tell Pops of course, right away. It would shake the New World galaxy once the news spread that Whitebeard had a human female. He’d keep it quiet for as long as he could but there was no way a finding of this magnitude would remain secret for long.

But beyond telling his Captain, Marco's mind started to race with the amount of supplies you needed.  There were so many things that humans needed for survival, he’d have to get you new clothes, he’d have to get Thatch to make you special food, he’d have to have an enclosure made for you, get special lights,…Marco quickly tapped out a list of items he’d need and orders he would need to give after he talked to Pops.

You were still struggling against the bonds of the inspection chair, but Marco wasn’t worried. That chair had held Fire Fist when he first joined the Whitebeard Pirates and he had incredibly strong pyro-enhancements. You were weak, not able to break through the thin clinical cuff he put on you earlier, much less the inspection chair. You were trying desperately to get away like an animal in a trap. Marco felt so much pity for you and even reached over to pat your head, a gesture humans enjoyed.

He wanted to reassure you that you didn’t need to be worried anymore, you had him. And Marco knew exactly how to take care of you. He just had to acclimate you to your new circumstances and have you accept him as your Master. Humans needed one creature to listen to as an ultimate authority and they often clung to the first kind being they encountered. Humans needed someone to firmly guide them, to provide boundaries, rules, tender care, and sufficient sexual outlets. You would come to understand that he was going to help you, that you needed someone to watch over you. Humans weren’t the kind of creatures that could be left to their own devices. You were lost in the galaxy, a creature that needed tending and someone to care for them. 

It wasn’t purely selfish that Marco wanted to become your master. Humans were social creatures, they needed a master otherwise they became despondent and listless. In your case, that would be Marco, and he’d happily take on that role. You were lucky that Marco had been the one to find you. Marco was stern but fair, part of an incredibly strong crew, and most importantly, knew a lot about humans. 

Which raised another question - where had you come from? Why had you been pretending to be a Three Eyes on a small merchant vessel? Marco quickly tapped out a message to Thatch, asking him to grab all your belongings off the other ship. They might hold clues as to your origins or perhaps contain a comfort item or two. Humans were an emotional and sentimental species and often clung to various inanimate objects during times of duress. He didn't intend to upset you but based on your reaction, he surmised you might be unhappy with his treatment of you thus far.

“Let me go!” you squeaked at him, trying to escape your bonds. Oh right, the translator. The old one was likely causing you pain or headaches in addition to being outdated. That had to go, he’d replace it with a new model soon.

Your eyes were wild as Marco reached behind your head to turn off your translator. Poor little human, so frail and afraid. Your shoulders hiked and your eyes scrunched shut, as if awaiting a blow from him. Marco frowned, he didn’t like that you had a defensive response. Where had you learned that? Who had struck you before? Were you escaping from another master? The thought of someone hurting you, a defenseless and weak human, had him clenching his fist. Calming his mind, he reminded himself that you were now his, and you’d never have to deal with such things again. He’d keep you safe from anything in the universe.

Marco’s fingers bent your ear forward to see the external translator. The site it was implanted in was red and bothered, whoever had done it wasn’t a professional. He would have to ensure you weren’t getting some kind of infection from it; the very thought of you being in pain upset him. He hummed in thought as his fingers adjusted the external box. Now it was only receiving communications but wouldn’t be able to transmit them, so you’d be able to understand him even if he couldn’t understand you. 

He would replace it eventually but truthfully he also wanted to capture some of your human language. There hadn’t been many recordings made of humans speaking to one another in their own language, so recording the words you used might prove scientifically helpful at some point in the future. In his heart, he also wanted to hear what your little voice sounded like without being translated. His memory of the human mating vids was crystal clear. Would you make noises like that?

“Don’t worry, little human. I will take excellent care of you,” he said, trying to approximate a human smile with his mouth. His species was not in the habit of smiling but he tried his best to make you feel at ease. Apparently that was not the thing to do because he got an alert that your heart rate was spiking beyond normal range. 

“Calm down. I will not harm you,” Marco said decisively. Your heart rate did not change and in fact became faster. Marco belatedly remembered that humans were notoriously bad at controlling their body functions, not even being able to modulate their body temperature, heart rate, or blood flow. No wonder your species had died out. You were squeaking rapidly to him but he didn’t understand what you were saying. He was right to turn off your translator, your voice was melodic and sweet to his ear. He couldn’t wait to inspect you and see if humans really produced all the sounds he’d seen on videos.

“I will replace your translator soon. It is causing you pain and is outdated. In the meantime, I cannot understand you,” Marco said, gently grabbing your jaw. You tried quickly turning your head to knock off his hand, but your efforts were futile. He wanted to hold you, so he would. You would come to understand that his desires were commands, not suggestions. As he held your small face, he ran a thumb over your cheek. Your skin was so soft, he’d never felt anything so smooth in his life. He wanted to run his fingers over every part of you, see if the rumors about human epidermis were true. But for now he would touch you as much as possible to acclimate you to his touch. 

“I am going to examine you and determine your level of health and sexual compatibility. Afterwards, I will contact my Captain and inform him of your existence. He will let us know further steps. Be assured little pet, I will not let anyone take you from me,” he said, watching you with unblinking eyes. You shrank back as much as you could within the confines of the bonds.

“I am your new Master. My name is Marco and I am the physician and Commander of the First Division of the Whitebeard Pirates. You are mine.”

[diabolicalevil]

rogal dorn being informed of the 3 little pigs story like it's a real thing real guys did and he gets so angry he pops 6 blood vessels

[portgasdbru]

whitebeard pirates groupchat

wb pirates (ace, izo, marco, thatch) x reader

cw: funny/crack, drug mention

[sh4nksslvt]

Sea Kings, Smart Mouths, and Stolen Hearts

A wandering scholar with the rare ability to read the Poneglyphs finds themselves entangled in the chaotic world of the Whitebeard Pirates.

PART 3 OF READER WHO CAN READ PONEGLYPH

whitebeard pirates x gn!reader ౨ৎ💗 ONE SHOT

main characters: Ace, Thatch, Izou, Marco

tags: fluff, sfw, harem, soft

a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only so expect this ffs cringe and oc

word count: 1.2k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

The Moby Dick was a floating temple of chaos.

You’d been on board for exactly three hours when you witnessed a fistfight over the last bottle of rum, a man juggling knives while drunk off his ass, and someone trying to arm-wrestle a literal sea king. And for some reason, every single one of them tried to rope you into it.

You were sitting on a barrel near the railing, minding your own damn business, when a piece of driftwood floated by — a small, smooth thing, carved with ancient script.

Your fingers twitched.

The words called to you. Whispered in a tongue long dead to the world. It was harmless, but old. You reached out, brushing your fingers over it, murmuring softly.

“Hey, what’re you doin’?”

You didn’t even flinch when the voice broke your concentration. You finished reading the last word before looking up. A man stood there, grin too big for his face, hair looks like bread, scar on side of his eye. He's sun-browned and scarred, and a bottle swung lazily in his hand.

“Talking to wood,” you said dryly.

He barked out a laugh. “Name’s Thatch. I like you already.”

“Is it because I didn’t scream?”

“Nope. It’s ‘cause you look like you’re about to either murder someone or seduce ‘em. That’s a rare vibe to pull off.”

You quirked a brow but said nothing. Thatch clapped you on the back anyway, nearly sending you overboard.

“C’mon,” he said. “You can sulk better at the fire.”

Dinner on the Moby Dick was less of a meal and more of a battle royale.

Men shouted, meat sizzled over open flames, and ale flowed like water. You sat at the edge of it, quietly nursing a cup of something that tasted like regret and old socks.

A man with fiery freckles and a grin to match dropped into the seat beside you. He immediately reached for your drink.

You grabbed his wrist without looking.

“Mine.”

He blinked, then grinned wider. “Name’s Ace. You’re the new one, huh?”

“No,” you deadpanned. “I’m the old one. I’ve just been invisible this whole time.”

Ace snorted. “Smartass.”

Thatch appeared behind him, slinging an arm around both your shoulders. “Told you, Ace — they’re my favorite.”

You were already plotting his demise.

It didn’t take long for the others to circle.

A man with long, flowing hair and sharp eyes introduced himself as Izou. He looked you up and down like you were a puzzle with missing pieces.

“You’re strange,” he said, not unkindly.

“Thanks.”

“I like strange.”

You raised your cup in salute.

And then there was Marco.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just watched you from across the fire, golden eyes flickering like dying embers. When he finally approached, you were standing alone on the deck, staring up at a sky so thick with stars it made your teeth ache.

“You’re not like them,” Marco said quietly.

“Observant.”

He smirked. “What’s your deal?”

You hesitated. But the truth felt easier here, in the dark.

“I read things,” you said. “Things I shouldn’t be able to. Ancient things.”

“Poneglyphs.”

You stiffened, and Marco’s smirk turned sharp.

“Relax,” he murmured. “Your secret’s safe. Pops wouldn’t give a damn. Most of us wouldn’t either.”

You eyed him. “And you?”

“I find it interesting.”

You snorted. “You would.”

His laugh was soft. “Smartmouth.”

The next day, some poor idiots tried to attack the Moby Dick.

They came in hot — four ships bristling with cannons and swords, foaming at the mouth about bounties and revenge. You barely blinked.

The crew went feral.

Ace leapt into the fray with fire on his heels, Thatch laughing as he tossed knives with deadly precision. Izou shot a man out of mid-air, unfazed as blood misted the deck.

One fool broke through the chaos and made a beeline for you.

“Oi, scholar!” he sneered. “You’re worth a fortune!”

You sighed.

Raising a hand, you spoke a word older than kingdoms, and the man’s sword crumbled to dust in his grip.

He paled.

You spoke again, and the air around him shimmered — his boots turned to brittle stone, cracking beneath him. The third word sent him flying backward with a force that shattered the nearest mast.

The crew went dead silent.

Ace let out a long, low whistle. “Yo.”

“Did you see that?” Thatch yelped. “That was badass.”

Izou eyed you like you’d just turned into his favorite thing.

Marco, perched on the highest beam, grinned.

“Not helpless, then.”

You rolled your eyes. “Hardly.”

After that, you became a sort of legend.

The scholar who spoke to stones and made enemies vanish with a word. The one even sea kings gave a wide berth.

And the harem started forming before you could stop it.

Thatch started bringing you food, drinks, and increasingly ridiculous trinkets (“This is a seashell shaped like a butt, you’re welcome.”).

Ace followed you everywhere. Literally everywhere. You once found him outside the bathroom.

“What,” you demanded.

He shrugged. “Felt like it.”

"tsk."

Izou taught you how to braid hair. His hands were surprisingly gentle for a man who could blow your head off without blinking.

And Marco? He made it worse.

Sitting beside you at night, speaking of things he shouldn’t remember. Old places, lost names. His hand brushing yours when no one was looking.

You should’ve run.

You didn’t.

And the comedy never stopped.

Like the time Ace tried to fight a giant crab to impress you and got pinched in a place no man should ever get pinched.

Or when Thatch bet you couldn’t outdrink him and passed out three shots in, leaving you to doodle a mustache on his face.

Or when Izou declared you’d look better in one of his kimonos and actually wrestled you into one. (It did look good. You never admitted it.)

Even Marco wasn’t safe. You caught him napping once, a seagull perched on his head. You didn’t tell him. You let it happen.

Then came the Poneglyph.

Buried in the heart of a ruined island, half-sunken beneath the sea. You felt it before you saw it — an ache in your chest, a pulse beneath your skin.

The crew followed you in.

“This place gives me the creeps,” Thatch muttered.

“Maybe ‘cause it’s cursed,” Ace said, poking a skull.

