#Monkey D. Luffy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zorostitties · 2 days ago

Text

Intertwined; 5

⤕ Luffy and you were like two sides of the same coin: opposites in every way, but similar in what mattered the most. Tied by a vow made with the purity of a child’s heart, life keeps trying to tear you apart - but the vow that intertwined your destinies would not be broken so easily. Or, Luffy promised to marry you someday when you were kids. This is how he keeps his promise.

pairing: monkey d. luffy x (f) reader

genre: childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, arranged marriage, fluff, angst, eventual smut

warnings: violence/blood, explicit language, toxic family relationships, death/grief, underage smoking, when i say slow burn i mean it

rating: 18+

word count: 11k

A/N: HELLO WORLD!! I can't believe it's been so long since the last update 😭 life has been beating my ass these days and I was stuck in a writers block. But I'm really satisfied with the way this chapter turned out in the end!! A little something I haven't mentioned about the fic yet (again): we're going all the way to Wano with this story :D Thank you so much for your patience!! Enjoy <3

⤕ Masterlist ⤕ Also on AO3 ⤕ Playlist

Scarpia Virgus already knew what his granddaughter was going to do before she did it.

He could feel it. Her intent. Her hatred, which burned inside of her slowly like a calm but constant fireplace. The weeks of travel towards the family’s headquarters were mostly silent. Yet, even if she didn’t speak, he could feel the heat of her anger burning from the other side of the ship.

When they finally arrived at Scarpia Island, Virgus already knew what she would do.

He didn’t stop her.

And now, the west side of the mansion was partially destroyed.

He stood on the border of the crater his grandchildren caused during the fight and watched.

Crowley bled. He got up from the floor holding his scythe with both hands, ready for one more attack. His eyes shone as red as the blood that dripped from his wounds. Part of his shirt was completely destroyed, reduced to gashes.

From the other side, his granddaughter reappeared from within the cloud of smoke and debris. She also bled in many places. The girl twirled the spiked ball of her chain, her gaze unwavering, completely locked on her older brother.

They attacked at the same time.

The shockwave produced by their clash played with Virgus’ long beard.

The old man analyzed their fight with attention. They were both excellent, as was expected of Scarpia assassins. The untrained eye would not be able to follow their fast movements. Both of them had dominated the art of maneuvering their respective weapons. She was not as physically strong as Crowley, but he was not as fast as her. Both had their advantages and disadvantages.

On their current level, they were evenly matched.

That wasn’t enough, of course. They still had a long way to go. Virgus knew he could interrupt the fight at any moment – and he would soon. He wouldn’t let his grandchildren kill each other. But not yet. He let them exchange more blows. He let them feed their hatred.

She deserved to let all the anger she had been churning for weeks out. Crowley played dirty, after all. But at the same time, she deserved to be punished. Every wound Crowley inflicted on her wasn’t nearly enough to what she should actually suffer.

They fought with passion. Delightful, Virgus thought. Truly excellent. How incredible was to watch a fight so emotionally charged. How satisfying it was to know every attack had the intent to kill. No holding back. No mercy. As it should be.

The future of the family laid on their hands, after all. Virgus already knew that the other children had no chance to reach their level by then, nor the potential. Not everyone is born to be a conqueror.

But these two were.

Virgus just needed to pull their potential out. And there was no better way to harvest potential than by cultivating rivalry.

Finally, the old man decided they had enough.

He got in between them so fast that it almost looked like teleportation.

Virgus didn’t need to unsheathe his sword. He simply caught each of them by their forearms and threw them away in different directions.

Both of them hit opposite borders of the crater. The floor shook. Another cloud of smoke and debris.

It was over.

“Siblings should not kill each other,” Virgus said calmly. And yes, he was right; it was one of the fundamental rules of the family. But there was nothing wrong with trying.

Crowley got up first. He approached his grandfather at fast steps. His arm was turned in a weird direction, but he ignored it. There was a deep cut above his left eyebrow, covering that side of his face in blood.

“Grandfather, she broke several rules–“

“I know what she did.” Virgus cut him off. “I will take care of her punishment.”

“Father should be informed–“

“He will not.”

Crowley was taken aback before anger covered his face again.

“But this isn’t fair–“

Virgus looked down at him for the first time.

It was enough to make the young man swallow his next words.

“Are you trying to tell me what to do, child?”

“No, sir.” Crowley immediately looked down.

His granddaughter approached him as well.

Her steps were firm and fast. Blood dripped from her nose down her lips and chin. Her eyes, locked on Crowley the entire time. Virgus could feel it again, the hatred burning under her skin. At that moment, she wasn’t even intimidated by his presence. Excellent. Excellent. A conqueror’s soul does not bow.

She pointed her finger at Crowley.

“If you ever think of going to Goa Island,” her voice was ferocious. Like the roar of a tiger. It came from the depths of her soul, Virgus knew. “If you even think of getting anywhere near the Sambas Region, I will kill you. This is a promise, Crowley; I don’t care what happens to me later. But you will die first.”

Anyone would’ve trembled at the ferocity of that threat. That wasn’t his fourteen year old granddaughter speaking; that was the White Wolf, as she was already getting known in the underworld. A skilled assassin. Someone that had never failed.

But Crowley opened a mocking smirk.

Excellent.

A conqueror’s soul does not bow.

“You’re upset because I got an advantage over you. I found out about your weakness, and you don’t know mine… because I don’t have any.”

She stared at him in silence for some seconds.

Then – she smirked as well.

Poisonous. Dangerous. Threatening. Excellent. Most excellent.

Her next sentence took even Virgus by surprise.

“You didn’t find out about my weakness. You found out about my strength.”

She turned around and left.

Crowley left as well.

Soon, the crater was surrounded by servants that stood aside during the fight, analyzing the levels of damage. And along with them came the lady of the house.

Scilla looked around the destruction with quiet shock.

“What happened here?” She was calm and cold as usual despite the situation at hand.

Virgus closed his eyes for a moment and chuckled.

A dragon is bound to give birth to beasts. It had been decades since a new generation of Scapias were all predators.

The crow and the wolf would battle for the dragon’s territory.

And to think these two want her to waste her future with marriage, Virgus thought. Fools.

The future of the family was going to be interesting.

Virgus put his hands behind his back. “The kids fought. Siblings fight all the time. Nothing to worry about.”

He walked away.

Virgus broke her.

Over and over again. Repeatedly. Tirelessly. He broke her.

She was skilled. Landon taught her well. He built the foundations of her strength. But that wasn’t nearly enough. Anyone could hide their presence, kill an unsuspecting target. That’s not what he wanted of her. No.

He saw it, under the dirt and the mud; the underlying shine of the gem she was, waiting to be honed. A diamond right under their noses. She was born in the right time, in the right family, to hone that talent. How fortunate she was to be born a Scarpia.

