Sanji And Zoro Are Both Men. They Can't Have A Damn Baby.

??? how did u get in here🧍🏾

current art obsession: drawing these things

more to come

she just misses her girlfriend (everyone else is NOT helping with that)

I love them

A perfect synopsis

oh to be a rich depressed divorced alcoholic gay man just trying to live in his castle alone who accidentally adopts a goth lesbian equally wine drunk daughter and a gay son who wants to be just like him when he grows up

Thank you for all your amazing writing! Your blogs seriously make my day every time. Could you write a Law x reader where the reader falls ill with a rare, incurable disease? I just keep thinking about Law experiencing what Corazon went through back then… 😭 It can have a SE or HE, whatever you feel fits best!"

Terminal

law × reader

you fall ill with a rare, incurable disease and law refuses to accept it.

a/n: this was so sad T.T btw as I said in my rules post I don’t write about this kind of topic, but given that law’s story is about that I wanted to give it a try

words count: 4.2k

tags: terminal illness, soft, angst, worried law

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

“You’re burning up.”

Law’s voice is calm, but you know him well enough to hear the tension beneath it. His hand lingers on your forehead, cool against your feverish skin.

You force a grin, despite the way your body aches “That’s just the effect you have on me.”

His expression doesn’t change. If anything, his brows knit together further, golden eyes dark with something unreadable.

“Don’t joke” he says flatly.

“Come on, it was funny” you mumble, but your voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper.

Law exhales sharply. He presses two fingers against your wrist, checking your pulse. You see the flicker of something in his eyes. Worry.

“Since when?”

“Since when what?”

“Since you started feeling like this.” His voice drops lower, more controlled “Don’t lie.”

You sigh, shifting under the blanket “A few days ago. Maybe a week?”

“A week?” His jaw clenches, and you watch the way his fingers curl into a fist “And you didn’t tell me?”

“You were busy, Law,” you murmur “I didn’t want to bother you.”

His reaction is immediate. His eyes darken, sharp and cutting, and for a second, you swear he’s actually angry. But when he speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper.

“You think I wouldn’t drop everything for you?”

Your breath catches. You can’t look at him. Instead, you force out another weak chuckle “Well, you are a very important pirate, Captain.”

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Pretending it’s nothing.”

You open your mouth to argue, but before you can, a sudden wave of dizziness crashes over you. The world tilts, your vision swims, and you barely register the way your body sways before Law is already there, steady hands catching you before you can fall.

“Y/N” His grip tightens around you, firm, grounding “I need to run some tests.”

You rest your forehead against his shoulder, too exhausted to protest “…That bad?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. You feel his heartbeat being too fast, too tense.

When he finally speaks, it’s quiet. Almost too quiet.

“I’m going to fix this.”

And for the first time ever since you know him, you don’t believe him.

The beeping of medical equipment fills the silence.

You sit on Law’s examination table, legs dangling as he adjusts the monitor beside you. His brows are furrowed, golden eyes locked onto the screen, and even though he hasn’t said a word in the last five minutes, you can practically hear the gears turning in his head.

The tension in the air is unbearable.

“Are you always this serious when you play doctor, or am I just special?” you tease, tilting your head at him.

Nothing. Not even a smirk.

You sigh dramatically “Come on, Law. You can’t even crack a smile for your beloved patient?”

“You’re not a patient,” he mutters “You’re my partner.”

His words send a little warmth through your chest, but before you can respond, he steps closer and gently presses his fingers against your wrist, feeling for your pulse again.

The warmth fades when you notice the way his hand lingers just a little too long.

“You like holding my hand that much?” you tease, forcing a grin “If you wanted to be romantic, you could’ve just asked.”

This time, his jaw tightens “Your pulse is weak.”

You try to wave him off with your free hand “That’s just because you’re touching me. Makes my heart stops, you know?”

“Y/N...” he warns, voice sharp.

You falter.

His hand moves to your other wrist, then your neck, fingers pressing lightly against your skin. His eyes are unreadable, but his silence is louder than anything he could say.

“…You’re scared” you murmur before you can stop yourself.

Law stiffens, but doesn’t deny it.

The realization makes your stomach twist, but you force another smile “Don’t worry, I’m still cute even when I’m dying.”

That does it. His head snaps up, eyes blazing “Don’t say that.”

The weight of his words hangs between you, heavy, suffocating.

You swallow “Sorry. Just trying to make you laugh.”

“Not funny” he mutters.

You look away, fingers curling against the examination table.

Another long silence. Then, his hands are suddenly on either side of your face, tilting your head up gently so you’re looking at him again. His touch is careful, but his grip is firm, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go.

His voice is quieter this time “You’re not dying.”

You stare at him. For a moment, you want to believe him, but the way his hands tremble against your skin tells you otherwise.

After a while, Law stares at the test results, fingers tightening around the paper. His golden eyes flick over the numbers, the medical jargon, the hard, undeniable facts.

It’s terminal.

He’s quiet... too quiet. That’s the first thing that unsettles you. You’re used to his silence, but this is different. This is suffocating.

“So?” You swing your legs lightly from the examination table, forcing a smirk “What’s the verdict, Doc? Am I dying?”

Silence.

The smirk falters “Law?”

His fingers crumple the edge of the paper. His jaw tightens. And then, so softly that you almost don’t hear it, he says “…It’s incurable.”

For a second, you swear time stops.

The words don’t register at first. They don’t make sense. It’s like your brain refuses to process them.

And then you laugh.

It bursts out before you can stop it, light, teasing, just like every other joke you’ve made today “Wow, dramatic. You make it sound like I’m already in my grave.”

He doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t even look at you.

The smile on your lips wavers.

“You’re kidding, right?”

His hands tighten into fists at his sides. He still won’t look at you.

Your heart pounds a little faster “Law. Tell me you’re joking.”

Nothing.

The laugh that slips out this time is shaky “Come on, then this is the part where you tell me there’s some rare treatment, right? Some experimental surgery? You’re Trafalgar freakin’ Law, Surgeon of Death. There’s no way—”

“y/n.”

The way he says your name, quiet, strained, makes the air leave your lungs.

Your fingers curl against the fabric of your shirt. The examination table feels too cold beneath you. The walls feel like they’re closing in.

“No...” you whisper.

Law’s lips press into a thin line. His hands twitch, like he wants to reach for you, but he doesn’t.

“No” you say again, more forcefully this time. You shake your head, heat rising in your chest, crawling up your throat “You’re wrong. There’s... there’s gotta be something. You just haven’t figured it out yet. Right?”

“Y/N—”

“No!” The word cracks as it leaves you “I’m not dying!”

Your vision blurs. Your hands shake. And suddenly, it’s too much.

Your body moves before you can think, you push yourself off the table, right into his chest.

Law catches you instantly, arms wrapping around you, steady, grounding. And just like that, everything shatters.

“I don’t—I don’t want to die” you choke out, gripping his coat like it’s the only thing keeping you here “I want to stay. With you. I want—” Your voice breaks “I want a future. I want us to be happy. I want—”

A sob wracks through you.

“I want a family with you.”

Law stiffens.

The words spill out before you can stop them, you smile at him between your tears “A little version of you, all broody and nerdy and so so cute” You let out a wet laugh, broken and trembling “They’d probably scowl just like you, but they’d love books and have messy hair and—”

Your voice crumbles into sobs.