“Both of you shut up,” Izou hissed.

You found the slab in the heart of the ruin. Black stone, ancient words glowing faintly. It sang to you.

And like an idiot, you answered.

You spoke the words.

Power thrummed through the ground, the air, your bones. The sea roared. The sky cracked.

The world shifted.

When you opened your eyes, you were on your knees. Marco was crouched beside you, worry in his gaze.

“You okay?” he asked.

You nodded, breathless. “Yeah.”

“What did it say?”

You hesitated. “War’s coming.”

His jaw tightened.

But then Ace clapped you on the back, nearly toppling you. “If anyone’s startin’ a war with you on our side, they’re screwed.”

Thatch grinned. “Dibs on being your right-hand man.”

Izou smirked. “I call left.”

Marco chuckled. “I’ll be wherever you need me.”

You sighed. “You’re all idiots.”

But you didn’t feel alone anymore.

That night, on the deck beneath a sky bleeding silver, Marco sat beside you.

“You belong here, y’know,” he said quietly.

You didn’t answer.

“Not just as some scholar. As one of us.”

You stared at the sea. “Even if I’m dangerous?”

He shrugged. “So are we.”

He touched your hand, fingers curling around yours.

“Besides,” Marco added, a grin tugging at his lips, “you still owe me a drink.”

You smiled.

For the first time in years, it felt easy.

“Deal.”

[cyborg-franky]

One Piece Chars Playing A Horror Game

They think it won’t be scary and end up jumping at everything. Nami, Brook, Ace, Thatch, Roger, Buggy, Perona, Barto

REFUSES to play or be in the same room as you playing horror. Chopper

Won’t play but watches and enjoys. Brook, Thatch, Rayleigh, King, Killer

Won’t play but watches and still craps themselves. Usopp, Nami, Izou

Is a rock, unmoved by anything. Zoro, Robin, Sabo, Marco, Mihawk, King, Law, Kid, Killer, Crocodile

“You think that’s scary, you should see the inside of my head.” Sanji, Usopp, Robin, Ace, Sabo, Mihawk, Queen, Law, Killer

HOLY FUCKING SHIT, WHAT THE FUCK -throws the controller across the room- Usopp, Ace, Buggy, Barto, Kid, Corazon

Pre-jumps at everything, turn a corner, they jump even if there’s nothing there. Usopp, Nami, Thatch, Buggy, Yamato, Oden, Barto, Corazon

Sits there with a big smile on their face utterly loving it. Robin, Franky, Luffy, Marco, Rayleigh, King, Law, Kid, Killer Plays for five minutes and is haunted for a week. Sanji, Usopp, Buggy, Barto, Corazon

Is so bad at the game nothing ever happens and you leave the room. Zoro, Jinbei, Izou, Roger, Shanks

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

A Sparrow at Sea 4/4

MDNI

Whitebeard pirates/reader (fem? functionally gender-neutral)

I do not curate tag lists, but I reply to comments on each chapter when the next goes live.

Summary: Turned into a bird as part of a slave-smuggling operation, you get your revenge - and then your revenge gets you. Panicked and alone, you crash land on a very large, very famous ship full of very large and quite infamous men.

***Warnings: graphic violence (birds go for the eyes, kids), blood, burning, mild body horror, technically kidnapping, reasonable fear of death, crushing/suffocation, implied nudity, panic attacks

(I tried writing four one-shots for my birthday and wrote one four-shot instead.)

Master List

Ace was a fire hazard. Izou always looked like he knew too much. And Marco remained a type A(sshole).

Though you flitted from one to the other, even trying Jozu’s armored shoulder and Haruta’s puffy sleeves, you always found your way back to Thatch. Although he might be even busier than Marco, he was surprisingly chill about it all.

The ship’s kitchen filled a thousand bottomless stomachs three times a day, with a limited menu available at all hours to accommodate every shift, sleep schedule, and appetite. He always had something to do, but he loved his galley, and it showed. Everything had a place, and all of his team knew their roles.

Every kitchen you’d ever seen on half this scale was a warzone of barked orders, small fires, and tears when the customers weren’t looking. But Thatch clearly understood that none of his men could leave, could find a work/life balance. The ship was their home. That included the galley. He gave them reason to stay and opportunities to experiment with the variety of ingredients gathered from remote islands.

He also wore shirts as intended – jackets even! – which made your life easier. No matter how battle-hardened they were, you knew men could be big babies about little things, like claws pricking into skin when they moved too quickly. Even an accidental swat could kill you. You’d felt those muscles under your feet. That would suck for everyone, especially you. And you weren’t ready to leave Whitebeard’s crew for the big sea in the sky, so those considerations remained a priority.

Thatch didn’t even twitch the first time you awkwardly flailed up to his shoulder.

“Picking me? I’m honored.”

And that was that.

The first day you caught some long looks from the other men – but you were what appeared to be a messy wild animal in a place full of food. It didn’t last. When you didn’t shit indoors and actually policed your own feathers as they dropped, your presence was accepted. But you’d never had to prove anything to Thatch.

He chatted with you, even when his crewmates were working beside him. You answered, pretending it was a real conversation, and he smiled when you replied, even though all he heard was birdsong.

You weren’t above playing favorites, but you still did the rounds, because Ace looked too damn sad about it if you didn’t. With every return, Thatch greeted you with a big smile and a handful of seeds. He liked feeding you like he enjoyed feeding everyone else. After some discussion, the kitchen team cleared out a small cabinet. They removed the door and kept the make-shift birdhouse stocked with various nibbles, a water dish, and a pile of old rags.

You found it embarrassingly homey.

And you quickly found yourself settling in, riding Thatch’s shoulder as he began breakfast prep hours before dawn, groggily nestling into the crook of his neck as he explained the menu. Ace would come down at some point in the day, puppy-dog-eyed and eager. Trial and error led to a mutual agreement that his hand was actually the safest place. Or his hat. He only squashed you once when his narcolepsy struck, and you couldn’t find it in your heart to hold it against him.

The others came to you as time allowed or need demanded.

Marco was doctor, sure, but fuck if the crew of orphans and outcasts didn’t need several full-time therapists to handle their festering emotional wounds. It wasn’t hard to spot a pirate having a rough day as he trudged to the kitchen door, asking if Birdie was in.

It felt like pulling your weight, in a way. You thanked them for feeding you, caring for you, and not asking the wrong questions by spending long evenings perched on the rail beside Vista, staring out to sea. Or recovering the pens Marco dropped when he worked too late into the night. Or jumping on Ace’s head when he stared into the middle distance for more than five minutes at a time.

You still hadn’t approached Whitebeard. He knew of you, and the crew discussed your aversion to their captain, but no one forced the issue. He was too much, the epitome of all threats in both strength and observation. The world boasted many strange and wonderful things, but he’d seen more than most, and you were willing to bet he’d see right through you.

You’d hate to be found out.

Not that you liked being a bird, but if you ever got your skin back, you’d have to disappear, and that would upset the crew. But even that would sting less than the alternative: finding out the truth.

You hadn’t done anything to intentionally manipulate them, and you’d never sell them out, but after sharing so many vulnerable moments, you knew they’d see it as a betrayal. Honestly, just remembering what you really were felt like dishonesty.

But you were an unwilling accomplice in an espionage mission that never was, and you really hoped the ones truly responsible were already dead.

Time returned your feathers and carved your niche in the crew. You worried less, burying the eternal scream that still bubbled up when you considered just how accustomed you’d become to being a bird. It wasn’t that it felt right to have feathers, but the horror had become terrifyingly mundane. And while you were still very wary of them, you only feared the men you sailed with because of their size and its potential consequences. But you had no qualms riding on their shoulders, hands, and heads.

That was for the best, because in the months since you boarded, the Moby Dick didn’t put into port. You couldn’t have left if you wanted to, not easily anyway. Smaller fleet vessels came and went with commanders, off causing their own mayhem and gathering supplies to return to the family home. The enormous ship was a roaming port of its own, really, unless something specific caught the captain’s interest, and that hadn’t happened for a hot minute, apparently.

The commanders’ cycling adventures forced you to adapt your schedule from time to time, but it didn’t usually bother you. Your birdhouse remained, and come-or-go, there was always at least one familiar face to pester. Or the kitchen team, who took it as a matter of honor to speak to you while their division commander was away.

Thatch rarely left, and when he did, you spend much more time on deck, watching for sails. It pulled a lot of ribbing from the other men, primarily aimed at Thatch. Plenty laughed and assured you your favorite would be back soon. Maybe it made you look clingy, but you spent most days literally clinging to men’s shirts entirely in the buff. There were better things to blush about.

So, you found yourself hanging in the rigging, watching Thatch’s ship inch into view, from sail, to ship, to sailors. He climbed aboard, laughing and holding a strange fruit destined to be sliced, diced, and served up in a pie. You fluttered down, catching bits of the conversation as he crossed the deck.

A mystery devil fruit.

Your claws sank into white threads, and you chirped as loud as you could in his ear, Better not be another Logia. If you turn to smoke or some shit while I’m on your shoulder there will be consequences. I never shat in your mouth when you fell asleep over your cookbooks, but there’s a first time for everything.

“Birdie missed you, yoi,” Marco drawled.

The threat of a taunt hovered in his smirk, and you leapt back into the air, circling until you found an opening. Feet outstretched, you snagged his hair. The grip stopped your momentum, and you nestled down in the golden explosion as he yelped and tried to pull you out. Which was difficult without pulling his own hair.

Try me, Pineapple.

Before he could sort through the mess you’d made of his ridiculous styling (not that most of the crew were much better – Thatch included), you escaped, cackling in triumph, and returned to your usual place on Thatch’s shoulder.

The cook didn’t hide his delight. “Let’s go see what chaos you’ve caused while I was gone,” he said, trailing his fingers over your head. That meant going to the galley, the best place on the ship, and you gladly settled in for the ride down.

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

The crew celebrated Thatch’s return that night with a feast on deck. Thatch really only got to enjoy part of it, of course. He was still stirring pots and tossing skillets when it began, and he retired early to prep for breakfast.

Ace tried convincing you to stay on his hat with a few berries when Thatch left the party, but you didn’t want to leave Thatch to just talk to himself while he worked. So, off you flew.

He was busy. Bending, lifting, and climbing to review stocks and ensure everything was properly stowed before he even brought out the cutting board for the pile of zucchini awaiting his attention. Your birdhouse made a better resting place, and voices carried in the empty space, reverberating off tiled walls and polished counters. You could hear him. He could hear you. And you stayed out of the way.

As the night wore on and Thatch regaled you with hyperbolized tales of his strength and valor on his trip, a shadow moved into the galley. Thatch noticed, too, breaking his narrative to acknowledge the intruder.

“Hey, Teach.” The cook didn’t even turn around, still hard at work. “Need something?”

The shadow nodded, drifting closer.

“Ya might say that.”

You’d hated Teach from day one. Thatch and Ace had both tried reasoning with you, explaining he was big and a little careless but he certainly didn’t mean any harm. That he was a friend worth having. But that wasn’t the man you saw.

The longer you looked, the more he reminded you of a cat. Some prowling thing waiting in the light, content and lazy in a way that masked his oddities. He didn’t want anything, which was strange enough for a pirate. He didn’t ask for anything despite his tenure, and he laughed off his open selfishness as a harmless quirk.

Always smiling, but too widely. Always laughing, but at the wrong times. Quick to offer advice that almost sounded mocking.

No, you didn’t trust Teach, and you were glad as you observed, silent, from your nest.

