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wetdeadroses · 5 months ago

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Ace x reader - Take my hand

you never liked new years, until the one where you meet a handsome stranger whose charm enchants you.

ace x gn!reader, happy birthday ace, suave use of ace's devil fruit, fluff, dancing

warnings: alcohol use, otherwise all fluff nothing too suggestive :-)

wc: 2.8k

read on Ao3

Desolate. That was the only word you could seek to describe the hollow, longing sensation that gripped your chest in a vise every year you woke up on this day. It was nothing more than a forced acknowledgment of the passage of time, a forced celebration of the one thing you could never control.

New Years has always left something to be desired within you. No matter how many invigorating adventures or eras of aching heartaches you felt, this day remained the same.

The day passed on in a groggy haze, and you felt unsure of how this moment was any different than all the ones that had passed before. That is, until the moment in which you thought yourself silly for ever thinking so.

Your one tradition was to meander to your local saloon in the evening and stare down the bottom of a glass, the frosty mug tethering you to reality like a fraying thread. Before you knew it, you’d be home, and New Year’s Day would be long gone, just like all the ones before.

Your nose burned with the arid chill of winter as you made your way through town. It wasn’t necessarily that you preferred to spend your new year like this, but each time you shook things up, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. like a piece of you was left somewhere. Perhaps it was left somewhere on the past year’s calendar, a vague note of an event you missed. Perhaps it was your foolish optimism betraying you. Perhaps you’d never know for sure what it was.

Rubbing your hands together, you approached the saloon. the townspeople were awfully quiet on New Year’s Day, having spent the night prior in celebratory bliss, now resting and recovering and getting to work on their resolutions. However, there was raucous laughter spilling from the saloon entrance, and it even sounded like there was music being played.

You bristled at the noise, coming to a halt just before the door. You came all this way. It would have to do. You push open the swinging door and an unfamiliar warmth washes over you, as though the usual drafty chill of the saloon were a thing of the past. A few dozen people crowd around the bar and occupy the tables, the smell of beer and sweat wafting from them. They sure seem a rowdy bunch, dancing and shouting to one another with a joy you rarely witnessed around these parts. You hoped that would play to your advantage, that you’d be able to buy your drink and swiftly make for the side door, where a lesser-known dock was tucked away; a secret that even few locals were aware of as it couldn’t be easily spotted from outside.

You kept your eyes pointed toward the ground as you wove your way through the crowd and up to the bar. You squeezed into quite the spot for your face to be made visible to the disoriented bartender, who was anticipating this turnout as much as you were, taking your order with an exhausted crease between his brows.

You stiffly waited for the bartender to get your drink, straining to tune out of the ruckus while keeping your senses about you. The cacophony made your ears ring, tension curling your shoulders tight to yourself, squeezing the emptiness in your chest. Just as you made to take a breath, forcing your muscles to unwind, a force shoved you out of your seat, and you were fighting gravity’s inevitability. You were falling, and you could see the back of someone, likely the person who smacked into you, completely unaware of what they had caused.

You struggled to find purchase, your hands desperately searching for anything to stop your descent, when a pair of strong hands gripped your arms and pulled you to your feet. heat flooded through your clothes and seeped into your bones at the point of contact.

“Easy, now.” A gentle yet firm voice made its way to your ears, and you felt them start to burn at the sound. “Are you alright?”

You nearly choked as you lifted your gaze toward the person who’d stopped your fall. A pair of shimmering eyes searched you, framed by a dashing smatter of freckles and a faint blush. Shaggy black hair fell down his face, covered by a peculiar orange hat. He was quite possibly the most beautiful person you’d ever seen, and he was watching you carefully, an inquisitive grin playing across his lips.

You realized you were staring and that he’d asked you a question, but a lump had formed in your throat, and you didn’t trust your voice not to betray you. The fact that his hands still gripped your upper arms made it no easier, and you convinced yourself they were the cause of the heat flooding your face and neck. You gave a sheepish nod, the only indication you could give that you were okay.

The man chuckled with relief as he released you. A chill replaced the space where his hands had been. “That would have been a nasty fall. I’m sorry if my friends are bothering you.”

Your eyes were still locked onto him, as though he were the only thing keeping you upright. Your voice was nowhere to be found at this point, but the thud of a pint being set on the counter beside you snapped you back to reality. You grabbed your drink and finally broke your stare.

“Let’s hear a toast from our flaming commander!” someone shouted over the chaos, and the bar thrummed with cheers and applause. The man before you was swallowed by his comrades by the time you swiftly made for the exit to the dock, drink in hand.

The icy bite of winter pinched your heated cheeks as you sat on the aging wooden planks that held you over the ocean’s edge. Your feet dangled over space, and you stared at the endless horizon. Several moments passed, the calm of the night creeping over you like a haunted shadow. You downed half your beer in one go, drowning your embarrassment. You were completely speechless the instant you saw that man. You couldn’t even muster a thank-you with his eyes burning holes through your own.

You listlessly swiped a hand down your face and did your best to forget that exchange. Allowing the sound of the waves to draw out your lingering emotions, you took back this time you had reserved for yourself. You had wanted to be alone, after all, and there was nobody out here to disrupt your melancholy.

You were contemplating the value of going back inside for another drink when you heard the saloon door open. Your head snapped towards the pool of light breaking the dark of the night. You twitched with a jolt of recognition at the one who stood before you as you quickly turned your head back toward the sea.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” the man said as he knelt down a few feet away from you. I was craving a bit of a break. You can pretend I’m not here if you want.”

You considered him for a moment. You thought his presence would surely be disturbing, considering how you had made a fool of yourself minutes ago, but that wasn’t what you felt. Now that he was separated from the party, his presence felt… warm? welcoming? You couldn’t quite describe it, but the chill on your fingers and nose was fading, and you found you didn’t quite mind sharing your hidden oasis with him.

“No, you’re not disturbing anything at all,” you smiled at him but refrained from meeting his eyes. “Thank you for asking and for your help earlier.”

“Don’t mention it.” he sat, swinging his legs over the edge of the dock, echoing your position.

You meant what you said when you welcomed him, but you found yourself fidgeting with your hands, unsure of what to do. It no longer felt right to wallow.

“So tell me, what are you doing here all by yourself?” he leaned toward you, resting one padded elbow on his thigh. At that moment, you fully realized that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Your island wasn’t the coldest, but it was still winter, and long sleeves were the bare minimum for fighting the chill. You tried not to gawk. “That is, if you don’t mind my asking.”

“Nothing too special,” you said. “I’m not much of the type to celebrate the new year, but I do like to have a drink or two.”

“You don’t like New Year’s?” he seemed genuinely curious, which took you aback. You were just a stranger, not anyone of significance on this day to someone who has been out partying with their friends.

You shook your head. “I can’t say I do. But I won’t ruin anyone’s festive spirit.” You waved around yourself. “So that’s why I’m alone.” You feigned a small smile, surprised at yourself for speaking your admission aloud.

“You know, you’re the first person I’ve met who said they don’t like New Year’s.” His gaze gripped you, he wore an inscrutable look. You were helpless but to gaze back. He looked away, stretching out his arms. “It isn’t my favorite holiday, but I do like parties.”

“Your friends seem to know how to throw a good party,” you said, breaking the momentary silence. “Are you celebrating anything in specific? I’d have assumed any New Year’s revelry has passed.”

He shrugged. “Nothing too special.” You both smiled then. “What’s your name?”

You told him, and he repeated it back to you. You’d never heard it said with such grace. Your heartbeat quickened when you found yourself wishing to hear it again.

“I’m Ace. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He raised his mug of ale with a twinkle in his eye. Ace. The name fit him like a well-loved pair of gloves.

You picked up your glass, but set it back down coyly. Empty. You forgot you had planned to top up before Ace had showed up. Before you could think what to do, not wishing to toast on an empty glass, Ace was pouring some of the amber liquid from his mug into your cup.

You laughed. “Thank you. It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Ace.”

The faint pink on Ace’s cheeks flushed until it burned red, stretching across the bridge of his nose. He hid behind his mug, taking a sip. You did the same, eyeing him over the rim with playful curiosity.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, and you watched each other out of the corners of your eyes, dodging the other so as not to get caught. You were much warmer than you would have thought, and it couldn’t have been the one drink you had. You grew concerned for your new acquaintance. Shouldn’t he be shivering?

“Aren’t you cold, dressed like that?” The words came out before you could ponder it anymore, but then you realized you just admitted to staring at him. You looked away just as you caught him turning toward you, scared to know the look on his face.

Ace chuckled. “Nah, I don’t really get cold.”

You furrowed your brow, confused, but entertained. “You’re not just saying that to look cool, are you?”

His chuckle turned into laughter. “No, it’s true. I ate a devil fruit. Now I’m made of fire.”

You folded your arms and feigned an incredulous look. “You’re lying.”

“It’s true!”

You shook your head in challenge. “Prove it.”

The smile he wore was absolutely radiant. “As you wish.” He lifted one knee to turn to face you. He lifted one hand and held it out. Before you could blink, his hand was engulfed in flames, red and orange tendrils dancing in all directions. Your jaw was on the floor and without a second thought you crawled closer to him, wanting a better look.

“No way,” you gawked. “Does it hurt?”

He watched you with cool amusement. “Not at all.” He flipped the fire over, and suddenly it winked out of existence, leaving his hand behind. You gasped, and grabbed his hand to look for any signs of a burn, or even for the fire to have been there in the first place. His skin was hot to the touch, but not so much that it hurt. You turned it this way and that. Other than the heat, you wouldn’t have been able to believe it was real at all.

Ace grabbed your hand then, and you looked up at him. His head was tilted down towards you, his expression full of mirth. Your face flooded with embarrassment at your imposition, and you made to pull your hand back, but he held you firm, lacing his fingers through yours.

“What do I get for proving it?” Ace said, a slight rasp to his voice. You weakened a little at the sound.

Your mind felt giddy at the way his gaze was fixed on you. You felt certain you would have done anything he asked in that moment. Rather than admitting such an absurd thing to someone you’d just met, you ask him, “What do you want?”

It came out a lot more breathy and far less confident than you’d expected. Ace stood, pulling you up with him. “Dance with me.”

Your expression fell as you recalled the utter chaos on the other side of the saloon door. “In there? With all your friends?”

Ace shook his head. “Out here, where it’s nice.”

“But there’s no music or anything!” Your heart was thrumming in your chest, completely out of your depth. It wasn’t that you didn’t know how to dance, but the intimacy and attention was dizzying.

Ace released your hand and picked up his now empty mug from the ground. He walked over to the door of the saloon, and wedged the mug between the threshold. The small gap let out the sound of music and laughter - not too loud, but just enough to hear the tune. He turned back to you, holding out his hand.

You stood still, contemplating. This was absolutely not how you were planning on spending the evening. But you couldn’t find any sense of disappointment within. With a deep breath, you reached for him, your face burning with a rush of excitement that you couldn’t place.

Ace pulled you close, and the heat he was giving off bathed you in contentment. The song playing was definitely more of a jig, but Ace set a smooth pace, guiding you here and there with effortless grace. Each time you found his eyes, they were already on you.

You were completely lost in him, time passing without a thought. Each brush of his hands on you lit you up with electricity that felt soothing to the touch. It could have been minutes or hours that you spent together, but you realized you didn’t care. Was this what it was like to gleefully acknowledge the passage of time?

The two of you were much closer together than you’d been when you started dancing, and you were drunk off his embrace. The music began to fade, and the sound of the partygoers flooded out of the saloon.

“Where’s Ace?” “Someone find the birthday boy?”

Ace brought you to a stop, holding you in place. His chin was resting on your forehead. How was it so easy to feel comfortable like this? You couldn’t say.

“I’m afraid I have to get back to my friends.” His voice was nearly a whisper.

You slowly came back to yourself, processing the words you’d just heard. You stepped back, fully looking at him. “It’s your birthday?”

He gave you a playful wink as he started turning toward the door. “Nothing too special, as I said.”

Your heartbeat was a cacophonous rhythm as you watched Ace begin walking away. You couldn’t let this moment pass you by. It was time for you to take control of it. Rushing towards him, you grabbed his hand, and he spun back, caught in a flash of surprise and curiosity.

“I think I’m starting to like New Year’s, after all.” You pulled him closer to you, willing any hesitation away. Ace smiled at you, that radiant smile that had become so intoxicating. His eyes fell from your eyes to your lips, and you moved on instinct. It seemed Ace did too, as he lowered his head, and your lips met with a gentle sort of passion. It was everything and nothing, an eternity and yet just a moment.

You weren’t sure if you’d see Ace again next New Year, but if you didn’t, at least you would know what was missing this time.

Thank you so much for reading! This came to me like a fever dream when I was doing some reflecting. I've never liked New Years, in fact it makes me a bit depressed, so this is a bit of a personal balm for me because thinking about Ace makes me smile.

#this is my very first posted work!!! please be kind #one piece fanfiction #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d ace fluff #ace x you #ace x reader #one piece x reader #portgas d ace fanfic #happy birthday ace!!#one piece fluff #one piece ace #fire fist ace x reader #portgas d ace x y/n #portgas d ace x you

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yayakoishii · 1 year ago

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sleep it off | Ace x Reader

Fandom: One Piece

Pairing: Portgas D. Ace x GN! Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Genre/Tags: Fluff, Light Angst, Slight NSFW at the start and end, Suggestive, Established Relationship, kinda crack/silly

Summary: Ace falls asleep in the middle of your first time having sex together.

A/n: I have had this idea for a while but, there were multiple factors I had to consider before I wrote it. So, fair warning, I have no clue how actual narcolepsy works. It would be best if you read this as a silly fic based on his gag. Secondly, I have never written sex or sex adjacent scenes so, really sorry if this is awkward ;-; Other than that, I hope you enjoy reading this !!

also available on ao3!

"You better fuck me hard, commander," you whispered into Ace's ear. His grip under your thighs tightened at the words and he lightly growled, holding you even closer against him. You tightened your arms around his neck when he started walking back to his room with you in his arms. "Fuck, Ace, that's…"

You trailed off, cheeks burning at how hot it was that Ace could pick you up like you weighed nothing. Like yes, you knew he had to be crazy strong considering he's the second division commander, but having him actually pick you up was enough to give you butterflies in the stomach. Even the wolf whistles and jeers behind you only fuelled to make you flush harder, the arousal pooling in your gut.

Ace slammed the door shut with his foot when you finally reached and up close, you could make out his pupils dilated with lust as he gently placed you on the bed. You crawled backwards to give him space and Ace immediately hovered over you on all fours, trapping you underneath him.

"You don't know how long I've waited to have you underneath me like this," he looked equally flushed. In fact, Ace's eyes seemed to have a quality to them that said that he couldn't quite believe he actually had you.

"Mm, I think I have an idea," you teased him, hand reaching up to card through the bottom most hair.

"You will be the death of me," he groaned and sat up, straddling your waist just so that his weight wasn't on you. "Don't you think it's unfair that I'm the only one who's half naked here?"

"You're always half naked, though?" You laughed even as you removed the form fitting top you had worn solely for the purpose of enticing Ace into having sex with you. "Not that I'm complaining. It's just my luck that I get blessed by the sight of your abs every day without having to do anything for it."

"Returning the favour every now and then seems like a fair deal," Ace's eyes were trained on your body intensely. It made you squirm and blush harder but you focused on throwing your shirt over to the chair a distance away. (You missed but that was a problem for later, right?) "God, you are beautiful."

Without waiting for a response (not that you had one other than to feel pleased at his words), Ace dived right at your neck, pressing open, wet kisses at the juncture of your neck and shoulders. Every part of him was so much warmer and hotter than you expected and it felt like his lips were leaving a trail of fire. You keened at the feeling, back arching as he marked the way down to your chest and over the nipples.

"Ace–" you exhaled shakily, fingers automatically tightening in his hair. He went lower and lower, down your stomach and then suddenly, you felt him drop on top of you. His weight trapped your legs, his face poking into your stomach. The sudden sensation startled you and you propped yourself up on your elbows to look at Ace. "Ace?"

To your surprise, he had fallen asleep. Of course, you were aware of Ace's sudden bouts of sleep and found them endearing at times, but right now, you could only stare at his calm, sleeping face for all of two seconds before you burst into giggles.

He really fell asleep in the middle of your first time. You smiled softly at him as you scrambled to pull him up and settled him beside you in his bed. Although someone else might have been upset, you were too in love with this fiery idiot to not find it cute and hilarious. You gently pressed a kiss on top of his forehead and leaned over to turn off the light after you put on your shirt.

Curling up next to Ace's warm body, you fell asleep.

•

When you woke up, the bed was empty. It was just you and the crumpled up sheets that you had thrown off yourself after Ace made you sweat all night with his insanely high body heat. You sleepily sat up and looked around but it looked like Ace had already left.

He was a division commander, so he was busy a lot of the time. You didn't think too much about it and trudged back to your room and freshened up with a nice bath. It was normal to even miss him at breakfasts sometimes so you didn't realise until half the day had passed that Ace was avoiding you.

Unbeknownst to you, Ace had woken up and remembered what happened last night. He was mortified and embarrassed and didn't know how to face you after that. He fell asleep in the middle of sex?!! How could he have fallen asleep in the middle of the one thing he had wanted to do so desperately for months now? And you had even gone all out yesterday, dressing to seduce him (not that you needed it, but it sure had helped speed things up) so for him to fall asleep like that… You must be so upset with him!

Ace just ran out and started on his work, avoiding everyone else as much as he could. The other commanders were giving him suggestive looks or asking him how it was and all Ace could stammer out were nervous lies. There was no way he could let anyone find out what had actually happened. They would never let him live it down.

Of course, he already knew that he couldn't hide it forever. After all, you were definitely upset with him and might even break-up with him and then everyone would know what had happened the night before. And then Ace would have to jump off the Moby Dick in mortification and also as an apology to you.

"You're not being very subtle," Marco's comment made Ace freeze. The two of them were currently going through some data compiled by the recent investigation team. Outside, the sun was starting to dip beneath the horizon. "Did something happen with (y/n)?"

"Uh, no, why would you think that?" Ace didn't think he was this bad at lying. Maybe he was just terrible when it came to things related to you. Even he knew that his nervous smile at Marco wasn't convincing anyone, not even himself.

"Avoiding your lover after you finally have sex with them, for one," Marco said pointedly without looking up, "is a sure sign that something's not right. What is it? Was it bad? Did you have a fight?"

"I kinda wish it was that," Ace admitted, giving up on the papers in front of him and also on trying to hide what happened. Marco could see through him a bit too much.

"That bad?" Marco finally looked up with a raised eyebrow. "I'm curious what could make you say that but, regardless of whether you want to tell me or not, I'd say you better figure it out soon. (Y/n) is looking really upset, you know."

"I…" Ace sighed and buried his face in his hands. You were the best thing to happen to him. He had liked you for so, so long and when you accepted his confession (that had been a complete disaster too, what with a bar set on fire, his bloody knuckles and the bloody tooth you had found in your hair), it had felt a lot like a dream. You liked him back too and said yes even though he fucked up the confession. But now he had gone and fucked up again. You deserved better than all this, right? "I need to fix this. But I don't know if I can, or how to even."

"You could start by apologising for whatever you did wrong," Marco suggested.

"How do you know it was my mistake?" Ace pouted. Marco just smiled in amusement as he looked back to his papers again.

"Doesn't take a genius to figure out it wasn't (y/n)," he answered. "An apology and your honest feelings would help. I don't know anyone who would accept and forgive you as easily and quickly as (y/n) does."

Ace sat there in silence for a few seconds, thinking over the words. You deserved better, yes, but all that meant was that he had to better himself. It's not like he would just give you up. After all that time he had spent on trying to get you to like him back, he sure as hell wasn't giving you up without fighting for it. He would beg on his knees if that's what you needed, but he would get you to stay.

"Um, Marco?" Your voice startled Ace and his head snapped towards the door where you were standing nervously. "Could I borrow Ace for a few minutes?"

"Of course," the first division commander flashed you an easy smile. "Just make sure he comes back. He still has quite a bit to finish."

"I'll do it," Ace grumbled as he got up. You had come to him. You had made the first move. A part of him was sure that you were going to suggest a break-up but he told himself that he was jumping to conclusions. You wouldn't do that… right? "Let's go to my room to talk?"