Law doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t move.

And then his arms tighten around you, crushing, like he’s trying to hold you together, keep you from falling apart.

His voice is hoarse when he finally speaks.

“I’m going to save you.”

You want to believe him.

Only God knowa how much you want to believe him.

But the fear in his voice tells you even he isn’t sure.

The next morning, you wake up to find Law hunched over his desk, surrounded by stacks of medical books and scattered notes.

You sigh “You didn’t sleep, did you?”

“Sleep is a waste of time,” he mutters, scribbling something down “I need to go through every known case—”

“You need to stop already.”

He freezes.

Slowly, he turns to look at you. His dark circles are deeper than usual, his face unreadable, but you know him. You know that behind that impassive expression, he’s desperate.

You force a grin “If I really only have a little time left, do you really wanna waste it buried in books instead of spending it with me?”

Law’s fingers tighten around his pen.

“I’m not giving up” he says, voice low.

“I know,” you say gently “But I don’t want to spend my last time watching you drive yourself insane. If I’m gonna die, I wanna die happy.”

The words sting, but they’re true.

Law exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. He doesn’t respond.

You hop off the bed, stretching dramatically “Anyway, I’ve decided I’m done being sad. It’s exhausting. So I’m back, and better than ever!” You flash him a grin “That means full-time comedy and flirting, just for you, Captain!”

His brow twitches “Y/N...”

You wag a finger at him “Shh, let me have this.” You strike a pose “Behold, Trafalgar D. Law’s hottest, funniest girlfriend! Incurable disease edition!”

Nothing.

You pout “Wow. Tough crowd.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose “Why do I put up with this?”

“Because I’m irresistible,” you say, leaning closer “And because you love me.”

His breath hitches for just a second.

And then, quietly “Yeah.”

You blink. Your cheeks burn “Whoa, that was easier than I thought. If I’d known getting a lovely love confession was that easy, I would’ve faked a terminal disease ages ago.”

“Not funny” he mutters.

You snicker “Okay, okay, this one wasn't the best.”

Law sighs, shaking his head. But when he looks at you, his gaze lingers, like he’s memorizing you. Like he’s terrified you’ll disappear if he looks away.

And suddenly, the atmosphere shifts. Because this is too familiar to him.

The way you laugh, the way you grin like you aren’t dying, like none of this is real... it reminds him of Corazon. Always smiling. Always laughing. Even with blood in his mouth. Even when he knew he was going to die.

A lump forms in Law’s throat.

You notice his change in expression instantly “Hey. What’s wrong?”

His fingers twitch at his sides “Nothing” he lies.

But you see it in his eyes, the fear.

You sigh, stepping closer, reaching for his hands. His fingers are cold. You squeeze them.

“Law,” you say softly “I’m not trying to leave you behind. I just... I don’t want you to only remember me as the person who was sick, who died. I want you to remember me smiling. Happy. With you. Because that's what I am.”

His hands tighten around yours.

He doesn’t say anything. But when you squeeze his hands again, he squeezes back.

You think Law has finally accepted things.

You think he’s finally listening to you, finally spending time with you instead of drowning himself in books and medical theories. And for a while, he does.

He stays close, fingers brushing against yours when you walk, arms wrapping around you when he thinks no one is looking. Some nights, he holds you a little too tight, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go.

It makes you happy. It makes you feel alive. But then, he starts again.

The sleepless nights. The books. The notes. The obsessive, frantic research.

You wake up one night to find the bed empty.

Again.

With a sigh, you push yourself up. You grip the blanket, taking slow, even breaths, waiting for your vision to finally settles, you get up and pad toward Law’s office.

You don’t bother knocking.

“Law...”

He doesn’t look up. He’s hunched over his desk, surrounded by open books, pages filled with diagrams of Devil Fruits and medical notes scribbled in his messy handwriting. His coat is discarded on the chair, sleeves rolled up, hands gripping a pen so tightly his knuckles are white.

You frown “What are you doing?”

“Working.” His voice is hoarse.

“Yeah, I can see that, genius. But on what?”

He finally looks at you. There’s something wild in his eyes, desperation, determination, obsession.

You step closer. Your gaze flickers to the notes. And then your heart stops.

“Law,” you whisper, throat dry “Are you... are you trying to find me a Devil Fruit?”

“Not just any Devil Fruit,” he mutters, flipping a page. His fingers move fast, tracing over diagrams “Something similar to the Ope Ope no Mi. Something that could manipulate your body, enhance cellular regeneration, maybe even reprogram the disease out of you.”

Your stomach drops.

“Law.”

“I just need to find the right one.” He keeps going like he hasn’t heard you “There’s research, fragments of old studies, theories. If I can modify a fruit’s properties, or find a compatible—”

“Law!”

He flinches.

You swallow, hands shaking “You can’t just... you can’t force me to eat a Devil Fruit.”

He glares at you, jaw clenched “If it’s the only way to save you, then yes, I can.”

The air crackles between you.

For the first time, you see that he won’t stop. He won’t accept it. Not like you have.

You take a shaky breath “You’re trying to save me the same way Corazon saved you...”

His body tenses.

“You think if I eat a fruit like yours, I’ll survive just like you did.”

Silence.

“I won’t lose you” he whispers.

Your heart clenches.

You step closer, reaching for his face, cupping his cheek. He leans into your touch immediately, like he’s starved for it.

“Law,” you say softly “You can’t fix this, and it's okay.”

He squeezes his eyes shut “There’s always a way.”

You shake your head “Even if there is… do you really want to spend our last moments like this? Chasing something that might not even exist?”

His breath shudders against your palm.

For the first time, he doesn’t have an answer.

Law is different after that night.

He still spends hours in his office, buried in books, chasing after a cure that may not exist. He still barely sleeps, barely eats, his mind running in endless circles of calculations and medical theories.

But now he makes time for you.

It starts small. Sitting next to you on the deck, staring at the ocean in comfortable silence. Letting you lean against him while he reads, his hand absentmindedly brushing over yours.

Then, it becomes more. Stealing moments with you in the kitchen, pretending to help while you cook, though he mostly just watches you with those quiet, golden eyes. Taking you to watch the sunset, fingers grazing against yours but never quite holding on.

And sometimes, when he thinks no one is looking, he smiles.

It reminds you of something he once told you.

“Even now you’re trying to do what Corazon did for you, aren’t you?” you say one night, breaking the silence.

Law tenses beside you.

The two of you are lying on the bed, facing each other. It’s one of the rare nights he actually gets in bed with you instead of falling asleep at his desk. His fingers hover near your wrist, not quite touching, just barely brushing your skin.

He doesn’t answer right away. But you see it in his eyes.

“I’m not like him” he mutters.

You smile, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind his ear “You’re right. From what you told me, he was goofier. More dramatic.”

His lips twitch “That sounds more like you.”

“Maybe,” you hum “But you’re doing exactly what he did. You’re trying to give me happy memories while working yourself to death behind my back.”

His eyes darken.

You brush a hand against his jaw, feeling the slight stubble there. He looks exhausted, but you know that no matter what you tell him, he won’t stop.

“You can’t save everyone, Law” you whisper.

His grip tightens around the sheets “I can save you.”

