One Piece x Reader [OPEN]

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Here is a little helper:
✏︎(y/n)=your name
✏︎(l/n)=your last name
✏︎(h/l)=hair length
✏︎(h/c)=hair color
✏︎(e/c)=eye color
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⋆The words in italics represent thoughts.⋆
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✎Requested by Rengoku_Darling
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Characteristics of the reader:
✏︎Bold
✏︎Loud
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Resume of the situation the scenario happens in
⋆ So after Whole Cake, Ceasar escaped to then form NEO MADS, a research institute organization made by Vinsmoke Judge and Ceasar Clown, using Germa 66 resources. In this scenario, our reader is also a world-known scientist and is also one of the members of the previous organization, MADS. So also a founder of the new one, NEO MADS.⋆
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The lab hums with the low, constant buzz of machinery, the air thick with the sterile scent of chemicals and metal. You sit hunched over your workstation, shoulders stiff, fingers stained with ink and something far less identifiable. A half-finished blueprint is sprawled out before you, edges curling where you've absentmindedly tapped at them with restless hands.

Your hair falls in unruly strands over your forehead, sticking slightly from the heat of concentration, enhancing the grey hair of time. You push it back absently, leaving a smudge of graphite near your temple. The light overhead flickers—cheap maintenance, no doubt—and you sigh, rolling the tension from your neck before scribbling down another adjustment.

Then, footsteps. Measured, purposeful. You know who it is before you even glance up.

Vinsmoke Judge.

The door hisses open, and there he stands—posture rigid, expression unreadable but undoubtedly unimpressed. He steps inside with that signature air of authority, his gaze sweeping over your workstation, then landing on you. A single slow blink, and then—there it is—the look. The same look he always gives you.

"You were always the messiest of us, scientists," Judge remarks, arms crossing over his broad chest.

You smile, leaning back slightly in your chair, hands spreading in mock invitation. "Lucky for you, it is my mind you need. My pristine, tidy mind of a genius and... of course, the info I've got."

Judge exhales, unimpressed but not dismissive. You both know the truth of it—his precision, his meticulous engineering, his relentless drive. Just as much as your insight, your instinct, your ability to know exactly what matters, when it matters.

It's not a contest. Just a matter of skills—different, but equally necessary.

Your Devil Fruit is proof of that. 5 things, living or not, scattered across the world, all connected to you by an unseen thread. The moment something notable happens to any of them, you know. Instantly.

And Judge knows the weight of that. Which is exactly why he's here.

Before either of you can speak again, the lights flicker. Once. Twice. Then a sudden draft snakes through the vents—sweet, cloying, tinged with something volatile.

The air begins to shimmer.

A low, gleeful chuckle bubbles up from nowhere. Wisps of lilac-colored gas coil into the center of the lab like a summoned specter, twisting and solidifying into a tall, grinning figure.

"Miss me, boys?" Caesar Clown declares, arms flung wide like a showman taking center stage. His wild hair flicks upward, coat billowing in ghostly plumes of vapor. "I was passing through and thought—surely this sad little dungeon could use some brilliance."

You glance up just long enough to register him before returning to your notes. "You're banned from vent entries, Caesar. I told you. The pressure systems hate it," the King spits beside you.