"I was going to suggest that," you smiled weakly at Ace. The two of you walked in awkward silence; it was so unnatural and Ace hated it. Your relationship stood on the basis of your friendship and the ease with which you treated each other.

Once inside the room, Ace closed the door behind him and gestured for you to sit on his bed. You did so and Ace settled down next to you. Silence rang in the room for a few more seconds.

"Did–"

"Are–"

The two of you abruptly cut-off.

"You go first," Ace said hurriedly. You worried your lower lip between your teeth before you spoke again.

"Did I do something wrong?" Your voice was small. Ace had never heard you speak in such an unsure manner. You were fidgeting, playing with your fingers nervously. "You've been avoiding me all day, Ace…"

"I'm…!" Ace reddened in embarrassment. Rubbing the back of his neck, he turned to face you properly before he spoke. "I'm the one who made a mistake. I have been avoiding you out of embarrassment but, you deserve better than that. You deserve a proper apology for last night–"

"Apology?" You were confused. "For last night?"

"Yeah, I," Ace was confused by your confusion. Weren't you upset with him?

"There's nothing you need to apologise for last night, though?" You tilted your head in question. "An apology for avoiding me today would make sense but… why are you apologising for yesterday?"

"Aren't… you upset?" Ace flushed, looking down at his own lap. "That I fell asleep in the middle of our… y'know."

There was silence for a few seconds before you burst out laughing. Ace looked up in surprise, finding you laughing through watery eyes.

"You thought I was upset about that?" You were giggling and Ace didn't really understand it but it didn't look like you were upset about it. "Here I was, worried that I did something wrong and that you didn't want me anymore and you were avoiding me because you thought I was upset you fell asleep?"

"So, you aren't upset?" Ace asked, bewildered at your reaction. You beamed at him and shook your head then folded up your legs to inch closer to him. You straddled him and sat yourself on his lap and Ace automatically wrapped his arms around you so that you wouldn't fall.

"Why would I be upset, silly?" You smiled at him, eyes soft and full of love. "I admit that it was shocking but it honestly just made me laugh. It was unexpected but it's nothing so bad that you need to hide from me, Portgas D. Ace. I knew what I was signing up for when we started dating. Honestly, I'm just glad you fall asleep in moments like these instead of on the battlefield."

"Hey!" Ace weakly protested but it died down the moment you cupped his cheeks in your palms and kissed the tip of his nose. You were smiling so happily at him and suddenly, all his embarrassment and mortification from before felt silly. "Does this mean I get a second chance to prove myself?"

"I wouldn't be against a redo of last night," you trailed a finger down his chest as you spoke, "but don't you have some work to finish, commander–oof!"

Ace didn't wait to hear you finish speaking before he toppled you onto your back, his frame hovering over yours just like last night. You didn't resist and pulled him in for a kiss. Only after a few minutes of making out did you look up at him slyly, flush and with spit-slicked cherry red lips.

"I guess it can wait for later, hm?"

°•❀•°

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#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece fanfic #one piece imagines #portgas d ace x you #portgas d ace x reader #portgas ace x reader #portgas ace x you #portgas d ace #ace x reader #ace x you #fire first ace #gender neutral reader #female reader #male reader

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firstdivisiongirl · 1 year ago

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Could I request Ace with a s/o who plays with their rings/necklace when their nervous/anxious. As a way to kinda calm them down?? I usually do this whenever I get too overwhelmed. I move my rings from finger to finger or spin them around a finger

Hi friend. This was a super cute idea. I love a good story with Ace. He is one of the most fun characters to write for. Please enjoy!

Ace x Reader: Calm

Everyone has habits. Thatch taps his fingers when he’s nervous. Ace zones out. But, Ace could never figure out what you do. It was one thing that bothered him. He wanted to know, so he could help you out instead of looking like a dumb boyfriend who knew nothing about his significant other. That was until one day.

The Whitebeard pirates were sailing towards a new island that was notorious for having a lot of marines on it. You kept playing with your delicate gold rings on your figures. You spun them around your fingers. You moved them around your hands. Ace noticed this and wanted to test this theory.

The next day you woke up and your rings were nowhere to be found. Ace put a note on your wooden jewelry box saying, “Marco wanted to clean your rings to make sure they look brand new. Sorry, I forgot to tell you.” You let out a sigh of relief. If anyone was not going to lose your rings, it was Marco. When you walked out onto the deck you went straight for Ace. You rested your head on his chest and thanked him for letting you know. You saw he was wearing rings, which was weird but you liked it. Three gold rings. Two on his left and one on his right. Suddenly, you saw a marine ship at the docks you were going to land at. You started to feel anxious and grabbed his hand and started playing with his rings.

“What are you doing,” he asked, looking down at you playing with his new rings.

“Just nervous,” you answered, playing with his rings. He started to notice you were calming down a little.

Seeing you calm down while playing with the rings made him feel happy that you were calming down. He wasn’t a fan of wearing rings, but if they made you calmer, he would wear them forever just for you.

Please do not copy, modify, translate, or repost my writing on other platforms. Comments, reblogs or likes are highly appreciated!

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nejibaby · 1 year ago

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lost

Pairing: Portgas D. Ace x gn!reader

“It’s been eight days since his return. Eight days since he was successfully saved in Marineford. Eight days since you’ve had him back in your life, in your arms, on your bed.”

Word count: 0.6k

When the sun is down and the sea is calm, it’s easy to lull pirates to sleep. It’s easy to succumb to the blanket of security that the evening offers.

But for the afflicted souls, it poses a bit of a challenge.

The sunset only serves as a reminder of what is to come — another night with troubled sleep and if unlucky, perhaps another bout of unshed tears.

It’s been 46 days since Ace left the ship against the crew’s wishes, and 33 days since you’ve started getting nightmares. So much time has passed to the point where you’ve somewhat established a routine after the nightly recurrence of your night terrors.

It starts with you waking up with a gasp, a hand automatically going to where your heart is, and the other gripping your flimsy sheets. Your head instinctively turns to Ace’s side of the bed and your chest constricts with the realization that he’s not there. You then stare at the weird bean-shaped dent on the wall Ace happened to create in one of his very vivid dreams. And you lose track of time doing just that until your head starts to ache. You take this as a signal that it’s time to get up and go about your day.

At least it’s easier to get lost through the motions during the day. You could fool yourself into thinking that Ace is just on a mission to rescue an ally or that he’s just on the other side of the ship, dilly dallying with the other Commanders while you’re doing your daily chores.

But even then, you’ve grown quite numb without his presence. You couldn’t find it in you to smile genuinely or to chuckle halfheartedly to jokes. And not just that, tears seem to evade you as well.

His absence has drained every emotion out of you — reduced you to a being almost incapable of feeling.

Almost.

Only in the dead of the night do you find yourself overwhelmed with everything that was, is, and could be.

But now, it’s been eight days since his return. Eight days since he was successfully saved in Marineford. Eight days since you’ve had him back in your life, in your arms, on your bed.

You’ve always thought that having him beside you again would equate to going back to the good old days where you’d bicker like an old married couple or play pranks on random crew members or simply talk about nonsensical things. There’d be no point in worrying about nightmares. You won’t have to reach out on his side of the bed because you’re sure he’d now be there.

You’ve hoped that with him back, you’d get a fraction of your old self back.

You suppose now that that’s just wishful thinking. Ace’s absence has changed you in more ways than one. It altered the chemistry in your brain. It threw you out of orbit. It shifted something in you.

You’ve modified your life to revolve around a world without him. And while this reality is much more miserable and pathetic, you’re uncertain of how to turn back.

You lost yourself when you lost him.

And now that he’s back, how can you even find your old self again when the times have changed you so much?

It makes you wonder, will all those godforsaken nights you spent trying to get over all the pain be for nothing? Will it just be thrown under the rug for his sake?

Because it probably shouldn’t matter, right? What’s important is that Ace is back, and he’s safe and sound. That’s all that matters, right?

Or is it?

i haven’t written anything in so longggg, i’m not sure if i did it right? pls lmk what you think 🥺

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onim5 · 9 months ago

Text

A stupid wish.

Why did you leave the window opened? Why?! Huddeling up to a small ball under the blanket you desperately tried to warm yourself. It had been warm during the day, so you had opened it for some nice air. But now you had showered. So laying here cold was on you.

Your mind said loud and clear that you can endure it. Though a small embarrassed part of your mind were thinking of a kind gentleman who were always warm. I wish, he be here next to me. And hug me, snuggle me. And . . . . Okay mind keep dreaming. It would never ever happen. Ace is to perfect to even lift a finger for you. You let out a sigh. It was a stupid wish. One that would never be fufilled.

You glanced at the wall beside your bed. Just on the other side Ace slept. Well he used to sleep there. But now he's the second division commander and sleeps far away. It had been two days since it changed, and you didn't think him sleeping all the way on the forth floor with the other commanders would hurt so much.

The door to your room opened and closed. Heavy steps creaked the floor and soon after a shadow hured over you. I just pretend to be asleep. You thought not wanting to deal with bullshit this late. With a thud the man laid right next to you with an arm over your form. Snores echoed immediately after and you crawled yourself up from over the blanket only to be met with someone's breath in your face.

It took awhile but after a minute or so your eyes had adjusted to the darkness. Your brain had it hard to process, but was that freckles, black soft hair, hard muscles, and Ace?! No wonder it got so nice and warm. I'm dreaming! There's just no way this is true. Why would he even come here? Wait, maybe a super tired Ace would go to his old room and take the wrong one!!!! AHHHH, WHAT DO I DO? WHAT, WHAT, WHAT?!!!! Thank god?

Ace arm stretched out and then took a grip around you. Some seconds later and you were literally one inch from his chest!!! His head leaned down on yours and you could feel the guy drool in your hair.

I pretend to sleep. . . . . . . Thank you. . . .

#portgas d. ace #fire fist ace #one piece ace #one piece x reader #one piece #portgas #portgas d ace #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d ace x y/n #onepiece #fire first ace

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sabo-has-my-heart · 11 months ago

Note

Heyy how are you Hope you're doing well and have some food and drink water you need it🫶

So about the request i was wondering if you would be able to make a modern au i am not really sure if you write modern au but if you don't want to make it modern au it's totally fine

It's a scenario with marco adopting a girl (maybe 10-11) who's tomboyish and making her his daughter and basically the whitebeard pirates being whitebeard company (if you write modern au) with pops as the ceo of course and them being a huge family. (I swear they are really family i want what they have💞)

i can imagine izo telling everyone you people can't handle a girl there need's to be a bit of feminine only for the girl to run away cause she found him intimidating but at the end they bond.

Also please can you include the ASL trio as if they are a part of the whitebeard family

I personally had this idea for so long and thought a lot about it that's why i want to see it come to life thank you so much for this chance🥹

Love ya

Hello my dear! So yes, I do write modern AUs, lol. Sorry I didn't get this out sooner, life has been... a pain. BUT! it's out! I hope it's alright, I had a hard time wrapping up the ending. In any case, enjoy!

Warnings: Platonic WBP x Reader, platonic ASL x reader, female!Reader

Word Count: 1450

Looking down at the little girl in front of him, Marco could feel his heart aching. He couldn’t imagine she was more than 10, 11 tops, but here she was, huddling under what little shelter she could find, trying to stay out of the rain. Walking in over to her, he held his umbrella out a little, covering her as well as he kneeled down. Looking up at him, e/c eyes looked up at him in curiosity and… was it… fear?

“What are you doing out here, little one? Surely you have somewhere you can go to escape the rain.” he asked softly, reaching out and placing his hand on her head. The little girl simply shook her head, looking down at the ground sadly. Marco’s expression twisted into a troubled one as he stared at her for a moment, “Come with me. I’ll get you out of this rain and get you something to eat, you look hungry.” Marco offered, holding his hand out for the little girl. She timidly looked down at his hand before looking up at him. He looked like a kind man, nothing like those who sought to kidnap her or hurt her. Tentatively, she took his hand, allowing him to lead her away.

That had been 4 months ago. After taking her to the office with him, she’d immediately stolen the hearts of all the divisions, though it was a toss up as to if HR loved her more or R&D. No, no, neither of those were correct. The ones who loved her most were Marco and the company’s owner, Edward ‘Whitebeard’ Newgate. It hadn’t taken a lot to adopt the girl, once she’d finally been willing enough to give them a name and her previous orphanage. None of them had known much about her, but it was clear that she was a little cautious, something that none of them had much cared for. She was far too young to be this distrustful of people.

Sitting in his office, Marco smiled as he watched his new daughter play in the, now renovated, room next door. The very instant the adoption papers had been signed, Pops had begun renovating what had once been an office next to Marco’s, turning it into a playroom of sorts for her so that when she wasn’t at school, the entire building could come and fawn over her instead of leaving her with a daycare, something they had all been vehemently against. Crawling into one of the human sized hamster tunnels, she was immediately off once more, ruffling the new dress Izo had gotten her. The man would sigh, but leave it be. So long as she was happy, it seemed that the rest of the office was as well.

Hearing his office door slam open, Marco couldn’t help but jump, looking up to see a familiar straw hat and smile.

“Is Y/n in here? Ace said she was in here!” Luffy asked excitedly, running towards the door to the playroom before Marco could answer. Even though the boy was a good 7 years older than her, he seemed to be her closest friend, the two of them often getting lost in the tunnels together as they ‘adventured’ across the building, the human hamster tunnels winding through almost all of the offices of the upper two floors.

“Luffy! Get back here! You made a promise to Ace and I! Homework first then Y/n!” Sabo shouted, running into Marco’s office soon after and joining Luffy in the tunnels. The older blond could only laugh as Sabo chased after Luffy and Luffy chased after Y/n. Pops had taken Ace in after the death of the boy’s parents, being Ace’s godfather. Roger and Pops might have been rival companies, but contrary to what the press often said, had been surprisingly good friends. Sabo had been taken in after Ace, Pops filing for custody against Sabo’s parents after a fire left the boy with horrible burn scars. The one he wasn’t sure of, however, was Luffy. The boy had his own home, perhaps not the most attentive father, but a good man. His grandfather had found a… nanny to take care of him from time to time, yet the boy had still wound up with Ace and Sabo more often than not. Still, it seemed to be for the best since Luffy and Y/n got along, so he couldn’t be upset.

Another bang made Marco jump, seeing Ace and Izo in his doorway.

“Marco! Did Luffy and Sabo come this way? Sabo called me saying that he was chasing Luffy and they were headed this way!” Ace asked, making the man smile.

“In the tunnels, best of luck, don’t forget to take off your shoes.” Marco said, gesturing towards the tunnels, the black haired young man soon darting after his brothers.

“She’s in the tunnels again?! But… but I just got her that dress!” Izo said with a sigh, looking down rather dejectedly, making Marco laugh.

“And she loves it… when it isn’t hindering her ability to move.” Marco said, thinking to this morning when he had her put it on for school. He wasn’t lying, she’d been rather happy with the dress, finding that it wasn’t too restrictive, it was comfortable, and it was cute.

“I haven’t even gotten to see her in it. By later today, it’ll probably be too covered in dirt and scuff marks. How is she supposed to learn to be feminine when she spends all her time around Ace, Sabo, and Luffy!” Izo grumbled, tucking a strand of loose hair back.

“I’m sure she’ll be fine. Once she warms up to you more, you’ll no doubt be able to dress her up as much as you’d like.” Marco said with a comforting smile as the man in front of him sighed in defeat.

“I don’t know why she doesn’t like me, Marco. I’ve tried being nice to her, but she always runs behind someone else.” Izo lamented, crossing his arms as he stood in the doorway.

“It’s because of your first meeting. You pushed everyone aside to meet her, carrying a dress. She figured that anyone that can push away that many people so easily while managing not to rip a dress was terrifying.” Marco said with a chuckle. Izo sighed and nodded, his shoulders sagging as he leaned against the doorframe.

“I suppose you have a point. Everyone here is rather tall, aren’t they? Well… tell her there’s some mochi in the fridge for her. It’s a recipe I learned from Toki.” Izo said, turning to leave.

“You… made me mochi?” a small voice called out, drawing Izo’s attention to the glass playroom doors. Izo smiled gently as he looked at her, nodding.

“Yes. Your favorite, in fact. Marco told me what you like, so I thought you might enjoy some in the form of mochi.” Izo said softly, his heart melting at her smile.

“Thank you, Mister Izo. I’m… I’m sorry about getting your dress dirty.” she said, moving to dust the front of her dress off as if that would help.

“It’s alright, little one. How about you and I go shopping one of these days. I’ll buy you something we can both agree on.” Izo said, feeling himself becoming putty for the little girl. Much like the others, he’d already adored her, but Marco was pretty sure she could get Izo to kill for her with that little smile alone.

“Y/n, why don’t you go with Izo now to get that mochi. You can eat it while you finish up the other half of that homework.” Marco suggested, watching Izo smile at the idea of her going with him to get the mochi. Looking down at her dress, her brow furrowed as she once more attempted to wipe the scuff marks out of the knees.

“Don’t worry, little one, I’ll get you something better when we go shopping.” Izo said softly, giving her a warm smile. Almost as if a switch flipped, Y/n was smiling at him and running over, happily taking his hand as he led her away. Marco smiled and sighed softly, watching his daughter walk towards the break room. Even as Luffy ran out of the play area, Sabo and Ace hot on his heels, he couldn’t help but find himself feeling content. The company had always been a family to him; chaotic, loud, and messy, but a family, and seeing his daughter warming up to Izo, playing with Ace, Sabo, and Luffy, and often seeing her with Pops, he couldn’t help but feel more and more like a real family. Even if the family was the entire company.

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trashytoastboi · 1 year ago

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I really love your writing! Some of my favorite headcannon are the reader scared of physical intimacy due to trauma, could you do those headcannons for Ace and Sabo please??

Heyya bean! I apologise for the very, very long wait >_< I've finally gotten around to writing things again, I'm thankful you enjoy my writing and hope you enjoy~

🍞 Headcanons: Kid, Killer x S/O who is afraid of physical intimacy due to past trauma

🍞 Headcanons: Zoro, Law, Marco, Katakuri x S/O who is afraid of physical intimacy due to past trauma.

Headcanons: Ace, Sabo x S/O Who is afraid of physical intimacy due to a past trauma.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

> (Gender Neutral) <

> Warning: Implied abuse/mention of panic attacks. This includes implied trauma due to something in the past, if you think it will be triggering for you please avoid this. It is written and intended to be a comfort piece, but first and foremost take care of yourself and mental wellbeing🍀

Portgas D. Ace

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🔥 Ace has a very physical love style, he enjoys expressing himself through touch and affection. Though it makes the situation at hand all the more difficult, he would never complain or be upset about it. He understands, he truly does. Ace just doesn’t understand how else he can fully convey his love other than affection. He believes actions weigh more than words and even though he always tells {Name} just how much he loves them, it just never felt adequate. Ace never once desired to push {Name} beyond their limitations.

🔥It was obvious there was aversion to touch and affection. {Name} had always kept people at arm's length, Ace was a little closer than most and he treasured the trust placed in him by his partner. Ace came to learn through their mannerisms and occasional openings in their guard about how they were uncomfortable with physical touch and the idea of being intimate. Ace held off on affection, unless he felt {Name} was having a good day, he moved slowly and always checked to truly make sure they were fine. If any minute reaction showed discomfort or fear, he would leave them be and comfort them when {Name} apologized for being this way.

🔥Ace felt there were strides of progress, regarding his relationship with {Name}. They had gotten into a comfort zone of sorts, hand holding and the occasional hug was steadily becoming more frequent and comforting, sometimes it was even {Name} to be the one to initiate. Maybe due to the constant security and comfort Ace provided, {Name} felt safe enough to divulge their very painful past. The trauma that made them this way and how that trauma made even the most gentle of touch feel like fire and fear in one fatal combination.

🔥{Name} dug deep to pull everything up and out. They thought they would be ready to discuss everything, it proved not to be the case. The revisitation of trauma set the panic deep in their bones, they choked up. The cold feeling began to run down their shoulders, down their back as the feeling faded from their hands and feet. The tears came out uncontrollably. Ace panicked internally, he didn’t want to show it outright in case it made {Name’s} current state worse. He comforted them, speaking in a soft voice telling them it was alright not to face it right now, not until {Name} was ready. He informed them over and over again how {Name} never had to force themselves to do anything.