You close your eyes, exhaling softly.

“Then at least promise me something” you murmur.

He waits.

“When I go—”

“You’re not—”

“When I go,” you say again, firmer this time, “I want you to keep going. Don’t disappear. Don’t close yourself off.”

Law stares at you, his expression unreadable.

“You think I could just move on?” he finally asks, voice raw.

“I think,” you say, fingers brushing against his, “that you deserve to be happy.”

He doesn’t answer.

But later that night, when he thinks you’re asleep, you feel his hand finally take yours. And for the first time, you wonder who’s more afraid of losing the other, you or him.

For the first time in weeks, Law looks alive.

He bursts into the Polar Tang’s main room, eyes sharp, steps quick, movements filled with purpose. His coat flares behind him as he scans the room, spotting the Heart Pirates scattered around, Shachi and Penguin bickering, Bepo munching on a snack, Ikkaku polishing her tools.

“All of you,” he orders, voice firm, urgent “Meeting. Now.”

The crew blinks at him.

“Whoa, Captain, you good?” Penguin asks, tilting his head “You look—”

“Awake,” Shachi finishes “Which is weird, considering you haven’t slept in days.”

“Meeting. Now.” Law repeats, already turning toward the control room.

Bepo exchanges glances with the others before nodding “Let’s go.”

Within minutes, the crew is gathered. The room is tense, because they can feel it. Something has changed.

Law places both hands on the table, looking at them with determination burning in his golden eyes.

“I’ve found a cure.”

Silence.

Then Penguin nearly chokes “Wait, what?!”

“You...” Shachi’s eyes widen “You’re serious?”

Bepo’s ears twitch “Captain…”

Law nods, rolling out a hand-drawn diagram of an unknown Devil Fruit.

“It’s called the Vita Vita no Mi,” he explains “A Devil Fruit that enhances the body’s ability to regenerate and purge diseases. It was recorded in old medical texts from over a century ago, lost, believed to be a myth. But I found something.”

He flips to another page.

“There were reports of this fruit appearing in a black-market trade just over a decade ago. Tracked to an island in the Grand Line.” His gaze hardens “We’re going there.”

The crew stares.

“You mean—” Ikkaku leans forward “You mean there’s a chance?”

“A damn good one,” Law says “If I can get my hands on this fruit, if I can modify its effects, then Y/N...”

He stops. Swallows.

“Then she survives.”

The weight of his words hits the crew all at once.

Shachi exhales sharply “Tell us what you need, Captain.”

Penguin nods “We’re in.”

Bepo clenches his fist “We’ll get that fruit.”

Law looks at them, the family he’s built, the people who trust him without question.

“Set course,” he orders “We leave now.”

And for the first time since this nightmare started, there’s hope.

The ship cuts through the Grand Line’s turbulent waters, the Polar Tang moving faster than it has in weeks. There’s a sense of urgency now, an undercurrent of hope that the crew has never felt before.

Law is different. His usual calm, stoic nature is there, but there’s a fire behind his eyes, a purpose that drives every action. He barely sleeps, constantly working to map out the island, planning for the worst.

Every night, before he goes to bed, he checks on you. His hands are gentle, his gaze searching, but he says nothing. He only watches you breathe, listens to the soft rise and fall of your chest.

In those moments, you think he’s not sure if you’ll be there when he returns.

But when he talks about the cure, when he speaks of the Vita Vita no Mi, the miracle fruit, you see the fire again. Hope.

And for a while, you let yourself believe.

Days pass. The island is in sight.

Law stands at the bow of the ship, eyes fixed on the shore.

“Keep steady” he commands, his voice cold, calculated.

You’re on the deck, staring at the sky as the island draws nearer. You’ve grown weaker over the past few days. The disease is ravaging your body, and you can feel it. But you smile through it, just like you promised.

Bepo stays by your side, as always. The big polar bear mink is there, standing guard, just as loyal as ever. His presence is a small comfort to you, he’s worried, you can tell, but he never presses.

You want to get up, join the crew, help them find the cure, but Bepo gently guides you back down when you try to stand, his big paw resting on your shoulder.

Bepo says softly “Captain’s got this.”

Law approaches, his figure towering over you, the weight of his gaze unmistakable.

“I’m going with you,” you say, your voice light, teasing “No way I’m letting you get all the glory, Captain.”

He crouches in front of you, his eyes softer than they’ve been in days.

“You’re staying here with Bepo.”

You blink at him “You don’t trust me to keep up with you?”

He smiles, just barely. It’s small, fleeting, but it’s there.

“Stay here, please.” His voice is quiet, almost a plea.

You want to argue, but the look in his eyes stops you.

You smile at him, though the effort is exhausting “I’ll just be here… waiting.”

The crew disembarks, heading into the thick jungle, with Law leading the charge. The air is thick, the path winding and treacherous. It’s as though the island doesn’t want them to succeed. But they don’t stop.

The days blur together as they search, scouring every inch of the land, every forest, every cave. Law is relentless. The fruit is out there. He knows it. He can feel it.

And then a blast of sound cuts through the jungle, a distant rumble that echoes in the air. Law’s eyes widen, his body tensing. Without a word, he sprints while teleporting himself.

The crew follows quickly, but the jungle seems to twist itself around them, the path becoming harder and more dangerous as they go.

Law doesn’t care. He’s focused on one thing now: getting back to you.

You’re lying on the deck, growing weaker by the minute, your breath shallow. You know the end is near.

But Bepo stays with you, his warm presence a steady anchor. He’s the one who brings you water, who keeps you from slipping into a fevered daze. He’s the one who makes sure you’re comfortable, even as your body is slowly shutting down.

“Hang in there,” he says softly, brushing a strand of hair out of your face “Captain will bring the cure back. I know he will.”

You want to reassure him, to tell him not to worry, but the words won’t come.

You reach for his paw weakly, and he holds your hand with surprising tenderness.

Hours pass. The night grows darker, and the crew has yet to return. The air is thick with tension.

Finally, the sound of heavy footsteps reaches the deck.

Law appears, drenched in sweat, his face hard but his eyes alive.

“Y/N…” His voice cracks as he kneels beside you, his hands immediately going to your face, checking for fever, your pulse.

“You found it?” you whisper, barely able to speak.

He nods, not trusting his voice. He opens his pack, pulling out the Vita Vita no Mi, the fruit wrapped carefully in cloth.

But before he can do anything, you stop him with a hand on his wrist.

“Law… don’t…” You cough, a weak laugh escaping you “I don’t know if it’ll work… if it’s too late…”

“No,” he insists, his voice desperate “It will work. I won’t let you—”

“I just wanted to be with you,” you whisper, the words barely audible “I wanted to see you happy… with me.”

Bepo steps back, his heart heavy, but he’s still there, watching over you.

Law hesitates, his eyes locked on yours. The fruit still rests in his hand, but he can’t bring himself to do it—not yet.

“Please,” you whisper, weakly gripping his hand “Just stay… stay with me.”

He looks at you, the flicker of fear in his eyes, fear of losing you, the same fear he’s been running from since Corazon.

“I won’t leave you,” Law says softly “I promised, remember?”

The crew now waits in the background, hearts clenched in their chests. They don’t speak. They don’t breathe.

The night stretches on, heavy with anticipation. But nothing happens.

