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Could you write a scenario where Ace surprises the reader on their anniversary?

Thank you :D

Thank you so much for this request, Anon! I'm sorry it turned out a bit angsty idk where that came from oops. Hope you enjoy! :)

Portgas D. Ace X Reader

You sighed dejectedly into the warm, summer breeze that drifted across the oaken deck of the Moby Dick. It was a beautiful day on the Grand Line – The azure ocean lapped lazily at the sides of the massive vessel as it traversed the waves, the morning sun beamed in the cloudless sky, the wind carried that unmistakeable salty-sweet scent – but none of it could temper your foul mood.

Your crewmates obviously picked up on the dark cloud hanging around your shoulders and wisely were keeping a safe distance from you, lest you turn your incensed gaze in their direction. Your brothers knew how you could be when angered, and right now, you were furious. Most of them knew it was better to look the other way now until your anger abated, and approach warily later. All except a select few, of course.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Speak of the devil and he shall appear. You didn’t even need to look beside you to know Thatch had joined you at the railing overlooking the ocean. Usually, it was impossible to stay irate around Thatch. His good-natured character, self-deprecating humour, and easy smiles could lift just about anyone’s spirit. But not yours. Not today.

“You already know what my thoughts are.” You almost growled, refusing to meet his eye and staring intently at the vast ocean in front of you. In your peripheral vision you see him turn his back to the railing and rest comfortably against it, making him nearly impossible to ignore.

He pretends to think about it, “I can guess they involve murdering a certain flame-headed idiot.” Your snort confirms his answer as correct and he shoots you a grin.

“You know how he is,” Thatch continues, “He’ll remember by tonight, don’t you worry.”

“No he won’t, Thatch. I don’t know why I bothered.” Your frown deepens as you ponder the root of your aggravation.

Today marks one year since you and Ace had confessed your mutual feelings to each other. The two of you had spent months skirting around the Moby Dick after you had joined, trying to avoid the undeniable chemistry you shared, until one night, likely fuelled by copious amounts of alcohol, several of the commanders announced that they were tired of the love-sick gazes you and Ace had been giving each other when the other wasn’t looking and that you two should just ‘shack up already’. Naturally, after you two had vehemently denied this in front of the whole crew, Ace had dragged you up to the crow’s nest in the early hours of the night as the party raged on and demanded to know what was going on. The two of you were notorious for being stubborn as oxen, and after several ‘You first!’, ‘No, you confess first!’, the best night of your life ensued as Ace confessed that as much as he tried to fight it, his heart belonged to you. You had easily returned the sentiment, much to Ace’s relief, and the two of you had spent the entire night locked in each other’s embrace under the midnight sky.

This morning, knowing it was your one year anniversary, you had taken extra care to make yourself look beautiful. You donned a new outfit especially for the occasion – a figuring hugging ensemble that was seductive without being revealing - You had worn his favourite perfume that you’d acquired several islands ago, and you’d brushed your hair until it shone. You’d even borrowed one of Izo’s precious hair ornaments. But when you went to eat breakfast at the usual time with the crew on the main deck, Ace was too busy shovelling his breakfast in to even spare you a glance, nevermind wish you a measly ‘Happy Anniversary’. Then he’d departed hastily before you’d even poured yourself a mug of coffee, with a quick ‘I’ll see you later, babe.’ Thus, explaining your foul mood this morning.

“He will. You never know, maybe he has something special planned.” Thatch’s conspiratorial wink made you feel like he knows something that you don’t, but before you can barrage him with questions, he ruffles your hair and walks away, leaving your unanswered questions hanging on your lips.

The day passes quietly, with no sign of Ace even as the sky deepens to twilight. Dinner was a sullen affair as you chose to forego the dining hall in favour of eating alone in your cabin. Strangely, no one questions your mood. Perhaps it’s because they already know Ace is the cause. Even stranger, nobody seems to know his whereabouts. When you had asked Pops about it, he’d just let out his booming laugh and told you not to worry about it.

The nerve of him, you fumed internally as you paced your room in frustration. First, to forget our anniversary. Fine, okay, whatever, maybe I could’ve forgiven that. But to disappear without a trace without even saying goodbye? Who the hell does that? And don’t even remind me about the way he barely looked at me this morning –

A rap on your door interrupts your internal monologue, and you know who it is even before you fling it open.

“Portgas D. Ace, I am going to kill y-“ The man in question interrupts you with a swift kiss on the lips, and your anger abates slightly. It’s gentle, and over too quickly. He withdraws a fraction, lingering an inch from your face as he leans against the edge of your doorframe, those apologetic dark eyes searching yours.

“I’m sorry for running off earlier, and I’m sorry for ignoring you today,” He starts, lowering his head slightly, “But I promise I have a good reason.” His onyx eyes plead with you and you know you’ve already forgiven him, but he can’t know that. Not yet.

