glasskoi
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Twenty-two years ago, Mihawk settles on a small island in the South Blue called Baterilla. For a short period of time, he becomes acquainted with a woman named Rouge.
Twenty-two years later, Ace learns about the one that got away, and decides to make it Mihawk’s problem once again.
Or: When Ace realizes his feelings for Marco might be more than just simple attraction, he decides to do something to get over him. Enter Mihawk.
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Marco helps Ace bind. Ace only minds a little bit.
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Incubi are supposed to be charming, and alluring, and generally easy to get along with.
Ace, Marco thinks, must be the worst incubus in the world.
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“Seriously? I’m not wearing stilettos to this fucking party, Izou, you can’t make me.”
Izou straightens from his kneeling position to nudge Ace forward with a hand at the small of his back. Ace straightens up and glares over his shoulder, but obediently relents under the weight of Izou's firm stare. “You won’t be wearing heels, I pr—” Izou stops and amends, “—you won’t be wearing stilettos to the gala. I expect you to use that word when we arrive, by the way. They’re two different occasions.”
Ace gingerly steps into the heels and readjusts his weight to stand on the balls of his feet. “I’ll start calling it a gala when it starts looking like an apple. Remind me again why I’m wearing these?”
Or: Ace has to attend a pirate’s gala. He’s not at all looking forward to it.
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- Part 2 of boy is a gun
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Ace splutters into his tankard of ale. “Two years!?”
Deuce groans. “Do not make this into a thing, I swear to god.”
“No, no, I'm just saying,” Ace laughs, “I mean, that’s nearly as long as you’ve known me!”
He’s not wrong. The last time Deuce had a fling was two and a half months into sailing on Ace’s crew, and he’s been in a dry spell since. Truthfully, he hasn't even been thinking about it until recently. Ace is more than enough of a handful to worry about.
Or: Deuce is straight, so he's absolutely not going to fuck his captain in the back of a club.
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Ace isn't sure when, but he has fallen hard for Marco, head over boots. His charm, his smile, the way the sky glints in his onxy eyes. Ace doesn't want to accept it, so instead he does the only thing he knows how to. He barries it under sex, drinking, and fighting.
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"It would just be until Luffy set out to sea.
Until then, his brother's life hung over him like a guillotine.
Until then, the Marines got what they wanted.
And apparently, they wanted Gold Roger's son to be their newest Warlord of the Sea."
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AU where Ace becomes a Warlord of the Sea, Sabo fails upward, and Luffy will be the King of the Pirates. And the Whitebeard Pirates are just trying their best.
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From Ash and Embers by Kiyoko_Michi, whimsical whispers (Kiyoko_Michi)
Fandoms: One Piece
29 Jul 2026
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Ace knew he has cursed blood for as long as he can remember. When his soulflowers never show up, it’s just another sign he wasn’t meant to be born. Then he finds his brothers. His crew. People he’d die for.
It takes longer to learn how to live for them instead.
- Language:
- English
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- 104,069
- Chapters:
- 30/?
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Bookmarked by glasskoi
22 Jan 2025
Bookmarker's Notes
OURGH... it gets to me sooooo bad this fic is so good
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“The execution isn’t about Whitebeard,” Koby blurts out before he can talk himself out of it.
He resists the urge to squeeze his eyes shut, but all he gets for his efforts is a neatly raised eyebrow. Not that the skepticism in Helmeppo’s expression is entirely unwarranted – all anyone around them has talked about in the past week has been A War With Whitebeard – but it still makes him squirm. It’s still technically a secret, and he still hasn’t technically told, so he can bite his tongue now and try to fall asleep. But they’re going to fight a war in the morning, and no matter how it ends, Koby doubts that by the time the dust settles this will still matter.
Koby wants it to matter.
“Portgas D. Ace,” Koby forces himself to say, his heart in his throat and someone else’s secret bitter on his tongue, “is Gold Roger’s son.”
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For a while, this is as close as they get to any sort of argument: Zoro growling at him like a rabid dog, deadlocked into a staring contest that Mihawk, for the first time, might actually lose.
Perona finally breaks the silence. "Urgh! I've had it with you--emotionally constipated sword freaks!" she fumes with a petulant stomp of her cherry boots. "Fine! If you two won’t talk about it, then I’ll do it for you!" She extends her hands. "Negative Hollow!"
Twin translucent specters erupt from her palms. Mihawk effortlessly swats away the pest -- but Zoro, only halfway to his mastery of haki and ambushed from his freshly-carved blind spot, is not quite so fortunate.
Zoro crumples to his hands and knees. “I don't deserve to have you as my father.”
Perona gasps. Zoro petrifies, and Mihawk thinks, distantly, that this is what it would feel like to take a sword to the chest.
“As your what?”
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It takes hurting both of the children living with Mihawk to make him realize that they're his.