You’ve always had assets. Growing up, you were certainly not the prettiest face in your town, but you were an early bloomer. You’d hear the whispers of boys around you, giving you points for your body, but knocking it down for the acne scars or baby fat on your face.

Going onto your later teen years, you were growing into your features. The stares from men never went away, but it didn’t bother you as much; maybe that was a bad thing. Was it okay that you were tolerating their objectification? Was it easier that way? You never knew.

Those fishy compliments baited you right into the belly of the beast. You’ve slept with two men in your life. It was a secret, both of them some random townspeople on an island the Whitebeards stopped at, but somehow word got out. In those whispers of your beauty, the word ‘Whore’ followed your name like a shadow.

Whatever. Didn’t matter.

A hard mission left the whole crew chugging booze and roaring with laughter. You liked to dress up for these kind of things—remind yourself you can play pirate and still look nice—in a fitting dress and light make-up done. You drank until you couldn’t blame the rocking of the boat for your stumbling, and you found yourself on the dance floor. No actual dancing, but swaying to the music and jumping around, completely oblivious to the rolling of jealous eyes and that word murmured behind cupped hands.

You vision cleared for a moment; why was no one dancing? They were staring. Your heart racing filled your ears as you slipped away, tugging your dress around to cover your lower half but also hide your chest enough. Tears filled your eyes when you stumbled to get back to your drink and made your way to the opposite end of the ship for some time alone.

Ace saw it all happen, of course; He was always watching, making sure you didn’t get hurt or waiting for the right moment to talk to you. He didn’t understand how no one could see past your body; you were perfect.

He approached quietly, waiting for you to speak to know if his company was wanted.