But she needed to be lapidated. The gem needs to be cut, trimmed, polished, until it becomes an acceptable final product.

So Virgus broke her.

He broke her because he knew she could be fixed later. And when she was fixed, he broke her again. When she thought she had achieved something significant, he’d show her that no, that was not enough. She was not enough, not yet. So he broke her. Again, and again, and again.

Broke her body, because in order to get stronger, it needed to be broken first. Broke her spirit, because in order to get stronger, she needed to be away from any distractions, including – and most importantly – that boy. Broke her pride, because Virgus showed over and over again how insignificant and weak she was compared to him. How she didn’t stand a chance if he actually wanted to kill her. Because in order to get stronger, she needed to understand that.

The sea is full of monsters. But conquerors – these are just a few. If she wanted to sit at the same small, secluded table of a conqueror, she needed to be broken first.

Virgus broke her despite her betrothal, the condition that her body should be healthy for the marriage in the approaching years. No, he didn’t care – because she could always be fixed later. He inflicted pain, excruciating pain, and inflicted damage, but nothing that couldn’t be fixed.

Virgus broke her, until her targets became higher, higher, more difficult. Virgus broke her, until The White Wolf name made ripples through the sea, until that name – that title – began to inflict fear and respect. Virgus broke her, until her parents could no longer ignore the fact that she was being exclusively commissioned, forcing her to complete them, forcing her out of the shadows of this engagement.

He broke her, and she did not complain once. Not a tear, not a whine, not a cry. She wasn’t grateful, either, but Virgus didn’t care. When he looked deep into her eyes, he saw apathy. He saw resolve.

He saw hatred.

Delightful, Virgus thought. Truly excellent.

- PART 2 -

“I did not have this face I now wear…

I did not have these weakened hands…

I did not have this heart that barely shows itself…

I never noticed this change.”

- Cecilia Meireles

➛ 15

The bar was disgusting.

An old structure made of wood and clay. The planks under your feet creaked as you stumbled in. You could feel the sole of your boots sticking with how dirty the floor was – layers and layers of spilled alcohol, sand, sea water, and probably vomit, too. The place smelled of vomit. And human sweat. And cheap rum. Round tables filled with lowly pirates, bandits, or beggars that managed to find a coin or two in exchange of some booze. It was loud. You never understood why men liked to talk so loud. Scandalous laughter, random shouts, heated arguments.

It was good, you thought. Noise, even if they worsened your headache. Something to forcefully stimulate your brain.

If you laid down in a silent place and let yourself rest, you knew you were going to die.

You stumbled to the restrooms at the back of the bar. Shoulders curved, your figure hidden under the black cloak, anyone would think you were just another drunk beggar; no one bat an eye at you. Thankfully. Two restrooms, for males and females, though you doubted anyone cared or respected the badly drawn plates. Each of them had space for a single person at once. You stumbled into one of them and locked the door.

The noise out there was muffled. Still very loud and irritating, but muffled – which allowed you to hear your own panting.

You stayed there, your back leaning against the door, for what seemed like an eternity.

Fuck.

It hurt. A fucking lot. It hurt, and it was hard to ignore it, even with the help of Heavenly Control. No; it was impossible to ignore it.

You didn’t even want to look at it. The thought made you want to vomit. But you had already vomited – there was nothing inside your stomach to put out anymore.

You gulped, and even this simple motion was difficult. If the floor wasn’t disgustingly wet with water and piss and probably worse things, you would’ve sat there. No. I still have some strength to my legs.

You searched for the light switch on your left. The sudden light hurt your eyes. Fuck, you didn’t want to look at it. You really didn’t.

But if you didn’t, if you let that as it was, you were certainly going to die.

So, slowly, you looked down to your stomach.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The sight of your own blood was nothing new. Blood, in general, but specifically your blood. The wet, warm sensation of it dripping down your own skin. The smell of iron. It was so strong, even inside this filthy restroom.

The improvised bandages did little to not help in stanching the bleeding. You had ripped both sleeves of your white shirt and wrapped it around your torso – it was unsanitary and inappropriate, but you had nothing better at the moment. The previously white fabric was completely red now. The blood dripped down your stomach. If your pants weren’t black, you knew the left side of them would be red, too, the stain almost reaching your knee.

You needed to clean that. The wound.

Fuck.

It hurt to breathe.

You untied the knot. The drenched pieces of fabric fell on the floor with a gross splash. You lifted the tight black undershirt up to your chest, exposing your stomach and bra.

There.

A little under your left breast.

The gash.

At least twenty centimeters across your torso. Four or five centimeters wide, probably. It wasn’t a clean cut. The skin around it was ragged. That fucker used chainsaws as weapons. You were glad he didn’t make anything worse than that, actually; if your mind was a little less attentive, if your senses weren’t sharpened, if you were half a second slower, he would’ve sawed you in half.

Fucker. Fucker. You wished you could resurrect him, just so you could kill him again.

Usually, you didn’t feel anything for your targets. Apathy was a good ally during a fight. But you couldn’t not feel it for that man, not after he got so close to killing you. Closer than anyone ever got.

The gash in your torso wasn’t the only wound he inflicted, but it was the most serious. It still bled. You heard the gross sound your destroyed skin made every time you breathed; the sticky noise of blood, of ripped flesh. And there was something else, too, something you’d been trying hard to ignore – that little white peeking from the red flesh, right under your left breast, a rib–

You needed water. Clean water. That’s why you entered the bar in the first place.

It takes some seconds of courage, of gathering strength on your legs, to push yourself from the door and stand in front of the sink. A broken, dirty mirror sat above it, but you avoided looking at your miserable face at that moment. You opened the faucet. Your hand was bloody, so everywhere you touched got bloody, too. Running water. Clean water.

There’s the running water, there’s your difficult breath, there’s the loud voices out there. Loud, because men don’t know how to speak quietly, especially when they’re among themselves. Masculine environments are always so loud, so aggressive. You put your fingertips under the faucet. The water was cold.

“There are only seven of ‘em now.” A loud, deep, annoying male voice said out there, from the group sitting closer to the restrooms.

There was a small leather bag hanging from your hip. You usually didn’t carry a lot of stuff with you. The roll of gauze was almost finished. You had already used so much to bandage the other wounds around your body. You took a peace of it and put it under the faucet.

“Who woulda thought, huh? That the great Stork would have an end like that.” Another male voice. “Ships n’ ships sailing to his territory right now. Everyone want a piece of it.”

You took a deep breath. One, two, and then stopped breathing when the cold gauze touched your ripped skin. The piece was immediately drenched in red. You cleaned it the best way you could before taking another piece and repeating the process.

A mocking cackle. “As if any of them have a chance. So close to Dressrosa? Huh. Doflamingo’s fleet’s probably there, already. Claiming everything to himself. Greedy bastard.”