🔥They sputtered never ending apologies on repeat, alternating between words of self blame and apologies to Ace. This had sent {Name} back into the worst possible mindset, thanks to how adamantly and patiently Ace listened, comforted them and gently hushed their apologies. He deemed the apologies unnecessary, after all there was no reason for {Name} to say sorry when they were never the ones in the wrong. Maybe it was that very warmth and comfort that helped them gain a grip, something that helped to steady their uneven and shallow breath, easing the pain in their chest. The world stopped spinning and they were calming down.

🔥Ace inwardly blamed himself, the initial happenings he knew was not his fault. He just spiraled with the concept that maybe had he just not been so eager, or forthcoming and overwhelming with his advances then {Name} might not have felt so pressured to discuss this, or put themselves in a position to relive their worst trauma. {Name} never once actually thought like this, they felt so trusting of Ace that they wanted to tell him. Ace smiled on the surface, a soft and meek smile. One designed to comfort his partner without alluding to his true thoughts of guilt and self blame.

🔥It took a lot of communication and understanding to see where both of them were. Trying to hold these fragmented talks while suffering in their own thoughts was only hurting them. {Name} took Ace’s comfort to heart, knowing they weren’t obligated nor were they ready to talk about things and that was okay. Ace communicated his own misunderstanding and insecurities, the talk was difficult but they found a middle ground. A comfortable place in which to meet each other emotionally, taking it one step at a time.

Sabo

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🎩 Sabo noticed the hesitation, it was not outright. Hidden, disguised as if {Name} didn’t want him to know. He loves them too much not to notice how they stiffened; the anxiety that passed through their eyes and contorted their expression into fear for an instant. The nervous stumbling of their words when Sabo pulled away in surprise worried about accidentally hurting them. Given his injuries, his scars that remained Sabo related their reaction to something similar. His body had healed, on the surface. The trauma remained and it took a long time without him having to flinch away, associating touch with treatment of his injuries and the grueling pain he had to live through during his recovery. Or how he hated his scars when they first started to settle, the uneven and rough skin under his fingertips. He learned to accept them, live with them and in time liked them as it was his proof of survival, he was still alive. Sabo likened it to a deep rooted trauma, he didn’t bring it up but his actions became more reserved in nature.

🎩 Sometimes it can take the smallest thing to fall over the edge, Sabo’s more and rarer playful side came out when he and {Name} were sharing some banter, joking around and the like. Sabo playfully grabbed their wrist in the hopes of pulling them in for a kiss, but what ensued was nothing he expected. {Name} was fine one moment, the next it looked like their world shattered. He let go, panicking and asking what happened, did he grab too hard? {Name} shook their head, dismissing it with a strained smile. The cold sweat didn’t convince him when they showed so much fear. Sabo had noticed it a while ago. He gently broached the topic, not wanting the details but he needed to know. Sabo wanted to know how he could help. How he could protect them and prevent anything that could hurt them.

🎩Nothing really could have prepared Sabo, for what {Name} entrusted to him. A very bleak and too upsetting for words recollection of the incidents that made them this way. Sabo felt angry, towards the people who hurt his partner, towards himself for not realizing some of his actions could have triggered them. Logically, he knew it wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know of the situation and couldn’t change it. He felt sad seeing how heartbroken and frightened {Name} was. Not only from recalling the vivid and horrific memories but also from their fear that Sabo might perceive or treat them differently, in a bad way. They had been on the terrible side of listening to those who blamed {Name} for what happened in the past. {Name} grew to believe what was said, that it was their fault.

🎩 Listening to how their words laced their own blame into it. “I shouldn’t have… they wouldn’t have.. I was the one…” Sabo only grew angrier towards the people, the vicious attitude they must have had upon saying those poisonous words to {Name}. Things that led to self doubt and blame. Sabo approached them, carefully enough to see if his touch and comfort would be welcomed. He could only hold them, swallowing his own anger. He pushed it aside, to whisper the words of validation they so desperately needed. Even the simple statement “It wasn’t your fault.” Brought tears to {Name’s} eyes, his voice resonates so deeply, unearthing all of those suppressed feelings that they held back. At this point all Sabo could offer is comfort and security, away from the memories.

🎩 He tried to take their mind off of it. Trying to calm {Name} down and offer whatever reassurance he could. From the beginning he had been undemanding. {Name} never felt things in the way of obligation, they never felt forced to do anything. Sabo had created a safe space for them truly, one where they learned the hardships of healing but healing nevertheless. He helped and supported with what he could. Giving {Name} space when they needed it, giving them comfort and support when they wanted it. Sabo knew he could not change the past, nor what happened to his partner. But he could try to help them now and in the future. The past may have been full of hurt and terror, he tries, strives to make sure that the future will never be like that. Neither for him, nor {Name}.

#one piece #sabo #portgas d ace #trashytoastboi #gender neutral reader #one piece headcanon #fluff #comfort #sfw #one piece imagines #fire first ace #ace x reader #sabo x reader #gn reader #gender neutral pronouns #i am proud of my silly toast dividers

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alex-hq08 · 8 months ago

Text

🤭🤭🤭

Character(s): Portgas D. Ace, AFAB!Reader, Marco (Mentioned in passing)

Plot: You wake up stuck in a tight storage box after a beach party with the crew. To your surprise, you're stuck in an unfavorable position with another person... Portgas D. Ace.

Warning(s): NSFW (18+) Content | MDNI, Mild Choking, Drinking (Mentioned in passing), Accidental Sex, Accidental Penetration, Weird Circumstances but you both roll with it anyway, Creampie(s), Multiple Orgasm(s), Excessive amounts of cum (From both of you), Slightly pervert! Ace. Plot what plot? Porn with no plot. — For missed warnings, just DM! 🫡

Note: Ace gets me horny af — 3.9k words of pure filth.

You were blackout drunk last night.

Which is why you didn't know how exactly you ended up in this position, or place. Pressed so close, with the feeling of someone behind you in this extremely cramped place. You could barely see once you woke up, eyes still adjusting to the dark environment. You groan, trying to wipe your eyes, but even that was difficult. It took a few minutes before you felt rustling behind you and realized that the other person who got stuck with you in this unfortunate situation was just getting up as well, yawning loudly.

"Hm? Where are we— Huh? Why is it so cramped in here? Can't move my arms." He says.

You press your head against his accidentally. "Ace!"

Ace groans, and you utter an apology. "Sorry, I didn't mean that. I thought I was stuck with a stranger for a sec."

Ace hums.

"At any rate, we have to get out of here. But I can't move my arms..." You mutter.

"...I can just burn this thing down."

You seethe, and you move, or at least try to. "You want to burn me too!?"

"Ah, right," Ace replied dumbly.

It was quiet for a bit as you both pondered over the whole thing, with you trying to see if you could move your arms more to try and push at the ceiling. It wasn't until Ace called you out quietly, "...(Name)."

"Yeah?"

Ace stopped, thinking whether he should tell you what's on his mind. But he does. "Can you stop moving for a bit?" He says, voice a little shaky.

You hum. Curious, did he find a way to get out of here? "Why—"

Then you felt it—something hard poking through you. You were in a bikini, which you can still mildly recall why. The Moby Dick landed on a summer island yesterday, deciding to relax and have fun for a bit; the crew went on to have a beach party that lasted for the whole day. Then you got drunk sometime in the evening, and... that was it. That was all you could remember.

This is exactly why you froze immediately, hands pressing onto the hard surface before you.

"W-What's that?"

Ace clammed up. He was glad you weren't facing him because it was humiliating for this to happen; at least he didn't have to face you as he said it. Ace pretends to clear his throat and looks away, afraid that if his eyes drifted to you, he'd impossibly meet your gaze. Who knows, maybe you had eyeballs behind your head. Ace can't risk that!

"Morning wood." He finally airs out.

The boy half-expected you to sputter, react violently, or try harder to escape this space. But you were silent, and Ace didn't know if he should be relieved or even more worried.

"W-well! We should find a way to get out of here quickly, then. So..." You pitch with a voice shaky, while your shy demeanor is evident, which makes Ace smile lightly despite the current situation. It's only now that he noticed your bare neck, hair splayed onto the side like his arm beneath his head. After his eyes adjusted, he could see your position more clearly, how you curved right into him, how his legs and yours were tangled, how soft the skin of your thigh was beneath his free hand that laid openly on it. His eyes quickly darted upwards to rid himself of his thoughts, but on the way, he saw your squished mounds. Even through the side, he wished he could get a better look.

Fuck. Ace felt his pants stir, he felt his dick twitch at the realization of your closeness. He tried to distract himself, squinting into the dark and focusing on other things, so he stared at your hidden face and saw how your ears were visibly more red than the rest of your skin; rather, dark. Darker than the rest of your skin. Were you blushing? So cute.

Ace grunts and you make a small noise that makes the boy grasp your thigh tighter, and his hips move on instinct.

Realizing his actions, he was quick to sputter an apology. "S-sorry! I— I didn't mean to."

"M sorry too..." You mumble out, followed by heavy breaths. The small space was heating up quickly, and it was not because of Ace's devil fruit. Ace's hand on your thigh felt heavy and searing on your skin. A small sheen of sweat was forming on both your half-naked bodies that craved lesser and lesser distance from each other. It didn't help that Ace was drawing mindless figures on your exposed skin and was practically breathing down your neck.

"(Name)..." He whispers deeply, slowly moving his hand up from your thigh to your hip, where the small string of your black bikini hangs. His fingers went underneath them for a bit, only to pinch the skin there lightly before caressing up to your stomach, making it clench from the ticklish sensation.

"Ace... What are you... Hng~" Your moan cut off the question as his hand moved to one of your covered breasts.

"You're so soft..." He says lowly, and you feel ticklish once more as his hair meets your neck before you feel a sloppy kiss and a small nibble on the skin that makes you mewl a little. Your eyes and his were half-lidded at this point. Neither of you knew if this hazy delirium was from the lack of air or pure arousal. Maybe both.

"S so hard, baby." Ace whines before kissing your neck to try and ground himself. And you know what?

"You can use my thighs..." You finally say. And you know that after you both get out of here, you'll be regretting that statement for the longest time, but... "L-Let's think about... Mhh," He squeezes your mound, thumb rubbing lazy circles through the thin bikini hiding your nipple. "The.. Uh," You turn mindless for a second, squirming and unintentionally grinding more against his erection, which in turn made him grind against you, too.

"...The consequences later."

Pulling his lips away from your nape where he gave you a nasty hickey from all his biting, Ace was simple in his reply. "Yeah. Yeah, okay."

And it was supposed to be simple, just like that. He'd hump your thighs, he'll cum, and you two can finally focus on finding a way to get out of this cramped space. But just as Ace finally managed to slip his heavy cock out that slapped your ass involuntarily, the peculiar box moved and flipped.

So now, he was on top of you. Arms caging you lowly, your breasts squished beneath as Ace tried with all his might not to crush you with his weight. But it was difficult enough to hold this plank-like position for too long. Not to mention that his dick was threatening to enter your barely covered kitty, probing at the leaking and pleading hole.

"Holy fuck, you're so wet."

"Sh-shut up. You can't use that..!"

Ace grunts, feeling the slowly creeping cramp on his forearms. "Y-yeah,"

And it slips both your minds even to ask or try anything to get out at that point because the next harsh rumble of the confinement forced Ace to half-crush you. By that, I mean that he accidentally pushed his cock all the way inside you, your bikini conveniently moving to the side because of your slick.

It took half a second for either of you to process what happened. But once that half a second of silence passed, it took everything in both of you not to bust right on the spot, heads thrown back and screaming, with Ace knocking the ceiling of the box with his own, but too deep in pleasure to even give a fuck about the pain.

"OH, FUUUUCK!" Ace moans.

"Y-YOUR COCK'S T'BIIIGG!" You squeal.

There was this bolt of electricity that ran through both of you at the same time, and you really tried your best, but Ace practically crushed your womb in one go and kept pulsing so good that you couldn't stop the snapping in your core. So intense and so, so wet, your orgasm started spraying all over your and Ace's bottom halves. You squirted. Pussy clamping up tighter than it already was, which Ace thought was impossible since he even briefly thought you were a virgin or something because he's never felt this way before. Never felt so pussydrunk.

Ace tried. He really did try. Tried to stop the cum from climbing all the way up his cock with teeth-gritting so harshly from all the effort. But your breathless moans, your arched back, your soft ass, and how you gave him a half-lidded fucked out stare from behind made all his effort go to waste. His cum sprayed as he grunted. His hips grinding into you was now outside of his control. All his body knew was that he had to push his dick deeper so you can take what he has to give.

"HNG! Take it out, take it— Ahhhh, hah... Ace...!" You involuntarily moaned out his name instead of calling it out normally. You couldn't help it. His hard cock managed to slip inside you and now you can feel him so deep inside you. So, so deep. Can feel his protruding veins pulsing, the intense twitching as it filled you... It was too much.

"I-I can't." Ace mumbled into your hair. Your scent was overtaking him, and it didn't help that it felt like his tip was inside something deeper within your heavenly pussy that sucked him in too good.

"Wh-what do you mean you can't?!" You reply, voice high and nervous as you trembled slightly just from the slight movement.

"Can't move my hips that far, baby. Too tight." For a second, you didn't know if he meant the box-like place you were trapped in or your pussy, already in a growing daze.

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the moans threatening to slip out. You could hear Ace breathe heavily behind you, and you think about how he's faring. Is he embarrassed too? Is he enjoying it? Or is he grossed out? Does he feel dread for being stuck in this with you and having no choice but to get off using you?

On Ace's side, however... Fuck. He feels bad, totally; he really does. He didn't mean to get as hard as he did. At first, it was just morning wood, and then... God, this is embarrassing. Because if this kept going as it did, Ace was definitely going to cum early. Again. It was embarrassing the first time. He couldn't possibly do it again the second time. For him, you were always this mysterious figure. He couldn't quite read you outside of being Whitebeard's daughter.

He shook his head, ridding himself of any complicated thoughts.

Let's think about the consequences later, you did say. So Ace thought with his dick when he made the stupid decision to let the fire burn from his back, making your eyes shoot back to him in a panic, which he only returned with a cheeky smirk. The next thing that met you both was the bright morning light of the sun. The abandoned storage box by the rocks and white sand of the beach has been blown to bits as Ace immediately kicked off the 'ceiling' he burnt to ashes, landing on the crashing waves and shocking the creature that was probably the reason why the box flipped around.

Ace threatened the lion with a smaller dose of his Fire Fist, hitting the sand and making the large creature cower and run back into the trees before he finally spared a glance at you, who was trying to get up already. Except you were still caged between Ace's knees.

In this light, Ace could see clearly your bare skin. He always knew you were pretty, but didn't really think much because of how you hid so much of your skin until... Well, until now. He wonders what changed. Eh, he'll think about it later. For now...

"Do.. Do you want to stop?" He shamelessly asks you with bated breath, hard cock slapping his bare stomach after briefly pulling out of you. He tries to stop his eyes from drifting down to where his cum was dripping right out of you, down to your exposed thighs.

"Do you want to stop?" You ask shyly.

Ace's eyes turned a little droopy as he dipped his head into the side of your neck, his dick now nestled between your thighs. He mumbled into the skin, proceeding to press a wet kiss on it before whispering in your ear as his hands drifted from your tits to the fat of your ass.

"No."

And it was fast going on from there. With the cover of the storage box gone, there was enough space for Ace to fuck you right where you were. He was stroking his wet dick whilst pushing you down, your hands finding recluse on the edge of the container. You looked behind, your eyes meeting. Ace wanted to eat you up, make the tears cascading down your cheeks increase, and he wanted to put you in so many different positions. But he knew, oh he knew, if he didn't fuck your pussy again, he'll probably never will ever again.

Ace leans in to lick one of your tears away, making you whimper. "You're so pretty, hm? My pretty girl." He says, the hand stroking his cock, moving on to tracing lightly over your stomach again, his tip catching right unto your hole as he teased, entering it only a little.

You noticed Ace moving from kissing you on the cheek to the lid of your eye and slowly moving to your lips, which made you yelp and interrupt him. "No!" Catching Ace by surprise, he watches you pursed your lips before he can even get a taste. Hm? So you'll let him fuck you, but you won't let him kiss you?

"N-no kissing..." You continue lowly, guilt sounding evidently from your voice, which made Ace chuckle. Ah, well, whatever. His lips move to pepper kisses to your jaw instead.

"Alright, alright. Don't cry." Despite being relatively the same age, it was incredibly cute how a pirate, no less, to be shy about kissing. Or perhaps you already like someone? Ace didn't know why, but the thought made him buck his hips with a hint of an ugly feeling in his chest. You moan his name loudly from the sudden intrusion.

"No one's ever taken me this well," He remarks with a punctuated thrust and a deep groan at the end.

"...Cause you've never tried me." You reply with a salacious tone while looking back from your shoulder and batting your lashes at him with the deep arch you were sporting, which almost made Ace's eyebrows shoot up from your unexpected boldness. But that quickly devolved into a smirk, his hands now grasping your hips tightly.

"Oh, I'll try you, princess." He says.

And that was the exact moment where you both started the full-fledged fuck that you were too shy to offer earlier. Brutal thrusts came from behind you as Ace's right arm wrapped around your breasts, squishing the mounds and stimulating your nipples with every slap of skin that had you drooling. His other free arm moved in front of your waist, fingers dancing around your sweaty skin until it reached your incredibly sensitive clit. The simple tap made you jerk and moan.

"So sensitive, you like being fucked like this? You ever been fucked like this, huh?" Ace talked a lot with you. In particular, he talked a lot with you because his previous endeavors usually were a one-and-done, noisier than he was usually, and he didn’t care enough for them that he was sure of. Though he had an inkling that would be the case here too, you just simply drove him insane, pussy making him babble on and on, making him wish that this’d never end.

"N-No, never been— Ah, yes! God, never been fucked like this, keep going, please, don't stop." If Ace knew any better, it would seem like you were the same.

"Have no plans to, baby, don't worry your pretty little head 'bout— Ugh... getting dumb on me." He grinds his hips against you, your womb directly meeting his thick tip. You were trembling, knees shaking, and Ace was holding you up with his arm by your tits, and his hand on your nub was the only thing holding you up properly at this point.

Unconsciously, steam was rising from Ace's back as he felt himself getting hotter the more he drilled inside you. It was a new sensation for him. The sensation of not wanting to stop until his balls are drained of cum. Luckily, he still had half— a quarter— of his mind not to burn you.

"Ah! Ah! I'm gonna cum again, Ace! Ace!" The warning made him hide his face into the junction of your neck and shoulder, biting the skin as he felt his orgasm rising and rising. His hips stuttered for a bit as his hand that wasn't furiously pressing on to your clit fidgeted with your right boob, pulling harshly on the nipple there, making you mewl. "O-OOOOH! Oh, God. You’re so goooood."

The boy was drunk on you, addicted, overdosed, and when your hand moved his, guiding it to enclose around your neck while you fucked yourself against his slowing thrusts to get you going again, endlessly mumbling:

"Don't stop, you can't stop, need your cum, baby. You hav'to give it to me. Please, please, please."

"If I had known you were going to be this cock hungry, I would've made you my slut a long time ago. Hm? You want to be my little slut, huh?" Ace's hand suddenly tightened around your neck, making you roll your eyes back as drool fell from the side of your mouth.

Amidst the sound of the waves crashing onto the shore, cicadas and birds singing in the tropical trees, the distant, heavy, and fast plap plap plap plap was mixing with nature's sound. Oh, and along with a shrill cry of:

"YEEEEEEEES! FUCK ME! I'M CUMM— HNG! I'M CUMMING!!" You squeal, pussy gushing out waters that could combat the ocean. The sensation made Ace grip you tighter, his already leaking cock and sticky thrusts where massive amounts of white strings of cum connected his and your hips together rode it out as he also was...

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" It felt like a huge load was taken right off his balls when he came, making him feel light and airy. His hips still thrust as you both sagged on the storage box, all fucked out and heaving. Both of you felt the burning sensation of sensitivity, and yet neither made a move to actively stop until minutes later, finally beginning the descent from your quick visit to heaven.