Law continues to hold the fruit, watching you closely, waiting for a sign, a flicker of hope. But you’ve grown so still. The seconds feel like hours, and when Law finally lifts the fruit to your lips, your eyes flicker open again, meeting his.

You smile, the faintest of smiles.

“I’m sorry for not being stronger…” You pause, each word coming with effort, but you press on “But you have to live, okay? You have to keep going. Don’t waste your life… Please… don’t waste it… for me.”

His eyes widen in shock, and a single tear slips down his cheek.

“I can’t lose you” he whispers, his voice breaking.

But you just smile faintly, your hand weakly squeezing his “Even if this won't work, I need you to know you already saved me… You gave me this life, this love. Now live it, for both of us.”

Your eyes flutter shut once more, and the world holds its breath.

Opposite vinsmokes again

It's been a while

Previous posts can be found [here]

Heyy! Love your work! I have an idea for law and ace (my goattss dont playy lol), but it can be for anyone else in one piece too! I was thinking reader thats similar to Maomao(apothecary diaries) and her obsession with poisons, eating it etc. As for plot, really up to you but I have an idea, maybe they dock at a new island with lots of herbs and their caught trying to eat the most textbook poison looking plant, no doubt thats not poisonous type of plant. Idk it can be like their secret or something. A lil basic cause I have the creativity of a stick, so if u think of something better then plss do it no hesitation fr!! If you do write this thank youuuu!! 🫶🫶

Poison Queen

a/n: I don't know the anime/character but I hope I got the intention of it right after a small google research T.T

characters: law (wc 2.6k), ace (wc 3.6k)

tags: poison enthusiast reader, slow burn, humor, fluff (eventually)

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

── .✦ Trafalgar D. Law:

The island is lush. Dense, dripping green stretches as far as the eye can see, humid air thick with the scent of earth and herbs. From the deck of the Polar Tang, you practically bounce on your heels.

“Is that… purple nightshade?” you whisper, eyes gleaming unnaturally.

“Don’t eat it.” Law says without looking up from the chart he’s examining, standing nearby. His voice is as flat as the sea on a windless day.

“I wasn’t going to…” you lie.

He turns his head a fraction, golden eyes narrowing “Yes, you were.”

You hum innocently, stuffing your medical satchel with your vials and note scrolls “I’m just here to observe, Captain.”

Shachi leans over the railing besides you “This place gives me the creeps. Everything looks like it wants to kill you.”

“Or cure you” you murmur, a little too enthusiastically.

Penguin eyes you warily “Why do you sound excited about that?”

You flash them a polite smile “Because it’s fun.”

Law sighs, sharp and tired “No wandering alone. You stick close to the group. Got it?”

You nod obediently “Of course.”

He doesn’t buy it. No one does.

The island is a botanical goldmine. You’re taking notes faster than your ink can dry. Moss that numbs the tongue, vines that smell like overripe peaches but rot skin on contact, and…oh. You spot it.

A crimson-stemmed flower, petals a sickly sweet yellowish pink, growing under the shade of a tree.

You gasp.

Law, who had started sketching a tree trunk for identification, stiffens “Don’t.”

“But it’s not poisonous!” you defend, already crouching, eyes wild “It looks like it, but this is Miracle’s Folly. It only mimics toxic flora to keep herbivores away. You can eat it, and it has incredible stimulant properties.”

“You just said it looks poisonous.”

“Exactly!” You pluck one with clinical precision “I’ve never seen one in the wild before. This is amazi—”

Law snatches it from your hand, holding it between two fingers like it’s radioactive.

“You’re obsessed” he accuses.

You blink “I prefer the term enthusiastic professional.”

“You tried to eat a known neurotoxin last week.”

“I suspected it was a neurotoxin. And I was right, wasn’t I?”

“You lost motor control for six hours.”

“It was valuable data.”

He stares. You stare back, unbothered.

There’s a beat of silence before Shachi and Penguin burst out laughing behind you.

“She’s gonna kill herself one day” Shachi cackles.

“Captain’s gonna lose his mind before then” Penguin adds.

Law exhales through his nose. He pockets the flower, out of your reach “You’re banned from going anywhere without supervision.”

Your eye twitches “Captain, please. This is a scientific expedition—”

He turns “Touch another cursed-looking plant and I’ll have Bepo chain you to the ship.”

You pout “Kinky.”

His ears turn red. You catch it.

Later that night, while the others are prepping camp, you quietly flip open your hidden pouch. Inside: one perfectly preserved Miracle’s Folly bloom.

You smirk “I am a professional.”

You glance at the campfire where Law is sipping his tea, glancing up only when your giggles reach him.

His eyes narrow again.

You chew the petal. Slowly. Carefully.

It’s bitter. Burns the tip of your tongue. But beneath that… Electricity.

The world tingles. Not in a hallucinatory way but in a sharpened, humming, this-might-kill-me-or-make-me-a-god sort of way.

You lean back on your heels, staring up at the canopy as the flower’s effects trickle through your veins “Oh, I have to isolate what’s responsible for this…”

“What are you muttering now?”

Law’s voice cuts through your thoughts like a scalpel.

You jolt and whip your head around. He’s standing there, arms crossed, dark brows drawn low.

You swallow quickly “Nothing.”

His eyes narrow “You’re sweating.”

“It’s humid.”

“Your pupils are dilated.”

“I’m excited to be alive.”

He steps closer. You instinctively step back, hiding your pouch under your coat. He notices.

“Show me what’s in your bag.”

“No.”

“Y/N.”

You sigh, dramatic “You know, trust is the foundation of any good captain-crew relationship.”

“You ate that flower, didn’t you?”

“No! Just a piece of it.”

“Unbelievable,” he mutters, stepping forward “Tongue out.”

“What?”

“Tongue. Out.”

You blink at him.

He’s completely serious.

“…Always so kinky.”

He closes his eyes like he’s mentally ejecting himself from the conversation “Just do it.”

You stick out your tongue, smug “Ahhh~”

He leans in, inspecting “Slight discoloration… mild irritation… your body’s resisting the stimulant effects.”

You raise a brow “You’ve memorized what this flower does?”

“I know every entry in that ridiculous notebook you leave lying around. Including the one titled ‘Things I Definitely Shouldn’t Eat But Might Anyway’.”

Your stomach flips.

“Oh” you say, quieter.

He straightens, expression unreadable “You think I haven’t noticed? The stash in the med bay. The coded labels. You catalog poisons more lovingly than most people talk about their pets.”

You look away “It’s just… interesting. The line between medicine and poison. It’s so thin. One drop too much and—”

“You die.”

“Or you cure something incurable.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Law studies you, tone dropping low “Is that what you want? To be the one who finds what no one else has the guts to touch?”

You meet his gaze “Wouldn’t you?”

His jaw ticks.

“…You should be more careful.”

You grin “But then you’d have no one to lecture.”

Law huffs, walking past you “Bepo’s watching you tomorrow. Don’t test him.”

“Bepo lets me eat weird berries if I tell him they’re for science!”

“Exactly.”

Later that night, as the rest of the crew sleeps, Law leans over the log where you were sitting earlier.

He finds a scrap of petal.

Miracle’s Folly.

He twirls it between his fingers, thoughtful.

“You’re not letting me touch anything…” you whine.