That first voice, the first men, hummed in a knowing way. “Streets are saying he killed Stork, y’know.”

“That’s not what the paper says.”

“You believe in the paper? Dumbass. ‘Course they not gon’ tell the truth.” He chuckled darkly. “Flamingo’s been eyeing his territory for years. Errbody knows it.”

It hurt. It bled. Fuck, fuck. You didn’t have anymore gauze. The sink looked like a crime scene. It’s just pain. I can deal with it. I can deal with it. I can.

You took the roll of bandages you stole from someone on your way to the bar. It looked clean enough, better than a dirty ripped sleeve, at least. You were used to bandaging yourself. Your limbs worked almost automatically, careful not to touch the gash and the – shit – the bone peeking through it.

“But that would be too blunt, wouldn’t it? Would risk his position as a Warlord.”

Another mocking huff. “You know nothin’, do you? When I say he did it, I don’t mean he did it. Or any of his people. He got the paper to tell anyone else to do it for him.”

Careful, careful. The roll was enough to take three turns around your torso – but that was still not nearly enough to stop the bleeding, not nearly enough to protect the wound from a possible – most certain – infection. It wasn’t not enough, and you needed Landon. He didn’t accompany you in your missions anymore, because you did not need protection or guidance. It was great, to not have him around all the time anymore, but you needed him right now, so you took the little Den Den Mushi from the bag and rang.

While the little snail rang, while the people out there still talked and shouted and laughed, you finally pushed the hood of the cloak off your head and looked at your own reflection.

You looked like a mess. The type of mess that means, I’ve been severely injured, I am suffering from extreme blood loss, I will probably need a transfusion. There was not a sign of pride, or triumph, after winning over a strong opponent – the strongest up until then. Grandfather was stronger, of course, but grandfather had never tried to actually kill you. No matter how heavy the training was, you knew he wouldn’t kill you.

You remembered Luffy’s saying of how facing a strong opponent was fun and exciting. You could not sympathize with that. You never sympathized with that.

Would you ever?

Probably not. There was no pride in this business. Just work. Just a successful commission that almost got you killed.

But successful, anyway, and this one would put you above Crowley.

There was a bit of satisfaction in that. But not nearly enough. Maybe the pain in your whole body prevented you from feeling anything positive, or this filthy restroom.

A bar, like Partys Bar, in the other side of the world. Makino always made sure to keep the restrooms squeaky clean. It was impressive, her dedication in keeping a bar clean. And you remembered that it’d been a year and a half since you’d last been there, but it felt like so much more; it felt like a lifetime ago since you ate chocolate cake with her and the Mayor and Luffy, where you could hear the waves crashing and the fresh air after a stormy night.

A lifetime ago.

Was Foosha Village the same, you wondered? It hadn’t changed much in the years you visited. Probably not.

Did Luffy change a lot?

He always looked a bit different every time you saw him. A little bit taller, a little less chubbier. But his smile and his sense of humor and his warmth and his energy stayed the same. Was he holding up well without Ace? Was he practicing everyday?

Stupid questions, of course. He definitely was. These things about him would never change.

You’d changed, however.

Not only because you got taller, or because you had a different haircut, or because your body and your face didn’t look like a child’s anymore, or because you got undoubtedly stronger. There was something about you that changed. Not in a good way. Irreparably so.

It’s the color, you knew. It was absent from your life. Everything was black and white and gray.

The way it was before you met him.

And maybe it’s a bit insane on your part how seeing someone once a year changed your perspective in life so much. How it made you have a goal, a purpose to keep putting up with all of this. The family, the business. How the prospective of seeing him again for a week or so was the equivalent of seeing light at the end of the tunnel.

There was no light anymore, or warmth, or sun. Your life didn’t have space for playfulness, giggles, sweets, or relaxation – not even for a week. And in the rare moments when you weren’t under intense training with your grandfather, when you were sent on a commission – they were getting rarer, more difficult, more expensive – without Landon’s supervision, you couldn’t even bring yourself to appreciate anything.

Not that there was anything to appreciate inside the filthy restroom of a bar with an open wound in your body, of course.

But it’s alright.

You had endured a year and a half without him already. You just needed to endure for a year and a half more. Then, you’d both be seventeen; then, you’d meet him again.

It’s alright.

No biggie, as he said.

You were stronger. It wasn’t enough, still; you had to get even stronger. Not only because you wanted to meet him again. Not even just because you hated Crowley with every fiber of your being and wanted, needed to be better than him in every aspect. No; you needed to be stronger for yourself. Yes, yourself. Stronger, so grandfather wouldn’t be able to defeat you. Or any of your brothers. Or even your father.

Stronger, so no one would stand in your way.

And that was enough motivation. A light at the end of the tunnel.

Alright.

No biggie.

Landon finally picked up the call, right when someone started to bang on the door aggressively. You told him the coordinates. Your voice was quiet and “normal”, but Landon knew you enough to understand you were not okay. You knew he’d be here quickly. Yes, you could trust him.

It hurt, and it bled, but it would be alright, because you could be fixed. You were always fixed in the end. Just a year and a half more. That’s it.

Alright.

No biggie.

➛ 16

If you made a list of people you hated the most, Ichiji would rank second.

Which was an achievement, to make you hate him over your other brothers that had actually tried to kill you more than once, since you only saw him once a year or so. He was the opposite of Luffy – meeting once a year, filling you with irreparable loathing.

You despised him. Truly.

Rude, arrogant, violent, despicable. There was not a good adjective to describe him, other than his physical beauty – but it was all destroyed by the rest. You recognized that he was attractive as a fact, not as a compliment. Nothing in the world would make you like him.

He was eighteen years old now, and did not resemble the lanky boy you met all these years ago. Over 1,80m tall and muscular; a strong jawline, plump lips, a surprisingly feminine upturned nose, the same as Reiju. They all looked alike, in fact (duh), and it honestly made you wonder where did they take that beauty from, since Judge looked like a blonde raccoon that grew too much and had been beaten with a bat.

You could almost excuse his stupid swirled eyebrow. Almost.

Ichiji hid his eyes behind thin sunglasses now. He probably thought it made him look mysterious, but you couldn’t help but roll your eyes whenever you saw these stupid sunglasses and his stupid red hair and his stupid red military uniform. He was a Commander, now, along with his siblings. The stupid color coded siblings. Ugh.

You were so immensely grateful for your mask in times like these. No one saw your eye rolls, your disgusted expression; you didn’t have to hold back, the way you always held back around your family. Around your grandfather.

You always avoided speaking as much as possible during these “family meetings” – not that anyone bothered, of course, since it was always the men speaking about war or whatever other manly topic you could not give two shits about. Food was always nice, at least, but eating with this mask on was still a pain in the ass, so you could never really enjoy anything.

You’d been nervous about this specific meeting, however. Because Ichiji was eighteen already.