"That..." Ace heaves from behind you, hands roaming around your torso, feeling his clingy disposition coming forward. "Was the best fuck I've ever had." He refrained from adding, Please tell me it was the same for you, too.

"Me too..." You reply meekly, a little fatigued. Thank God.

"We should get cleaned up. The crew must've wondered where we went off to," Ace said, getting up, reluctantly pulling out of you before tucking himself back in his swim trunks. Hand gesturing to the calm ocean pulling and pushing at the clean sand whilst offering a hand for you to take. "Here, come on, let's get up, pretty. Look, we can wash quickly in the sea."

You unconsciously pout, which Ace finds cute, which is stupid because... Why didn't Ace pay attention to you sooner!?

"My legs feel like jelly." You complain lightly, facing him as you adjusted your crooked bikini that briefly gave Ace a quick flash of your nipples and the extremely soft-looking mounds that he had the privilege of feeling up earlier; it bounced as you adjusted the straps to cover them properly once more; eliciting a creeping blush from his neck up to his cheeks. He didn't get the chance to appreciate them fully, and the thought made him sag for a bit because he wanted to explore you even more.

Wanted to explore your supple thighs, see if you can make him cum just as fast with your hands... Or maybe your mouth... He loved the small pudge your tummy made when you sat curved as you made one last check on your bikini before looking up at him to flash him a gummy smile and a thumbs up. He returned the smile as you took his hand and got up. He unconsciously let it fall upon your lower back once you got up, and you both got out of the storage box and walked to the sea to wash off any remnants of your... Endeavors.

Ace briefly enjoyed the calm moment. You were both hip-deep in the waters; Ace opted to wash his whole body instead while you decided to splash some on your face and try to comb through your hair. When Ace reemerged, you gave him a soft smile.

"So..." Ace starts.

"Ace," You call.

"Oh, you can go first!" You both say, hands shaking. A sweat dropped on both your cheeks by the time you both finished saying the sentence at the same time. But Ace conceded, "Ladies first."

"It's not really a big deal. But, uhm," You begin, hands fidgeting with the string of your bikini by your hip. Ace was tempted to stare but looked into your eyes instead, listening intently. "This is a one-time thing, right?" A heavyweight.

I mean… “Sure.” If you want it to. “I mean— I mean, yeah. I don't—” I don't do relationships. “Yeah. It is. Don't worry.” He says, not meeting your eyes, hand suddenly finding intrigue in the stray hair on his forehead, pushing it back with the rest that was slicked back by the saltwater.

You let out a visible sigh of relief, and Ace didn't know how to feel about that. “Can you keep this a secret, please?”

“Why?” Ace immediately realized how it may have come off to you, “Wait, no! I mean, I will, but—!” Ace stops his rambling when you let out an airy laugh.

“You know you always looked so smooth when you flirted with other people,” you say between laughs. Ace’s brows furrow in mock frustration, a pout coming from his lips while his cheeks burnt. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

His faux anger dissipated when you lightly tapped your palm on his chest, making him look at you again, crinkles deep in your eyes. “Aw, don't worry. People like it, don't they? I can see why.”

“Sh-Shut up!” Ace raised his voice by an octave, trying to move into deeper waters. If he was any younger and was still going through puberty, he was so sure his voice would have cracked.

“Hey! I’m joking, I’m joking,” You say. But you weren't very convincing because you were still chuckling. “You’ll drown if you go too deep. I can't save you, you know. We’ll both die. I’ll tell you the reason, so come back.”

Ace stood for a moment, a few ways farther from you. When he glanced back, you looked at him with such simple, pleading eyes, sported with a cheeky smile to boot when he moved closer to relent.

“Fine…”

“...You have to keep this a secret, too.” Your voice grows timid, hand grasping his wrist now.

Ace doesn't speak, waiting for you to continue.

“I like Marco.”

#one piece smut #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d ace smut #one piece #one piece ace smut #one piece ace #fire first ace #ace d portgas #portgas d ace

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telephoniii · 5 months ago

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REALLY…HIM?

☆彡 in which professor trein judges your relationship with the NRC boys

NRC boys x Reader (minus Ortho)

Word Counter: 3K

Warnings: Reader is Prefect, Trein is your father figure, established relationship, possible OOC

A/N: life’s getting pretty hectic so i’m sorry if my upload schedule slows down. i hope you enjoy :>

ace trappola

Can’t say he’s surprised, just disappointed. It makes sense; he was one of your first friends. However, that doesn’t make him any less troublesome. Despite being a first-year, Ace is one of the biggest slackers and troublemakers on campus— much to Trein’s dismay. His main worry is that Ace will poorly influence you. He’s already seeing it with the two of you getting a crazy amount of detentions and scoldings for unthinkable reasons. You’ve got it rough already being from another world, you don’t need a devil on your shoulder convincing you to get into all kinds of trouble. It’s a real shame said devil is your boyfriend. He’ll allow the relationship and all will seem swell. Little do you know that he pulled Ace aside and had a long chat.

deuce spade

A fine pick; Trein is neither severely impressed nor disappointed. He doesn’t think Deuce is too bad, but he believes you could do better. Deuce will need to somehow prove himself to Trein. On the outside, Trein looks like he absolutely hates his guts. His eyes are always staring at Deuce with this sharp look and it gets the card soldier real nervous real fast. In reality, it’s just Trein keeping a closer eye on him + his RBF. He’s relatively neutral on the first year, yet Deuce is fully convinced that his professor wants to set him on fire.

cater diamond

Trein is very annoyed with your choice. He doesn’t like Cater’s social media addiction and would much rather have you hit the books than scrolling through Magicam. Not to mention, he feels as though something about Cater’s happy-go-lucky attitude is a facade, and doesn’t trust him around you. Cater finds Trein scary, but he’s not as intimidated as Deuce. As he does with Ace, Trein takes Cater to have a talk, and—surprisingly— his opinions on the third year improve. He doesn’t fully like him, but he’ll tolerate Cater more so than beforehand. Cater also offers to help Trein make a social media account; it’s cute yet chaotic all the same watching them bond.

trey clover

Before Trein can form a solid thought on Trey, the vice housewarden is subtly trying to win his favor. Trey knows how about his father-like connection to you and immediately shapes up. He gifts Trein different pastries and learns which ones he’s partial to. What really wins the professor over is when Trey starts volunteering to help clean his classroom after class. Trein won’t even know the two of you are already together and he’ll make comments around you like, “That Clover boy is real nice…” Needless to say, Trein approves of Trey long before he finds out you both are in a relationship.

riddle rosehearts

Trein immediately scowls when he hears the news of your relationship. You’d think he’d approve due to Riddle’s intellect and dutiful behavior. Admittedly, Trein does like that about Riddle. But he despises the boy’s bursts of anger, finding them childish and unfitting for a future mage. He’s seen the housewarden go berserk on one too many students and doesn’t trust he won’t do the same to you. Trein doesn’t want you walking on eggshells around your own partner. This is another one who’ll have to prove themselves to Trein. Riddle will be upset when he hears of Trein’s low opinion of him, but gets a surge of motivation to convince him otherwise. You’ll find Riddle working even harder on his studies than before you didn’t even think that was possible in hopes of gaining Trein’s favor. He’ll eventually get it. I imagine that Riddle does some small, heroic deed for you that really shows his love, and Trein just so happens to be passing by and sees it. Once your unofficial official father in Twisted Wonderland gets along with Riddle, expect to be nagged about missing assignments and homework a WHOLE LOT.

jack howl

Similar to Trey, he immediately knows about your bond with Trein. Instead of trying to win over the professor, Jack takes a more blunt approach. He goes straight to his desk after class and tells him about your relationship, being upfront about his feelings towards you. Trein respects it. He thinks that Jack has more guts than most on campus and trusts him to protect you. He’s quite supportive of the relationship, acting as a mentor for the both of you. You can catch him watching the two of you with a tiny smile, murmuring something along the lines of, “Young love.” The two of you remind him of his own marriage with his late wife. It makes him sentimental in a way.

ruggie bucchi

A BIG 180 FROM JACK. Trein thinks this guy is sleazy. Ruggie couldn’t care less in the beginning, finding it funny to practically hang off your shoulder while Trein stared daggers into him. Then it started to seep in that it may or may not be important to get Trein’s approval for a long-term relationship with you. That’s when he gets his act together and completely starts sucking up to Trein. He’ll help out with paperwork, errands, cleaning up, etc! All for free! much to his dismay All Ruggie asks for in return is Trein’s support for your relationship. He catches Trein by surprise with how well his work ethic is. The lengths the hyena goes to for you ends up leaving the professor impressed.

leona kingscholar

Professor Trein is both surprised and disappointed. Now how did this happen? He didn't think Kingscholar was capable of being nice to anyone, let alone get into a whole relationship. Well, he bugs you to tell your boyfriend to start showing up to class. He’s not exactly happy with you dating a huge slacker like him, but Trein knows that Leona is a smart boy. Brash and not his first pick, sure, but he wouldn’t play with your heart or rope you into anything stupid. He trusts Kingscholar to protect you. But if he starts seeing you begin to skip class— which is going to happen, Leona’s going to make you do it at least once— he’ll pull YOU aside and give you an earful. Tough love, unfortunately.

floyd leech

Hell no. All the red blaring flags. Now why would you go and do that? Really? Out of EVERYONE? You bet your bottoms Trein is actively speaking out against your relationship every single time he sees you. He doesn't even want to try to talk to Floyd. Trein is convinced you are addicted to getting in trouble and lets out the biggest old man sigh. Is there any way Floyd can win the professor’s favor? Probably not. And if there was a way, would Floyd even do it? Big fat no. Floyd thinks it is hilarious that Professor Trein disapproves, upping his affections around him with that toothy grin of his. And if you guys have a class together that Trein teaches? Chaos. Expect a lot of paper balls to be thrown at you.

jade leech

“Are you okay??” Is the first thing Trein asks when you tell him you and Jade are in a relationship. Doesn't exactly trust the boy, but Jade tends to behave around him. The professor has always seen him being picture-perfect whenever he’s around which is 100% suspicious, but Trein doesn't have any solid reasons to disapprove. Jade, like his brother, finds the whole situation very amusing. He’s always figuring out new ways to appear like the ‘ideal boyfriend’ to Trein. If he ever talks to the professor he’ll slip in a comment like, “I never disappoint, trust me” and it makes Trein distrust him even more.

azul ashengrotto

Now what bet did you lose for this to have happened? At least Ashengrotto is a star student, you need to hang out around more of those in his opinion. After confirming that, “No, no bet was lost,” and “No, he’s not paying for my love,” Trein was pretty alright with it. The Monstro Lounge is a student-ran organization, it's clear from that the young boy is capable and responsible. He just keeps a very, very close eye on you two. The last thing Trein wants is for Azul to take advantage of you since— knowing him— he seems like the type to do so. Expect frequent questions of “How’s your relationship going?” and “He’s treating you right, right?” Azul is going to get asked to stay after class to talk. Trein then proceeds to threaten lecture him on how to properly treat your lover. He just wants to make sure you don't get wrapped up in one of those contracts he’s heard about. Azul has quite the track record.

kalim al asim

Automatically assumes you’re dating him for the money and begins to ramble about how you should marry for love. Tells you about his late wife and how much he loved her— it is so sweet I'm actually crying. That's the kind of love he wants you to have. You’ve got to reassure him that, “Yes, my certified father figure, I do love him very much and I’m not just in it for the money.” After that talk, he finds the relationship sweet but kind of concerning. Kalim is a nice boy but severely naive and, frankly, incompetent. Trein starts to go a little harder on Kalim in class, not that he was going easy anyway. He scrutinizes the essays he turns in and chastises him for missing an assignment. As he watches you kiss Kalim on the cheek after getting an A, Trein can only sigh and think, “He’s lucky he’s rich.”

jamil viper

Trein’s pretty okay with him. He’s a level-headed guy with passable grades and the title of a vice housewarden. However, the professor did hear about his Overblot and does think that there's more beneath the surface. He doesn't judge him for his Overblot, no. But Trein does keep a closer eye on him to make sure he isn't scheming anything involving you. The professor also tries to push him to do better academically. He’s heard from you about how smart Jamil truly is and can see his potential, so he tries to get him to stop holding back. Jamil is a little appreciative of it and respects Trein as your father figure, but still isn't a fan of sticking out. Nor does he plan on giving into Trein’s attempts.

epel felmier

Is fine with the relationship at first. He was polite, soft-spoken, and a part of Pomfiore. Most students belonging to that dorm are pompous, but respectful nonetheless. Then Epel’s true nature comes out and Trein is constantly reprimanding him for horseplay. It's kinda funny how surprised Trein is by Epel’s country toughness. The professor definitely had his suspicions— nobody at NRC is innocent, he’s learned every student here has some sort of dark side— but he definitely wouldn't have expected this. A part of Trein actually prefers him like this. You are dating someone with a backbone who will defend you. He encourages Epel to be himself around him, promising a judgment-free area. They get along pretty well surprisingly, with Trein being a sort of mentor to him. Overall, very sweet and Trein approves.

rook hunt

In the most blunt way possible, Trein tells you, “Your boyfriend weirds me out.” He thinks Rook is an oddball for sure. No way around it. Is half convinced Rook is stalking him. Because he is. When you explained to your boyfriend about the bond you had with Professor Trein, he got way too intrigued and ended up ‘watching’ Trein like he does to Leona. It's not until the professor makes a passing comment about being paranoid that he’s being watched that you realized, “Oh shit my boyfriends stalking you.” You don't say that to him— you don't want Rook getting in trouble. So you settle on having a really long talk with Rook about it who reassures you he’d never disturb your father figure or the absolutely beautiful bond between the two of you. He still worries you sometimes when he goes missing and randomly reappears by walking out of Trein’s classroom.

vil schoenheit

Trein worries that Vil won’t make the time for you. He’s aware that Schoenheit is a busy boy as he’s missed his class plentiful in the past. He’ll make Vil stay after class for a little to talk to him about it, giving him a fatherly warning about being ready to fully commit to a relationship and the time it takes to manage one. Vil is, admittedly, insulted that Trein doubts his ability to wholeheartedly love you but takes it in stride. He sees this as a sign to up his game in the romance department and properly does so, dedicating more time to pampering you. The professor expresses his concerns to his coworker, Crewel, who talks his ear off about how much of a “good pup” Vil is and that he won't disappoint. Trein can’t help but agree when he spots you walking into class looking more freshened with slight makeup on and a new hair-do that Vil definitely did for you.

idia shroud

Once you break the news to Trein, he immediately asks to meet with Idia one-on-one. The blue-haired student rarely shows up to class! And that iPad isn't going to cut it forever! He needs to be able to size him up in person. Idia, naturally, is scared to death. At first, he immediately declines, insisting that they don't really need to meet up, the whole idea is stupid, and it’ll be fine if he stays right there in his room. Then you sit down with him and tell him how important Trein is to you and… sigh You landed a natural 20 on the dice of persuasion. Idia can’t believe he's doing this. You’re beside him the whole time as he stutters in front of Trein. Is Trein impressed? No, not at all. Yet your confidence in the Shroud and constant praise is reassuring. The professor’s going to make you force Idia into showing up in person in class. His attendance rivals Leona's.

sebek zigvolt

Doesn't really care for Sebek despite the first year's desperate attempts at trying to impress him. Sebek lost him after he started talking about Malleus when Trein asked about you. Ever since then, it’s just been him trying to win him back to no prevail. Kinda sad to watch. He’ll be the biggest gentleman ever: rushing to doors to open them for Trein, scrubbing his whole classroom for him from top to bottom, and yelling at other students to be quiet— though he was pretty much doing that before you two even got together. But every time Sebek gets close to winning the professor’s favor, he ends up going on a tangent about how amazing his liege is, and we're back at square one. You’ve got to rub him on the back and kiss him on the cheek while telling him, “Trein will come around one day!” Even if that day never comes.

silver

Not a fan. He’s witnessed Silver fall asleep in his class one too many times and thinks it's disrespectful. Once you tell Silver, he’s upset as it's not exactly something he can change, but will put in extra effort not only in Trein’s class but in all his classes. He studies with you beside him so you can prevent him from falling asleep when you see him get all drowsy-eyed. Trein immediately takes note of Silver’s hard work and grit as the boy passes his class with flying colors while asking if there’s anything he could do to help him after hours. It's only when he hears from his fellow teachers that Silver has been doing exceptionally well is he actually impressed. Afterwards, Trein will start being more understanding of Silver’s constant sleeping. He won't be any less strict, but he won’t lay into him for it as hard as before since learning it's out of Silver’s control. Trein thinks rather positively of your relationship, comparing it to the ones in the fairytales.

lilia vanrouge

A bit disturbed, to say the least. Lilia is older than him after all. Trein tried to keep a close eye on the two of you, but Lilia always caught him and pursued a staring match. Trein was always the first to look away. Lilia finds it entertaining. He tries to play tiny tricks on the professor, but you stop him at the very last minute. You sit down and try to explain that you deeply care about Trein and, by extension, what Trein thinks of him. Lilia proceeded to suggest that he brings Trein some cookies to win him over to which you immediately say no. Honestly, I don’t see Trein really ever warming up to Lilia. He just pretends the old bat doesn't exist and isn't your boyfriend. Lilia finds that incredibly funny while you're dying inside.

malleus draconia

The fact you were able to get close to the Draconia is an impressive feat to Trein. However, future ruler of Briar Valley or not, he intends to make sure that Malleus treats you right. Right when you tell Malleus that Trein is basically your father, the fae goes straight to the professor, confesses to him about your relationship, and swears to take good care of you with this ominous tone. Trein isn’t very fond of Malleus at first, struggling to decipher whether or not that introduction was genuine. It isn't until you go to him after class, gushing about the late-night walk you went on with Malleus yesterday and shoving cute little polaroid photos in his face does Trein begin to trust the fae. He makes sure to scold you for not being asleep at that time, yes, but he stares at one of the photographs for way too long, imagining you and Malleus as him and his late wife for a moment. A small smile appears on his face. However, he can’t help but think that the two of you are down a similar path; the happiest marriage ever, kids, and one lover outliving the other. A tragedy, but he’ll let you enjoy it while it lasts just like he did. As long as you’re happy.

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stuckinmymind22 · 4 months ago

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playlists | stay/is it over now? + better man

Chapter 1

pair: portgas d. ace x afab reader (she/her)

modern au | multimedia | musician ace | more info on story

tags: fluff fluff and more fluff, cursing, group chat alert, luffy cameo, goofy ace, also they’re both fucking stupid lowkey (she said like she didn’t write them that way) lowkey imply ace and reader are sluts (good for you!!)

mdni: please - look i can't tell you how to live your life but this isn't for you pls avoid thx

wc: 7.7k (i said it would be shorter and it's the same fucking length 😭)

excerpt:

“You wanna go back to my place?” Ace asks. After the words leave his mouth he seems to have realized the potential implications of them. His face reddens and he trips over his words, “N-Not like that - I -” You cut him off with a laugh, unknowingly bestowing mercy on the poor man, who knows he would’ve dug himself deeper trying to escape. This is by far the most embarrassed you have ever seen him, and it is kind of endearing. It’s clear that he has started to let you past his confident persona, and you appreciate the vulnerability. Your interruption gives him time to recover, at least a little bit. “I meant to like play video games,” he clarifies, scratching the back of his neck. To his relief, you readily agree to his offer, rather eagerly too. He probably shouldn’t read into that, right?

a/n: AHHHHHHH sorry it took so long i want to say it wont happen again but i am not predictable. also it turns out i really like the word mischief (thank you thesaurus or else it’d be in here 16 times)

we're working really hard on not second guessing every single thing i write, but i am in the trenches lol somethings might be cringe but that's part of the process idfk

important: theres a lot of text messages (well i feels like a lot) and i did my best to add in alt text so i hope that works if anyone needs it. lowkey starts off a bit choppy bc there's a lot of texts but it'll get longer i promise (this'll also happen again though)

song(s): there's a lot of songs in this chapter, so i made a list but they'll still be linked when used.

just a note that the songs don't necessarily reflect what happens in the chapter

stay - post malone is it over now? - taylor swift better man - 5 seconds of summer

here's the playlist for everything

He remembered, that’s the first thing you think when you hear the line. It’s a question about last night’s show. Because you told him how you were dreading it. Not only did he remember, he cared enough to ask.