He was moving too slowly, too carefully, fixated on Thatch. His steps echoed the cook’s like he wanted to be forgotten as he moved. One hand gripped something on his belt, and a stray beam of light caught the silver gleam of a blade leaving the sheath.

You sat up, hopped to the edge of your cabinet, and peered down as Thatched moved to the counter below.

“Well, there’s still a basket of leftovers from breakfast. I don’t think there’s any pie, but if you’re starving…”

Teach’s eyes blazed as he raised the knife over his head, smiling honestly for the first time. His whole face changed with the expression, transforming from clown to monster.

You lunged.

Shrieking.

Thatch looked up, surprised by the noise, and you latched onto Teach’s left eye. Your claws punctured into viscous jelly before either man realized what had happened.

It threw off the killer’s aim, and the blade sank into Thatch’s shoulder as the cook turned to follow your trajectory. You didn’t pause to see more than that, devoting your full mind, body, and spirit into tearing this backstabber apart.

“FUCK!” Teach grabbed at you, and you retaliated by hooking your feet into his eye socket, pecking and tearing viciously as he stumbled. “Damn bird!”

He caught you, hand as awful as you remembered, but you had a good grip, and pulling you off would mean pulling out his own eye. There wasn’t much he could do, and your feathers slipped around in his unsteady grasp, smeared with his blood.

Cursing, Teach squeezed. Hard. If he couldn’t get you off his face, he’d crush you.

It pushed the battle cry right out of your body, but you hold on. His eye was your only lifeline.

“Birdie!”

Thatch joined the fray from where he’d fallen, cutting at Teach’s legs. Cook he may be, but Thatch was still a pirate, and his time in the kitchen taught him just where to slice. Meat was meat, joints were joints, and tendons were tendons.

Teach buckled, howling.

He tried to catch himself, grabbing at the air for balance, and instinctively let you go. Not that it did him much good.

Now everyone was on the floor, wounded and slipping through the mess. Thatch rose to his knees, pulling out a knife of his own. You could see the hilt of Teach’s weapon over his shoulder, and your favorite’s face was pale, glistening with sweat as he fought through the pain.

Before Teach could get his hands on you again, you released his left eye and sprang to his right, flapping and spreading your wings wide to block his view. You couldn’t get the knife out of Thatch’s back, but you could make it easier for him to sink one in Teach’s chest.

You raked over Teach’s lid with your claws and pried at his lashes with your beak as he thrashed. He had the sense to keep it closed as he cursed you to hell. You were so consumed with keeping him blind, you didn’t see the hand coming. One strike sent you flying into the cabinets.

A blur, a wet smack on impact, and a short drop.

It felt like you’d left your ghost on Teach’s face, and your body sat in a soulless, thoughtless heap.

Then air hit your lungs, your mind rushed back into action, and you focused stunned eyes just in time to see Thatch kneeling on Teach’s gut, his chef’s knife stabbing into the traitor’s neck. He pushed it deeper and deeper as red fountains jumped to life and Teach wriggled, gaping like a fish. Still trying to push Thatch’s hands away from the killing blow. Trying to breathe.

He had no final words, only a frothy red gurgle.

And Thatch slumped, breathing hard, and you saw how wide the red flower on his back had bloomed.

You rolled to your feet. Shook yourself out. Nothing broken. Possibly very, very bent, but manageable.

Thatch needed help. Fortunately, the door was still open from Teach’s intrusion, and you took off before the blood on your wings could gel. It wasn’t graceful, and it wasn’t half as fast as you wanted, but you made your way through the ship, rising level by level to reach Marco’s study, praying he’d be overworking himself.

Since you couldn’t knock, you reared back as you approached the door and let yourself smack into it. The hit wasn’t half so bad as the one Teach dealt you. No immediate rustling or voice told you the doctor was awake – or even present – and you started chirping for all you were worth, jumping on the handle so it jiggled and rattled.

When the door opened, you slipped right off and landed on the floor.

Marco, rumpled and ink-smudged, blinked at you.

“Birdie? What –”

His eyes turned to saucers as he registered the bloody prints you were leaving on the floor, and he scooped you up gingerly, checking for wounds before he even understood the problem.

Not me, stupid! you screamed. It’s Thatch! Follow me, hurry up! Come on!

You pulled at his shirt, flapping just enough to get airborne before he closed his hands in a clam-shell around you.

This was bullshit.

You let your claws do the talking.

And he listened enough to rethink his approach. His fingers pulled back, and you were on your way again, even slower as your wings dried and turned stiff, but leading Marco where he was needed regardless.

He followed you, asking questions you didn’t have time to answer even if you had the right shape to speak. You’d left a trail of smudges on your way up, and once Marco figured out that you were heading to the kitchen, he caught you again and raced at full speed to the open door.

Thatch sat on the floor between the stove and the pantry door, hunched over, pressing a towel as well as he could do his shoulder.

Teach remained an ugly corpse.

Marco slipped as he went to his brother’s side, dropping you as his phoenix fire flared to life. He shouted for help, hands on the wound to stop the bleeding and secure the blade.

On the floor, by Thatch’s knee, you kept watch, like Teach would sit up, laughing at having fooled you all again. He still had one eye you could pluck out if you needed to.

Jozu, Fossa, and Vista arrived in one great stampede of swearing and drawn weapons. Marco filled them in as best he could between barking orders. Chaos rumbled around you, along with some very big feet in terribly hard boots, and you chirped to remind them you were there as you skittered away from danger.

Vista’s white gloves gathered you up. Crusted blood cracked as you moved, weighing more than it really should. You couldn’t fly after the others as they lifted Thatch from the floor and carried him away, but Vista was better than wings, and he kept pace.

The nurses, who usually cooed over you, took you from the swordsman once you reached the infirmary. You lost sight of Thatch as Marco moved him into surgery, and you were carried behind several screens to a bowl of fresh water where the women helped coax the blood – worse than cherry pie – out of your delicate feathers.

They blotted you dry and left you to sleep on a towel.

It was no one’s business if you eavesdropped, if you listened until Marco emerged, weary and confused with a partial report to send to his Pops. It certainly wasn’t anyone’s concern if you crept your way through the infirmary, sneaking under white-draped beds and around desks until you found Thatch.

No one at all needed to know if you settled on the rolling tray at his side. Just in case Teach came back from the dead. Just in case he needed something. Just in case he woke up soon.

When morning found you preening on top of Thatch’s head while he flirted with the nurses and made a nuisance of himself, no one thought to comment.

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

You surveyed the town from the pinnacle of Thatch’s pompadour.

You almost felt human, though taller than you’d been before. Looking down to see people’s faces was better than roaming at an eye-to-ankle perspective, though, and when people glanced at Thatch, you could pretend they were seeing you.

Your escort had healed well from the attack, forced to rest by Marco’s glare and Jozu’s physical bulk filling the door. His left arm still hung in a sling to ease the torn muscles in his shoulder, but he was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. If anything, his brush with death had motivated him to seize life by the throat and demand everything it had.

After a great debate with the other commanders, he got permission to take you on shore leave.

“If Birdie doesn’t want to join us,” Marco had said, “what kind of pirates would we be to deny a creature it’s freedom, yoi?”

You defense of Thatch, of course, had convinced them all that you were well tamed and entirely theirs, so no one had serious concerns that you’d leave, only get lost.

The Moby Dick lurked half a mile out from the port, easy to see, but only accessible by tender. Half the town came to meet the pirates at the dock, shouting what they had for sale or begging to join up. The other half of town hunkered down behind barred doors. It wasn’t like their absence made the streets any less colorful, and eyed the vibrant spices and vegetables in the market, wondering how much Thatch would purchase (and how much was safe for you to eat).

Damn, you missed your old digestive tract. A bird’s diet sucked when you knew what you were missing, and the greatest drawback of living in Thatch’s galley was seeing all the hot curries, cheesy soups, and chocolate desserts drove you bonkers. You would say nothing of the coffee, because the smell every morning broke your heart anew.

But if you hadn’t been a bird living in Thatch’s kitchen, there would be no Thatch to carry you around the marketplace full of things you couldn’t enjoy, and that was worse. You’d coped for months. What was another decade or five?

“How much do you think Ace would pay me,” the cook mused, “if I replaced Marco’s stash of candied pineapple with durian fruit?”

Not enough to cover your funeral.

“Eh, you’re probably right… but,” he threw a coin to the vendor and slipped the malodorous treat to his collection. “Jozu loves the stuff. And Marco hates repeating his work. I’m safe until the stitches come out, and afterwards I can bribe myself a guard.”

Seas, the man loved trouble. Not to say you wouldn’t enjoy the show, but you untucked a strand from his flawless updo just as a precaution. You needed to tell him some things. He was human. He was fallible. His ego being as overinflated as his preferred hairstyle just made it easier to attack.

He squawked like a parrot, trying to smooth everything back into place as you danced around and over his knuckles, chirping back at his giggled curses with equal enthusiasm.

This was good. This was a life you could resign yourself to, even if no one else realized you were living it. This was –

Gone.

A puff of feathers, a burst of wind, and you were soaring over the town, locked in wicked, curved talons.

Like an owl’s

Thatch had already disappeared, lost in the sea of shifting figures far below, but you screamed for him anyway, struggling until the tips of your captor’s claws pressed through to your skin.

A low hoot chilled your blood, extinguishing your immediate plans to break free and run like you had before.

That was a warning, and you didn’t imagine the Zoan user would be kind enough to repeat it.

He crossed half the island in a matter of minutes. As he neared his destination, the owl glided through a copse of trees, swept around corners, and dipped below the rooftops, shaking anything without wings. There was no way Thatch could see where you’d gone. No casual birdwatchers would know, either. It was your old trick spun against you, and your little heart beat so fast you thought you’d throw up.

No one could help if they didn’t know where you were.

The owl wheeled along the shoreline, tucking close to the piers and rocky beaches on the far side of the island. A large boathouse swallowed you, and before your eyes could adjust, the predator landed, squashing you under his full weight. Just because he’d landed didn’t mean you were going anywhere.

“I don’t fucking believe it.”

You craned your neck between two of the owl’s talons to see the other Devil Fruit user. The asshole responsible for your feathered ass. You took a deep breath to chew him out, wondering if the owl Zoan would understand, but the other bird pressed down, robbing you of any comeback but a breathless squeak.

The man approached his compatriot, who lifted one foot so the human could grab you instead. He tilted you back and forth, looking over the marks that first clued Izou into your strange position.

“The little pest really is still alive.” He squeezed. Hard. “We can take care of that.”

“Punishment should fit the crime, shouldn’t it?” The owl became human, a lanky fuck who didn’t look like he’d bathed in a year. He nodded to an iron brazier across the boathouse. The crackling flames just carried over the lapping waves, and your feathers tried to stand on end.

Your handler liked the idea. He laughed and sauntered over to a pile of small cages too small to fully spread your wings inside. Still chuckling, he shoved you inside, rough and careless.

But you had bigger things to worry about than a few broken feathers.

The slaver shook the cage, holding it up to his face for a better view as you tumbled around like dice in a cup. “You know how much you cost us? You know how many Berries went up in smoke? How many men we lost? We can’t meet quota now.”

He sneered, giving the cage one more rattle for good measure. “Guess that’s our problem, though. You’re too much trouble to try selling.”

The Zoan user smirked, hooded eyes following your progress across the room. The cage still swayed, but you had enough coordination left to scream for help. Again. To the spiders in the rafters and the fish milling under the sheltered dock.

Thatch, Marco, Jozu, anyone.

You never should’ve left the ship. By the time Thatch reported back, it would be too late. They’d never know what happened. They’d never know you’d been human all along. They’d never know you the way you knew them.