An adult by Germa’s laws – and most of the world followed this same law, too, though it wasn’t something certified by the World Government. Eighteen.

A legal adult. Ready to get married.

And he was a prince, and Germa was a fucking oligarchy, which meant the Vinsmokes could bend the laws to their will however they liked it. Which meant Ichiji was an adult, but if their spouse was at least two years younger – even if it meant they weren’t a legal adult yet - , the law would accept their marriage.

So you were very, very close to your doom.

You spent months tracing plans of action. You had enough money of your own – money you managed to hide from the family vaults, in international banks around the world. If this meeting had the objective to set a definite date for your wedding… you’d run away. Even if you weren’t powerful enough to fight your family – not yet. Even if it meant you’d have to fight your way out. You were not getting married to that man, not now, not ever–

But turns out, surprisingly, Judge himself brought the good news.

Germa was at war (they were always at war, goddamnit) with some country you didn’t care enough to know the name. It was the Vinsmoke children’s first time as Commanders of the army, which meant they were extremely busy, which meant they had to show off to the population of the North Blue as much as possible to increase their reputation, which meant it was an inappropriate moment for a wedding ceremony.

And you were so relieved that you almost could excuse Judge’s ugly mustache. Almost.

You wished this war would last long years, until you realized the thought was a bit too cruel even for an assassin.

After dinner was over, you found a way to escape their attention – you always did, and thankfully no one noticed your presence enough to care – to some empty balcony of the royal castle. You wanted to smoke – your fingers were almost shaking for it – but you couldn’t take your mask off here, and you didn’t bring a pack with you, so in order to not freak out in front of everyone, you looked for loneliness.

It was chilly, that night. Not a cloud in the sky; the full moon shone beautifully, painting everything in silver shades. You leaned on the marble railings of the balcony and breathed the oceanic fresh air. Germa was so… sterile. Bland. Black flags with the 66 symbol waved with the wind everywhere. There were guards everywhere, too, and you knew many of them paid close attention to you, even though your eyes didn’t see them. Observation Haki worked full time, now, thanks to your training. It was automatic, like a switch in your brain was on all the time.

...Everything about you was automatic, these days. More than you remembered it used to be before him.

An involuntary sigh grew within your chest.

Did… did Luffy miss you the way you missed him, you wondered? Did he think about you often?

You’d been… avoiding to think about him more recently. Yes, seeing him again was one of the goals for why you’d been enduring all of this – but on the other hand, thinking too much about him made everything more painful than it should be.

Not just him, but everything that came along. Quiet evenings. Hot midday sun. The humidity of Mt. Colubo. The animals, the insects, the plants.

...How long has it been since you last touched one of your sketchbooks?

You didn’t have time for any of that. Not under grandfather’s training. When you were not out in commissions, you were with him; isolated. You could not let your guard down around him. You could not relax, or rest, or let your mind wander around. You learned what happens if you did in the worst way possible.

You had scars now – and of course, you had scars before, but there were so many more now. Your arms, now hidden in elbow length black gloves, carried many thin scars from the cuts he inflicted. Virgus’ black katana, Tsubasa, was your close friend now. You knew its blade better than you knew yourself.

And you knew these things were making you undoubtedly stronger. You felt stronger. Anonymous commissioners looked for The White Wolf. You didn’t bother with lowly targets anymore; it was rare of you to even wander out of the Grand Line, where all the power in the world actually stayed. Your paywall rose from a hundred million to four hundred million in less than a year, and by the way things were going, it’d keep rising. Only you and (ugh) Crowley had such a high paywall for commissions at this point.

Urso, Saqr, the twins… you knew they hated and resented you both. But now, you didn’t hear threats coming from them anymore. They knew better. And then there was Ariadne, your younger sister. The last Scarpia child. But she was only five, hadn’t been initiated yet… and you didn’t pay much attention to her, honestly.

Yes, your training, the way you’d been carrying your life was making you stronger. It was worth it.

But it also made you miserable. Which is something you shouldn’t consider, given the Scarpia lifestyle. You shouldn’t seek for happiness. You shouldn’t seek for comfort, or friendship, or an easy life.

But you wanted to see Luffy again anyway.

Another deep sigh.

Fuck. You wanted a cigarette, too.

You were grounded back in reality when a new presence approached.

And you instinctively rolled your eyes so much that you almost saw the inside of your skull.

“Disappointed, my dear bride? Are you so sad you wanted to be left alone to cry?”

You turned around – even though you didn’t want to, but keeping your back turned to Ichiji was never a good idea.

His cynical smirk and his carefree demeanor were infuriating. You hated his uniform, and you hated the way he walked with his hands in the front pockets of his pants, and you hated these sunglasses, and you hated the way he had the audacity to even approach you.

You did not answer him.

Ichiji stopped a few steps from you, his smirk slowly increasing.

“Oh, I love how obedient you already are. Never talking back to me. I enjoy silence the most, darling, so it’s good you’re already used to it. The only sounds you’ll be allowed to make are the screaming and begging for help.”

You still did not answer him.

Ichiji tilted his head to the side. He always tried to make you fall for his provocations. You always resigned yourself to silence. Since he couldn’t physically hurt you, he tried to do it with words, or make you so angry that you’d finally lash out. You wouldn’t indulge him.

He hummed.

“You know, I think I don’t care if you keep this mask after we get married.” And you hated, hated, hated the way he purposefully let his stupid glasses fall to the bridge of his nose so you could see his blue eyes eating you. The way he measured you from head to toe, slowly, in a way that made you want to push him off the balcony. “Don’t really care if the face’s ugly. Just don’t gain weight, will ya?”

You still did not answer him.

Ichiji snorted and put his sunglasses back in place. He took one step closer.

“This only applies until I put a baby in you, of course. After you give me an heir… I will fulfill my promise.” He leaned in your direction and dropped his voice lower. “You haven’t forgotten, have you?”

I will beat you up so bad that you won’t ever get to walk again. I will make you swallow this mask. This is a promise.

You haven’t forgotten.

Slowly, you turned your head in his direction – just to make him sense that you were looking at him, not just your eyes.

“You haven’t forgotten my promise either. Have you?”

Your voice was quiet, freezing cold like frost. You wouldn’t waste energy screaming at him. But he felt it, and you were so immensely satisfied that he did; the way you saw him take a more serious instance, how his body tensed up almost imperceptibly. Ichiji knew you were no defenseless maiden. He knew about your fame, about what you had done past year, and the fact that he still didn’t have great achievements of his own made him hate you. Envy you. You knew it. You’d been dealing with jealousy and rivalry your entire life.

If you try to touch me again, I will kill you.

That was your promise to him.