Holy shit.

A confusing feeling blossoms in your chest when you figure it out. You don’t want to not read into it too much, but there’s a portion of your mind that is running wild. You're unsure of the exact intention behind it but it’s got you hook line and sinker – not that you are going to admit that to anyone, not even yourself.

Truth be told it is something you never would’ve thought of doing, talking with lyrics like this. Ace found a love language that you didn't know existed, much less one that you’re already fluent in. The platonic kind, you hastily tact on to the thought.

Knowing he’s already near his phone (judging by his quick response time) you’re calling him before you even notice you’re doing it. To your surprise, Ace picks up before the second ring, leaving you no time to second guess your actions. “You know you could’ve just asked me to call you, or call me yourself,” you tease, forgoing a greeting. Once he answered, talking to him came naturally, despite your initial nerves.

“Well hello to you too,” Ace laughs. His voice sounds even better than you remember, somehow. “And I know, but this is more fun,” the mischievous twinge in his voice has you wishing you could see his face in more than your mind��s eye. “So are you gonna tell me or do I have to guess,” he teases.

“I don't know, maybe you should ask,” you push back. Ace sighs exaggeratedly but relents. “I’m so glad you asked,” you giggle. You go on to tell him about the night before, which, luckily, went better than you expected.

Unaware, or uncaring, of the passage of time the two of you talk for nearly an hour before the call comes to an end. Your heart’s racing, you need to tell someone about this.

note: i completely forgot about kaya until i was adding the alt text to this and i dont wanna redo it, so please forgive me

Despite Ace making an effort to show up early, when he arrives at the cafe you agreed to meet at he finds you waiting there for him. You spot him quickly and wave him over wearing a big smile. He tries to ignore the way his heart picks up pace.

“Fancy seeing you here,” you say playfully, bumping his shoulder as he stands next to you entering the line.

“It’s a small world,” Ace shrugs, sticking his hands in his pockets, “Whatcha gonna get?”

“Why? You wanna copy me, Cowboy?” you tease, eyes flickering to his hat.

“Cowboy?” he questions, amused. “It suits you,” you shrug. Ace can’t help but recognize how this mirrors one of your first interactions when he called you doll for the first time.

The banter between the two of you flows freely, until you sit down at a table in the back corner of the cafe and your demeanor starts to shift. Ace watches you as you stare at the table and play with your hands. He can’t help but wonder what’s on your mind, he’s pretty sure he hasn’t seen you nervous like this before. Whatever inner turmoil you were experiencing seems to disappear and you look back at him with a disarming smile.

“I don’t think I asked this, but how long have you been performing? I mean seeing you play - it’s clear you’re a seasoned vet when it comes to crowd work cause that kind of skill doesn’t appear overnight,” your singing of his praises has Ace becoming flustered. He’s never been good with compliments.

It isn’t hard to see that he isn’t as confident in his abilities as he pretends to be. Logically, he knows that what you’re saying is true, but something in his brain refuses to believe it. Either way his cheeks flare up and he avoids your eyes until the red in his face has died down.

“I started playing shows a few years ago, in my late teens. Playing really wherever I could and I did that for a couple of years,” it’s at this point he looks at you again, “I had to quit for a few months but other than that it’s been nonstop since I started.”

“Was that when you joined the navy?” you ask. Ace is a little taken aback by your question, he didn’t expect you to remember something he told you in passing the first time you met. This time, Ace is able to hide the blush he felt creeping up his neck. He can’t help but feel ridiculous, he isn’t like this with other people. Besides, you’re friends, just friends.

“Yeah, I got pretty big over there,” he admits. “I even had a few labels approach me, but I wasn’t interested in working with them. One of them’s super persistent though. Like annoyingly persistent. I said I wasn’t interested and they didn’t let go. They’re a big one too, so not even me moving across the country stopped them from knocking at my door.”

“They’re still bothering you?” you raise an eyebrow. Shit, he was not supposed to tell you that. “If they’re that interested in you, you probably could get a good deal.”

“I’m working on it,” the words slip out of his mouth before he can think about them. Shit. He really wasn’t supposed to say that. Why did he tell you that? You barely know each other.

But then again, he’s always been a pretty good judge of character and for some reason he trusts you. Now that the cat’s out of the bag there’s no point in trying to hide it, plus he’s been dying to talk to someone about it.

Ace leans in, scanning your surroundings before whispering, “I’m not supposed to be telling you this, so you gotta swear yourself to secrecy.” Wearing an endearing, goofy grin he extends his finger. A pinky promise.

Donning a faux seriousness you nod in agreement. You’re barely able to contain your amusement as you swear yourself to secrecy. Something in Ace’s stomach flutters at you playing along with the bit, but he simply chalks it up to sharing information he’s not supposed to.

After the promise is made Ace tells you that “for some reason” this big label is dead set on signing him. You know the reason they would do that, you think it’s blatantly obvious too. You aren’t sure if he’s being coy saying that or if he doesn’t see how talented he actually is (it’s both). Because of their interest he has been given the upper hand in negotiations, which for an unsigned, relatively unknown artist, is practically unheard of.

He knows he probably shouldn’t go into the details but you look so cute intently listening to him like this. Plus you did pinky promise. “It is still in talks, so nothing is set in stone yet, but I’m not supposed to be discussing it,” he clarifies, you nod in understanding and he continues, “To be honest, I’m not even sure I’ll take the deal, even if they give me everything I want. I really like to be independent and not having to answer to anyone.

“However,” Ace’s tone turns mischievous and his eyes light up, “it is fun to see how far they’ll go.”

“So you’re trolling them,” you question, clearly amused by his antics. “Basically,” he confirms with sparkling eyes and a shit-eating grin. “But who knows? I might take them up on the offer” he feigns sincerity, pausing for a moment. You raise an eyebrow, knowing more is coming. “...Eventually, probably not though.” There it is, the roguish smile slips back onto his face. You shake your head but fail to hold back your laugh.

“‘s kinda annoying that they don’t leave me alone. And I’m doing fine without ‘em. I’m nearly halfway through my first album, just gotta get back in the studio – it’s been a while,” Ace chuckles.

“I don’t think I’ve been in a studio in years,” you confess.

“You make music?” he questions, a little surprised you didn’t bring that up earlier, although you haven’t known each other too long he supposes.

“I mean kinda?” you say more as a question. “I really enjoy production, I actually went to school for it.”

“For real?”

“Mmhmm,” you confirm, “that’s where I met Luffy and Usopp actually. We took a class together and Usopp’s the one who got me my job.”

“You should come into the studio with me sometime. Maybe you can show me the ropes or something,” Ace says so casually with a charming smile that it nearly takes your breath away.

“I don’t know, I’m definitely out of practice,” you confide.

“So?” he questioned, “I’m sure it’ll be easy to pick back up.”

“We’ll see,” you smile, leaving it open ended.

Your conversation wanders and by the time it dies down your drinks are long gone and so is your reason to stay, but neither of you truly want to leave each other’s company. A rare semi-awkward silence envelopes the table as the two of you independently rack your brain for some way to prolong your time together, neither of you aware that the other is doing the same.

You cut him off with a laugh, unknowingly bestowing mercy on the poor man, who knows he would’ve dug himself deeper trying to escape. This is by far the most embarrassed you have ever seen him, and it is kind of endearing. It’s clear that he has started to let you past his confident persona, and you appreciate the vulnerability.

Your interruption gives him time to recover, at least a little bit. “I meant to like play video games,” he clarifies, scratching the back of his neck. To his relief, you readily agree to his offer, rather eagerly too. He probably shouldn’t read into that, right?

~~~~~~

It isn’t until you are both standing in front of his door that the nerves really hit Ace. He doesn’t usually bring girls home, especially not just to hang out. Now that he’s thinking about it he has never brought a girl here since he moved in a few months ago. You’re kind of uncharted waters to him, he admits to himself. But there’s no going back now, besides, he wanted this– he wants this.

You can see the tension build in his shoulders as thoughts race through his mind. Ace opens the door, moving to the side to let you in first. You’re curious what’s got him stressed but you decide not to question it, instead you direct your attention to the interior.

The apartment is pretty standard for a single man in his twenties. It has all the necessities, a couch, a lamp, a TV (with its own dedicated stand, so that’s impressive), and a small coffee table. If anything it was above average out of the many similar places you’ve been to. The only things out of place were the guitar precariously perched against the couch and a litany of notebooks. Evidence of his songwriting. He moves the notebooks and guitars out of the way with great care.

“Um, what game do you want to play?” Ace questions, consciously trying not to be awkward.

You rack your brain for a game, it doesn't take you long to settle on one. It's a popular one that you're quite good at - there's the added bonus that it's competitive and you and Ace have a score to settle (not that this compares to drinking but it is a competition so it still counts in your mind).

“You’re in luck,” he says, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Little do you know that you picked the one he wants to play; it’s one of his favorites too. As he is pulling up the game he tosses you a controller. “I should warn you that I am pretty good at this one,” he teases, “But don’t worry, I’ll let you warm up. Give you a fighting chance and all.”

You scrunch your nose in mock offence. “I’m not worried,” you assert, holding your head high, “I don’t even need a warm up, I’m ready to kick your ass right now.”

“I like the confidence,” Ace responds, “but I haven’t played for a while so please.” He isn’t exactly lying, he hasn’t played the game in a while, but he isn’t exactly telling the truth either – he does genuinely want you to have a fighting chance and he knows that this way your pride won’t get in the way. Your eyes soften and you relent to his request.

After choosing characters and picking one of the easier maps you start playing. Despite being the one who claimed he needed a refresher, Ace is very talkative. The things he’s bringing up aren’t even related to the game, still you entertain him and answer his questions, finding it amusing that he’s unable to keep his mouth shut.

Somehow, you don’t notice how Ace keeps stealing looks at you – he can’t help it though. You’re sitting cross legged next to him, your knee just barely brushing against him, drawing his attention with every slight move you make. It doesn’t help that you look so pretty focused like this, your tongue peaking out of the corner of your mouth in concentration. Once again, you’re confusing him.

He tries talking to take his mind off of it but not only did that not work, it also made him awful at the game. In the first practice round you absolutely annihilate him. There is no other way around it. You tease him for it too, asking if he needs more time to warm up. Ace has no shame in taking you up on that offer, this time stepping up his game. He’s doing pretty well, your skill levels start to seem pretty evenly matched. Feeling more confident he risks a glance at you, and yet again his performance falters. This time he snaps out of it quicker, making a comeback and even winning the round.

“You ready to play for real, Dollface?” Ace challenges.

“You ready for your ego to get bruised,” you retort with a playful glimmer in your eyes. “I don’t see that happening, Doll,” he teases back. “You never know,” you say. Ace laughs, shaking his head.

“Best two out of three?” he questions. “Sure,” you agree, “but it won’t matter either way, I’m gonna crush you.” You know you’re not that good at the game but it’s fun to talk shit idk.

It doesn’t take long for the competition to heat up, both of your competitive natures coming to light. Playful smack talk becomes the backdrop of the rounds with both of you occasionally bumping the other to psych them out. Round three things start to get really tense, you’re tied and so the winner takes all.

Ace manages to take the lead by a rather significant margin, “Looks like I’m winning this one,” Ace beams, his victory seeming imminent.

“Not so fast, hot stuff,” you push back. The comment takes him by surprise, throwing him off of his game. His brain pauses, did you just admit that you also find him attractive?

“Oh so I’m hot stuff now?” he teases. He watches you freeze as embarrassment takes over. “I kinda liked Cowboy,” he continues, with a fake pout.

“It’s not like it’s a lie though,” you say, making momentary eye contact, “might even be more fitting.” Okay now you doubled down on it. Ace is definitely reading into it now. Even after he recovers from the initial shock he doesn’t refocus on the game, his attention now centered on you. You (unknowingly) take advantage of his distraction and manage to pull ahead and win the round.

Going to rub your victory in his face you notice that he is out of it. You realize that he was playing half heartedly and demand a rematch. You want to win fair and square. Ace complies and he wins the next one. You try to walk back the rematch claiming the victory was valid, but (predictably) he fights back. Best two out of three turns into best three out of five to best five out of seven. Eventually, you stop keeping score at all.

Laughter echoes throughout the room, both of your antics and tactics for winning getting more and more ridiculous. You can’t recall the last time you laughed this hard. You really like being around Ace, and that might become a real problem, but for now you push that to the back of your mind. It’s an issue for later, for now you want to concentrate on the present and enjoy his company.

Although you’d started at a respectable distance, that gap’s been closing slowly without your awareness. Following another win you turn to gloat and you realize exactly how close you are. Ace’s freckles are much more visible from here. Automatically, your brain starts painting constellations on his cheeks finding patterns in the dots speckling his face.

Your eyes fall down to his lips and stop their journey. It is clear that something has shifted. There is an unknown gravity that is pulling you in. You’re so close now, you can feel his breath fanning across your face. If you lean in just a little bit more –

The sound of the front door slamming open brings you back to reality. Eyes grow wide in joint surprise. Luffy’s greeting rings out through the room. Before he can suspect anything you move away from Ace, trying to bury your disappointment.

Ace, whose back is towards the door, shakes his head, muttering a curse at his brother before turning around. “Luffy, what did I tell you about slamming the door,” Ace shouts, chastising his brother. “Sorry,” Luffy laughs, kicking his shoes off.

You take the moment of refuge to process what just happened, well what almost just happened. It’s good that this happened actually, you reason with yourself. It would only complicate things in the long run. Imagine if things go south and you were forced to see him at work, no thank you.

Ace gives up on scolding Luffy for his repeated unannounced visits as the younger boy walks away into the kitchen. Hold on, why is Luffy here? “Sorry about him, he has keys to the place, which I regret giving him, and likes to show up and raid the fridge,” Ace makes a point to say the last parts louder, clearly intending for his brother to hear. Luffy’s boisterous laugh echoes from the kitchen.

Luffy must’ve caught onto the fact that Ace had company over because he exits the kitchen with curious eyes. Actively eating out of an open tupperware of leftovers, he scans the room catching sight of you on the couch. In classic Luffy fashion, he greets you excitedly – mouth full of food. Then he looks puzzled. “Why are you here?” he asks point blank. His abrasive questions are nothing new to you so you don’t take it personally.

“She’s –” Ace starts off, not getting far before Luffy cuts him off. “Oooo, video games! I wanna play!” Luffy exclaims. He quickly annihilates whatever it is he’s eating before returning the dishes to the kitchen.

Ace knows that Luffy isn’t the best at recognizing social cues and it isn’t even his fault. However, that doesn’t stop Ace from being annoyed. He is ready to throw him out by the scruff of his neck when Luffy reemerges. Luffy, still full of excitement, stands nearby seemingly waiting for permission to join.

Realizing Luffy would be a good buffer and help prevent whatever the hell nearly happened, you readily accept his involvement, but ultimately leave the decision up to Ace. Ace wants to say no, he really wants to say no, but you expressing your willingness for him to join and Luffy’s fucking puppydog eyes (Ace always has been a sucker for them, especially knowing that they are earnest everytime) has him caving really quick.

“Yay!” Luffy exclaims, running over to grab a controller. Luffy, for his part, is pumped to be hanging out with both of you guys. You’re two of his favorite people in the whole wide world, why wouldn’t he want to hang out with you together. He plops down between the two of you eager to play. You can’t help but chuckle at his extreme joy.

At first Luffy doesn’t play the game seriously, choosing to goof off. At one point he gets up in the middle of a match to go get (steal) more food, walking right past Ace who yells at him prompting Luffy to laugh. During his absence you and Ace focused on fighting each other, ignoring Luffy’s character – turns out that was a mistake. Luffy comes back, mouthful of food and manages to beat you both. And not by a little bit he destroys you both, claiming victory for the first time that night. In hindsight it was slightly suspicious that he was losing so badly when you remember him being somewhat decent at the game (as in he doesn’t die in 30 seconds, not that he wins).

After that the gloves are off, it turns out that Luffy is now good at the game, like really good. He goes on a winning streak. You’re rotating who is picking the map for the rounds and no matter what is chosen it’s like Luffy has the home game advantage. You and Ace grow increasingly more exacerbated, accusing him of cheating despite none of you knowing how one could even cheat at this game. He keeps laughing at the incredulous looks on your faces.

Luffy bags nearly half a dozen rounds before you start to do something about it. When it is Luffy’s turn to pick the map, Ace catches your eyes. Somehow you two have become masters at silent communications. Immediately you know that he wants to form an alliance to take his brother down. With your joint effort you manage to take him out. Both of you cheer in victory, seemingly forgetting that the match wasn’t over until Luffy brings it up. And the game is back on.

Luffy doesn't win a single round after your joint effort to take him out, but he laughs at how competitive you and Ace are. You end up going back down to a two player game while Luffy watches, periodically leaving for more food (you’ve stopped questioning how he does it at this point). Luffy eventually announces his departure – citing his hunger as the reason, which Ace knows means that he cleaned them out again.

And just like that, you and Ace are back to being alone.

Some of the tension from earlier bubbles its way back up to the surface, and it’s clear that the both of you feel it too. Even after forcing the energy to go away it still lingers; it’s background radiation now. Despite your feelings, both of you are pretending that you’re “just friends.”

Ace is the first to break the silence, offering you something to drink (scolding himself for forgetting to do so earlier). Luffy might eat all their food but he knows better than to drink all their alcohol/but at least he leaves the booze alone. You gratefully accept his offer.

However, you were not prepared for what watching him use a bottle opener would do for you/would awaken in you. Why the fuck is that sexy when he does it? You feel insane. It is not normal to have that reaction and it is definitely not normal to feel that way about a friend. The problem is worse than you thought, you have to nip it in the bud. Have you seen his arms? Dear lord. Even your thoughts betray you. Annoyingly, you can’t stop imagining the feeling of his lips.

The worst part is he’s none the wiser for it, but you intend to keep it that way. You beat the horny demon back with a stick (insert bonk meme). With some effort you are finally able to force the thoughts away at least for the time being. Once you return to normal, you realize he’s talking to you.

“-- I don’t know how he did it. He used to suck at that game and whine every time he lost, I can’t believe he wiped the floor with us.” You’re quick to catch onto the fact that he’s talking about Luffy’s insane winning streak

“I wasn’t expecting it either. Last time we played this at game night he was pretty bad at it. It’s crazy how fast he turned that around,” you say, slipping into the conversation as if you were attentive the whole time.

~~~~~~

“You’ve never seen it?” Ace questions, eyes wide. After getting some food delivered, the two of you had gotten onto the topic of your favorite movies and you have never seen his favorite. You confirm again that you don’t know the movie. He shakes his head, “That ain’t right, we gotta fix this.” A chuckle leaves your lips, but you don’t protest. Ace is already pulling the film up when he pauses and checks the time, “Ah shit, it’s getting late. D’ya think you have time for a movie?” he questions with a hopeful gaze.

Checking your phone, you determine you have at least a couple more hours before you’d get uncomfortable walking home. “I got the time,” you say and watch as a faint smile blossoms on his lips – the very lips you were staring at earlier, dying to kiss.

Calm down, you scold yourself.

“Okay, wait right there,” he says before dashing away sporting a childish grin. God, he is not helping your cause. He runs into the kitchen and moments later you hear the hum of a microwave. First you were horny and now you’re acting like you’re in high school. You need to pull yourself together. His footsteps pad off to somewhere else but you are no longer paying attention to him, at least you’re trying really hard not to.

The description of the movie starts to look real interesting, you read and reread it until you can think straight. By the time that happens, Ace is already on his way back with a big bowl of popcorn and a comforter, shutting off lights as he goes.

After setting down the popcorn on the table, Ace plops onto the couch. “Come closer, I don’t bite,” he teases, lifting up the edge of the thick blanket. “Unless you want me to,” he winks, it could just be the lighting but his eyes seem darker than before. Your breath catches momentarily at the insinuation before a chuckle runs through you and you scoot over to join him underneath the blanket.

Now satisfied that you’re all settled he presses play and promises you a cinematic masterpiece. It's hard for you to focus on it at first (or anything really), especially when you realize how close you are to him. In reality, you’re not much closer than you were playing video games, but under a blanket it somehow felt different.