The cage hovered over the flames, just enough for the highest tongues to kiss the bottom bars. You fluttered madly, clinging to the top and staying as far away as you could.

“Not fun, is it?” the Zoan asked.

An inch lower, and a lucky spark caught in the down under your wing. Heat became blinding pain, and you resisted instinct, pressing your wing down to smother it before it could spread. You dangled from the top bars by one set of claws, upside down, cringing into the sting. The men were laughing, but all you could hear was the fire, a tangible echo of the night you’d been transformed.

This story would end as it began – in flames.

Your cage swung like a pendulum, pushing you to scramble away from the various angles the flame kissed you, while leaving you constantly disoriented. It wasn’t long before you tumbled into the bottom of the cage, and everything went bright.

Pure panic claimed you. Even if you’d been human, there was a point where pain drove a person to animal survival instincts. As a bird, your feathers became kindling. They kept the fire close, feeding it into blistering skin as you bucked, throwing yourself against the bars as the breeze coaxed the blaze deeper, hotter.

Other voices joined yours, shouting as chaos exploded through your periphery. The cage fell from the slaver’s hand, and your chest clenched. But although the fire remained, hell didn’t swallow you. Coals didn’t press through the bars to char you beyond recognition.

“The water, yoi!”

“Right!”

Gravity lost all sense of meaning, and you wondered if your soul was leaving your body. Then the cage smacked into seawater.

Everything cracked as salt rushed into your eyes and flooded your sinuses. It burned in a whole new way, debriding your raw flesh. You broke the surface and screamed in agony.

With a voice you barely recognized. Through teeth and lips. Your hands clawed the low waves, but you didn’t know how to fight the crush of new, familiar sensations.

Before you went back under, a big body splashed into the water next to you, and a mass of white and brown caught you, treading water while holding you to his chest. Leaving the water was a haze. Someone threw an old blanket that smelled like fish over you, and Marco was practically screaming at everyone about infection and first aid, and you found yourself looking up at a bunch of men who looked so much smaller, and more human than they had that morning.

Thatch grinned like you weren’t covered in burns and too exhausted to move.

“Glad you’re back with us.”

Your hand lifted of its own volition, and you studied the glistening patches of exposed fascia between familiar scars and callouses. “I’m not a bird anymore.”

Thatch nodded, much too casual about the entire ordeal. It made you think things were even worse than you knew. “Nope.”

“And…” You frowned, rolling your tongue over your hard palate, tasting the smoke with a sharp depth your bird senses hadn’t offered. “And everyone’s… okay with that?”

Enormous, worried eyes swooped over your view of the rafters. Ace’s pinched brows dipped even deeper. “This is who you’ve always been, right?”

Well. Obviously. “Yeah.”

“Then nothing’s really changed, has it?” Thatch asked. He adjusted the blanket as a bunch of new footsteps stomped towards you, shouting something about a stretcher. “Just need to find you a bigger bunk. The kitchen cabinet isn’t gonna do it anymore.”

[rollinouttahere-writes]

One of the mind-only fics I’ve had rolling around in my head is kinda similar to the Strays AU, but whatever, might as well.

Reader is Akainu’s kid and by some series of misadventures ends up being collected by Whitebeard. Kinda shifts between whether the Reader is a marine like their dad wants them to be, or if they ran away because they don’t like their dad. I typically imagine them as an older teenager, but I guess it doesn’t matter.

Maybe a bit much on detail, but if they ran away, Akainu reports them as missing, either because he won’t publicly admit that his child ran away, or he’s delusional and doesn’t realize how much they hate him, so marines are actively searching for them and when they show up with Whitebeard people think that the pirates kidnapped them, (which may or may not be true, not like the old man wouldn’t).

Breaking Point

Next

Whitebeard Pirates x Teen GN Reader

4.6k words

Summary: An espionage mission gives you the perfect cover to get away from your Admiral father and the life he forced you into. Everything seems to be going according to plan until some pirates corner you.

Warnings: unhealthy parent-child relationship, akainu being akainu, reader being in a terrible mental state, hopelessness, suicide attempt, blood, drugging

I did tweak the prompt a little bit, so I hope you don't mind. I also hope you aren't opposed to darker themes. If it bothers you, I'll write an alternate version of the scene where the reader snaps.

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.

Your eyes are so heavy. Sleep… Sleep sounds good. Just for a little bit. You’ll figure this out after. It’s not like you’re going anywhere.

[alwayssassydreamer]

Show Me Your Desire pt. 2

A/N: Heartbreak Edition, so many of you asked for more of this and now you get this one followed by two dilf editions, god I was so sad writing this. First time writing Cora and Thatch so sorry if it's OOC, and this is GN but at the Whitebeard part there is talk about a daughter so - choose for yourself if she's from a pregnancy or an adoption, oh and i know thatch's is shorter than the others but i got so fucking sad that i didn't want to do more 🙈

Part 1 | Part 3

Plot: you ate the Yoku Yoku No Mi - the desire desire devil fruit - that shows you glimpses of someones deepest desires when you touch them. Therefore you made sure to avoid touches and insight into those personal moments. But things get unwillingly touchy.

Warnings: angst, hurt, no happy ending for these 4 beautiful men 💔, maybe some spoilers if you're not familiar with the marineford or dressrosa arc, not proofread

Characters: Corazon, Whitebeard, Ace, Thatch (separately) x GnReader (though written with freader in mind)

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.

“If you ever want to catch me,” you whispered to the waves, “you’ll have to come back first.”

[mandiemegatron]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏʟᴏᴜʀꜱ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴜɴꜰʟᴏᴡᴇʀꜱ

ᴍᴀʀᴄᴏ, ɪᴢᴏᴜ, ᴛʜᴀᴛᴄʜ & ᴀᴄᴇ x ᴄɪꜱꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ʀᴀᴛᴇᴅ ; 18+. ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴏʟʟᴏᴡɪɴɢ ᴘʀᴏɢʀᴀᴍ ᴅᴇᴀʟꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴘᴏʟʏᴀᴍᴏʀᴏᴜꜱ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ, ᴘᴇᴛ ɴᴀᴍᴇꜱ, ᴘ ɪɴ ᴠ, ᴀɴᴀʟ, ʙʟᴏᴡᴊᴏʙꜱ, ᴏᴠᴇʀꜱᴛɪᴍᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ʙʀᴇᴇᴅɪɴɢ ᴋɪɴᴋꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴘᴏꜱꜱɪʙʟᴇ ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴄʏ. ɪᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ᴀʟꜱᴏ ᴅᴇᴀʟ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ꜱᴜʙᴊᴇᴄᴛ ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀ. ᴠɪᴇᴡᴇʀ ᴅɪꜱᴄʀᴇᴛɪᴏɴ ɪꜱ ᴀᴅᴠɪꜱᴇᴅ.

ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ ; 2.3ᴋ

a/n ; :') i did it.

i wanted to do this for quite some time and somehow found the spirit to get over my anxiousness and just... did it. i hope you all enjoy as much as i did writing it. if you see any mistakes, no you don't !!

no beta, we die like men 💖💪

[ Huge shout out to @quinloki and @hannahbarberra162 for writing the most banger WBP poly pieces i've ever read. you both gave me the push to try it myself, even if you don't know it. all my love and respect to you both. ]

"Give me a colour, sunflower."

There's nothing but ragged panting from you as a hand tightens in your hair, pulling your head back and your mouth away from the face directly before you. Your fingers desperately locked with someone standing to your left, as if to ground yourself.

Soft whimpers slip through the panting, eyes slowly rolling back forward until they land on a heavy pair staring back, your fuzzy gaze taking in the small smile on the painted lips. Those eyes speak unneeded words, and finally, a slightly pained, "g-green," comes through your breaths, setting off a praising look on the face above you.

"Good girl."

Burning lips press against the back of your shoulder as a matching set of rough hands tug and twist at your already pert and sore nipples, while another pair tightly holds your hips, another set of lips biting and marking your front, wherever they could reach.

"S-so good treasure, you're always so good," comes from behind you as Ace's almost blazing hot cock slams into your ass over and over, finally chasing his own high as yours slowly begins to climb once more.

"Mm, I think you can give us one more, yoi," purrs from in front of you, teeth nipping at your throat in a possessive manner as his cock slides through your still twitching and gushing folds, thrusting into you just a bit slower than the fire user panting behind you. "Can't you? Our sweet girl, such a good songbird..."

While lithe fingers tighten their hold on your hair, another face moves in and peppers kisses and murmurs warm praise to your own, holding tight to your hand as you hear Thatch promise you, "Give us one more, just one more and I'll run you a bath, make you all the snacks you want… you'd like that, wouldn't you, our sweet little love?" A soft whimper of agreement falls from behind your lips as your eyes flicker shut, your form slowly turning limp in the multiple holds on your body.

There's a pleased grunt from behind you as Ace shoves his face into the side of your neck, licking and nibbling at your skin while drinking up your scent, inhaling deeply and groaning almost possessively at your scent. "Mm treasure, gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna cuu-um-"

Your other hand grips his on your breast, clinging to him as you beg out in a quick pant, "please cum, please Ace, please, please," until you swear you see stars as his cock finally twitches and throbs inside you, filling your small, puckered hole to the brim with his thick seed. His breathing falls staggered and short as he clings to you, breathing you in, to the point that he couldn't pinpoint where you started and where he began. As blissed out as he was, he could tell with slight disappointment that you hadn't cum along with him.

"Tsk, Ace... you'll be punished for that later, yoi," remarked from a slightly disappointed Marco who continued to rock his hips into yours in front of you. He looked to Izou for a moment, and the two seemed to share a thought before Izou turns your head so it was facing Marco. Your blurred eyes tried to focus as his cock hit that spongy place inside your cunt that sent your head spinning.

You'd squirted on him twice already, and you could tell by the look in his half-lidded eyes that he wanted you to do it one last time. "What colour, songbird?"

You give him a breathless chuckle and a shaky grin, moving your shaky hand from Ace's to graze over Marco's jawline before settling your palm at the base of his neck. The gaze in his eyes matched yours - adoring, endless, and near obsessive.

"S-still gree-green.”

An almost wicked grin washes over Marco's face as your words meet his ears, a low purr grumbling in his chest as one of his hands gently gathers yours from his neck and whisps a few, pointedly placed kisses to your wrist before letting his teeth nip at the fat of your palm. "Good."

Izou brings your head back slowly as Ace eases out of you, flopping backward onto the bed with a pleased huff and a goofy, loving grin. Thatch snickers down at the tuckered out fire user before helping the younger man slide away from you, but not far enough that his hands couldn't graze over your skin adoringly.

"Are you lying, sunflower?" Izou quips down at you, his own teeth nipping at the side of your throat before licking a long stripe from your collarbone to just under your ear. You shudder at the feeling, your eyes rolling back slightly as Marco gives a particularly rough thrust, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix unkindly. "N-no, Sir, I'm not lying," you manage to confirm though your entire body aches with twinges of pain that flutters through the immense pleasure.

Izou watches your face for a moment before humming with a slight nod, accepting your answer before he teases quietly over your ear, "Then give us another, sweet sunflower.”

At those words, Marco's grip releases your wrist and moves to cradle the back of your head, moving to lay you on your back. When he's between your legs again, he raises them to your chest with your knees squishing your breasts together, letting his cock slot back into your slippery cunt with ease.

"You're going to give us a big one, songbird." Marco insists, looking down at you with clearly pleased eyes as he takes in your ragged form. As he slides his cock out right to the tip, he flashes you a that same wicked grin as he demands, "Sing for us."