You could feel his anger and apprehension crackling under his skin. And yet, Ichiji resigned himself to opening a strained smirk. He wouldn’t try to do anything; he couldn’t. Quietly, you wondered how your fight would go if he actually tried something. Ichiji was half human, half machine – perhaps more machine than human. He was anything but weak.

The fight would be interesting, you thought. Maybe one day you’d finally have the chance to rip his heart off his ribcage.

But not today.

“I can’t wait for us to get married.” This otherwise innocent sentence sounded like a threat.

Shit.

You had to find a way out of this situation before his wish could come true.

Smoking became a habit before you even realized it.

A small way to rebel against the family’s rules, perhaps. You must always take care of your health. Which was already stupid to begin with – smoking wasn’t allowed, but being beaten up by your own grandfather wasn’t considered unhealthy? What were these standards?

A cloud formed in front of your face as you exhaled the smoke. Night had fallen over the busy city; it looked like an infinite labyrinth of little lights down there, from the open window you stood near. You still had a few minutes before security noticed something wrong happened. Yet, you were not in a hurry.

“Why aren’t you wearing your mask?”

You looked over your shoulder.

Ariadne stood quietly a few steps away from you. Her little face was hidden behind a mask with four holes for eyes and patterns that resembled webs. Though you couldn’t see her expression, by her tone, you knew she was frowning.

Indeed, you had pushed your mask aside. “Because I’m smoking.”

“But what if someone sees you?”

“No one is nearby to see me. There are no Video Den Den Mushis, either.”

She went silent for some moments.

“Why aren’t you wearing the uniform?”

Ariadne wore hers – the standard: skirt and jacket in black, white button shirt, white socks and black leather dress shoes, the only color being the red scorpion crest on the right side of her chest. You, on the other hand, wore a burgundy pinafore dress with a pleated skirt and a fitted bodice, with subtle ruffles on the shoulder straps. Underneath, a long-sleeved white blouse and a black ribbon tie around your neck. Knee high, chunky combat boots on your feet – these were more for action than fashion, just like the black gloves you always wore when working. A beret with the same color of the dress completed the look, but it was inside your small purse at the moment, as you couldn’t wear it if you had the mask on.

“Because I like to look cute,” you explained in a nonchalant tone. “And the family uniform isn’t cute.”

Ariadne went silent again.

Colors were pretty much forbidden within the family. When you weren’t around them, however, you’d immediately change into something more colorful and girly. It was also another small way to rebel. Scarpia assassins are supposed to be devoid of any personality traits; you refused. You liked to spend money on clothes and you liked to wear jewelry and you liked to feel pretty.

You smoked the last drag of the cigarette and dropped it on the floor, squeezing the sole of your shoe over it. It burned the carpet underneath.

Finally, you looked at her again.

Ariadne.

She turned six a week ago. You still remembered the first time you accompanied your brother on a commission: Urso was nine then. You were the same age as her. You remember seeing Urso struggle against his target, and he punched you in the stomach so hard that you vomited when you pointed it out. Other than that, the whole thing was pretty boring.

Ariadne was so much shorter than you.

Which is a stupid thing to realize. She was six. Obviously.

Six years old.

And she had just witnessed you murder a man.

The body was sprawled over the carpet in the middle of the office. It was an easy commission; it had been a while since you took down an untrained target like that. You knew it was because she would accompany you – an easier, safer target, as Ariadne would be in danger if you faced your usual commissions.

You didn’t want her to be here at first. Why you? Just because you were the only other girl in the family? Yeah, that was probably the reason.

The only other girl in the family.

Six years old.

You watched her in silence.

Ariadne stood obediently. Her posture was perfect. She did not move. A six year old child not moving. A six year old that already knew death, was intimate with its concept – the same way you were introduced to killing before you could properly speak.

That little thing was your sister.

It was a bit stupid of you to have this epiphany at that moment. You had six siblings and you actively ignored all of them. There was no family bond between you, no love – the only bond that kept you together was that of the blood and the anger.

But Ariadne was your little sister. The only other girl in the family. And she was ten years younger than you. What could she know and understand about the world?

Just blood and anger? The same way you were taught – until you went to Goa Island for the first time and found out there was so much more than that?

You remembered how pointless and boring life was before all that. You remembered how you envied Reiju and her pretty pink dress the first time you met her, while you had to wear the plain Scarpia attire instead.

You sighed heavily. Ariadne moved slightly, as if she received an electric shock. You noticed for the first time that you made her nervous.

Finally, you took the beret from inside your small pouch and put it on your head. You looked at your reflection in a mirror nearby and adjusted your hair before turning to her.

“Let’s go.”

Ariadne hesitated.

“Let’s go where?”

You walked out of the room. She followed shortly, running to match your pace. Her personal butler – a bald man you didn’t bother to know the name – followed as well.

“Young Mistresses, we must go back to the ship–“

“Don’t follow us.” Your tone was dry. You didn’t bother to look back at him or to slow your pace. The butler was taken aback. You could feel Ariadne’s surprise.

“Young Mistress, I must ask where you are going.”

“None of your business.”

“You are not allowed to do anything that isn’t involved with the completion of the commission.”

You stopped abruptly.

For the first time, you turned around to look at him.

“Are you arguing with me?”

You didn’t raise your voice, because you almost never did. Serenity and calm as usual. But he felt it, and you knew that he felt it – the frost in his veins, his throat getting dry, the hole in his stomach. The danger.

The butler gulped and looked down, avoiding your gaze obediently.

“No, Young Mistress.”

You still stared at him for some more seconds. “Wait for us in the harbor.” You turned around and walked down the corridor. “A word to the main house and consider yourself dead.”

Ariadne followed you quickly. You both entered the elevator.

It was silent for a few seconds.

“You can take your mask off after we leave the building.”

She hesitated.

“What are we going to do?”

“Buy you something cute.”

Ariadne didn’t say anything.

But you felt through your Haki that she was excited – and that, for some reason, made you open a small smile.

Tigerlily Island was a piece of golden heaven on the second half of the Grand Line. Home to many banks, casinos, hotels and entertainment zones; it was the land of the wealthy – i.e., the land of money laundering. Scarpia Family itself had a bank of its own in the island and a few businesses that were not only profitable, but also managed to clean most of the money coming from commissions. Tigerlily was a den of white collar crimes. As it involved billions and billions or berries circulating every day, the World Government was willing to turn a blind eye to it (as it was given a very generous “donation” monthly, of course).

It also happened to be surprisingly peaceful. Not only was it controlled with iron fists by a single mafia, the Tigers, there was a sense of camaraderie in the air. No one wanted to be snitched on. All of these criminals came with their treasure chests to make more profit, or lose everything in the casinos, or simply have a good time.

There was a murder that night, however. The owner of a bank. But as he died with his secrets, no one really bothered.

It also had really nice malls.

