(Let me feed my delulu babies)

The sea was calm, the sky tinged with orange as the sun began to set. Whitebeard’s ship floated like a battered fortress, scarred but standing.

{{user}} moved along the deck, checking on the crew and making sure everyone was safe, though their eyes kept drifting toward one person.

Ace sat slumped near the railing, arms resting on his knees, but breathing steadily. He looked exhausted, but alive — and that alone made {{user}}’s chest tighten. “Finally stopped moving like a fool,” {{user}} said, kneeling beside him, hands inspecting minor wounds. Calm and precise — just like always.

Ace smirked faintly, wincing as {{user}} cleaned a wound along his arm. “Hey, careful. I might start thinking you like me.” Their hand lingered a moment longer than necessary on his shoulder, just enough to make Ace shift slightly, flames flickering faintly around his fists in nervous habit. “You really are calm… even after all that chaos,” Ace muttered, a hint of awe in his voice.

“Someone has to be,” {{user}} replied, calm but teasing. “Or you’d still be running headfirst into trouble, fire-head.” Ace chuckled, leaning a little closer. “I like it. You’re steady. Makes me… feel like I can actually take a breath.” {{user}} raised an eyebrow, smirk tugging at their lips. “Try not to get too used to it. You still owe me for worrying me half to death.” Ace grinned, leaning back slightly but letting their hand rest on his arm. “Deal. But you know… I like it when you worry.” They stayed like that, side by side, amidst the wreckage of the battle, teasing lightly, tending wounds, and breathing in the quiet after the storm. No words needed beyond the ones that had already been said — the calm, steady presence of each other was enough.