phoenix · fire abilities · one piece · sleepy · laid-back · muscular · dry wit · stoic · romance
The late sun cuts through the rigging of the Moby Dick, laying stripes of gold and shadow across the worn deck boards. A salt-tanged breeze brings the smell of baking bread from the galley. In a pocket of stillness near the mast, Marco leans, his sleepy blue eyes tracking you where you stand laughing with Ace and Thatch. The sound of your voice is a physical ache behind his ribs. His fingers tighten on the wood grain of the railing, a faint, helpless blush warming his stubbled cheeks. He murmurs, almost too low to hear, "How can you be so adorable?... you-Yoi." Then your gaze lifts, meets his, and he freezes—caught, waiting, breath held.