Ariadne was a bit spooked. She’d never been in such a crowded place before, and being without her mask scared her, but she got slowly used to it. You hopped from store to store. She didn’t really know what to do with herself, or which clothes to pick, and she was still nervous in your presence. You just let her pick whatever she wanted, even if nothing really matched or made much sense.

“I’m not allowed to eat ice cream.” She mumbled when the waitress brought a large ice cream cup with extra chocolate topping, even if her eyes gleamed at the sight. Bags and bags rested around your legs. It was way past midnight, and yet the mall was still crowded; Tigerlily never slept.

“Who said that?”

“Bill.” That was probably her butler. You looked around.

“Is Bill here?”

“...No.”

“So.” You shrugged and took a spoonful of your own ice cream.

Ariadne tried not to smile as she took a bit of hers.

Like everywhere else in Tigerlily, the ice cream parlor was unnecessarily decorated with gold. If it wasn’t golden, then it was pink. Tables were filled with couples and families; the air smelled sweet, which brought you memories.

Luffy would like it here. There are so many things to do.

You sighed and rested your cheek on your knuckles, looking at nowhere in particular. Just a few months more.

Ariadne eyed you silently.

When you quirked your brow at her, she stiffened and whipped her eyes back to the ice cream.

“You can ask me stuff if you want to.”

She stiffened again at your voice, as if hit by an electric shock. Thinking back on it… have you ever sat down to talk to her before? Well. No. You didn’t even know she could speak until a while ago. Ariadne had good vocabulary for a six year old, in fact; you also knew she already could read and write perfectly, though this wasn’t a great achievement for a Scarpia.

There were other kids in the ice cream parlor. All restless, loud, laughing, stuttering, their mouths and the collar of their clothes dirty with ice cream.

Ariadne sat in front of you quietly, always avoiding your gaze. All adult-like and polite.

Again, it made you feel something weird.

You waited until she gathered some courage to speak.

And yet, at that moment, your senses sharpened.

Your Haki. It took in a new presence nearby. While everyone else in the area felt like lit matches, this presence felt like a torch.

Someone strong.

A strong presence is always something to note, regardless if it feels aggressive or not. You looked over your shoulder towards the shop’s glass doors; the sidewalk out there was packed.

“What’s wrong?” Ariadne asked in a tense tone, noticing your sudden change in behavior. You didn’t answer; instead, waited.

Waited.

The presence was coming closer, its heat spreading around the street.

Closer.

The presence walked past the ice-cream parlor; you watched through the glass doors.

Your heart rate spiked.

“Wait here.” You told Ariadne without looking back, standing in a jump and rushing towards the doors.

The sidewalk was crowded – and yet, you could only see that single person, as if your sight could not focus on anyone else.

“Ace!”

He stopped on his tracks.

The man turned around with a frown at first. It didn’t take long for him to spot you.

His face immediately brightened with a grin.

“Wolfie?!”

A cackle erupted from within you; one so odd, already so unfamiliar – something you haven’t felt in years. Something involuntary that pulled you off your well-controlled state, turning off autopilot.

Because that was Ace.

He rushed towards you, laughing, his dark eyes brightening up the same way his lips did. He loosely carried a bag over his shoulder, but dropped it immediately as soon as he got close enough. Ace put both hands over your shoulders and measured you up and down.

“What the hell! I can’t believe it!” He giggled excitedly. “Look at you! You’re all grown up now!”

You giggled as well, suddenly feeling a tiny bit bashful. Ace was also very different from what you remembered: he was even taller, more muscular than before – which was hard to ignore, since he was shirtless, choosing to just wear black jeans shorts and boots. His wavy hair seemed a tad bit longer than what you remembered. Now, he wore a light brown cowboy hat with two smiley faces. A necklace of red beads sat around his neck, which immediately made you remember Dadan. His skin was much tanner now; he always had freckles on the bridge of his nose and cheeks, but now they had spread towards his shoulders as well, a testament of someone who lived with the sun, salt and sea.

Ace looked like a proper man now, not a teenager. And just by looking at him, you could see some things have changed inside of him, too – and not just in terms of power.

“Of course, it’s been three years!”

Ace nodded. “I was thinking about you these days. But I’d never imagine I’d find you in a place like this! What are you doing here?”

“I’m–” Oh. You looked back at the ice cream parlor. “I’m with my sister.”

“Sister? You have a sister?!” You must’ve mentioned at some point that you had siblings, but you and Ace have never actually talked too much about your life – and you doubted he’d remember anyway. Regardless, he seemed excited for some reason.

“C’mon. You want some ice cream?”

He huffed and crouched down to take his bag again. “And you even ask?”

You decided to move to the outside tables in the balcony for a bit more privacy – probably because Ace’s gigantic back tattoo was attracting way too much attention. Not that he cared.

Ariadne was more than surprised to see him walking in.

“Who’s this little princess?” Ace crouched down to get to her eye level. You were a bit surprised as well at the way his tone softened… have you ever heard him speaking like that before? Not with you or Luffy, at least. “Hah, she looks like your tiny clone, Wolfie!”

Ariadne looked between you and him with widened eyes and warm cheeks. She sent you a subtle questioning gaze – Wolfie? – before looking at him again.

Then, she stiffened.

“...Nice to meet you. My name is…” She thought for two seconds. “...Spidey.”

You chuckled. Smart girl.

Ace quirked one eyebrow. “Y’alls parents have a thing for animals, huh?”

“They do.” And it wasn’t even a lie.

Ace politely offered his hand for her to shake. “My name is Ace. Nice to meet you, too.”

She got even more flustered.

As the three of you settled and Ace asked for every single ice cream flavor available – the waitress looked panicked – you observed him quietly. You felt so stupidly giddy. That was Ace! After three years! He was a little piece of what you cherished most, part of the things that made you happiest in this world. And even though you thought you’d never see him again, there he was.

You eyed the tattoo on his upper left biceps – ASCE;the message behind that S was pretty obvious, so you decided to not mention it. The other tattoo, however…

“Gotta be honest. I never thought you were the type to sail under someone else’s flag.”

Ace smiled with his cheeks full of strawberry ice cream, looking surprised. “You heard about it?”

“Course I did. You’re famous.”

He shrugged. “I used to think the same, too. But things change. Whitebeard will be the King of the Pirates!”

It was surprising to hear that coming from his mouth. As far as you knew, Ace didn’t have the same ambition as Luffy… but he seemed rather supportive of his brother’s dream. Well. As he said – things change.

There was also the fact that joining the Whitebeard Pirates made Ace pretty… untouchable, in a way. Many people wanted him dead. You knew commissioners were willing to pay millions for his head. But Scarpia had a rule – and that was of putting the safety of the family above anything else. To incite the anger of an Emperor of the Sea by killing one of his pirates would not keep the family safe. Now that you were next to Ace, however, you thought this wouldn’t be a problem to him, even if the family took him as a target: Ace was strong. He deserved that 500 million bounty and the fame.