“Correct” Law replies, not even sparing you a glance as he adjusts his gloves.

You’re trudging behind him, Bepo flanking your other side like a very fluffy prison guard. The island is buzzing with life but all you’ve gotten to do so far is stare longingly at roots and flowers like a kid with her nose pressed to a candy store window.

“I’m an herbalist,” you mutter “This is discrimination.”

“It’s self-preservation” Law deadpans.

Bepo pats your shoulder gently “You did try to lick a hallucinogenic frog yesterday.”

“It looked juicy.”

“You said you saw the celestial dragons dancing salsa.”

“…I mean, I did.”

Law shoots you a look over his shoulder.

You grin at him.

By midday, you’re sulking on a log while the others finish whatever they were doing.

You pull out your notebook and begin scribbling, sketches of the strange bulbous blue fruits you passed earlier, notes on the slightly vibrating moss near the creek, and, of course, the effects of Miracle’s Folly.

You don’t notice Law watching you.

He clears his throat “Give me your hand.”

You blink up “Why, so you can handcuff me to Bepo?”

“No,” he says, kneeling in front of you with a small vial “I want to run a test.”

You hesitate, then slowly offer your hand.

He drops a single, translucent drop of something onto your skin. It tingles.

“New tincture?” you ask, curiously sniffing it.

“Neutralized extract of Miracle’s Folly. I isolated it this morning.”

Your eyes light up “You tested it?”

He mutters “Voluntarily. With supervision.”

You snort “So boring.”

“But now I need to observe secondary exposure. You’re uniquely qualified.”

Your heart does a little somersault “You mean I’m special.”

He rolls his eyes “You’re reckless. And resilient.”

“And a little cute?”

“Don’t push it.”

You grin.

Minutes pass. He keeps his fingers on your wrist, counting your pulse with the pad of his thumb.

You try not to think about that.

“It’s steady” he murmurs.

“Disappointed?”

He ignores the question “You’re reacting differently than I expected.”

“How so?”

“Your nervous system is adapting.”

“Like immunity?”

“Like something else” he says, voice quieter now “You’ve been exposing yourself in microdoses, haven’t you?”

You pause.

“…maybe.”

He looks up at you, eyes unreadable “Why?”

You drop your gaze, suddenly unsure.

“It’s not just for fun.” you say “I mean, partly, yes. But it’s more than that. I want to understand them. The poisons. The lines. Everything people fear. I want to know it. Control it. Be stronger than it.”

He’s silent.

You add, softer, “I was sick once. Really sick. No one could help. All the doctors, all the books… nothing. But the old apothecary in my town? She mixed me something that should’ve killed me.”

You glance at him, eyes bright “But it didn’t. It saved me.”

Law doesn’t speak for a long time. When he does, his voice is gentler than before.

“You and I aren’t that different.”

You blink.

He rises to his feet, brushing off his coat “But if you ever eat another unknown fungus without telling me, I’m performing surgery with no anesthesia.”

You beam “That’s fair.”

That night, Law catches you adding a drop of something green and shimmering into your tea.

He stares.

You pause “It’s just moss extract.”

He raises a brow.

You sigh “…Okay, mildly hallucinogenic moss.”

He snatches the cup.

“Captain!”

“You can have it back after I test it.”

Your eyes widen.

“…Wait. Are you going to drink it?”

He gives you a rare smirk “For science.”

Your jaw drops. And suddenly, you think you might be falling a little bit in love.

Now you’re staring.

Not at the moss sample.

At him.

Trafalgar D. Water Law, Surgeon of Death, Warlord-turned-revolutionary, terrifyingly brilliant man of mystery… just drank the tea you spiked with a moss known to mildly bend reality.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand like it’s nothing.

You blink “That was an experimental dosage.”

“I adjusted for body weight.”

“Oh my god.”

Bepo’s ears twitch “Captain… are you sure that was smart?”

Law gives a slow blink “I’m fine.”

You and Bepo exchange a look.

Fifteen minutes later, he’s very much not fine.

“What… the hell is that?”

You follow Law’s dazed line of sight “That’s… the campfire, Captain.”

He squints.

“It’s breathing.”

You purse your lips “Okay, slightly more than mild hallucinations.”

“Why is it breathing, Y/N.”

“Symbolic warmth?”

He stares at you. His pupils are so dilated.

You pull out a notepad “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“I see seven.”

“…I’m holding up two.”

He sways.

You sigh and grab his arm “Alright, that’s enough science for tonight.”

He lets you guide him with surprising ease, mumbling under his breath.

You make it back to the tent just as the hallucinations seem to peak.

“I need to sit” he mutters.

You lower him down gently, watching as he pinches the bridge of his nose “Throbbing temple. Flashing visuals. You’re not vomiting, though… interesting.”

He opens one eye “You’re enjoying this.”

“A little,” you admit, handing him water “You’re cute when your grip on reality is slipping.”

“Y/N.”

“Mm?”

“There are tiny doctors running in circles around me.”

You blink. Then look around the tent.

“…Well. You’re not wrong.”

You sit next to him. Close, but not touching. It’s oddly quiet for a jungle night.

“Headache?” you ask softly.

He nods once.

You reach up and, very carefully, press your fingers against his temples. Slow circles. He doesn’t flinch.

“Pressure can help the tension pass” you say.

He closes his eyes. Exhales.

You pause “Tell me what else you see.”

“…You.”

You snort “No kidding.”

“No, I mean…” he trails off, brows twitching “You look… soft.”

Your hands freeze “I—what?”

“You’re glowing.”

You’re absolutely not glowing, but...

“Oh” you whisper.

“You’re always buzzing,” he murmurs “Like something dangerous in a pretty bottle.”

You stop breathing for a second.

“Law…” you say, too quietly.

But he’s not done.

“I always thought I hated that. The unpredictability. But now it feels like… I don’t know.”

He leans his head forward, forehead bumping gently against yours.

“You scare the hell out of me,” he breathes “And I think I’m starting to even like it.”

You think your heart just stopped.

“Definitely a side effect…” you whisper, but your fingers are still on his skin, still gently pressing against his temples.

He exhales “I’ll regret saying all of that, won’t I.”

You smile, a little shaken “Only if you pretend it wasn’t true later.”

Silence. He doesn’t move.

Then he mutters “I’m keeping the tea recipe."

You laugh.

Outside the tent, Bepo lowers his paw from the tent flap and whispers to Shachi and Penguin “They’re in love. Told you it wasn’t poison.”

After that, Law pretends nothing happened.

You give him three days.

Three days of ignoring the fact he hallucinated tiny doctors and confessed to liking the chaos you bring to his life. Three days of sidelong glances, awkward silences, and you very purposefully reminding him of the tea incident every time he gets too comfortable.

“Captain,” you say sweetly as you walk by him, “you’re not seeing glowing versions of me today, are you?”

He glares “No.”

“Shame. I looked great in your hallucination.”

He drops his pen. Hard.

But he doesn’t say anything else.

Coward.

Later on - You don’t mean to get sick.

Not really.

It’s just that the vines didn’t look that threatening, and you were pretty sure it was just a paralytic contact toxin, and well… maybe you’d misjudged the concentration.

The world tilts sideways.

You feel your legs give out before your brain registers it.

And then darkness.