It doesn’t take long before the story draws you in, pulling you away from your confusing thought processes. Ace, however, did not account for how distracting you would be. Oftentimes he found himself watching your reactions to what was happening more than the movie itself. He wants to think that it’s because he knows it so well he doesn’t need to look to know what’s happening, but that’s not true.

Not too long after the film started you catch Ace looking at you. “What?” you question with a laugh. He silently dismisses your question with a smile, turning his attention back to the screen. Shrugging it off you do the same.

Forcing himself to look at the TV instead of you turns out to be a good idea. This way you can no longer distract him. Ace falls back into the familiar storyline, getting absorbed by it.

A little bit past the halfway mark of the film you start to grow sleepy. At some point you got even closer together, now you can feel his body heat radiating off of him. Your eyelids are getting heavy. His smell is oddly comforting, between his blanket and the source the scent envelopes you. You’re struggling to keep your eyes open so much that you don’t even notice when you give in to the exhaustion.

A weight falls on Ace’s shoulder out of nowhere. It doesn’t take him long to realize what it is or rather who it is. He’s ready to tease you about it too but his heart melts hearing your soft rhythmic breaths and seeing the peaceful look on your face. He isn’t sure what to do, but he is pretty sure that it follows the cat rule; he is now stuck there until you wake up.

Ace tries to go back to the movie, but he is hyper aware of your head on his shoulder. With nowhere to go and no way to escape you he is forced to face how he feels about you.

In all honesty, you confuse him (to put it bluntly).

You’re friends, he knows that. Yet he wants more - at least he thinks he does. This doesn’t feel like it’s strictly platonic, there’s too much chemistry for that. Shit, he nearly kissed you not even three full hours ago. Troubling enough, he still wants to, and he has for a while now.

Ace tries to figure out what you are to him - what he wants you to be to him – but he can’t quite make sense of it. He’s never really wanted someone like this before and that scares him. Your dynamic is something right outside of his familiarity, he understands most of it but there’s some parts that are confusing.

He knows that he thinks you’re hot, and if earlier meant anything he’s pretty sure you find him attractive too. That part he understands. He also gets the whole friendship thing. What he doesn’t understand is why you using him as a pillow makes him so happy. Why did his heart race when you sent him back songs asking him to coffee? And most of all what the hell possessed him to tell you about his family?

Back at the cafe you had gotten to talking about your childhoods, which prompted you to ask him about his family. The question was innocent enough, it was clear that you just wanted to get to know him, but it came with baggage you couldn't have possibly known about. He normally doesn’t like talking about it but he felt comfortable with you for some reason. Some information about it he felt comfortable enough to share with you freely. He told you about his mother, the neighbor who had offered him refuge when he needed it. Hell, he even touched on Dadan and his life before his brothers. Then you asked about his dad. Once again you had no idea of how the topic of the man leaves a bitter taste in Ace’s mouth. As soon as you noticed how uncomfortable he was, you completely switched the subject. You did it naturally too, like you were trying to cover up the fact that you were giving him an out. You were so quick to bail him out of a conversation he wasn’t comfortable with. It made him like you more, trust you more too, enough that he was willing to circle back to the topic. He has been pushing the boundaries of what he’s comfortable with sharing already, so what’s a little bit more he reasoned to himself. Also, with how well the two of you get along, you were probably going to find out about it eventually. “I don’t talk to my father,” Ace stated emotionlessly, jumping head first into it during a lull in your conversation. You were clearly surprised by him bringing it back up, but you let him talk. “I’ve actually never met the man and never want to. I could if I did, I know where he is and how to reach him, but I have no desire to have anything to do with him,” a hint of bitterness seeps into his tone, contradicting the indifference he exhibited earlier. “Why?” your voice was small, the question seemed to have slipped out of your mouth before you could stop it, when you registered you had said it you clamped your hand over your mouth. “Ummm,” Ace hesitated, “he’s in prison, like famously so,” he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, no longer keeping eye contact. You could tell that he was debating whether he wanted to continue or not and you reminded him that he doesn’t have to tell you anything. That only strengthened his resolve. “I took my mom’s last name to not be associated with him. It’s funny that I’ve never had any contact with him and he still managed to fuck up my life,” he said with a half hearted laugh. He wasn’t entirely sure if he had the courage to tell you his name, but he ripped that bandaid off regardless, “His name’s Gol D. Roger.” Your eyes widened in surprise. Of course you knew the name, he braced himself for impact, or questions at least, but it never came. Instead, he got a look of confusion from you, “You didn’t do any of it so I don’t really care who he is.” Your reaction reminded him a lot of Luffy’s when they were kids, maybe that’s why he felt safe telling you. “Sorry about not having a dad though,” you said, catching him off guard. He snorted, but in the way that coffee ended up going down the wrong pipe and in his nose. “Oh my god, are you okay,” you laughed. Ace responded with a weak thumbs up and you pat him on the back until he got his breathing back under control.

Ace tries to think back on the day as a whole, but he keeps coming back to that moment. He couldn’t figure out what that moment alone means, let alone all of the other things too.

He has virtually no experience with romantic relationships, in fact they are so foreign to him that the thought of one doesn’t even cross his mind. He’s racking his brain to try and come up with an answer. The closest thing he can come up with is a friends with benefits situation. He’s done it before and it has worked (granted it has also failed miserably), but is it even worth the risk?

While he knows he’d be down for it, Ace has no clue if that is something you’d even consider. For all he knows you could be in a relationship. Fuck, what if you’re already seeing someone. He’s never asked, he’s never even thought to. This idea could be dead in the water already. Plus you’re probably not interested in him anyways.

Even if there is something between you two, Ace knows better than to make a move on you (despite how much he kinda wants to). You’re too entwined in his life at the moment for that to be a good idea. For starters you work at the place he now will have regular gigs at. And not simply work there but you are on the production team meaning you’d have regular contact. Not only that, but you’re one of Luffy’s good friends. He heard all about you before he even knew he was gonna meet you (Luffy called Ace a LOT while he was away, keeping him updated on his life in almost excruciating detail). If things were to get messy his brother would be stuck in the middle of it all, and Ace doesn’t want to do that to him. On the other hand, because you are so entwined in his life, will he even be able to hold himself back?