Your voice cracks out a moan at the onslaught from his cock, his strong thighs twitching as he already nears his release from the endless edging from earlier. "Ma-arco," you sob out, your hand moving to scratch over his back desperately as you feel the simmering warmth inside you begin to boil again. One of his hands forcefully turns your head so your eyes meet Izou and Thatch, who sit on the edge of the bed close enough for you to reach your other hand out.

Thatch immediately snatches your hand as Izou leans over to place his own hand over the space where Marco's rests on your face. Finely manicured nails dig into your jaw and cheeks just enough to bite. You're able to watch Ace pleasure Izou from this angle, tingles rushing over your skin from the sight. "What a bright sunflower you are," Izou praises, cooing down at you as tears fill your eyes, his other hand gently running through Ace's messy hair. You give another weepy moan as you beg, "P-please, I need it, I need it, please, please -"

Izou's fingers move from holding your face to curling around your throat, just tight enough to hinder your breathing, not yet cutting it off entirely. Your eyes roll back at the pressure and Marco swears thickly as he accidentally cums at that sight, his cock throbbing with every spurt that fills you. "D-don't waste it," he rasps, keeping your hips up as he lazily thrusts into you a last few times. When the sensitivity is too much for him, he tags Thatch in with a nod, continuing to hold your legs in the same position.

Taatch slides up behind Marco and takes over, his thicker cock immediately spearing through your puffy folds to keep you full, accidentally pushing some of Marco's cum out of you.

Thatch gives a soft "Tsk," as his large hands lovingly rub your thighs before letting them rest under your knees and gripping tight. “Didn't you just hear Marco? Wasting the potential to give Pops a grandkid…” Thatch grins at the disapproving look Marco gives him at blaming you for the gooey loss.

A visible shiver runs over your entire body at his words, and the three watching you give a knowing look to each other as Izou interrogates seriously, “Would you like that, sunflower? To be filled so many times by us that there would be a near one hundred percent chance that you'd end up with our child?”

His own words set him over the edge as he gives a shuddered gasp, spilling down Ace's throat, Izou's grip accidentally tightening in Ace's dark hair and around your throat. You give a choked gasp as Thatch's hips snap into yours, your cunt singing for them, the sloppy and wet sounds echoing in the small room.

“You gonna take it all, little love? Think about it, us giving you hours and hours of ecstasy, taking our time to bring you to the edge until you're so full of us that everyone will know just who you belong to?” You whimper and sob under him as Izou's hand relents, nodding as best you can while nearly crushed under Thatch in the mating position. He leans down just enough to emphasize his words as he practically moans out,

“Don't you want to give us a son?”

Your vision goes black as his cock finally hits your g-spot hard enough that you're twitching and squirting all over him, your eyes rolled back and your mouth parted slightly as you can do nothing but pant and take the brutal pleasure. Thatch gives a victorious chuckle, his lips pulled into a large grin as his thrusts become erratic, now chasing down his own end and he purposefully spills inside your weeping cunt, keeping his cock nestled in your walls until it softens a few minutes later and slips out. His thumb presses between your puffy and slippery lips to keep your cunt plugged as his other hand pats against your raw ass-cheeks with a pleased hum.

“I love when we find out things about each other together,” Thatch teases as Izou and Ace slowly make their way onto the bed on either side of you. Eventually, Thatch lets your legs down, though he holds your thighs together, giving you a slight warning look as he gently demands, “Keep them tight, little love. Can't let any go to waste, can we?” You're too far gone to register his words, your legs shaking slightly from the ache and the furious tingles that still wrecked your entire body.

“Give her a few moments, yoi.” Comes from behind Thatch, who glances over his shoulder to Marco, who had sneakily left and returned with four warm washcloths. Each of the men take a cloth and gently caress over your heated and tender flesh, one of them cooing down at you every once in a while when you hissed from pain. Soon enough, you were cleaned and dressed in one of their shirts, oversized and old, but still well loved by you. Once you were dressed, the men took turns cleaning each other. Izou and Ace remained naked, sitting back against the headboard and pulling your body to them as Thatch and Marco began redressing.

“I'm going to make you a snack, do you need anything else?” Thatch asked once you were more lucid, curled against Ace and Izou at the head of the bed. Both their hands wandered lovingly over your form, pulling you into a warm lull. You gave a slow shake of your head before giving a large yawn, your hold on both men tightening slightly as you croaked, “Snack… sounds good.” You flashed Thatch a small but genuine grin with a soft, “Thank you. Love you.”

Thatch leaned over with a hum, pressing his lips to yours before standing back up with a hand running over his pompadour. “You look fine,” snarks Izou jokingly before he presses a kiss to the top of your head. Thatch simply rolls his eyes with a slight smirk before heading out the door. “I'll be back soon,” he promises, letting the door shut behind him.

“I've got to get back to the infirmary,” Marco laments, frowning slightly as he copies Thatch's movements and leans over while tilting your chin up, your lips meeting his in a tender kiss. “Send someone to come find me if you need me,” he murmurs the second he pulls away, giving you a pointed stare which you nod under. “I will,” you swear, pressing your lips to his once more to solidify the promise.

When Marco turns to leave, you give a content hum, letting your body sink into the two men behind you, officially turning to jello. Marco throws one last glance at you over his shoulder, smiling mildly to himself before he lets the door shut behind him, hiding you three from the outside world.

“You did so well.” Murmurs Izou as his lithe fingers run over your tired thighs and your hair. Ace nuzzles his face into your neck a little more, his lips grazing over your now damp and chilled flesh, giving a soft sound of agreement against your throat. “You're always so good for us,” Ace adds softly, attempting to fight back the call of sleep.

“Mm… love you…” you barely reply, your eyes heavy as you snuggle into the warm bodies a little more. Both men reply in kind, their voices soft and echo-y as you finally succumb to the darkness. When your breathing evens out, Ace and Izou look at each other for a moment until a flicker of curiosity lights up between them.

“Let her rest for a few hours and then wake her up with my face in between her legs?” Ace offers, grinning with a chuckle as Izou leans over slightly to peck the fire user on the lips. “Good plan. Five hours should be sufficient, I think.”

Izou winks at Ace before the messy haired man curls back around you both, his devil fruit unconsciously warming your skin as he finally yawns and lets his eyes shut as Izou muses lightly,

“Just don't tell Marco. He wouldn't like us waking his little bird too early.”

[hannahbarberra162]

Mating Call, Part 1 (Marco x Reader, dubcon, monster Marco)

18+ MDNI | on Ao3 | the next parts

Summary: The World Government has worked hard to obfuscate an interesting fact about Zoan Devil Fruits since the Void Century. In order for a Zoan Devil Fruit to be awakened, the Zoan user must find and claim their mate in accordance with their nature.

Zoan fruit users are driven to find their mates, seeking someone to fill the gnawing need within them, even if they don't recognize it themselves.

~

Thank you to @gouraminnow and @sordidmusings for reading through this for me! This whole series is a collab with @sordidmusings who came up with the idea of Zoans needing their mate to awaken their fruit - I'm hoping to write for more Zoans so I'm starting with one of my favorites :3

~

You had toiled and worked hard for so many years so that your life would be absolutely perfect. All your plans, all your studying and grinding, all the years of work and tests and memorization - all of it had finally paid off and now you were able to do what you wanted most in life. 

Absolutely nothing.  

Well, that wasn’t quite true. 

You did still have to work occasionally as the private physician for CP0, but they weren’t often at Enies Lobby where you lived in the year round sunshine. And even when they were in town, they didn’t usually need any help from you other than routine medical care when they were forced to come into your office. The most intense work you’d done in the past 6 months was examining Hattori when he’d plucked out too many of his own feathers after a long night and you told him to decrease his alcohol intake. 

You were double certified as a physician and veterinarian, which is how you landed the particularly high paying gig as CP0’s personal physician. After spending a decade (and small fortune) becoming a human doctor you realized that you didn’t care for people all that much. So you went back to school and became a vet and found the work much more satisfying. The patients were always much sweeter and never lied to you, unlike treating ungrateful humans.

The job had fallen into your lap after you’d been recruited by Sengoku himself. You’d been living in the New World after you graduated from vet school and taking contracts on various islands to see where you’d like to live, hopefully somewhere warm and sunny. Sengoku had burst into the small vet clinic, Yagi baying dolefully in his arms and demanded the help of the most senior vet on the island. You happened to be the only vet on the island, so you took care of his pet goat and gave it topical antibiotics for its case of orf. 

After his careful examination of his beloved pet and copious amounts of reassurance that Yagi would be fine, Sengoku asked you a few questions about your background. He said he had the perfect job opportunity for you with your expertise in both animals and humans as repayment for helping Yagi. You hadn’t known what that meant at the time and frankly hadn’t cared when he showed you the salary - for that kind of money and job security you’d be willing to be Yagi’s personal assistant.

It turned out the Marines wanted someone competent in animal and human physiology to be available for the Zoan members of CP0 should they need a doctor. Since you graduated at the top of your class for both, you were a shoe in for the position and started shortly thereafter. You weren’t exactly a Marine since you didn’t go through their ranks but you were a contracted officer in the Medical Corps. You didn’t mind wearing the uniform and you didn’t have to go through basic training so however they justified your expensive salary was on them.

Yes, you were finally living the life you’d always wanted. You bought a small house close to the less inhabited shore of the island in order to have some well deserved privacy after years of living with multiple roommates in cramped apartments near your schools. You would roll out of bed in the late morning, check your snail for messages and find it empty, check your empty mailbox, and meander to the office. By early afternoon you’d be free from work and could pursue your hobbies. Technically you were on call 24/7 for CP0 (hence the high salary) but if they weren’t on the island the most they could do is call in an emergency and you could handle those questions under any circumstances. 

Which meant that you spent your leisure time painting, singing, walking on the beach, getting high, and listening to music. Since you were only contracted with the Marines you didn’t have other duties and they couldn’t call you in to do anything beyond your contract. You painted some of the wildlife in the woods by your house, practiced singing some of the songs you heard on the snails and tried out every strain of marijuana you could get your hands on - the latest hit being mariejois-uana. Your life was fantastic and you were finally able to relax after decades of hard work. 

Well, mostly. The drive that had gotten you this far in life also forced you to ensure that the animals of the island were at least in good health. After so many years in high pressure environments, you needed a little work to feel like you were a full person. To get your fill of needed stress, you took on vet clients outside of CP0 but it was run of the mill domestic pet issues. It didn’t keep you up at night and you were able to enjoy the fruits of your labors. After so many years of working high stress, low paying jobs, you’d finally hit the jackpot and were able to do jack shit most of the time.

Like today - it was the end of yet another sunny day at Enies Lobby and the cool evening weather was just perfect for opening all your windows, getting high as fuck to listen to the latest Soul King album. You began softly humming the tune to his latest hit as you opened the windows to let in the evening breeze. As the curtains fluttered softly in the night, something sent a shiver down your spine, a rare moment of heebie jeebies. You usually felt safe at Enies Lobby, the base the heart of the Marine Corp and filled to the brim with people who could fight -  but something felt off today. 

You looked out the window from behind the curtains but didn’t see anything beyond the usual sights of the town in the distance. To get rid of the feeling of eyes on you, you closed the curtain a little but kept the windows open as you rummaged around for the newest Soul King album. You thought you’d left it on the coffee table but it wasn’t there - maybe you moved it into the bedroom? Mariejoisuana was supposed to take you to the highest heights - and made your memory shit too. You walked towards the bedroom to check there when you heard unfamiliar voices talking.

“Just use it man, it’s for the greater good.”