“Yeah, well, it better be.” You grumble. His usual mischievous expression replaces his look of solemn guilt quicker than a flash of lightning, and he grabs your hand and pulls you into the long corridor that divides the cabins.

“I’ll show you what I’ve been up to.”

He races along the ship, guiding you up onto the main deck which is for once suspiciously empty of your other crew members. The sky above you is a midnight canvas smattered with glittering stars, and the full moon casts a silver sheen to the dark wooden planks, lighting a pathway for you to the edge of the ship. Ace leads you to the gap in the railing that is home to the rope ladder hanging at the side of the ship, stretching into the darkness below. Usually it’s only thrown over the side of the Moby Dick if someone falls overboard – usually after a few too many drinks – or when some of the crew depart on missions that your captain orders. You can only assume at the bottom of the ladder is a rowboat or smaller vessel awaiting your descent. If there is, it’s impossible to discern in the darkness of the night.

“Where are we going?” You hesitate above the ladder, as Ace begins to descend.

“It’s a surprise. You scared or something?” He questions, a slight smirk on his face as he extends his hand up to you from his position on the ladder, waist height with the deck. His half smirk begs you to challenge him.

“Me? Never.” You scoff, accepting his invitation and disembarking after him. His answering laughter carries across the waves as the two of you climb down the side of the vessel. Despite your answer, your heart races in your chest as you go down. The climb could be difficult at the best of times due to the towering size of the Moby, but with the starlight as your only guide it was particularly difficult to make out the hand and footholds.

“Relax, I’d never let you fall.” He says this so assuredly you have no choice but to accept, feeling his hands brush against your ankles every time you step lower, directing you to safety and simultaneously sending shivers up your spine at the heat even his gentle touch provides.

“And what help would you be if I fell? You can’t even swim.” You retort, and you can feel his answering grin even though you can’t see it. You can imagine how his bright eyes must be glinting in the darkness.

Finally, you hear his feet touch solid ground, and he wraps both hands around your waist to help you detach from the ladder. No matter how many times he’s done this, it still sets your heart racing like the very first time. In the shadow of the night you can’t even discern the outline of his body, but you know by the way the ground underneath you sways that you’ve landed on a rowboat of sorts.

Flame produced by his skilled hands illuminates the night, and he sets fire to two lanterns at either end of the boat, casting the small space in a soft yellow light. You notice a bottle of something in a basket, and an assortment of snacks that could only be from Thatch’s kitchen. Covering the base of the boat is a thick blanket that sports Izo’s embroidery and unrivalled skill with a needle and thread, and a golden gift wrapped box in the centre of it all. As Ace pushes off from the side of the Moby with the end of an oar and sends your little boat into the night, the realisation hits you.

“Those bastards, they were all in on this!” You seethe, but ruin it by laughing. “I can’t believe it, I’ve been complaining to them all day and they knew you had something planned.”

“Marco did the gift-wrapping.” Ace confirms, and you miss the uncharacteristically soft look he shoots you as you take it all in. He sets the oar down and sits opposite you on the soft covering.

“I’m sorry I doubted you, I just wasn’t expecting anything like this.” Guilt is the only word to describe how you feel. However, you can’t help but notice how unusually quiet he is, the way his hands quiver slightly as he uncorks the bottle before passing it to you. He doesn’t answer, and you let the silence extend, waiting for something more. Eventually, he closes his eyes and sighs.

“I just wanted to have one more night with you like this, before it’s all over.” His words send any icy chill through your body that has nothing to do with the night air. All over? What does he mean all over? Panic sets in but you try not to let it show, try to search his eyes with your own but he won’t meet your imploring gaze.

“What do you mean one more night? Are you going somewhere?”

“No.” His frustratingly vague answer does nothing to disperse your anxiety, and he still refuses to meet your eyes.

“Answer the question, then.” You half demand, half beg. Finally, he looks up and you’re startled by the fear you see in them.

“I’ll tell you later. Just for now, let’s enjoy the food that Thatch prepared.” He gives you a fake grin that doesn’t match that look in his eyes. You answer by taking a swig from the bottle in your hands, weighing your options. You want to enjoy this gift he has given you – a night under the stars just like one year ago – but how can you after what he just announced. It’s clear he’s made all this effort so the two of you can ‘enjoy’ your last night together, but how can you ignore the elephant in the room? You decide you can’t.

“Whatever you have to say, you can say it now.” The sentence comes out colder than you intended, and interrupts his hands as they reach for the food. Again, that awful silence stretches between you, a silence that is never there when you two are together, and suddenly you’re afraid of his answer.

“I just thought after all this time, you deserve to know the truth about me. How I’m not who I say I am.” His eyes darken as he looks at you, really looks at you, but the hint of fear in them remains. You feel your breath hitch in your chest and your stomach churns, a queasiness settling there that makes you regret your last swallow of the rich wine Thatch provided. You wonder what he’s afraid of – What he’s about to tell you, or the way you’ll react to it? Both?