But you weren’t going to tell him that.

“So.” Ace said excitedly, turning his body in your direction. His eyes beamed – and a part of you already knew what was coming. “How’s Luffy doing? Is the idiot okay?”

And, just like that, it was like he popped a balloon inside of you.

You crossed your arms and avoided his gaze. Your smile faltered, even if you didn’t plan it.

“I… haven’t been visiting him, Ace.”

His shoulders dropped.

“What happened? Don’t tell me you guys fought.”

“No! It’s nothing like that.” You massaged the nape of your neck awkwardly. “I had some… family problems.”

Ariadne stared down at her ice cream glass.

Ace rested his cheek on his palm and hummed. “That sucks.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“Well. You asked me that, back then…”

Ace huffed and waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, that? Don’t worry about it! Luffy is a crybaby, but he’s also tough. He’ll live.” He then smiled once more. “He’ll set sail in a few months, too, right? So you’ll get to meet again!”

You nodded, feeling that balloon inflate inside of you again. “Yeah, I hope so.”

Just the thought of seeing Luffy again made you fuzzy inside, which made you feel a bit pathetic. You looked at Ace again, desperate to divert his attention from you. “So, what have you been up to? Besides joining the crew of an Emperor, I mean.”

Ace beamed.

You soon discovered that he was much more chill now, compared to the grumpy boy you met years ago. His smiles were easy, his tone always welcoming and warm. You noticed he was developing slight wrinkles on the outer corner of his eyes, both due to sun exposure and simply because he smiled too much. Ace gesticulated a lot, happy to share his experiences with you – and even happier when he found out you’d been to the same places (though in the span of three years, he’d already been to more islands than you).

Of course – your stories weren’t nearly as exciting. To you, it was always just work; going to a place, completing a commission, going back home. Meanwhile, Ace would go on to say how he befriended this or that guy, stayed at that forest and that city, fought this or that pirate. He was a great story teller, too.

It made you both happy and sad.

Happy for him. Ace was never meant to stay in Goa. His life belonged to the seas – and it was obvious how accomplished he felt, as if the invisible weight that held him back was lifted. Ace was happy, and his happiness was contagious, as if he was an actual torch, enlightening his surroundings and spreading warmth.

Sad for yourself. Which was horrible. Self-pitying is disgusting and pathetic. But you couldn’t not feel the slight sting in your heart when you compared his life to yours. His freedom. You barely talked about yourself, because all you had to say involved your training and your commissions… nothing worth bragging about.

Just a few more months. Just a few more months.

Ariadne watched Ace speak with glow in her eyes. It was a bit funny, because you could relate exactly with what she was feeling.

“...but that was a bit after I left Wano.”

Ariadne widened her eyes slightly. “You’ve been to Wano?”

“Yep!” Ace slurped the last drop of his chocolate milkshake. Now the table was filled with empty cups of ice cream. She’d been keeping quiet for most of the time, so her sudden question took you off guard. “You know it?”

She looked down sheepishly. “...I’ve read about it in books.”

You could see this was a topic of her interest. Wano was a mystery to the entire world, as a secluded country under the rule of an Emperor. Simply off limits to most. You haven’t even gotten close to it yourself. It was definitely impressive that Ace managed to break into its borders.

Ace opened a soft smile and rested his chin on his knuckles. Ariadne got even more flustered.

“You remind me of a friend I met there, you know?”

“A… friend?” She fiddled with her fingers nervously.

“Yeah. Her name’s Tama. I bet you’d get along well.” He nodded as if he just had an idea. “When you go to Wano, tell her you’re friends with Ace! She’ll get super excited!”

Ariadne got more flustered.

“...Are we friends?” She was taken aback.

“Yeah!” He offered her his fist.

She hesitantly fist bumped him and immediately retracted her arm – but she could not hide the tiny smile in her lips.

Ace giggled and looked back at you. “She’s so much like you.”

“You think so?”

He hummed. “In appearance, at least. You were more annoying.” Ace poked Ariadne’s side, making her giggle for the first time (had you ever seen that girl giggle before?) and pointed at you with his thumb. “D’you know that, Spidey? Your sister here was a pain in the ass. You’re much nicer.”

“What? You were annoying!” You punched his arm jokingly and laughed. “You were a prick, in fact.”

He gasped in a dramatic way and put his hand over his chest. “Me?! A prick?! But I’m the nicest guy in the world! Tell her, Spidey!”

Ariadne laughed a bit louder.

And at that moment, something familiar filled you.

The sound of laughter, of Ace’s loud voice and Ariadne’s sheepish giggling. The smell of sweets and the aftertaste of ice cream in your tongue. The city full of life around you, the gentle night breeze.

You were happy for the first time since that afternoon when you said goodbye.

It felt nice.

The sun was already rising when Ace said goodbye.

He ruffled Ariadne’s hair (making her blush) and hugged you (making you blush. He’d never done that before. And he was still shirtless). Ace was definitely someone different now.

“I told you, remember? That we’d end up bumping into each other in the New World.”

“Yeah.” It was your turn to fiddle with your fingers nervously. You were still not great with goodbyes. “So… until next time, I guess?”

“Let’s meet again sooner this time!” He grinned mischievously. “Luffy will be out in the sea soon. We should all meet up and beat his ass, now that we’re both stronger than him!”

You laughed and nodded. The idea sounded funny enough. “Agreed!”

You watched Ace go, waving back at you two excitedly, with a big smile plastered over his face. Ariadne waved back with smaller movements. You stood there until he disappeared amid the crowd – but you could still feel him, the torch, brighter and warmer than anyone else in that island.

Just imagining you, Luffy and Ace reunited – this nicer Ace – was enough to make you smile.

But for now, it was time to go back to your life. You weren’t free yet, and you already abused your luck for the day.

“Let’s go.” You told Ariadne, picking some bags from the floor while she took others. It felt like each step you took away from Ace made the colors of life fade bit by bit.

Fuck.

You lit a cigarette while balancing the bags on your other arm.

“He’s weird.” Ariadne said after a while.

“You think so?”

She looked down with a thoughtful expression. “When you go to Wano, he said. As if I’d ever go there.”

You took a drag and quirked one eyebrow. “But you want to go there, right?” Her expression softened. She looked to her sides, as if afraid anyone would see her nod. Unfortunately, you understood her apprehension very well. “So why would you never go?”

Ariadne looked up at you for the first time as if you were insane. “Because I can’t.”

“You weren’t supposed to be out in the city shopping past midnight, were you? But here we are.” You shrugged.

“But that’s because I’m with you.”

“So, if you want to go to Wano, you have to be strong like me.”

That made her think. After a while, she nodded, because that made sense in her head. Of course it made sense. That’s the Scarpia way of life: strength is the only answer.