“I dunno, it feels bad. I’ve never used it outside of battle. Kinda feels like I’m just kidnapping a defenseless woman -”

“We are kidnapping a defenseless woman, but it’s for a good reason so -” 

“ ShhHH! She’ll hear us and yell and make this whole thing so much harder than it has to be. I’d rather not have to fight 10,000 Marines, thank you very much Ace.”

You didn’t need to hear any more to know that you needed to escape now. There had been some Marine training around threats but you hadn’t really listened to the presentation - you assumed everyone else was. You kept moving swiftly towards your bedroom and thanked the gods your window was already open. You got your leg out the window to jump but hesitated as you looked down. The voices were getting louder but you were scared to make the jump to the ground below. You sat on the windowsill and brought your other leg out. You took a deep breath and prepared to push off -

“ Goddammit! I told you she was trying to escape! Oh no you don’t. Vortex,” a man’s voice said from behind you. You didn’t turn around, too scared to look, and pushed off the ledge. You braced for impact but…there was none. Instead you were being pulled back none too gracefully towards the two men, both of whom you unfortunately recognized. The feeling was completely foreign, like being stuck in honey that was slowly oozing back towards your bedroom. You’d been planning on screaming for help but your mouth snapped shut in the face of the pirates rucking up your nice rug.

Fire Fist Ace and Dark Blade Thatch. Both powerful Devil Fruit users, both with bounties in the billions, and both currently tracking mud in your little house. 

The force Thatch was emitting onto you was pulling you back towards him much more rapidly than you anticipated. “W-wait, please, I don’t know what you want - I have some money -” you tried to bargain in the vain hope that’s what they wanted.

“Nah, sorry lady. We don’t need your money, we need your help. Ooh, and this weed,” Ace said, plucking your baggie off the coffee table and stuffing it into his pocket. By now you were practically at Thatch’s side and you renewed your struggles to get away while you spoke. Your arms felt like they were bound to your sides and your feet had no traction against the wood floors as you tried to escape.

“My help? I mean, I’m a veterinarian. Lotsa people can -”

“The Zoan doctor, right?” Dark Blade said, staring at you as he kept you within arm’s reach. 

“Um. That’s not - I - I have treated a few Zoan Devil Fruit users, sure, but nothing -”

“For those CP9 fucks, right? Er, I forgot their new name - CP10 or some shit,” Ace said as he looked around your living room. His fingers were running over your music snail as he checked out your albums.

“H-hey, don’t touch! And yeah, I’m the vet - er, doctor for CP0 but I promise I don’t know anything important about them, they don’t even like talking to me -” you really didn’t know any pertinent weaknesses or information about CP0 and if they wanted to know about devil fruits, their own Zoan doctor would know more.

“We don’t care about the cat and dog. We need your help right now, so we’re going. Sorry for this,” Dark Blade said with a frown, his eyes flashing with sympathy. You were distracted by Fire Fist touching your records again, getting his greasy fingers on your pristine records.

“Be careful! Those are gonna break, don’t stack them like that. You gotta hold them upright-” you started to say as you watched Ace piled your records in his hands. “Wait, sorry for what?” you asked, pulling your gaze away from Fire Fist who was totally going to crack one of your favorite records.

“ Black Hole.”  

You lolled your head to the side, completely sure you had been squished by Sengoku’s hand yourself. Every part of you ached down to your bones, including your clavicle which you were pretty sure was broken. Maybe you’d had a little too much Divine Departure weed the night before and had fallen or something - that shit always gave you a wicked hangover the next day. Taking stock of your situation, you were abruptly brought to sitting by extremely warm hands. You should talk to them about their fever, you thought as you cracked open your eyes. 

Oh, right. Fire Fist Ace. 

He had you sitting up against his torso as one of his feet powered the small boat that you were on via fire combustion. It wasn’t Striker, the infamous one person boat you’d been taught to identify on sight by the Marines. This was bigger, a medium sized skiff. His arm was wrapped around you tightly as Thatch prepared something with his back turned to you. The boat was sailing rapidly in the night, jostling you as the hull flew over the waves. There was a storage hatch under the deck of the ship and it seemed large for such a small ship.

“Told ya we shoulda just tied her up, she’s all busted now,” Ace grumbled as Thatch turned to face the two of you. He had a canteen of water and a few pills in his hands. You stiffened against Ace, who took the opportunity to adjust you further upright. He slowed the boat down so you’d be able to drink and talk on the sea as you sailed in the night waters.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right. I didn’t mean to keep you in there so long,” Thatch remarked, reaching to hand you the water and the pills. You recoiled away from him, unsure if the offerings were a request or a demand.

“In where? How long?” you rasped, your throat bone dry. The drops of perspiration on the canteen had you rethinking your refusal as Thatch tried offering it to you again.

“In the black hole. It was only a few days, I didn’t think it would hurt you so badly. Take this, it’s just water and ibuprofen. It’ll help with your injuries,” he explained, handing you the items. You took the pills in your good hand and the canteen in your injured one, the weight of the water pulling on your broken clavicle. You eyed the water and pills skeptically but at this point it wasn’t like you had many other options and you really wanted the water.

“It’s not drugged, promise,” Thatch said, raising his hands with a smile. 

“Why would you say that? I didn’t think it was,” you replied, rolling your eyes. The pills looked legit as far as you could tell so you popped them into your mouth with your good arm and switched the canteen to your good hand since you couldn’t raise your arm above chest height without hurting your shoulder more.

“Force of habit I guess? People always seem to think I’m going to drug them,” Thatch said with a sunny smile and a shrug of his shoulders. You grimaced and raised the water to your lips, thankful for the cool liquid coursing down your throat.

“That’s because you do drug them,” Ace said, checking the log pose that was on the arm wrapped around your waist. Thatch scoffed as if he was offended. 

“That’s not true! It’s only once in a while, and usually when Marco asks me to. Oh, which reminds me, we should tell you what’s going on,” Thatch said, scratching his goatee. Your stomach sank - Marco the Phoenix was an incredible doctor regardless of his fighting feats. If there was a problem he couldn’t solve you weren’t confident you’d be able to figure it out. In addition to his battle prowess, he also was a formidable physician and often sent letters of dispute to scientific journals when they published bad studies or studies with poorly drawn conclusions. You’d actually gone back and forth with him once on a study about interspecies compatibility in various ecosystems- you still thought you were correct but he had raised excellent points as well. Either way, if there was an issue with Whitebeard, Marco would be the better choice to fix it, not some doctor-turned-vet with a penchant for White Snake weed.

“The Marines aren’t going to pay a hostage fee for me, it’s in my contract,” you explained, taking another sip of the water. It was the best ambrosia you’d ever had after being stuck in that place for unknown amounts of time. You remembered being sucked into a black hole but nothing after that until you reawoke. It was like having a double hangover mixed with the Sunday scaries - not even including the stabbing pains from your shoulder as the boat bounced as it hit waves. 

“It’s a little sad they don’t care about you,” Ace said as he adjusted the trajectory of the boat towards something faintly glowing in the distance. “You work so hard for them -”

“I mean, not really,” you interjected with feigned nonchalance. “But yeah, they’re not coming. So if you’re going to kill me or if it's money you want -”

“Again, we don’t need money, and we’re not going to kill you,” Thatch explained, rolling his eyes. “We need help with Marco.” Your eyes narrowed - that wasn’t the answer you were expecting.

“You need me to help Marco the Phoenix with something?” you asked, trying to understand the situation. Ace and Thatch locked eyes and Ace looked away. 

“Something like that. Here, eat this. I’m not sure what’s left in the cave,” Thatch said, handing you a sandwich. You closed and set down the canteen to take the sandwich in your good hand. Now that you were up and moving around the pain in your shoulder was growing by the minute even with the ibuprofen. 

“What’s with your hand?” Ace asked, poking your shoulder. You hissed in pain and dropped the sandwich into the small puddle of water at the bottom of the boat.

“It’s not ok, I broke my clavicle. Or, you did, I suppose,” you said, fishing the sandwich out of the water and throwing a nasty glance at Thatch. The sandwich was a little wet but you’d eaten worse. 

“Sorry about that, I tried to make the dimension with as little gravity as I could. I’m not used to kidnapping non-fighters, all the other doctors before you were other pirates. Marco’ll probably fix it for you,” Thatch assured you. Ace just hummed.

“What do you mean ‘probably’? I thought that was his thing, that he healed people,” you asked, talking with your mouth full of the soggy bread. The meaty sandwich wasn’t too bad, even wet.

“Well…that’s the problem. He would treat you if he was in his human form. Or even his hybrid form. Or even his normal Zoan form. But he’s in a weird version of his Zoan form and we can’t get him to change out of it,” Thatch said, reclining in the little boat. “He won’t talk to us and he won’t leave the cave he’s holed up in. We don’t know why,” he explained. The sandwich turned to ash in your mouth as you swallowed a large lump.

“And what do you want me to do about it?” you asked, looking at Thatch. Thatch looked at Ace, Ace looked at you. Both of them shrugged.

“THAT WAS YOUR PLAN? That I would know what to do? How the fuck should I know?” you yelled at them, momentarily forgetting your pain to flail your arms. You immediately retracted your arm like a wounded wing, cradling your arm to your chest to quell the rising pain.

“Because you’re the Zoan doctor,” Ace said, like it was a completely rational thought.

“Yeah, for like, Kaku! He doesn’t get stuck as a giraffe! How the fuck am I gonna help him? I don’t even have a devil fruit or anything! Oh my fucking gods,” you said, your head falling into your one uninjured hand. The teal glow in the distance was getting brighter. “Are you taking me to him now? What the actual fuck is your plan?” you asked rhetorically. Ace rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, nearly dislodging his hat.

“Well, he’s done this before. But never for so long and he’s never refused to change back either. He used to hole up in his room for a few days and be all broody but come back about an inch taller and a whole lot stronger,” Thatch said, completely undisturbed by your outburst. 

“Yeah, he’s a phoenix. It’s part of his rebirth cycle,” you grumbled as you took in the information. The Marines had lent you a banned book about Zoan fruits and the forms they took and you’d read it during your training. There had been a section about the Phoenix and you had glossed over it, focusing more on the fruits you’d be working with. Now you wished you’d paid more attention outside of the individual patients you saw - maybe some of that information could have come in handy.

“See? You’re doing so good already!” Ace said with a grin. “You know more than us and everyone else we’ve tried.”

“Everyone else? Are there a lot of pirates there? You said you brought some doctors,” you asked hesitantly, unsure you wanted to hear the answer.

“Not anymore,” Thatch replied, his grin fading. “But you’ll do well, I can feel it. There’s something about you - I’m not sure what - that I think he’ll like. Marco ‘n I have been brothers for decades now, I can pick his type out of a crowd,” Thatch said, regaining his smile in what you were guessing was meant to be a show of support.

Fuck. 

A couple of hours later the boat had reached a small island. There wasn’t much on the island except for a large mountain, a beach, and a small forest. A bright blue light was blazing from inside a large cave on the side of the twin mountain peaks, like a wild fire in the night. The closer the boat got to the shoreline, the more your head and shoulder hurt. How the fuck were you going to get Marco to change back? What would happen if you didn’t? What happened to the others who had tried? 

You had spent the previous hours on the boat trying to think back through everything you could remember about the Tori Tori no Mi, Phoenix model but couldn’t remember all that much more than general information. You knew more about Zoan fruits than most people on the Grand Line but that didn’t make you an expert. You tried focusing on the information you did remember - you had a feeling you’d be needing it soon.