You wake to voices.

“…found her by the river. Unresponsive.”

“I told her to stop touching unknown plants. Why can’t she just—”

“She didn’t do it on purpose.”

A long silence.

Then Law’s voice again. Quiet. Cracked.

“She always makes it look like she’s in control. But she’s not.”

You open your eyes.

The ceiling of the Polar Tang greets you. So does a pounding ache in your chest. You shift and wince.

Law’s at your side in an instant.

“Stay down.” he says, low and sharp.

Your voice is hoarse “Didn’t think I’d go out like that. No drama. No romantic poisoning. Just a stupid plant.”

His eyes flicker “It was… dramatic. You stopped breathing.”

“Oh…” you say, blinking.

“I didn’t know what it was. For once, you knew more than me. And I couldn’t—” He swallows the words.

You offer a small smile “So… scared the hell out of you, huh?”

He doesn’t answer.

Just sits back down beside you. Shoulders tense. Jaw clenched.

You watch him, softly “Law.”

“Don’t say it.” he mutters.

“Say what?”

“That I was right. That you should’ve listened. That this was inevitable. That I knew you’d get hurt eventually.”

You tilt your head “Wasn’t gonna say any of that.”

He looks up, surprised.

“I was gonna say,” you murmur, “that I’m sorry I made you worry.”

You reach out weakly, stupidly, and your hand grazes his.

“I forget sometimes,” you whisper “That people care.”

Something breaks in his expression.

“Y/N,” he says tightly, “you can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep flirting with death like it’s a hobby.”

“I wasn’t flirting with death.” you tease “That was basically a date. I only flirt with you, Captain.”

He glares.

You smile, and it fades slowly as your fingers curl around his.

“I didn’t want to die. Not really. Not before I figured out what this thing is.”

He blinks “What thing?”

“This,” you whisper “Whatever this is between us. The hallucinations. The confessions. The weird tension where you want to kill me and kiss me at the same time.”

“You’re wrong.” he says.

Your chest tightens “Oh.”

“I don’t want to kill you, you already do that to yourself alone.”

Pause.

“I just want to kiss you.”

You stop breathing.

He leans forward. Slow. Intentional. One hand brushing your jaw, tilting your face toward him like you’re something fragile and fleeting.

“Captain” you whisper.

“Y/N” he breathes.

And then he kisses you.

It’s gentle, for all of three seconds, then desperate, frustrated, furious about the fact that he was almost losing you.

When he pulls back, you’re both breathless.

“You’re the most dangerous thing I’ve ever studied” he mutters, forehead against yours.

You grin.

“And you’re my favorite side effect.”

── .✦ Portgas D. Ace:

The sun is brutal on the upper deck, but you don’t notice. You’re too busy holding a tiny, glittering vial up to the light with the reverence of someone holding an engagement ring or, in your case, an exciting new potential toxin.

It’s pink. Slightly viscous. Smells faintly like fermented fruit and regret.

Perfect.

“Please tell me you’re not going to drink that.” Marco says behind you, half-exasperated, half-terrified.

“I’m going to sip it,” you say, rolling your eyes “For science.”

“For science?” he repeats.

“For science,” you nod solemnly, uncorking the bottle “And also morbid curiosity.”

He groans “Y/N…”

Too late. You down it in one go.

There’s a moment of silence as you smack your lips thoughtfully.

“…Taste?”

“Like someone dissolved candy in cheap rum and lies.”

“Oh good,” Marco mutters “You’ve poisoned yourself again.”

You wave him off “If I die, I’ll write it down first.”

He opens his mouth to argue but a loud whistle cuts him off.

“Oi!” Ace calls, walking over shirtless, sun-drenched, grinning that smug grin that says I’ve definitely started three fires before breakfast “You experimenting again?”

You nod, blinking a bit “Just something I found in a locked crate under Izo’s bunk.”

Ace raises a brow “You… drank random liquid you found in Izo’s stash?”

“Yes,” you say matter-of-factly “And also, your laugh makes my spine feel weird.”

He stares.

You stare back.

Marco sucks in a sharp breath “Oh no.”

You tilt your head thoughtfully “And your shoulders are distracting. I’ve catalogued seventy-eight poisons but can’t remember what you said this morning because you yawned mid-sentence and I lost focus.”

“…You what?” Ace coughs.

You continue, voice perfectly even “Also, I sometimes fake headaches to watch you carry me to the infirmary. You’re very warm.”

You slam your hands on your mouth to stop it from saying more, while the crew begins to gather like sharks to blood.

Thatch appears holding popcorn. Someone is calling for Izo. There’s actual cheering.

“You’re glowing,” Marco says quietly, inspecting your skin “Shimmering. That’s one of Izo’s truth serums. A prototype he was working on some time ago.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?” Ace echoes weakly.

You turn to him “Also, I ranked your freckles once. The ones on your jaw are my favorite.”

Ace turns so red you think he might combust without using his powers.

“You… I… how long is this stuff supposed to last?!” he splutters.

You shrug “Few hours, probably. Don’t worry. I’ll be asleep before I get to the part about your hands.”

“What about my hands?!”

“Nothing!” you say, far too quickly “They’re just… statistically… dangerous looking.”

He’s speechless. Marco is already reaching for his notebook.

You’ve become the Moby Dick’s favorite form of entertainment.

You’re still sitting cross-legged on the deck, glittering faintly in the sun like a cursed disco ball, while the Whitebeard Pirates form a loose circle around you.

“Truth serum,” Thatch hums, rubbing his hands together “This is the best day I’ve had in weeks.”

“It’s unethical...” Marco mutters beside him.

“It’s hilarious,” Izo corrects, snapping open a fan and leaning in “Y/N, darling, be honest... who took the last chocolate muffin last week? It was you, am I wrong?”

You open your mouth immediately “Not me. It was Ace.”

“Traitor!” Ace sputters from somewhere behind you.

You shrug “You left crumbs in the storage room. Also, your heartbeat spiked when someone mentioned it at breakfast.”

Everyone turns to Ace. He throws his hands up “It was one time!”

“You licked the wrapper, too.” you add calmly “Twice.”

Someone howls.

“Alright, my turn!” Thatch grins “Y/N, have you ever sabotaged anyone’s food?”

You nod serenely “I put mild laxatives in Namur’s tea once because he wouldn’t stop stealing my ginger cookies.”

Namur gasps “You monster!”

“You deserved it,” you reply without a trace of guilt “You called my medicinal brownies ‘dirt bars.’”

“Next question,” Izo purrs, leaning forward “Have you ever kissed someone on this ship?”

The crew leans in.

You blink “No.”

“Have you thought about it?” Marco asks, suddenly very interested.

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“Ace.”

The sound Ace makes is somewhere between a squeak and a small, internal detonation.

The crew loses it.

“YES!”

“I KNEW IT!”

“PAY UP, IZO!”

“I had money on Marco, damn it!”

You sigh as if this is all deeply inconvenient, like the truth is just leaking out of you against your will, which, of course, it is.

You say casually “He smells good. Like firewood and something sweet. Maybe toasted sugar. I haven’t narrowed it down yet.”

Ace is covering his face with his hands now, bright red from the neck up.

“Can I go lie down?” you mumble “Or roll into the sea?”