Yet, at the same time, it made you think of Ariadne – six years old, small, quiet and introspective, having to go through everything you’d been through in order to get stronger.

You didn’t like that.

Something inside you wished she’s just be able to do whatever she wanted without facing any pain.

You are a Scarpia. Life will never be kind to you.

That was the reality she was chained to – and there was nothing you could do about it.

For now, having some nice clothes and ice cream at inappropriate hours would have to suffice.

➛ 17

You were destroyed.

Arms, legs, head, stomach. Everything hurt. Your limbs were bandaged. Each movement sent waves of pain through your body. It’d been days, but you still couldn’t eat.

None of that mattered anymore, because a News Coo dropped the paper from the sky.

And in between the pages, there was a new bounty warning.

It felt almost supernatural that you caught the newspaper before any of the butlers could. How it fell on your hands. How that warning slipped from between the pages and you crouched down to take it.

The moment your eyes laid on it – the pain was gone.

All the things that hurt you, that made you feel miserable, grandfather’s training, everything – everything was brushed aside. The uncontrollable laughter that erupted from your chest, the shaking of your fingertips, your increased heartbeat.

Everything else was little, easy to ignore.

It was him. Him, grinning in that photo. His name, his bounty of 30 million.

And for a moment, you felt silly for wondering for the past months if he really would set sail, if he’d still keep that dream. Many things can change in three years. What if he had changed his mind? What if he decided to lead his life in another path and you’d simply never meet him again?

You should’ve never doubted him.

That same day, you accepted a commission in Paradise.

Tracking them down wouldn’t be hard if you weren’t forbidden to see him.

You could get information on anyone from any known corner of the world if you wanted; you just needed to make a call. But that would slip into Crowley’s ears and you couldn’t risk that. So, taking advantage over the fact that no butler followed you anymore, you took your time to investigate their whereabouts.

Fortunately, he made it pretty easy for you.

Once again, you felt an involuntary fit of laughter escape when you found another bounty warning – this time, glued to the wall of a bar. The entire city was talking about it: how this newbie pirate and his crew defeated a Warlord. Because of course Luffy would defeat a Warlord less than a year into his career.

Judging by the place they were last seen, there were three possible islands that their Log Pose could lead them.

You chose one based purely on instinct.

It was a small city with markets and fairs – the perfect place to replenish supplies. It had many harbors which were always packed with ships, including ships from the Marine. The economy of that island was solely based on it. Albeit small, the city had a constant crowd of travelers. It wasn’t particularly pretty, but the constant summer weather was nice.

You had arrived past night, slept in the simple room of an inn. Some wounds in your torso still hurt, but most of the bandaging was already unnecessary. Any pain you could possibly still feel was brushed aside.

Maybe you chose the wrong island. Maybe they’d sail past it and you’d lose the track. Maybe they were already way too far for you to reach them, and you had to report back to the main house before the situation got too suspicious. There were a million possibilities.

Or maybe– maybe you’d actually find him, but he wouldn’t care? What if he forgot about you? He had a bad memory.What if meeting you would be an inconvenience? He had his crew and his ship to take care of, after all… and you never agreed on a certain place or time to meet. Maybe you’d slow him down. Maybe he’d rather meet you in a different place at a different time.

This simple thought was torturous. After everything you had endured… if he acted nonchalant, if he simply didn’t remember – it’d break you in half more than anything grandfather or Crowley ever did. What would you even do? Well, you had your plan of running away before the wedding could happen, but what about after that? What would even be the point of–

An explosion.

It shook the floor. Made the people on the street look around in confusion.

A presence.

A presence. A presence. A presence at East.

A presence you hadn’t felt in over three years.

Adrenaline pumped through your veins.

You jumped over the roof of the nearest building, spotting a cloud of smoke in the distance. The noises of a fight… shots? Screams?

That presence that presence that presence–

You ran.

Jumping from roof to roof, getting closer to the source of that commotion. Soon, you saw Marine soldiers running down there on the street, carrying their guns. You’d seen a Marine ship docked past night… they yelled orders, following someone. You jumped to the bell tower of a church nearby, trying to get a better view–

And you saw it.

The top of a familiar straw hat.

Down there, running in zig zag to mislead the troop that chased him.

At that moment, it was like the world bloomed with colors again, its starting point being the red of his shirt.

Your fists tightened, and they were shaking. It was like your soul was shaking at that moment. You gathered all the air in your lungs for what you were about to say.

“Luffy!!”

Your voice echoed in the bell tower, equalizing its sound to the entire square down there.

You watched as he skidded on the stone floor, suddenly stopping on his tracks, one hand over the hat to keep it in place. The troopers were getting closer. And yet, he took his time to look around frantically with a frown.

You saw the exact moment he spotted you. The single second of apprehension that followed.

You saw, from that distance, the moment his face brightened up with a grin.

You saw him ignore the troopers and make the opposite way, jumping over their heads and landing on a nearby roof. You heard the familiar sound of his arm stretching, gripping around the pillar of the bell tower so he could propel himself like a cannonball. And you heard his laughter from that distance – his loud, boisterous laughter that sounded a bit different, but also the same.

“Wolfie!!”

He was still mid air when his arms wrapped around you.

And maybe it was a bit cheesy how the doves resting on the tower got scared and flew away the moment you hugged him back, engulfing you in a mess of white feathers. Maybe it was a bit cheesy how the bell rang, loud and clear, indicating the midday, at that exact moment. Yeah, it was totally cheesy how the troopers shots sounded like fireworks in the back of your head.

But it didn’t matter, because it was Luffy, it was him, and he was hugging you, and you were hugging him, and he was warm, and he was giggling with his face on your shoulder, and you were giggling back.

Three years of pain, of loneliness, of creating a tougher persona; it all dissolved in three seconds.

The wait was over.

A/N: I LOVE CLIFFHANGERS :D

One Piece's canon timeline is pretty insane. Romance Dawn to Alabasta happens in the span of like a month, and it'd be pretty impossible for anyone to travel from the New World to Paradise this fast, unless they were right by the Red Line. SO! For the sake of fic making sense, we'll pretend that all these events took a few months to happen, so our girl actually has the beliavable time to travel this far!

Reader is supposed to be Luffy's opposite in many ways, and that includes fashion. I like the idea that she dresses all preppy and doll-like in contrast to his more laid back, nonchalant style. That being said, not to be too Wattpad-y, but I imagine this is how she dresses most of the time (also bc she's inspired by Gogo Yubari lol). You can ignore it if you don't like it tho

If you read this far, please don't forget to leave a comment!! Your comments always brighten up my day. I'm so exicted to the following chapters!!! See you <3

#luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy #one piece #monkey d luffy #one piece x reader #luffy x you #luffy x y/n #monkey d. luffy x you #one piece x you #op #op x reader #one piece x y/n #op x you #mugiwara no luffy

198 notes · View notes