From your reading you knew that Marco would be going through life and death cycles, dying and being reborn from his own ashes. He’d become stronger with every cycle but ultimately stall in awakening his fruit unless...something. You’d read it but kind of glossed over the information, completely sure you’d never need it. You weren’t sure why the World Government had banned the information but you’d signed many forms to the effect that you wouldn’t tell a soul otherwise you’d be sent to Impel Down for treason. Even so, some of it didn’t pertain to your ability to care for Cipher Pol so you hadn’t tried hard to retain the information about awakening. Either they did or didn’t awaken their fruits but it didn’t affect how you’d treat them.

The boat stopped as it hit the rocky shore of the beach and Ace hopped off to tether it to a nearby rock. There was already a rope attached to the rock for docking, they’d clearly been here at least a few times before. The light from the cave was now pulsating and a sharp bird cry pierced through the night. Goosebumps blossomed on your skin as the reverberations continued to bounce off the peaks in the darkness of the night. You had no desire to get any closer and were just about to take your chances swimming away - even with your broken clavicle - when Thatch’s hand clamped down on your good shoulder. 

“C’mon, he’s waiting.” Thatch had gathered all the items in storage into a large sack that he’d slung over his shoulder. He threw the sack onto the shore and stepped into the water, which only reached his knees.

“Up ya go,” Thatch said, picking you up and slinging you over his shoulder with ease. You tried to hide your whine as your bad clavicle was jostled but Thatch merely gave you a sympathetic look and kept moving. As a physician you knew there wasn’t really anything to do for a broken clavicle except wait for it to heal but in the meantime it really, really hurt.

“Sorry, chica. I’d let you walk but I don’t feel like chasing you down. Saves us all some time,” Thatch explained as he went up the path towards the mountain. Ace had finished tying the boat and grabbed the large sack, falling in step with his fellow Commander. You weren’t saying anything and neither did they as the cry repeated in the night. It almost sounded like the call of a mourning dove, deep and resonant, as if calling out for someone. 

Shortly thereafter, Thatch approached the mouth of the unnaturally glowing cave. It was the kind of supernatural glow that had you wanting to scramble away but Thatch’s arm around you wasn’t budging. The lizard part of your brain flashed in warning -  nothing that made that kind of light was good for your future. Ace set down the bag and pushed it gently further into the cave.

“Marco…..Maaaaarrrcoooooo….we’re back!” Thatch yelled in a singsong voice into the cave. There was no reply.

“Marco, I know you can hear me…I brought more meat for you. And a doctor! A lady doctor this time!” he continued while setting you down. Your eyes darted towards the path to the beach but Ace shook his head at you, crossing his arms and taking a widened stance. 

“What the fuck’s a lady doctor? I’m a regular doct - er, veterinarian,” you hissed at him, annoyed at the gendered terms. You wished you kept your mouth shut as a giant, flaming blue bird head poked out of the cave and titled its eye to look at you. 

You froze where you stood, unable to move under the piercing gaze of the Phoenix.

You were familiar with Marco the Phoenix as he looked on his wanted posters. They usually showed him in his hybrid or human form but you’d also seen his full bird form in some archive footage you’d watched in researching all known logia devil fruit users. Marco was cited as an example for you to study as a human who was completely in tune with his Zoan counterpart -  Zoan and human one and the same, two sides of the same coin.

This being was not even the same kind of currency.

This was not Marco, nor was this the Phoenix as you’d seen it before. This was some kind of primordial god, imparting its judgement on mankind. Even glacing at the legendary creature gave you a sense of the weight of eons, something from a time long gone by. You almost had the urge to bow to it, to present your weak neck as tribute and sacrifice to something greater than yourself. 

From your memory, the Phoenix was large - as was Marco - but nothing like this. The Phoenix took up most of the space in the large, high ceilinged interior cave, leaving about twenty feet of space around it in any direction. It was enormous, the rippling flames of its body reaching to grace the walls with its movement. Whereas Marco’s flames promoted healing, you saw many scorch marks on the walls where something had been burned to a cinder. 

Not only that, it looked different than all the pictures and videos you’d seen. The Phoenix was normally light teal with a Whitebeard Pirates insignia on his chest and gold accents. Now the Phoenix was a deep blue ombre, going from the familiar teal down to a midnight blue nearly as dark as the sky. Not only that but the teal flames were flickering into red flame at the tips, more in line with the mythical creature rather than the pirate you’d seen. This was no healing Phoenix, this was an avenging god - and you were the sacrifice.

“Oh fuck no,” you whispered, mostly to yourself. The Phoenix’s head reared back only to bring its eye right next to your body. The head of the bird was roughly the size of your body and the beak was curved with sharp edges, ready to snap you in half. As the Phoenix shifted you saw some human bones behind its body, the charred remains the only signs of life besides you and the pirates in the cave. Your chest heaved with hyperventilation as Thatch pushed you further towards the animal.

“Hiya, Markie. We brought you some more food too. C’mon, change back for us, Pops misses ya,” Thatch said while sporting an overdone pout. The Phoenix trilled but didn’t take its eyes off of you as Thatch emptied the contents of the sack onto a stone slab in the cave. “Yeah! That’s her! Don’t kill this one, she was hard to get. She’s a vet and a doctor, isn’t that fun? I mean yeah, she’s a Marine -”

“- contracted by the Marines,” you interjected quietly, unable to break eye contact with the Phoenix. You backed up a few steps but Ace was right behind you, ready to stop you if you ran.

“Oh shit, really? I kinda feel bad then,” Ace said, clapping your shoulder. You winced and squeezed your fist. All the movement from being carried had caused you immense pain, you’d just forgotten it in the face of being eaten whole.

“Careful you stupid fuck, my clavicle’s still broken! By the way, gimme my fucking weed,” you hissed at Fire Fist. “You’re leaving me here to die either by bird or starvation -”

“Hey, be nice. We brought food! And Marco’s not gonna kill you,” Fire Fist said with a huff, crossing his arms across his chest.

“I bet you said the same thing to those other people and their charred femurs are saying something else,” you continued. “Gimme my weed back and at least let me die peacefully!” you whisper yelled at him. You didn’t want to yell in case that upset the Phoenix. Ace sighed but reached into his cargo shorts for the bag he’d taken from your house.

“Here, take it. But -”

“No buts. Buy your own or steal it from the next kidnapping victim,” you said, shaking it and grasping it in your hand.

“Was good shit too,” he grumbled, kicking the dirt. You wanted to continue going back and forth with him but Thatch had finished unpacking.

“Well, Markie, that’s our cue. Have fun but please try to change back. We’ll be by in a week or so if we don’t see you sooner,” Thatch said to Marco, giving him a facetious salute. “And uh, try your best? We’d really like our brother back so if you can fix him we’ll let you go,” Thatch said, almost as an afterthought.

“Wait, if the Phoenix doesn’t eat me and I can get him to turn back, you’ll take me back to Enies Lobby?” you asked.

“Ah, no. We’re too far from it now. I guess we’ll take you to an island with a Marine base on it or something,” Thatch said.

“Did the two of you think through any part of this plan?” you asked as Ace and Thatch walked together back to the front of the cave. You desperately wanted to leave with them, but it wasn’t going to happen.

“Eh, usually Marco’s around to stop us from actualizing our bad ideas, but…well you know the problem. Good luck!” Thatch said brightly, waving to you. Ace waved too but was still grumbling about the weed. 

“W-wait! Just one ques-” you tried to follow just to ask if there was fresh water on the island but you shrieked as a giant blue wing cut you off from the receding pirates. The Phoenix hadn’t moved but shifted position and the giant wing covered the entrance to the cave. You tripped as you stepped backwards away from the fire, landing hard on your butt. The jostling hurt your clavicle and you felt tears threatening to fall. You breathed hard for a few moments but stood up. This was no time for tears - you had to keep your wits about you to survive the next week until Thatch and Ace came back.

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and tried to focus on what to do next. Now that you were alone with the Phoenix in the cave, its close watch was making you more uneasy at every turn. It was still watching your every move as you shifted your weight on your feet. You moved back into the cave slowly, edging closer to the wall of the cave. It clearly didn’t like visitors if the bones were anything to go by and you didn’t want to be dinner. After you found a smooth expanse of cave wall, you lowered yourself to the ground to think more clearly about your situation. The Phoenix still had you in its sights but it wasn’t making any movements towards you.

After years of trainign, you couldn’t stop yourself from doing a visual exam of the animal in front of you. The Phoenix had flames gently lapping from its core, like waves as they went from the ocean to the shore. As you looked more carefully, you saw that parts of the Phoenix were singed - notably along the tips of its wings and near the joints. You didn’t really know all that much about its cycles but you were guessing it was getting closer to dying and being reborn.

The thought sparked another fear in you - if Marco died while you were there, what would Thatch and Ace do? It theoretically wasn’t possible since Marco was healthy and young but the nagging fear had a trickle of sweat rolling down your spine.

You took stock of the food on the table - if it was only you, there’d be more than enough to last you for a week. But you weren’t sure how much the Phoenix ate so it was difficult to determine how to ration everything. For right now the sandwich felt like lead in your stomach; you weren’t hungry anyway. Your neck was killing you though. You thought through your first aid training and decided to fashion a makeshift sling for yourself since the Phoenix wasn’t doing anything for you, despite Thatch’s assurances that it would heal you.

You unzipped and removed your outer shirt and set it on the ground. It was a Soul King sweatshirt you got at the concert you’d attended and not the right material for a sling. The Phoenix watched you indifferently but you still turned to face the wall when you tried to take off your tshirt. Surely the Phoenix wasn’t interested in your human body but the thought of being naked in front of it wasn’t appealing. It was difficult to remove your shirt, your broken bone not allowing you to take it off without immense discomfort. 

So many hours later, all the ibuprofen had worn off and you were trying to muffle your cries when you reached to peel your shirt off. You hissed loudly when you had to raise your shoulder, clutching at it in pain. It didn’t matter that it hurt for a short moment, you’d have to make a sling to stabilize the broken bone.  

Without warning, the teal wings of the Phoenix were about you, cocooning you within their flames. You screamed out of surprise, unsure if you were about to be eaten or killed in some other gruesome way. Its wings were keeping you in a feathered, fiery cage as you tried to find a way out. Suddenly the flames leapt over your body, making you jerk back in surprise. That only served to push you further into its plumage. The Phoenix’s beak was at your back, steadying you from falling again as its fire washed over your body.

Gone was the pain from your shoulder and clavicle, gone were all the smaller scrapes and pains you’d gotten on the boat ride, gone was even the small cut you’d gotten from sticking your finger into your can of Helmet Breaker beer when drinking. You were healed from head to foot while engulfed in the flames of the Phoenix.

The Phoenix moved its wing back to resting as you caught your breath from the experience. Its head was still right behind you as you leaned backwards, taking a moment to process what had happened. As a doctor and vet, you’d often dreamed about the types of powers that Marco had but you’d never met anyone who had felt them first hand. It was a heady experience, almost like when a wave bowled you over in the ocean, sending you tumbling under the water. You didn’t know which way was up and you weren’t sure you could find it if you tried. 

Now that the Phoenix had shifted its body, you were able to see the moon high in the sky. It was late at night and between the black hole, the boat ride, your clavicle, and the bird, you were feeling completely exhausted. You turned to the Phoenix and wanted to express your gratitude in some manner, even if it couldn’t understand you perfectly. You bit your lip and turned to the Phoenix, which was now considering you with a spark of cognition in its eyes. 

“Th-thank you,” you said, bowing perpendicular to the ground. You remained bowed for a moment, your hair moving to reveal the back of your neck. The Phoenix chuffed at you, but moved its head back towards the rest of its large body. Standing back upright, you slowly moved back to the spot you had been in before. You sat on the floor of the cave and lowered yourself to lie on the ground. It was cold but at least it was dry, you supposed. Wrapping yourself in your Soul King sweatshirt\, you yawned to yourself as you closed your eyes, much more tired now that you were lying down. 