Marco snorts “Not until the glitter wears off.”

Thatch throws an arm around your shoulder “C’mon, Y/N, one more... if you had to kiss anyone else on this ship—”

“I’d rather drink from the mildew jar in my lab.”

“…Fair.”

You blink slowly, tone still deadly calm “Thatch, you once tried to trim your chest hair with surgical scissors. Drunk.”

Thatch chokes “That was off the record!”

“No such thing,” Marco laughs “She’s the serum’s hostage now.”

“I regret nothing,” you reply “Except licking the blue mushroom last month. That hallucination lasted eight hours. I tried to dissect the air.”

Ace groans “Can someone drag her below deck before she tells everyone what I look like shirtless in creepy detail?”

You look straight at him “You’re built like a statue someone made while going through something personal.”

He explodes.

The next morning you’re back to your usual self.

The strange, glittering effects of the truth serum have worn off, leaving you feeling… normal again. You’re busy carefully grinding some herbs into powder, a mixture for your next experiment, when a familiar voice rings out behind you.

“Morning, poison queen.”

You freeze.

“Don’t call me that” you mutter without turning around, but there’s an unmistakable edge of dread in your tone.

Ace slides onto the bench next to you, uninvited, a grin spreading across his face as he leans toward you, looking like he’s about to launch into a full assault.

“Oh, I think I will...” he says, practically purring “You’re the one who told the entire crew how much you love my shoulders, remember?”

You tense “I did not—”

“And those freckles?” Ace raises an eyebrow, already loving the flush spreading across your face “Did you know that Marco bet I’d get at least five different comments on my jawline today? Maybe next time you should be more specific.”

Your eyes snap to his, and you open your mouth to argue but then he continues.

“You really should have warned me before you started cataloging all my features. Or how about when you admitted you fake headaches just so you can get me to carry you to the infirmary?”

The teasing tone in his voice is getting under your skin, and you try to focus on grinding your herbs, but his words are still ringing in your ears.

“You do know that it’s not even the ‘headaches’ you fake that’s the problem, right? It’s that you actually like it when I carry you. Which I can totally tell from the way you always sigh in my arms.”

You bite your lip, cheeks burning, desperate to look anywhere but at him.

“Or how about when you—” Ace’s voice drops low, “—admitted that I smell good? Like firewood and… What was that you said? Oh, right! Toasted sugar!”

You inhale sharply “I never said that.”

“Oh, yes you did, and you know.” he says, leaning in closer, the amusement in his eyes dangerously obvious “And you also said I’m built like a statue. Do you really think I wouldn’t remember that?”

“Shut up.” You finally look up, but your voice is strained as you meet his teasing gaze.

“I mean, I’m just curious,” Ace continues, a little too happily, “how much more stuff you’ve been hiding from me. How long have you been analyzing my muscles, exactly? Do you think they’re… aesthetically pleasing?” He pauses to let the words sink in “Hmm, maybe I should flex for you to get a clearer answer.”

The crew, who had been quietly watching from a distance (but clearly listening), suddenly bursts into laughter, but you just want to curl into a ball and disappear.

“Oh, this is good,” Thatch says, clearly enjoying the show “I never thought Ace would get revenge like this, but here we are.”

“You should see her when she’s trying to make that poison tea thing,” Marco says, shaking his head “She’s way too serious about it, but now we know she’s been obsessed with Ace’s shoulders the whole time.”

“You guys are awful.” you mutter, sinking into your chair, arms crossed tightly across your chest in an attempt to hold yourself together.

Ace, however, is not letting up. He knows the soft spots, and he’s making sure to press every single one of them.

“So, how’s it feel?” Ace grins, tapping your shoulder playfully “Being soooo open about how much you like me? You definitely don’t look uncomfortable at all.”

You shoot him a glare, but it’s hard to stay mad when he’s looking so damn smug about it.

“I don’t know, Ace. It must be so hard for you to carry the weight of being so perfect that I couldn’t stop talking about how handsome you are, huh?” you bite back.

Ace stares at you for a moment, clearly thrown off by your unexpected response. Then he laughs “Oh, that’s rich. You think you can out-tease me?”

“You’re the one who’s been doing it all day.” you shoot back, finally turning to face him fully “Seems like you loved me pointing out all the things I like about you.”

The crew laughs even harder, and Ace’s grin only grows.

“I won.” he says, smug as ever “It’s not my fault you’re so obsessed with me. Honestly, I’m kinda flattered.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet you are.” You roll your eyes, not willing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you break.

But Ace doesn’t relent “Admit it, Y/N. You’re in love with me.”

You pause.

“And if I am?” you ask coolly, holding his gaze.

The teasing gleam in his eyes flickers, then vanishes. Ace looks just a little taken aback by the way you’re holding your ground.

“Well…” He scratches the back of his head, clearly flustered now “You’ve already said it once. So I’m just making sure you’re still on the same page.”

And just like that, it’s his turn to feel the heat in his cheeks.

“Well, maybe you should stop teasing me, then.” you say with a sly smile.

Ace grins, shaking his head “Nah, this is fun. You’ll get used to it.”

Now it’s your turn to mess with Ace.

After days of relentless teasing, you’ve decided that it’s time to use his own game against him. He’s made it clear that he loves to toy with you and now, it’s time for him to spill the truth, whether he wants to or not.

The deck is quiet, the crew all doing their own thing, but you know Ace will find you soon. He always does. And, sure enough, as you’re mixing something into a flask in the corner of the kitchen, his voice floats over the rim of the doorway.

“Hey, poison queen,” he says with a grin, clearly thinking of another thing to tease you about “Are you planning to poison the whole crew with whatever concoction you’re making today? Or is it just my poor, unsuspecting self?”

You don’t answer right away, focusing on your work. You’re careful with every motion. Just one drop of this ingredient, and you’ll have him talking like a parrot for hours.

“Alright, alright, what’s in the flask today?” he presses, inching closer “Am I going to shit myself?”

You glance over your shoulder, smiling sweetly “Oh, nothing dangerous, I promise.”

“Then why do you look so… suspicious?” Ace narrows his eyes playfully, still not suspecting a thing.

You flash him a mischievous smile, taking the flask with one hand and adding a few drops of your carefully prepared herbal mix into his mug “Just a little something to make sure your day is… interesting.”

Ace raises an eyebrow, but at this point, he’s practically inviting the teasing. He’s completely unaware of the slight adjustment you made. After all, you’ve poisoned your own drinks with far worse. The concoction in his mug isn’t lethal, but it’ll get the job done.

You hand it over with a flourish “Here you go, fire boy. Drink up.”

Ace takes the mug, his smirk growing wider. He’s used to your antics, but he doesn’t know you’ve just pulled the wool over his eyes. He takes a swig, and just as the liquid slides down his throat, you watch him carefully.

But then, a few seconds later, Ace’s expression shifts, his eyes flickering with confusion as he sets the mug down.

“You okay?” you ask casually, keeping your voice neutral.

Ace blinks, a frown tugging at his features “Yeah, just… feel a little weird. Like, light-headed… You didn’t actually put something in here, did you?”

“Oh, it’s just a little herbal remedy,” you say with a shrug, your grin widening “You know, to make you feel better.”

“Well, I do feel better, but I also feel...” he admits with a nervous laugh “Weird.”

