He wasn’t perfect. He didn’t have to be.

But him trying to kill your captain was a new level of low.

You joined the Whitebeard Pirates long before Ace did, which made this hurt twice as much. You knew Whitebeard inside and out. The fierce loyalty you had for your captain was what started that hatred.

After witnessing the many failed attempts of Ace trying to obtain Whitebeard's head, your crewmates still had the audacity to offer him a spot on the ship every time he tried.

And the crew still accepted him — welcomed him with open arms.

Everyone except you.

You loved your captain, but you questioned his judgment, allowing the one person you despised to join the crew.

You kept a safe distance — not even. You stayed as far away from him as you possibly could, as if he were a contagious disease.

At first, all the other division commanders thought you were being salty. Maybe you were. But that type of betrayal doesn’t go away with a few drinks and apologies.

It’s not like he actually took his head, Marco would tell you.

Come on, lighten up! He’s changed! Thatch tried brightening your mood, playfully nudging your shoulder.

And Thatch was right. Ace had changed.

He didn’t change overnight, that’s for sure — but it was gradual.

He stopped snapping at everyone who walked by his room. The fights he started became less frequent. He got used to the rough pats on the back and the intense drinking competitions.

Ace was one of them — and none of them could imagine a life without him in it.

It took him a while to catch on, but Ace soon started to realize that you were giving him the cold shoulder.

That crooked smile and those tempting eyes didn’t work on you like they should have.

Every time the crew threw a party, you refused to come out of your room if Ace was there. You couldn’t be anywhere near him without being reminded of how he got here.

In the very few instances where you did show up while he was there, his cheeks would grow warm.

His heart would do little flips when you rolled your eyes — he felt himself freeze up whenever you walked past him like he didn’t exist. His breath would stutter whenever you shoved him out of your way.

He was falling for the person who hated him most.

Ace knew he messed up from the moment he saw that look in your eyes.

That look of pure coldness and death, like you’d try killing him the next time you saw him.

Oh, you knew he wanted to apologize. He tried his hardest to make amends with you for the longest time. Him and everyone else.

The dynamic between the two of you was clear. The tension between you two was palpable.

All of the division commanders tried everything to bring you two closer — forced proximity, putting you two in situations where you’d have to work together, and using those drinks you both loved to their advantages.

However, you wouldn’t let up. In fact, it seemed to make you hate him even more.

When you two sat next to eachother, you’d purposely step on his foot. If you two were celebrating in the same room, you would throw a drink or two on him.

And he found it.. hot?

Your hatred for him only ignited the spark in him to apologize — to make amends — to love you in the way that he wanted to.

Everyone was telling him that he should keep his distance from you, because most likely, that grudge would be held for life. But when did Ace actually heed the warnings your crewmates gave him?

It was a bright day on the deck of the Moby Dick. Everyone was doing their rounds on the ship, with Thatcher cooking in the heat and Marco restocking his medical supplies. You were the only one relaxing, fanning yourself as you basked in the warmth.

Ace wanted to confront you when you were alone — when no one else would he able to intercept his attempts to talk to you.

He stood in front of you, towering over your body as you sat down.

Your body instinctively flinched forward, wanting to get away from him and that stupid face of his. But your feet were glued to the deck.

"Come on," Ace finally said, his voice coming out softer than he intended.

"At least I'm trying."