You squeaked as you felt the hard beak of the Phoenix moving you closer to its body, like a game piece on a board. Your hands instinctively reached into its feathers to keep yourself stable due to the movement but once you realized what you’d done, you jerked them back away in fear that it would upset the giant carnivorous bird. But the Phoenix didn’t squawk or bite you, just tucked you under its wing like it would an errant chick. You didn’t dare move away from the position it had put you in, unsure what it wanted to do next. Little by little you relaxed as the Phoenix did as well, laying its long neck against its body and settling in for the night. 

Whereas the healing fire felt like it danced across your skin, now that the Phoenix was calm it felt more like energy lazily washing over you - like a low  current of electricity rather than the jolt you’d gotten before. The sensation was unusual but it did have some kind of calming effect on you as you tucked yourself closer into the Phoenix’s side. If it wanted you closer to its body until it ate you, you weren’t going to disagree. Your last thought before drifting off was that at least you’d be a warm meal. 

@mfreedomstuff

[innerfare]

Blue Balls - Ace: Part 1

Summary: Ace ends up with a case of blue balls; text below the cut

Pairing: Portgas D. Ace x Afab!Reader

Genre: smut

CW: oral sex (Ace receiving), dirty talk

Word Count: 1,001

———

Ace rubbed his hand up and down his muscular chest, trailing it down his abdomen where it met yours. His fingers tangled with yours, and he found himself conflicted: he wanted to grab your hand and use it to pull you to your feet so he could kiss you some more, but he also wanted you to stay on your knees in front of him, eager for his cock in your watering mouth. 

He stood with his legs apart, that big cock of his in his other hand, while you looked up at him with your precious doe eyes and licked your lips, swollen from the sloppy, heated kisses the two of you had shared. 

You bore more evidence of those kisses on your neck, red and irritated from his tongue and teeth. At the sight of those marks, and with a perfect view of your cleavage in your pretty bra, his cock twitched in his hand. Did he want to cum on that cleavage, or did he want to cum in your mouth? You always told him he could cum anywhere he wanted, leaving him with paralysis of choice. He told himself he didn’t have to decide yet, that he had the entire night to choose. 

“Finally got you alone,” he muttered. He’d barely made it through dinner, and he’d almost challenged Jozu to a duel for making a joke about you that was clearly goodnatured and you’d laughed at; Ace was too tightly wound that night to see the humor in it. 

Before you, he’d been perfectly capable of getting himself off. Now, he needed your lips around his cock or his cock in your pussy or at least his tongue on your clit twice a day to feel like himself.

Golden pussy, Marco called it. 

Ace had punched him for daring refer to your pussy, even if to compliment it, but he knew his brother was right. 

You smiled up at him, untangling your fingers from his to keep rubbing his lower stomach, the muscles tight and rigid beneath your touch. With your other hand, you grabbed his calf, massaging his leg muscles. You placed a few sweet kisses against his inner thigh, nuzzling your soft cheek against him like he wasn’t one of the most dangerous, most notorious pirates in the world, like he wasn’t some sort of terrifying monster. 

The intimacy made Ace want to explode into a ball of flames, but he knew he had to keep his body temperature down for your sake. 

He let out a low breath, stroking your hair again. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” he said in that low voice of his. It did all sorts of things to you, the masculine tenor of it. It reverberated through your body, and you pressed your thighs together in hopes of finding some relief. 

You could feel the cream in your panties. It happened more often than not around Ace. 

Ace thumbed the tip of his cock, spreading the pre cum around. 

“Easy, tiger,” you said with a smile. “That’s my job.” 

He groaned at the sound of your nickname for him, and then he groaned again when you took his cock out of his hand and held it in both of yours. It looked so much bigger when you held it, seemed so much heavier. And yet, he felt lighter, knowing full well you’d take his full load in your mouth- or on your tits- and relieve all that tension he’d been carrying around with him. 

“That’s it,” he said. He gathered your hair in his hands to keep it out of your face as you leaned in to kiss the tip. When you licked and sucked, he went crazy, but it was your kisses on his throbbing cock and balls that made him feel special- important, even. His chest swelled as you kissed down his length. “That’s a good girl.” 

“I swear it’s harder than usual,” you said against him. “I can tell how much you need it.” 

“I really do need it,” he agreed. 

“I’ve got you, tiger.” You placed sweet kisses on his heavy balls. 

Ace groaned again. He couldn’t help but push his hips forward, earning a giggle from your lips before they closed around his balls. He tightened his grip on your hair. 

You sucked lightly, well aware how sensitive he was. After a few seconds, you released them with a loud pop. You gave them a few more sweet licks, and Ace moaned.  

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. 

“It’s me,” came Thatch’s voice. “I need you on deck.” 

“I’m busy, Thatch.” Ace looked back over his shoulder and stared daggers at the door, but his expression quickly morphed into one of relief and pleasure when you dragged your tongue up his shaft and took the head of his cock into your warm mouth. It was all he could do to keep from moaning your name. 

“Actually, I need y/n for something. And don’t bother claiming she’s not in there. I could hear you moaning all the way down the hall.” 

You sat back on your heels and wiped your lips. “I’m coming, Thatch.” 

“Be quick about it.” With that, his footsteps faded. 

You pouted up at Ace and picked your shirt up off the floor. “Sorry, tiger.” 

Ace groaned, this time from frustration rather than pleasure. His mind was hazy, and he could barely string together a coherent thought. 

“What could they possibly need you for?” 

“I’m sure it’ll be quick,” you said, rising to your feet and stepping into your shorts. You buttoned and zipped them before standing up on your toes to press a lingering kiss to Ace’s lips. “I won’t be long.” 

“You better not be.” He palmed his cock, but it brought him little relief. “I need you for something too, y/n.” 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! You can read Part 2 here! And if you want more content, you can check out my masterlist here!

[alexa-yukiyu]

Hey! Hey! Hey! 😝 I'm back

Anyways can I request a whitebeard pirates x fem child reader? (Maybe 5 years old?)

Reader is half bunny and she's always shy and a bit of a coward and her ears are always down like this

She's always with whitebeard (on his lap, beside him, or on his shoulders)

The crew gives her nicknames like buns, baby bun, bun bun, Cottontail

Oh and the crew is a little protective over reader because she's the smallest crew member on board 🥺

Maybe like the crew is trying to connect with reader? They thought that Marco would be the first one to connect with her (besides pops ofc) because he's quiet and calm but ironically she connect with ace first

Anyways don't forget to eat, sleep, and drink! Thank you~ ✨

Birds of a bunny ( Whitebeard pirates x F!rabbit!child!reader)

A/N okay okay lets ignore than its been an eternity and get straight into saying that despite me ABSOLUTELY COOKING HERE I kinda butchered the request din’t I ? I kind alet myself go but I just really wanted to get to one of your request at the least cosmo

Reader here is replaced by Dokucha which stands for Reader in japanese

Dividers by @/saradika

Whitebeard hums, swishing around his drink and gulping a considerable amount

“They’re looking for you again,” he states, glancing at a small furry ball on his shoulders

She unfurls herself from her position, moving her drooping ears to uncover her face

“I know:..”

“They’re trying.”

“I know, I know that they are good people, but… they are so rowdy.”

He snickers at that, glancing away from her

“I think you should talk to them.”

She shakes her head at that

“Don’t be a brat. You have to talk to your brothers eventually, and if this is how it will be, then I Will have that be now, Boys.”

She looks at Whitebeard, her eyes widening as she shakes her head vigorously, not liking where this was headed

She squeaks as she jumps off his shoulder. As he reaches for her, hopping her way through the deck, attempting to get away from the crew as they all lunge to try to take hold of the bunny girl

She quickly made her way up to one of the lower crow nests, tucking herself small in the corner of it, ignoring the calls of the males down below

She is not alone for long as Ace, ever the nimble one, makes his way up into the crow’s nest, followed quickly by a half-transformed Marco who perches on the crow’s nest, their entrance being received by sobs from the kit

Ace sighs at the sight, swiftly picking her up

“No! Papaw! Papaw!” She cries, trying to get out of Ace’s hold to run back to the now retreating Captain as he heads for his quarters

“Hey, Hey, it’s okay,” he soothes

“Dokucha, It’s okay, take deep breaths for me.” Marco follows only to wince at his suggestion and was met by higher wails

“No! No! I want Papaw!”

He hums, dipping her

She shrieks as she suddenly finds herself upside down, giggling when he pulls her back up, her ears bouncing as she did

“Heard a laugh.”

She shakes her head, digging it into his shoulder

“No?” He questions, dipping her once again, grinning when her laughter followed on the way back up

“Well, I’m glad you are feeling better, Baby bun,” smiles Marco

Dokucha turned her attention towards the man, staring at him for a moment, her eyes glancing towards her limbs, his arms currently transformed into a pair of wings, his legs turned into two sharp, very sharp talons that gripped into the wood of the nest

“Bright aren-

He stops his words as she begins wailing again, turning her head away from him and trying to dig herself into Ace

“Hey, Hey, what’s wrong? It’s just Marco, I know he looks weird-

He receives an unimpressed glance from the phoenix at that

But he won’t hurt you.”

“No!!” She hollers

“He’s going to eat me,” she bellows

He stills at that, glancing down and back up to his brother; quickly understanding the situation, he stifles a snicker as he gestures toward Marco

“Baby bun, look at me.”

“No! I don’t taste good,” she wails

“Just look for a second.” her sobs continue as she dares to take a glance, her sobs lessening at the sight of a now fully human Marco standing in front of her

“See? Just a normal person, that was just my devil fruit,” he explains, reaching for her only to sigh as she scooched back

“Baby bun, come on, I swear I'm not going to hurt you,” Marco stated once they had returned back to the Deck of the ship; much to the surprise of the rest, she had decided to remain with Ace rather than anyone else despite all the warm and more peaceful greetings everyone offered.

“Marco, you’re terrible,” Haruta muttered

“I didn’t think you were the type to scare little girls,” Vista piped in

An irk mark began to grow on his forehead at the jabs his crewmates threw at him

“Shut up,” he grumbled

“Man, I had the wrong impression of you, Commander Marco,” Saber added in

“I always thought you were a good human, but I guess my first impression of you couldn’t be farther from the truth,” Kutatsu commented

“The next one to make a comment will see what kind of man I am,” he snapped, brows furrowed

“Gee, see that Cottontail? Now he wants to eat us. Don’t worry, I’ll protect you!” laughed Thatcher as he looked at the girl in Ace’s arms while pointing at Marco

She glances at the chef, her lips beginning to tremble once again

“Hah?! What’s wrong, Cotton tail?!”

“You’re going to eat me!”

“What?! What gave you that idea, Cottontail!?” He questions a devastated look on his face as she repeated the words he mocked Marco for no longer than a minute ago

Izou chuckles at the scene unfolding

“You have something to share, Izou?!” Thatch asked, glaring at the sniper, tears prickling in his eyes

“I believe she is referring to your… extravagant hairdo.”

“…”

“Cottontail! I'm not a bird, I swear! It’s hair! It’s hair,” he wailed, trying to hug the girl, only for tears to cascade down his face comically as she backed away from him, digging herself closer into Ace’s Embrace

Marco gives a pat on the man crying on his knees

“It’s alright, Thatch; I will protect her,” he mocks

“Shut up, you damn chicken” he wails

He grits his teeth at that, a sharp smile on his face

“You’re on cleaning duty for a month.”

“What the hell, man?! I'm a commander; you can’t do that,” he wails

Okay im going to do school assigment and im going to write another request hopefully!!

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