That’s your cue. You pull out a chair and sit down, raising an eyebrow “I think we can have some fun with that.”

His eyes flick to yours, unsure “What do you mean?”

“You see, I didn't drink all that bottle the other day. And, well… the thing is,” you continue, now holding his gaze, “you’ve been teasing me for days, Ace. And I’m really curious about how much of what you said was… well, the truth.”

Ace stares at you, confusion melting into realization as the drug starts to kick in, the subtle influence of your concoction making him more vulnerable to his own thoughts.

“Wait, what…?” He shakes his head, trying to focus “This is… a trick, right? Did you really—”

“So, Ace...” you say in a soothing tone, leaning in slightly “Admit it, you like me.”

Ace laughs awkwardly, his eyes unfocused as his lips move to speak without hesitation “Well, uh, yeah. I’ve liked you for a while now… I just thought it’d be funny to make you squirm about it.”

You narrow your eyes, pretending to act surprised “You like me? You’ve been teasing me because you like me?”

He stumbles over his words, but it’s too late to stop himself “Yeah, you’re like… fun. I don’t know how to act around you, okay? Every time I try to be normal, you just—ugh, you get under my skin. And I can’t stop teasing you.”

You smile wickedly, feeling the rush of victory surge in your veins.

“Is that so?” you ask sweetly, letting his confession sink in “And here I thought you were just being a brat.”

"That's just my love language ok? I don't know how to act normal around someone I like, so I just tease and tease and tease."

"Love language?" you ask actually a bit shocked "So you really do like me?? Couldn't you just confess back when I got exposed with that truth telling thing?"

"It's too complicated. I just... didn't know now." he says trying to avoind your eyes.

"You just did it."

"Well, not in a fair way, though."

"I've put nothing in that drink, you idiot..."

Ace freezes “Wait a sec… Are you messing with me right now?” he asks, his voice suddenly more wary “This isn’t real?”

“Oh, it’s very real,” you reply, letting a mischievous grin slip into your expression “The truth serum is working, wihtout even the need to actually use it. You’re just… a little more vulnerable than you think.”

His eyes widen “Wait… wait, what did you do to me?”

You chuckle, leaning back in your chair “Just a little something to get you to spill your guts. But what’s even better is that you’re admitting things you didn’t even realize you were feeling.”

Ace’s face twists as the realization hits him “I—I thought I was poisoned? You… you tricked me into confessing everything?!”

The crew, who has been silently observing the entire exchange, erupts into laughter from all corners of the room. Marco, Izo, and Thatch are barely holding it together, while the rest of the crew seems equally entertained by the spectacle.

“That’s right, fire boy,” you say, leaning closer “You weren’t poisoned at all. You were just brainwashed into thinking you were.”

Ace stares at you, his face redder than ever, looking like he’s ready to combust.

“Yeah, well, now I’m gonna make you regret it” he mutters, his earlier smugness replaced by genuine frustration and something else you can’t quite place.

But for now, you’ve won. And you’ll savor this small victory for as long as you can.

The crew is still chuckling from the aftermath of your little “truth serum” game. You can practically feel the heat radiating from Ace’s flushed face, the sheer embarrassment of his earlier confessions hanging in the air like a cloud.

“Well, Ace,” you say, leaning back in your chair with a smug grin, “I gotta say, you made it pretty easy for me to get all your secrets out.”

Ace grumbles, clearly trying to salvage what’s left of his dignity “I can’t believe I fell for that.” He crosses his arms, glaring at you but clearly not all that mad, more like… flustered.

You lean in a little closer, a teasing smirk tugging at your lips “You did admit a lot, though. Like how much you actually like me.”

That catches him off guard. He stumbles for a moment, as if he wants to deny it, but there’s no escaping the truth now “Well, what can I say, you did say a lot of embarrassing things, too, when you drank that ‘serum’.”

You raise an eyebrow, the teasing still simmering beneath your words “Like what, exactly?”

“Oh, you know, I still think about you counting my freckles…” He flashes you a grin, almost too proud of himself for turning the tables.

You smirk, taking a deep breath “Well, now that I know you like me back…” You pause for effect, leaning even closer, “I can finally say it all again without the need for any truth drink.”

The realization hits him like a punch to the gut. Ace’s eyes widen slightly, and for a moment, he’s speechless “Wait, what?”

You grin, thoroughly enjoying his discomfort “Yep. So now, I’m free to repeat everything. Your teasing? It’s actually kind of cute. And maybe I even find you hot… especially with that devil fruit power of yours.” You’re clearly enjoying this far too much “Might even be into that.”

Ace is completely flustered now, cheeks burning red, and he stammers, “You… you really are messing with me, huh?”

Before you can answer, he suddenly leans forward, a spark of determination lighting up his eyes “Alright, then, I’ll just prove to you how much I like you.”

You blink, confused “What are you talking about?”

He leans in, his usual cocky grin back on his face “You wanna tell me what you like about me? Then I’ll tell you what I like about you... Like a competition since you like it.”

You tilt your head, intrigued “A competition, huh? Alright. But what’s the catch?”

Ace leans in even closer, voice dropping to a low, teasing tone “No backing out. You have to admit everything you like about me, truthfully, no holds barred.”

Your eyes glint with mischief “Alright, fine. But be warned. You might not like what you hear.”

Ace’s grin only grows wider “I’m all ears, Y/N. Let’s hear it.”

“First off,” you begin, your tone as playful as ever, “I might like how your hair looks like you just rolled out of bed. It’s… charming in a ‘I just woke up and I’m not trying’ kind of way.”

Ace scoffs, looking both proud and a little defensive “Well, you know, some people can’t pull it off, but I do.”

You roll your eyes “And I might find it kind of adorable that you get so riled up when I call you out. Your pride’s kind of cute… in a completely frustrating way.”

Ace stares at you for a second, then grins, almost cocky “I’ll take that as a compliment… for now.”

But before you can continue, someone shouts from the back of the room.

“Get a room, you two!”

The words echo across the deck, and everyone bursts into laughter. Ace’s face turns redder than ever, and for a moment, it looks like he’s about to explode.

“Shut up!” he snaps, but the crew’s laughter is uncontrollable.

But the comment gives Ace an idea. He stands up suddenly, grabbing your wrist and tugging you toward the stairs leading below deck.

“Alright, fine. We’ll take it to my room,” he says, his voice a little breathless but determined “Let’s see how much you really like me.”

You blink, surprised at his boldness, but you can’t hide the grin forming on your face “Ace… you think you can just drag me to your room and get away with it?”

“Maybe,” he says with a sly wink “But you’ll never know unless you come with me.”

You chuckle, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline you get when Ace is being this unpredictable “Alright then, hothead. Lead the way.”

The crew, of course, continues to shout playful remarks as you both head toward his room. Marco just shakes his head with a knowing smile.

Ace’s room door slams shut behind you both, and whatever happens next is anyone’s guess. But one thing is certain, this game of teasing is far from over. And in the end, neither of you is going to back down from it anytime soon.

Buggy pirates, first mission: free the cub (and make it our nakama)

He's free!!

Inspired by thess tags left under one of my posts! Thank you @wyvernslovecake i kept thinking about this 😭😭

LUFFY BEING LUFFY 😂

Trafalgar Law Shocked 😂