You just got into his life and he already likes having you around so he wouldn’t want to spoil that either. Friends is probably all it could be – friends who find each other hot, sure, but friends nonetheless. But why doesn’t that sit right with him?

~~~~~~

Not long after you leave, while he’s picking up (mostly after Luffy), Ace hears keys in the door. Sabo’s home. Honestly he didn’t even realize he was gone.

“Where were you?” Ace asks his brother as he enters their shared apartment. In all honesty his brother’s unusual absence slipped his mind.

“How was your day?” Sabo questions, ignoring him entirely. Ace does not like the way he said that, like he knows something. Nevermind that he rarely asks that in the first place.

“You first,” Ace stands his ground.

Sabo sighs but gives in, “I got dinner with Luffy then we went to his place.” Knowing he was with Luffy, Ace suddenly understands his tone earlier. There is no way that Luffy didn’t tell him about your presence, the kid isn’t exactly known for keeping his mouth shut. He now knows exactly where this conversation is headed and that there is no escaping it. Ace sighs in defeat, bracing himself for the interrogation.

“You like her, don’t you?” Sabo smiles, no longer under the pretense of asking about his day. Ace, annoyingly, has to hold back a blush, he just hopes the tips of his ears aren’t betraying him by turning red.

“I mean, kinda. She’s a friend, y’know,” Ace tries, really just wanting to get out of this. Sabo levels Ace a look, clearly not buying it. “I don’t know what you want from me,” he caves.

“You know you can’t lie to me, why are you trying,” Sabo says.

“I’m not, she’s just a friend,” Ace insists, he knows full well that he is, he just wishes that it was the truth and that these weird feelings he’s having would go away. At least that would make things a hell of a lot easier. Going for you is a bad idea and he knows it. He just wishes he wasn’t looking for/craving trouble.

Sensing that Sabo didn’t believe him, he gives in, “Fine, I think I like her, I don’t know. It’s weird plus it’s a bad idea. Also no way she goes for me, but still.” Unspeaking, Sabo prompts Ace to continue. Annoyingly, he realizes that talking this through is probably going to help. Ace makes his way to the small dining table they have in the living room with a heavy sigh. When he looks back at his brother, he looks more vulnerable.

“I fucking told her about my dad, Sabo” Ace confesses, hands running through his hair. Sabo’s eyes widen in surprise, it looks like it’s even more than he (and Koala, his long term girlfriend, who knows all about this) thought. The blond takes the seat next to him waiting for him to continue. Ace is fiddling with his hands.

“I’m not even sure why I told her,” Ace starts, fiddling with his hands. “She didn’t even care, no comments, no questions, no nothing,” Ace looks Sabo in the eyes, conveying things that he doesn’t even understand yet. Sabo is well aware of how Ace has been treated due to his biological father, he has witnessed it first hand, right away he knows how big of a deal this is to him.

Ace’s tone and body language shift away from the earlier vulnerability, “But nothing’s gonna happen. It’s all platonic. She’s just really easy to talk to.” He isn’t sure who he is trying to convince, Sabo or himself.

Understanding that he wants to drop the dad topic (even if they’re brothers it isn’t something he loves to talk about) Sabo grows mischievous. “And hot too, right?” he teases.

Ace’s head snaps to him, freaked out that he can tell that. How does he know that? The question is implied. Sabo laughs, accomplishing his goal with Ace’s deer in the headlights look, he’d love to leave it there but he chooses to explain further, “After the party, when you got home, you would not shut up about her. Your ass was hovering over the toilet talking about the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen. I should’ve recorded it, it was embarrassing.”

“Bastard,” Ace scoffs, but his face is inflamed.

“It got pretty graphic too,” Sabo goes on, completely ignoring Ace’s comment in favor of imitating some of the things that he said until Ace’s face was bright red.

“Shut up!” Ace protests, he is so glad you’re not here to see this, but Sabo continues mocking him.

“I almost left you alone to choke and die,” Sabo laughs, right now Ace is kinda wishing he did.

A notification from Ace’s phone pulls him from the conversation (thankfully). It’s a text from you. Sabo also knows it’s a text from you, he can tell by the way Ace is looking at his phone. This is just proving his point, the one he danced around because, knowing his brother, leading him to a conclusion works so much better than telling him point blank.

There’s not anything more he can do so Sabo leaves for his room. Oh wait, he learned something. “Hey Ace,” Sabo calls out from behind the cover of his door (just in case), successfully getting his attention. “She’s single by the way,” he continues wiggling his brows.

“Shut up,” the protest from Ace is weak, his attention clearly back on whatever you were saying.

this one got messed up, pretend those heart hands are at the bottom

BONUS:

they both wingmaning ace independently tbh

we were so close to escaping the y/n curse but then the texts came and i couldn’t figure a way out of it

a/n: so about the bottle opener thing…. i can explain… arms 🤤 ngl i forgot i put that in there until i was "proofreading"

in my headcanon the video game was super smash bros (v silly of me to have a hc about something i wrote)

btw someone needs to stop me there is a slim (large) chance that im gonna make reader have a drunk tattoo (nothing bad probably like doodlebob or a random shape) jus for a joke that isn't really funny

i literally i too much to say i'm making a whole debrief for this 😭

thank you for reading ily 💕

pls like & comment! let me know your thoughts | © stuckinmymind22 | dividers by @enchanthings

#Spotify #portgas d ace x reader #one piece ace #portgas ace x you #modern au #one piece x reader #ace x reader #one piece x you #portgas ace x reader #ace x you #ace x y/n #fire first ace x reader #one piece smau #canon post

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worstgenerationloser · 3 months ago

Note

Could you please do ace, shanks and benn defending their f s/o from a misogynistic man? I had to face one at work and he gave me the absolute ICK

,, Rushing to your aid! ''

Ace, Shanks, and Beckman x F! Reader.

Summary... how would your boyfriend defend you from a misogynistic man?

Contains... misogyny, mentions of harassment, depictions of bloody violence, and some slight fluff!

A/N: IM SORRY YOU HAD TO DEAL WITH THAT ANON💕 I hope since you sent in this ask the men have left you alone! If not I'll ward them away myself!! 🤺🤺

Portgas D. Ace

Ace doesn't register it completely, so at first he's confused on why this man is talking to you as if you were a baby (mostly because he's a dumbass)

Now, even if he wasn't aware the man was being misogynistic at first, he's still rushing towards you because there's literally a weird man talking to you the way you would to a little kid, and you definitely looked angry enough to tear off his head.

"Woah, what's happening here?" Instinctively and natural as breathing, his arm slips around your shoulders and his fingers move to gently graze your arm in an attempt to console you.

He doesn't like showing his temper much, but when people precious to him are involved, his angry heart bursts into flames. When the man speaks, his jaw drops out of pure disbelief. According to him, he was mansplaining how pirates operate to you. Which is weird, because Ace knows that you're definitely well versed in pirates... Considering you're his girlfriend.

He wanted to diffuse the situation, but it seems like this random needed a reality check.

"Hm... Good to know, but I'm sure it's irrelevant to her." His smile is wide and joyous, but the ominous shadow looming over his face is anything but.

"But she's clueless!", the man rambles on and bumbles about like a headless chicken, before he turns back to get one good look at Ace. Then it clicks in his pea-sized brain that maybe you know a bit more about pirates than him.

Ace looks a little scary when he's mad, you discover . But mostly cute.

"My girlfriend doesn't need to explain her knowledge to some random asshole who couldn't make a lasting impact on her life if he tried, you're way below her, buddy."

With gritted teeth, Ace tries to not light fire to the whole town, but only you seem to notice his body is literally smoking hot.

According to Ace, the guy ran a little too slow, and that's how he ended up naked covered in burn marks! The marines didn't believe him, though, and you two were left to flee.

"Can you believe the balls on that guy? It's not like you're unknown, either. Portgas D. Ace's kickass girlfriend! It's got a nice ring to it, eh?"

He nudges you a little too hard and sends you flying into a bush, but you appreciate the cute moments with him no matter how brief.

Red-Haired Shanks

Shanks learned many things during his time in the Roger Pirates, but one thing really stuck with him throughout the years. He can tolerate being spat on and kicked around, if his crew sees it as a threat then he's not gonna stop them from doing whatever it is they're planning, but he's not gonna ask them to go out of their way to deal with it.

But when someone disrespects his crew, and especially you?

Oh, he's pissed.

You think he doesn't realize at first, but he's keeping a very close eye on you two. He tries to keep his ass planted firmly into his chair per Beckman's request. Beckman is the mature one, and he's almost never wrong in the astute observations he makes. Despite this, Shanks has no self control and he's lobbing himself towards the bar where you sit.

Beckman shakes his head disapprovingly at his captain, because unlike him, Beck knows you can handle yourself.

The man in question harassing you seems to be a small time criminal with a bounty of 50,000... That doesn't deter Shanks, it might have egged him on even more because who does he think he is harassing you?

By the time Shanks has made his way to you, your harasser seems to have taken it upon himself to demean you for your appearance, pulling out all the classics like "bitch" "whore" , and "slut" to name a few. Shanks, of course, finds absolutely no amusement in this. I'm sure you can guess what happened next.

Your harasser tries to argue and degrade you a little more when Shanks steps up, not realizing how silent the bar has suddenly become. He didn't even realize the hundreds of eyes disappearing from him, not wanting to watch things unfold.

"You're drunk, I'll give you that one." Shanks barks out a laugh like he finds it funny, but up close you can see that gleam in his eyes.

Well... it's not like you could stop him anyways.

But you really wish he left the bar standing, at least. It certainly isn't doing good for his reputation as an emperor of the seas.

When Beckman scolds him as if he were a child on deck, he laughs like he'll forget about it in a day or two. But everyone knows Shanks will be doing it all over again in a heartbeat. He holds you extra close that night, trying to make sure your heart isn't tainted by the venomous words spat.

"I don't want anybody, big name or small, disrespecting people I hold dear to me."

His words are sweet while he whispers to you in bed... he's an odd man, but he's yours.

Benn Beckman

Two words. Broken. Bones.

Beckman does not play around with his girl, at all. He'll bash in heads day and night if someone even looks at you the wrong way, but he restrains himself because he's not a jealous young man anymore, so he likes to think.

Regarding everything else, he's cool as a cucumber, he prefers to let things wash over by themselves and only offers advice if he senses things will go astray. (as previously mentioned)

You're his girl, and a damn beautiful one, so he isn't surprised when some people try and scope you out, the same happens to him with many women, so why be so hypocritical about it? His heart is locked inside of yours for the rest of his life whether you want him or not, so he knows you won't run off with another no matter how much Shanks jokes about it.

If they're a little persistent, he might walk up to you and give you a few kisses so they get the message. But this man was definitely not "a little persistent."

Beck doesn't have a second to think of what he should do when he hears the utterances of vile comments slip from this man's mouth after you turned him down, because he's already right next to you quicker than his own head can wrap around. He's big, tall and scary, enough so to make someone shake with just a look.

"A grown man like yourself should know that ain't no way to talk to a lady." His voice is low, and he's talking nice and slow for your harassers ears only.

Beck heard it all, him hitting on you in an unceremonious way, all the way to demeaning you when you rejected him, spouting the same chewed up rhetoric that is "women are only good for bearing children" and whatnot. He can't let that pass no matter how capable you may be of handling it yourself.

"And what are you gonna do about it?" The man's words were proven to be a bad move before his lips could rest against eachother.

Following that, there was quite a sight. Somehow Beckman managed to twist the poor guy into some kind of abstract form of art, all bloody and fucked up with no more teeth left.

And of course he ushered you away after wiping his hands clean enough for you, because he's a gentleman, he didn't do it for himself, it was for you!

"M'sorry you had to see that, sugar." His whispers fill your head while he has you resting your head on his chest hours later, a few giggles coming from outside your bedroom door. Guess who?

"You know I won't let nobody disrespect you like that. You aren't mad, are you baby?" Beckman is a real sweet talker, so it's not like you could be even if you tried.

Plus, he looks super hot fighting.

END.

Likes and Reblogs are appreciated! ❤️If possible, leave a comment too!

#shanks x reader #akagami no shanks x reader #portgas d ace x reader #red haired shanks x reader #benn beckman x reader #portgas ace x reader #shanks x y/n #portgas ace x y/n #portgas ace x you #shanks x you #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #one piece x reader #one piece imagines #xochitlwrites #benn beckman x female reader

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fuddaround · 24 days ago

Text

HOME² › paige bueckers x fem!reader

summary : after ending on what you two would consider “good terms”, you end up surprising her in dallas.

warnings : mentions of slight panic attack, angst angst angst, mood swings, strap (r!receiving), fingering, cunnilingus, slapping (ish)

word count : 7.6k

original

kay’s notes : yes! i did skip the after game presser but 😛😛 anyways thank you guys sm for being patient i had finals this week 🤧

you land in dallas mad as hell. at yourself, at the weather, at the stupid ass decision to book this flight in the first place.

you said you wouldn’t come.

you promised yourself that you would let her go. let her leave uconn, let her grow up, let her start over without you.

but you’ve always been way too weak when it comes to her.

the air hits different the second you step out the airport. hotter. heavier. like even the wind knows you’re both here now.

you check into the hotel. hoodie up, sunglasses on. you act like she might see you in the goddamn lobby even though she’s already said in an interview she’s moving in somewhere.

you try to kill time. go for a walk. hit a smoothie spot. wander downtown.

and still—she’s everywhere.

her rookie poster’s on a billboard right off elm street. mouth parted. eyes locked in. all attitude and promise.

you look away too fast. like the city’s doing this just to remind you of everything.

you step into a store to cool off. and of course she’s on tv inside. a highlight reel running on loop. the strap of her jersey slipping off her shoulder in slow motion. smile all teeth as she laughs with her new teammates. your stomach drops as it switches to her post practice interview.

“you play minnesota tomorrow, that one’s gonna mean a lot.”

she smirks at the camera, “yeah i’m really grateful for the experience, i wanna show out for them and my new organization.”

you leave. can’t breathe. can’t think properly. your chest is on fire.

you swore you’d stay invisible, sit in the nosebleeds, just see her with your own eyes one last time. nothing more. no texts. no calls. no more damage.

but dallas already feels like her hands, like her breath on your neck, like her voice in your head saying “you’ll never outrun me, baby.”

and deep down? you already knew. you didn’t fly here just to watch. you came here to break your own heart again.

you make it back to the hotel by seven.

door locked, curtains shut, and tv playing some random movie just for background noise.

it’s quiet. too quiet.

like the city went still just to let your thoughts eat you alive.

you sit on the bed. scroll through your phone.

see the game promo again.

“bueckers vs the hometown,” her face lit up in the picture. still cocky. still so goddamn beautiful.

your hands start shaking.

you throw the phone on the bed behind you.

pace the room.

turn the ac colder.

peel your hoodie off.

still sweating.

you feel like you’re gonna throw up, like your chest is caving in, like you should’ve never come here in the first place.

but you also knew you couldn’t stay away.

you sit down again, hugging your knees.

bite your lip so hard you taste blood.

you cannot go to that game.

you cannot see her.

hear the crowd scream her name.

watch her in her element like she didn’t fuck you up just a few weeks ago when she left.

you cover your face, try to breathe.

in.

out.

in—

nothing.

your heart won’t chill. your brain’s too loud.

it’s all her, her, her.

what if she sees you?

what if she doesn’t?

what if she’s already moved on?

what if you can’t?

you cry, just a little though.

quiet. alone.

not because you’re still in love with her.

but because that love never got to end right.

it just dragged.

split open and left you both bleeding and calling it normal.

you crawl under the covers around midnight. heart still pounding. eyes burning. you tell yourself you won’t go. you’ll just stay in bed. maybe fly home early. maybe even try to explore the city again.

you wake up slower than you expected.

no panic, no cold sweat—just sunlight slipping past the curtains and the hum of the city outside. your body’s tired, but your mind is strangely still.

you don’t feel good, exactly.

but you feel better. like maybe the worst already passed, and now all that’s left is this moment.

you get up, shower too long, and spend forever picking an outfit, even though you told yourself this was supposed to be lowkey.

but you put the cargo pants on anyway.

the black ones she used to sneak her hands into when she thought no one was looking. you pull your hair back into a slick ponytail, clean and tight.

the mirror doesn’t lie—you look good.

good enough to be noticed.

you leave the hotel and hit a store three blocks down, just to browse, but you walk out with a bueckers jersey in your bag. but not the uconn one.

not the one you used to wear religiously.

this one’s fresh. navy and green. number five bold across the back.

you swore you wouldn’t go that far.

but your heart was never good at boundaries.

you slide your airpods in and hit shuffle on the playlist you swore you wouldn’t touch again. the one with all your shared songs. all the slow ones, the loud ones, the late-night-in-the-car windows-down ones.

and just like that, she’s in your ears again.

singing along off-key.

hand on your thigh at a red light.

you walk through the city like a ghost. one foot in the past, the other chasing whatever this is. and you don’t stop until you’re at the arena.

ticket pulled up on ticketmaster, heart in your throat, and her name already on your skin.

you find your seat thirty minutes before tipoff. lower bowl. row eight. center court.

close enough to see the sweat on her forehead, but far enough that she won’t notice you right away.

the arena’s smaller than the big ones—but louder somehow. intimate. packed. already hers.

you sink into the seat and try to act like your heart’s not rattling in your chest. like you’re not gripping the edge of the chair every time she dribbles past your side.

like you don’t still know the way her legs look in motion better than your own name.

paige looks locked in. bun tight. jaw clenched. dallas practice gear fitting like it was made for her.

she’s warming up with the rest of the team—all business, all rhythm. that is until she runs past the sideline closest to you.

she hesitates. just for a second. like she felt something.

but she doesn’t look.

not yet.

the lights go down, introductions start. crowd roars and the music blasts and her name gets called last.

number five, paige bueckers.

and you’re on your feet before anyone else. just like old times. hands clapping, the feeling of knowing your voice would be gone from cheering, chest open like it was never broken.

you don’t even think about it. your body just moves. like natural instinct.

and that’s when she sees you.

at first, she freezes. not completely. just—a pause. mid-step. blink too long. eyes stuck on one face in the crowd.

no way.

she looks away quick.

blinks again.

shakes her head.

keeps moving.

gets into the huddle, but her heart’s in her throat now.

is she seeing things? did the lights play with her head? there’s no way you’re here. no way you flew out. no way you’re sitting in the stands, in her jersey, cheering for her like nothing ever changed.

but then she hears you again. first one screaming when she hits that first three. the same way you used to in storrs. like the shot belonged to you, too.

and now she can’t ignore it. she glances back once. sees the ponytail. the cargos. the goddamn smirk.

her chest stutters, her vision flickers.

for a second, she’s not in dallas. she’s not a rookie. she’s back home in connecticut with you.

you. it’s really you.

and the whole game changes. her hands tighten around the ball. her steps get sharper—sharper than they’ve ever been.

because you’re here and she can’t fuck this up now.

she plays like she’s got something to prove, and she’s convinced she does. because you’re still watching.

and if you’re watching—there’s still time.

she’s locked in when the anthem ends. or at least she’s supposed to be. first game. rookie debut. full house. new home court.

but her skin’s buzzing, and it’s not the nerves. it’s not the cameras or the crowd or the lights too bright on her face. it’s you.

she saw you, she knows she saw you.

you were on your feet, clapping like you used to, yelling her name like it was yours.

tight ponytail. cargos she loved to pull down slow. her jersey on your back like nothing ever changed.

and now she’s out here pretending to breathe normal. pretending to listen in the huddle. pretending her heart’s not punching against her ribs so hard it hurts.

coach is talking about defense at halftime—about switching on screens, about setting the tone early—but all paige can think about is the way your eyes lit up when she hit her first three. that split second when she let herself glance over and saw your face break into the kind of smile she hasn’t seen in weeks.

she told herself she was done. she swore after the last time that this was it. she was moving on. new city. new chapter. clean slate.

but you being here? you just being here ruins all of that.

because now her stomach’s twisted. now her shot feels too heavy in her hands.

now every time she drives to the rim, she swears she sees you out the corner of her eye, front row, lips parted, hands clenched in your lap.

and it’s not just seeing you—it’s what seeing you does to her.

because you didn’t just show up.

you dressed for her.

you put her name on your back again.

you made sure she’d know exactly what you came for.

and now she’s pissed.

not at you—never really at you, but at herself.

for not being able to let go, for knowing exactly what it means that you’re here, and still acting like it doesn’t matter.

she tries to shake it off. gets a steal, runs the break, finishes with a clean layup. crowd roars. she slaps hands with her teammates. it should feel good.

but when she glances over and sees you nodding, biting your lip, pride all over your damn face—she forgets how to breathe again.

she can’t unsee you. can’t unfuck the memory of your moans. can’t stop thinking about the last time she had you pressed up against your kitchen counter, saying her name like it was gospel, like it still meant everything.

and it fucks with her.

all game long.

her passes are now a second late. her eyes keep drifting to your row. even when she tells herself not to. even when she reminds herself she’s done.

and then there’s the jealousy. because she’s not stupid. she knows you’ve probably got someone new now. knows that little break between when she left and now was enough time for someone else to slide in.

someone else got to touch what’s her’s.

but if that’s true—why the fuck are you here?

why would you fly to dallas? why wear her jersey? why cheer for her like that?

every look you throw her during the game sets her on fire. it makes her play harder, faster, sharper.

she starts talking more shit on the court. starts clapping in defenders’ faces. starts calling for the iso plays just to show out in front of you.

because if you’re gonna sit there and watch—then she’s gonna make damn sure you you stay watching her.

she hits a step-back mid-third quarter and doesn’t even celebrate. just turns, locks eyes with you, and raises her eyebrows making sure you were still watching.

your reaction is instant. you stand again, biting that same damn lip, hands in your hair now like she’s stressing you out. she watches your mouth form the word fuck.

she almost laughs, almost loses her cool completely.

and that’s when it hits her—she’s not mad that you’re here. she’s not confused. she’s relieved.

because now she doesn’t have to pretend. doesn’t have to fake that she’s moved on. doesn’t have to lie to herself every night and say she’s fine without you.

you’re here.

you came.

and that means you’re not over her either.

and that’s all she needed. all she ever wanted. just to know she wasn’t the only one stuck.

the game ends with a dallas win and she’s still staring at you.

from the bench. from the court. from the corner of her eyes. trying to figure out if you’ll stay.

and deep down she already knows. you didn’t fly here just to leave.

not a chance.

you’re not leaving yet. not before you see her up close. not before you break each other open again.

the second the game ended, her crashed.

not physically—her body’s still moving, still running on adrenaline, dap after dap, towel slung over her shoulder, head nods to the fans, cameras flashing left and right. but inside? she’s spiraling. full speed.

because you’re still sitting in that seat. because she caught you watching her walk off. because she knows you’re not leaving until you see her again.

and that should make her feel good. should be a win. but all she feels is the slow, familiar burn of what the fuck happens now.

the locker room’s loud. music bumping. celebration in the air—first game, first win. everyone’s hyped.

but she’s quiet.

sits on the bench with her jersey half pulled up, legs stretched out, towel over her head like she’s cooling off. but she’s not tired. she’s thinking.

and thinking always leads back to you.

“yo, p,” dijonai yells from across the locker room, half-laughing, but watching her too close, “you good? you look like you saw a ghost mid-game.”

paige doesn’t answer right away. just rubs her hands over her face and lets out a breath that’s too shaky to be chill.

arike’s next, leans back in the chair, smirking a little, “nah, look she’s in her feelings. she’s going through something.”

“shut up,” paige mutters, not even defensive. just exhausted. because they’re right. they’re so right.

“damn,” dijonai says, eyebrows raising, “it’s really like that?”

paige shakes her head, like maybe if she moves fast enough, the thoughts will fall out. but they don’t. you’re stuck in there, just like always.

“she was here,” paige mumbles finally. quiet. soft. like the words hurt just to say.

they both freeze, look at each other, then back at her.

“who?”

“you know who.”

“oh.”

paige leans forward, elbows on knees, staring at the floor like it’s gonna give her an answer.

“i didn’t know she was coming,” she says, “like, she didn’t say shit. she just showed up. i looked up and there she was. in my fuckin jersey.”

arike lets out a low whistle.

dijonai nods slow, like it makes sense now.

“that’s crazy,” dijonai says. “how you feel about it?”

paige laughs, bitter and breathless. how does she feel? she doesn’t even know the answer.

“i don’t know,” she lies first but then her mouth starts moving. like her chest can’t hold it anymore, “i wanted her here. i wanted her to care enough to come. and she did. but now all i can think about is how bad it’s gonna hurt when she leaves again.”

no one says anything. just silence thick between the three.

she looks up, eyes glossy but hard, voice lower now. heavier, “i still want her,” she admits, “like, still want her. and that’s the fucking problem.”

dijonai leans in, not joking anymore, “so why’d y’all stop?”

paige shrugs, jaw tight, “we were toxic as hell. we fought all the time. jealous. possessive. too much history, too much pain. but it was always real. and when it was good—fuck, it was so good.”

she runs her hand through her hair. laughs again, but it sounds like she might cry.

“she made me feel like home. like the only version of myself i actually liked. but we kept breaking each other and pretending it was love.”

arike’s quiet for a minute. then she says, “but she’s here. after all that, she still came.”

paige nods, eyes stinging.

“i know,” she whispers, “and that’s what’s killing me.”

she looks back down. lets herself feel it now. lets the pain bloom in her chest without fighting it off.

“’cause if she walks out again, i don’t know if i can keep pretending it didn’t matter. like i didn’t just see the love of my life sitting courtside, looking at me like she never stopped being mine.”

the room moves around her. teammates laughing, music still thumping.

but paige is somewhere else. in your arms. on your couch. in your bed pressing her lips to your collarbone and whispering promises she knew she couldn’t keep.

she closes her eyes.

she wants to go out there and see you. wants to touch you. wants to tell you everything she just said in here.

but she’s scared. scared that wanting you again is a mistake. scared it’ll feel perfect, just like before—right up until it breaks again.

and still… she knows she’ll go. knows she’ll look for you the second she changes.

because this is you. and when it comes to you, paige bueckers has never known how to stay away.

paige doesn’t leave the locker room right away.

she paces behind the row of lockers, pulling her hoodie on slow, hands shaking like she just finished playing a double-overtime game. she keeps checking her phone even though there’s nothing new. no texts. no missed calls. no you.

dijonai squeezes her shoulder as she passes. arike throws her a look telling her to go.

so she breathes. and then breathes again. and finally forces herself to leave.

the walk to the hallway is the longest one she’s ever taken. every step feels like a gamble. because she knows there’s a fifty-fifty shot she’s about to get her heart cracked open in public.

what if you already left? what if you saw enough and bounced? what if she blew it, and this was your way of giving her closure without saying a damn word?

she rounds the corner, chewing her lip, hoodie pulled low over her eyes—and freezes.

you’re still there. right outside the double doors. leaning against the wall, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

her chest pulls tight.

you’re in her jersey and you stayed. you really stayed. but she plays it cool, she has to. walks up slow. hands in her pockets. eyes soft but guarded.

“hey.”

you look up, and for a second she sees it. sees that flicker of something real in your eyes. but then your face smooths out and you say, “congrats.”