You can’t decide to be angry or nervous, and the result is a mixture of both. This change in character is so atypical, so unlike Ace. You don’t recognise the self-loathing look in his eyes that has replaced the usual mirth, or the twist to his lips that has replaced his easy grin. What was supposed to be an amazing evening has turned into something you’re not enjoying.

“Tell me then. Tell me who you think you are. Since I deserve to know.” Your response startles him, causes him to withdraw as he steels himself to tell you the truth that only a select few people know. That he doesn’t want anyone to know. This last year with you has been a dream, but he can’t drag you down to hell with him. You, who graced his life with a peace and happiness he doesn’t feel someone like him deserves. It’s different with his brothers, Luffy and his crew. But you are so pure, so warm, he cannot allow himself to taint you. To corrupt your future – you deserve someone who is not the product of an evil man, a man who caused so much hatred and suffering. That’s why tonight, he knows he has to tell you the truth. That maybe you’ll hate and even scorn him, but at least your future will be safe – a future without him.

Ace draws a deep breath, and you feel your chest constrict unwillingly.

“My father,” he starts bitterly, “Is the worst man this world has ever known. And he brought me into this world even as he was dying. Most of the time, I try not to think about it. But I can’t, I don’t want to keep lying to you. To keep having you think I’m someone that – that I’m not,” Ace, usually so smooth with his words, who can ramble on about his brothers for hours, struggles to find the right words. “His name was –“

“I know, Ace.” You cut him off, stopping him in his tracks and earning a shocked expression in response. “I know who your father is. Is that what this is about? You think we can’t be together because the father you never knew was a famous pirate? Last time I checked, we were all pirates.”

“How do you know? Nobody knows.” He asks in quiet disbelief, his face wary.

“I overheard Pops and Marco a few months ago discussing it while I was taking stock of the sick room supplies. They didn’t say any names directly, but it wasn’t hard for me to guess. You even look like Roger –“

“Don’t say his name! Don’t tell me I look like him!” He jumps to his feet, fists clenched in anger, eyes ablaze with a fury that you’re not sure is directed at you or himself.

“Or what?!” You’re yelling back at him now, rising to your own feet, chest to chest with him on this cramped rowboat. “You trying to tell me that’s who the real you is? That you’re not Portgas D. Ace, but the son of the Pirate King? That everything you’ve done until now is overshadowed by that tiny little fact –“

“It’s not a tiny little fact! He caused so much suffering, so much-“

“So? SO?” You shout the second word, “YOU don’t cause pain or suffering, do you?”

“That’s not the point –“

“It is the point! What does he have to do with anything? With us? You think I care? You think anyone on this ship would care? I thought you loved me. But to think, you think so little of me you thought that if I found your real parentage I would hate you? You must not know me at all.” You almost spit the last part, bending down to grab the oar and return you two to the ship. But Ace grabs your wrist, spinning you back to face him as you practically fall against his heaving chest. His face is contorted in fury, in self-loathing and disgust at himself, so unlike him you want to cry. You’ve never seen him like this.

“I don’t think that about you. But I know that you deserve someone better.” He says, his rage dissipating into bitterness as he stares into the depths of your soul, searching for the truth in your words.

“I don’t want someone better,” You whisper, unable to stop the tears welling as you observe the pain in his eyes, the way his hands tremble as they hold you fast against him, “I want you, Ace. I don’t care who your father is, don’t you see that?” Burying your face against his shoulder so he can’t see the tears that fall, you try to compose yourself. Damn it, why do I always cry.

“I don’t want this to be our last night together, but if that’s what you want then-“

“It’s not what I want.” He interrupts whatever you’re about to say and tilts your chin back up to face him with his hand, the other caressing your back. The heat emanating from them steadies you, as they always have. “Do you really mean that?” The pain his voice carries slices through you, and you wonder how long he has carried this burden. Does he lay awake at night, wondering what you’re reaction would be?

“I love you, Ace. I don’t care about anything else.” And unlike that fateful night exactly one year ago, you’re the one to utter those three words first.

You don’t even have time to decipher his look before he’s kissing you. You’ve kissed Ace countless times in the last year, but this is the first one that sets you aflame. The first one that sends heat searing from your lips to the depths of your very being. Maybe he’s been holding out on you all this time, afraid to truly let himself go. But he does now.

You don’t know how long you two stand like that, his hands in your hair and yours against his chest, but all too soon you’re breaking for air. You’re glad for the lowlight of the lamps as they flicker in the shade, hopefully hiding the remnants of dried tears on your lashes and the heat staining your cheeks. You’re both panting, from the kiss or the release of tension in the air or the aftermath of your combined anger, it’s hard to tell.

“I’m sorry.” Ace apologises for the final time that night, pulling you back to the floor of the softly rocking boat. He tosses you the gift that Marco so carefully gift-wrapped. You can tell by his demeanour that this conversation isn’t over, that he has a lifetime of family trauma to unpack. But for now, he’s allowing himself to love you, to be loved by you. And that is a small victory.

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