your voice doesn’t shake, but hers nearly does. “thanks,” she murmurs, kicking her foot lightly against the floor, “wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

you shrug. like this is nothing. like it didn’t take everything in you to show up. but that’s not important now.

“you played good,” you say, eyes skating past her, then right back again.

she nods. tries not to let the silence stretch too long between you. tries to find the version of her voice that won’t sound so desperate.

“can we… talk?” it comes out too fast, too quiet. then she clears her throat and says again, steadier, “you wanna come by the house?”

she was playing her cards smart, you both knew that. she wanted to talk and to have you back in her home again and with her.

you blink. and for a second she thinks you might say no. might shut it down before she even gets a chance.

but you just nod. once. sharp. like you don’t trust your own voice either.

and just like that, you’re walking side by side again. just like that, it’s her and you in motion. i again.

but this time feels different, heavier. like both of you are holding something inside your mouths and neither of you wanna be the first to spit it out.

you don’t touch. not even close. but the energy between your bodies is unbearable. her hand brushes yours once and she swears she hears you exhale.

she doesn’t look at you. she keeps her eyes forward, jaw tight, throat dry.

the whole walk through the tunnel is quiet.

but not empty.

she wants to say something. she wants to reach out. wants to pull you into her and ask you why you stayed, why you came, why you’re doing this again.

but instead, she says nothing. because she’s scared of what you’ll say back.

because she knows once it starts, it won’t stop.

you make it to the lot. paige hits the unlock button and the lights flash. you both flinch at the same time.

she opens the passenger door for you but doesn’t look at you. just stands there, waiting.

you climb in slow as she walks around the front and gets in next to you.

and for a second, in the low light of the car, she lets herself feel it.

you.

this.

the weight of your presence beside her.

the smell of your skin and the heat of your body and the fact that you’re here again, in her space, in her life.

she starts the car, doesn’t drive yet, just grips the steering wheel and stares ahead.

“you look good,” she says, voice raw, like it’s been buried under too much silence.

you don’t say anything back, but you don’t look away either.

and in the stillness of the car, as the engine hums beneath her feet, she fights the urge to reach for your thigh, to pull your hand into hers, to kiss you stupid right here in the lot.

but she doesn’t. not yet.

you both stay quiet. both pretending it’s no big deal. both drowning in all the things you won’t say.

and when she finally pulls out onto the road, all she can think about i s how long she’s waited to be this close to you again.

and how dangerous it is that you said yes, that you came, that you’re sitting beside her and pretending you’re not just as ruined.

the city passes in flashes. neon signs. red lights. the occasional burst of headlights from the opposite lane. you’re watching it all through the window like you’re in a dream, like none of it feels real.

paige is calm now or at least pretending to be.

one hand on the wheel, other draped lazily over her thigh. eyes on the road, lips twitching like she might say something, then thinks better of it.

finally, she speaks, “so, uh how long you in town?”

your heart flinches at the question, even though it’s casual. you keep your eyes forward, “just for the game,” you lie not even well because for a second there’s that smirk that knows you only bought a one way ticket. your voice sounds thin, like it’s trying to hide how heavy your chest feels.

she hums, nods slow, “cool. i mean cool that you made time. that you came out.”

you glance at her. she’s not looking back. her jaw’s tight. her knuckles a little whiter on the wheel than before.

“dallas suits you,” you say, softer.

she lets out a short laugh. not sarcastic—just surprised.

“you think so?”

you nod, turning back to the window, “yeah. you look settled.”

it’s not a compliment, not really. you just don’t know how else to say “you seem different.”

she catches it anyway, always did read between your words too well.

“settled doesn’t mean happy,” she says. and that’s the first honest thing either of you has said since the hallway. but then she flips the vibe again, like she regrets letting you in for even one second.

“you still working that job that was killin’ your sleep schedule?” she asks, voice light again.

you nod, “yeah. still can’t sleep past 5 a.m.”

she huffs a laugh, shakes her head, “some things don’t change.”

and for a minute, it almost feels like old times. like you’re just driving home from her practice. like there’s no breakup. no history. no heartbreak in the middle of the console.

she reaches out and adjusts the air vents and you have to pretend not to notice how that same hand used to rest on your thigh every time she drove.

“you still listen to our playlist?” she asks suddenly, and it’s almost a challenge. you swallow, “yeah.”

she nods, barely, like that answer mattered more than she wants to admit, “me too.”

silence again. but it’s not uncomfortable. not as much as it should be.

you’re both better at this than you should be. better at pretending it’s nothing. better at pretending you’re not dying to ask the questions neither of you can afford to hear the answers to.

you see her exhale slowly, grip loosening just a little on the wheel. the further she gets from the court, from the team, from the memory of you in the stands—the more armor she puts back on.

by the time she pulls into the driveway, she’s damn near stone. cool. smooth. unbothered. mask on. voice leveled. like she didn’t spend the last hour remembering what your skin smells like.

she parks, lets the engine idle, doesn’t move to get out right away. you unbuckle. she does too. but neither of you opens the door.

you both just sit there, quiet again, staring forward. the house looming in front of you, waiting for what’s coming next.

her voice breaks the stillness first.

“you ready to come in?”

you nod, heartbeat heavy. but you don’t say yes. you just reach for the door handle. and her fingers twitch like she almost stopped you. like she almost touched you. but she doesn’t. she can’t. because the moment she touches you—you’ll both stop pretending.

the door shuts behind you with a low click. it’s quiet inside. not cold, but still bare. the kind of quiet that says someone’s here, but not settled. not rooted.

you toe off your sneakers near the door, not even thinking about it. you’ve done this before. your body remembers even if your heart’s still catching up.

paige drops her keys on the counter and shrugs off her hoodie, throwing it over the back of the couch. her place smells like her. detergent and sweat and something earthy. you try not to let it hit too deep.

“it’s still a mess,” she mutters, waving a hand at the half-built shelf in the corner, boxes by the wall, basketballs everywhere, one of her shoes on the kitchen counter for some reason.

you raise an eyebrow, “looks about right.”

she smirks, just a little. leans on the opposite side of the island as you pull yourself onto a barstool, thighs sticking to the leather. her arms fold across her chest, like she’s trying to make the distance feel like control.

“wasn’t expecting company,” she adds.

you nod slowly, rest your elbows on the counter, “wasn’t expecting to be here.”

paige tilts her head. lets the silence stretch. then says, too casually, “so why are you?”

you blink. it’s not a soft question. it’s not cruel either. just too careful. too light. like she’s trying to sneak it past your defenses. you stare at her. try to read her face, but her expression is all calm.

your heart’s doing too much. your brain is screaming but your mouth moves anyway. “i don’t know,” you lie, even though you do.

paige huffs a laugh and leans forward on her elbows, “bullshit.”

your brows lift, “what?”

“you do know,” she says, voice low but firm. “you’re not the type to just pull up to a game in a city you don’t live in for fun. especially mine.”

you look away. jaw clenching. you don’t want to start this here.

“it was your debut,” you say.

“so?”

“so i came.”

“why?” she presses again.

and it hits different this time. like she needs to know now. like her hands are tightening on the wheel again. you look back at her. eyes sharp.

“why do you care?”

her expression doesn’t change. but something flickers. something quiet. something raw. “just asking,” she shrugs, and that shrug sends heat through your ribs. because it’s not just a shrug. it’s armor. it’s her way of hiding again.

you scoff.

“you always do that.”

her brows pull together, “do what?”

you laugh, but it’s bitter “act like you don’t care. act like nothing ever touches you.”

she straightens up, arms still crossed, “what do you want me to do, huh? cry? beg?” you shake your head, fingers gripping the edge of the counter, “i want you to stop pretending like this doesn’t mean anything to you.”

paige’s jaw flexes, “you think it doesn’t?” she shoots back, voice still low but tighter now. “you think it was easy for me to see you in that crowd, knowing you weren’t mine anymore?”

your chest squeezes. but she doesn’t stop.

“you think it was easy not to touch you in the tunnel? not to pull you into me right there and forget all the shit we never fixed?”

your throat’s dry, your fingers tremble.

“then why didn’t you?” you ask.

and your voice is small now.

real. scared.

paige looks at you for a long second, eyes sharp but glassy. then drops her gaze.

“because i didn’t wanna make it worse.”

you swallow hard. the space between you feels like fire now.

“i wanted you to care,” you whisper.

“i do care,” she says, louder. “fuck, you think i don’t? you think i haven’t been thinking about you every damn night since i left?”

your lips part, but she keeps going.

“i see you in every goddamn city. every time i lace up. i hear a song and i think about you. i can’t even take a nap without dreaming about your dumb ass and the way you always steal the blankets.”

your eyes sting.

“then why’d you leave like that?” you ask, voice cracking.

paige laughs bitterly, “you know why.”

you shake your head.

“no. i don’t. all i know is you left and then started pretending like we weren’t even real.”

she pushes off the counter, running a hand through her hair, pacing once before turning back.

“because if i didn’t pretend, i wouldn’t survive it.”

you stare at her.

your breath catches.

and for a second, neither of you speak.

then paige’s voice drops, quiet again. tired.

“i’m sorry,” she says. “i didn’t know how to love you from a distance. so i acted like i didn’t.”

you wipe your face. don’t even remember starting to cry.

she walks around the island. slow. careful.

stands in front of you, hands hovering like she wants to reach for you but isn’t sure if she’s allowed.

“i don’t know how to be around you without falling,” she says. “and i’m so fucking tired of pretending it doesn’t kill me to see you.”

you look up at her. and for the first time in months, she looks like yours again. and it’s terrifying.

you don’t move at first. just sit there with your face tilted up toward her, cheeks wet, throat burning. and she looks down at you like she’s seeing a ghost. like you’re everything she ran from and everything she missed all at once.

then her thumb brushes your jaw. soft. trembling. and she leans in like it hurts to get close, but not getting close would kill her. she kisses your tears. one at a time. and then all over; forehead, cheek, chin, nose. not rushed. not desperate.

like she’s making up for every time she didn’t show up, for every time she closed herself off when you needed her open. you exhale, shaky, aching. your fingers curl around the hem of her shirt, tugging her closer like muscle memory.

“it’s okay,” you whisper, your voice cracks right through both of you, “just let me in, p.”

her breath hitches and then she’s crumbling. her forehead drops to yours and she’s crying now. not loud. not messy. just quiet tears that feel like thunder in your chest.

you wrap your arms around her middle, pull her into you, and she sinks.

into your lap, into your body, into the only place she’s ever truly felt like she could fall apart.

“i fucked everything up,” she whispers, her voice breaking in a way you’ve never heard. not even the night she left.

you run a hand up her back. slow. grounding.

“no, baby,” you say, brushing your lips against her hair. “we both did.”

she shakes her head, fingers gripping your shirt like it’s the only thing keeping her from falling through the floor.

“i got scared,” she admits. “when the draft came, when everything got real—that i was leaving connecticut—i didn’t know how to hold onto you and chase this shit at the same time.”

you blink through your own tears, “so you let me go.”

“i thought it would make it easier,” she says, and it sounds like a confession she’s been holding in for months, “i told myself distance would help. that cutting you off clean would hurt less than dragging it out.”

you close your eyes, bite your lip. “but it didn’t.”

she shakes her head.

“no. it made everything worse. i kept waking up expecting you to be there. i kept wanting to tell you about shit—practice, media, everything—and then remembering i couldn’t.”

you tilt her chin up, make her look at you.

“you could’ve,” you say. “i would’ve picked up.”

her eyes are red, lashes clumped.

“i thought you hated me.”

you suck in a breath, “i did,” you admit, soft. “for a minute. but mostly, i just missed you.”

her hands find yours and squeeze. tight.

“i hated seeing you with someone else,” she says suddenly. it’s a whisper, but it punches through the room.

you nod, “i hated hearing about the girl in your insta story two days ago.”

paige blinks. her mouth twitches.

“she’s just a friend. her brother plays for the mavericks. she was helping me move a dresser.”

you stare at her. try to believe it. try to let it be that simple. and for once, she lets you in without resistance.

“i didn’t fuck her,” she adds, eyes locked on yours. “i haven’t touched anyone since you.”

your chest caves in.

“i wish i could say the same,” you whisper.

paige swallows hard.

“was it serious?” she asks.

you shake your head, “no. it was nothing.”

she nods like she understands. she hates it, but understands.

“it felt like dying,” she says. “seeing you with her. but i couldn’t say anything. not after the way i left.”

your fingers brush her cheek. her skin’s warm. eyes still wet.

“why’d you stop talking to me?” you ask. you’ve wanted to ask that for so long.

she exhales.

“because every time i talked to you, i wanted to come back. and i knew if i did i’d never leave again.”

your stomach twists.

“so you shut me out.”

“only because i thought it was the only way,” she says. “to be great. to focus. to do this the right way.”

you nod slowly. you get it. but it doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt. “i just wanted you to fight for me. that’s all,” you whisper.

“i wanted to,” she says. “every damn day. i just didn’t know how to fight without ruining everything else.”

you lean your forehead to hers again.

“so what now?”

paige is quiet for a beat. then she brushes your hair back behind your ear.

“now we stop lying.”

you sniffle.

“about what?”

“about how we feel. about what we want. about the fact that we’re still in love with each other.”

you bite your lip. your whole body feels like it’s been cracked open.

“we still got all that shit we never figured out,” you remind her.

she nods.

“so let’s figure it out,” she says. “not tonight. not all at once. but don’t leave dallas yet. please.” you look at her. really look.

and she looks terrified. but hopeful. like maybe—for once—she’s ready to let you in and keep you there.

you squeeze her hand. press your forehead back to hers.

“okay.”

she breathes out. and then she kisses you. slow. salty. full of everything she never said. and this time, she doesn’t pull away.

you barely get the chance to breathe. she kisses you deeper, rougher. like her mouth’s the only way she knows how to fully open up. her hands grab your waist and she groans into your mouth like the taste of you has her losing her mind.

“let me be the last person you’ve fucked,” she mumbles against your lips, low. gritty. like it’s a promise and a threat all in one. your body tenses.

“p—”

but she’s already got her fingers curled around your thighs, lifting you clean off the barstool like you weigh nothing.

you gasp. wrap your arms around her neck on instinct, legs around her waist like second nature.

“where are we going you’re house isn’t unpacked,”

“bedroom, ma, don’t worry,” she mutters.

you look at her. her eyes are dark. blown wide. not just from want. from need. you don’t say anything. you just let her carry you through the still-mostly-empty house. boxes lining the hallway. half a couch in the living room. but none of it matters.

not with her holding you like this. like she already has you right where she wants you. once again.

when she kicks open the door to her bedroom, it’s chaos. half-unpacked bags. two pillows. barely any sheets. but all she sees is you.

you. in her jersey. number 5 and bueckers stretched across your back like it belongs there.

“keep it on,” she whispers, setting you down on the bed. you’re breathless. flushed. aching already.

her fingers trace up the side of the mesh, eyes glued to how it fits your chest, her voice is lower now, rougher, “you wore this for me?”

you nod, cheeks hot, “i bought it this morning.”

her jaw flexes. thats all it takes, that seals it, “lay down on your back.”

you blink, heart pounding, “paige.”

“jersey on. panties off. now, please.”

your breath catches in your throat, your whole body floods with heat. you lay back on the bed slowly, eyes never leaving hers. her hand strokes your cheek, then grips your jaw.

“you still mine?” she asks quietly. not a question. a test. you nod, “say it.”

your voice shakes, “i’m still yours,”

paige breathes out like she’s been waiting her whole life to hear that again.

“good,” she says, “then i’m gonna make sure no one else ever even tries to take you from me again.”

“face down.” her voice is sharp. not yelling. not soft. just serious. low. firm in a way that makes you obey without thinking.

you crawl up the bed, still in her jersey. bare from the waist down. thighs already slick and trembling. you don’t even get all the way before she’s behind you again.

her hands grip your hips and drag you back toward her, rough.

you gasp, elbows sinking into the mattress, back arching. you feel her eyes all over you.

“damn,” she mutters. “you look so fucking good in my name.”

you shiver. her hand smooths up the jersey, bunching it at your waist, fingers brushing the letters across your spine.

BUECKERS.

“this how you wanted it?” she asks, voice dark, “wanted to surprise me? pull up in my jersey just to end up face down like this?”

you whine, face buried in the sheets.

“answer me.”

“yes—fuck—yes.”

she groans. you hear the low click of her lube bottle. the shuffle of her strapping up. you’re panting just from the sound. but she doesn’t fuck you right away. she gets on her knees behind you. pulls you open with both hands and leans in. and then her mouth is on you. your back bows.

“paige—”

she sucks your clit slow at first. like she’s tasting. savoring. then her tongue slides down, curling in circles, making you shake. and when her fingers slide in—two, deep, smooth—you sob into the mattress. she groans behind you like your moans are fuel.

“so wet for me already,” she says, voice thick. “who made you like this?”

you try to answer but your mouth is useless. just open, gasping, drooling on the sheets. she curls her fingers up and pumps harder.

“i said—who made you like this?”

“you—fuck—you paige—”

she hums like that’s what she wanted. her fingers stay deep, knuckles slapping your pussy, her mouth never leaving your clit. she’s feasting. messy. loud. relentless. your thighs shake. your voice breaks.

“paige i need to—” she pulls back before you can even finish the sentence, breathing heavy.

“you think you get to cum when you want, ma?”

you whimper, shake your head fast.

“no—no, i don’t—”

“damn right,” she mutters, standing.

you hear her spit in her hand. feel her palm smooth over your ass, the slap that follows. you jolt. cry out. and then—she’s in.

deep. slow. filling you all the way. strap thick, stretching you open until your jaw drops in a silent scream. her hands grab your hips again.

“that’s it,” she growls. “take it. take me.”

you try to breathe but your lungs don’t work. you clutch the sheets and push back into her, already addicted to the feeling. she pulls out almost completely, then slams back in. your whole body jolts forward. and she loves it.

“look at you,” she pants, thrusting harder. “taking dick in my jersey. fucking pathetic.”

you moan. “paige—please—”

she’s pounding you now. fast. hard. each stroke louder than the last. the bed creaks. your skin slaps. your moans echo off the walls. and the whole time—she’s staring at her name on your back. she grips your shoulder, pulls you up by the jersey.

“who’s pussy is this, baby?”

“yours—fuck—yours paige—”

she slaps your ass again. deeper stroke.

“that’s right. you can fuck a thousand girls, and it’ll still be mine.”

you cry out, feel your orgasm crawling up your spine. and she knows, “you gonna cum for me, baby?”

“yes please—”

she leans forward, her chest to your back, teeth grazing your neck, “do it. cum for me in my name.”

and you do. screaming. shaking. falling apart. and she doesn’t stop. she fucks you through it, hips slamming, hands greedy. she’s starving for the sound of your pleasure. you collapse. limp. wrecked.

you’re buried in the blankets. face in the pillow, back towards her, barely able to think. “you with me, baby?” she murmurs, voice low and warm.

you hum. barely. a lazy, muffled noise that says you’re here. barely. her lips kiss the top of your spine. then lower. then back up. slow. soft. a different kind of love this time.

“you okay?” she asks again.

you nod this time. a little more alive. “yeah,” you whisper. she kisses your shoulder and breathes in, “good.”

she stays there for another minute. not saying anything. just rubbing your side, helping your body calm down.

when she finally sits up, it’s gentle. she peels the jersey off you with care—no teasing now, no smirking. just her hands, slow and warm.

and then she’s slipping one of her dallas wings sweatshirts over your head. it swallows you whole,

soft and oversized.

you give her a tired smile, “thanks.”

she helps you get back under the covers, then slides in next to you. wraps an arm around your waist and tugs you close like she’s scared you’ll vanish if she’s not careful.

for a while, you both just lay there.

sweaty. sore. hearts still too full. but the silence isn’t heavy. it’s warm. safe.

“you tired?” she asks after a while.

“kinda.”

“body okay?”

you nod.

she presses a kiss to your cheek, then your temple, then your forehead. her gentle routine.

you turn to look at her, eyes a little glassy still.

“i don’t want this to be a one-night thing.”

her expression softens, the shield she always wears finally falling, “me either.”

you swallow hard, “we can’t do that to each other again. we either try, or we don’t.”

she nods. and for once, she’s not defensive. not snarky or flirty or trying to dodge.

“you’re right,” she says. “we either show up or we let it go. no more half-assing.”

you blink at her. this version of her—the grown one, the honest one—it makes your chest ache.

“so what do we do?” you whisper.

she shrugs, brushing your hair off your face.

“we try. starting tomorrow. not perfect. but real.”

you nod. you can live with that. you want to live with that.

“okay.” her thumb strokes your jaw.

“okay,” she echoes, like it’s a vow. then she pulls you into her chest, wraps her arms around you tighter.

the city outside is quiet. the room’s barely put together and it’s your first time here, but somehow, this still feels like home.

you fall asleep with her heartbeat under your cheek. wrapped in her sweatshirt. and for the first time in a long time—you believe her when she says she’s gonna try.

#paige bueckers #uconn wbb #dallas wings #kay’s fics ⊹ ࣪ ˖#kay writes ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ #paige bueckers fanfic #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers fic #wlw #wlw smut #lesbian #paige bueckers x reader

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mariasont · 4 months ago

Text

One Clean Shot - A.H

summary: it’s a standard training session, until hotch steps behind you to adjust your stance and suddenly your biggest problem isn’t your aim pairings: aaron hotchner x sweetheart!reader warning tags: suggestive content, hotch accidentally touches your tits, r shooting a gun, hotch shooting a gun, r kinda objectifying hotch (i showed my friends then we high fived), dbf!hotch, age gap wc 1.6k

"Oh, for the love of —"

You bite down on the words, trapping them before they can tumble out as something truly impolite. You fire. Left. Again. Another shot. Too high. Again. Too wide.

The gun jerks in your hand, unforgiving and indifferent. Gunpowder starts to scratch at your throat, your lungs, your patience even. You were starting to believe that it was a possibility that you were just inherently biologically incapable of aiming correctly. Bad aim genes, perhaps.

You try to picture your father holding a gun, arms stiff, stance awkward, probably muttering something about how in his day, disputes were settled with a well-worded legal argument.

Yeah, okay, that might explain a lot.

Except no, you passed all your quals. You aced them.

It was just an off day.

A specific, very tall off day named Hotch, who was currently standing behind you, radiating silent judgement at a level so intense it should be considered a supernatural ability. He was probably analyzing every micro-movement, taking note of every error, mentally drafting a performance review that would start with you're doing fine and end with a perfectly professional but somehow soul-crushing but you can do better.

You try to steady your hands and you fail and you think maybe you should just hand him the gun and let him execute your dignity at point-blank range.

It's fine, you tell yourself. It's not like your entire self-worth is balancing on the edge of his nonexistent expression. There's a chance he's not even thinking about you. He could be mentally going over his grocery list or calculating how much paperwork he had left to do today.

Or there's the more terrifying chance that he is watching you and wondering why you aren't better, why you aren't like him — like your father, wondering why you aren't meeting expectations.

And it's humiliating, really. How much you want to impress him. How much you want to make him proud and maybe even—

"You're anticipating the recoil."

You turn too fast, the world tilting for just a second, your vision narrowing to the sharp angles of Hotch's face.

"Here."

The word is barely out of his mouth before his hands are everywhere, no, not everywhere, everywhere, just your vest. But they might as well be, because your nerve endings aren't capable of knowing the difference.

He grips your vest at the shoulders, jerks the straps tight, a firm pull that rocks you just slightly forward, just slightly into him. Then his fingers skate down, adjusting the collar, smoothing over the bare skin where fabric meets flesh, his knuckles barely grazing the dip between your collarbones.

And then lower. Over your chest. Between. The back of his hand ghosts along the swell of your breasts, then right where your ribs curve inward, where his palm would fit if he just, just, slid an inch lower.

It's fast. Nothing. Over in a second. But your stomach is tight, your breath is tight, you are tight. And you swear if he lingers a moment longer, you might melt into a indecipherable puddle on the floor.

Your pulse is all over the place, skipping, tripping, betraying. Heat rushes to your cheeks, slow at first, then all at once, like a delayed newsflash that your body apparently has opinions about this.

Because this is stupid. Stupid. It's not like he meant to touch you there. It's not like he noticed. Did he notice?

No, absolutely not because that would imply things, and there are not things.

This is just your problem. Your rogue nervous system. Your tragic inability to be normal about anything. You are making this a thing when it is very much not a thing.

But you felt the way your stomach knots around something you don't even have the vocabulary to name, the way your nipples pebbled like they had some vested interest in ruining your life.

It's — what? Hormones? Static electricity? Some kind of spontaneous full-body malfunction? Because you didn't want to think about it being him, a side effect to prolonged exposure to Aaron Hotchner. (Should you warn the others?)

And still, he keeps going, cinching straps, flattening fabric, all broad (very broad) hands and no-nonsense efficiency. Like you're just a piece of gear to fix. You, on the other hand, are actively considering the logistics of just dropping dead on the spot. It seemed feasible.

"Shoulders back."

The instruction comes at the same time as he moves in behind you, a hand landing between your shoulder blades, and pushes, forces your spine straighter, like you're something to be molded, adjusted, put into place.

Then his hands moves to your waist, shifting your stance just a hair, just enough to make you brutally of the size of his hands. How they fit against you.

Then, oh. His foot nudges between yours, then hooks your ankle, kicking your stance wider.

His palm finds the space between your shoulder blades again, pressing down just enough to remind you where you are, who you are, what you're supposed to be doing instead of, well, whatever this is.

"Breathe."

Oh. Right. Breathing. That's a thing.

You suck in a sharp breath, only now realizing you'd been holding it captive in your chest.

"A lot of people hold their breath when they shoot," he explains, his other hand pressing into your ribs as if to make sure you were following his instructions, as if you'd do anything else. "It feels instinctual, like bracing will make you more controlled. But if you hold your breath, you lock up. Tension works against you. Breathing through the shot keeps everything loose. It makes the release smoother."

You weren't sure when everything became so hot, pressing in from all sides. But you felt like you might be sweating because no one should be allowed to say things like that, in a voice like his, with hands like his, and with zero self-awareness of what words like release can do to a person in your position.

You try to focus, to take another breath, but even that feels like a trap, because you are suddenly mortifying aware of the way your chest rises, of the heat dissipating between you, of how close he is.

His arms come to frame yours, surrounding in a way that makes everything else feel smaller. His hands go over yours, his chest is against your shoulder, his forearm skimming yours, and his breath is now tickling your ear.

"Your thumbs need to be higher," he says, adjusting them with his own, the rough pad of his finger dragging along the side of your hand. "You're gripping too far down, which throws off your alignment. Keep them forward, parallel with the slide. It'll help keep the recoil controlled, make your follow up shot faster."

His fingers tighten over yours, making sure you feel it. "And support your hand, it's doing too much. The pressure should be between both hands. If you squeeze harder with one than the other, you'll pull your shot without realizing it."

You nod, because you always nod when he speaks. Because you listen. Because learning from him is something you like, something that makes you feel good, something that makes you feel seen. And maybe that's why your hands are shaking.

He steps back and it's immediate, the rush of air, the space, the clarity that surely wasn't there before. Your chest expands, lungs finally taking what they were denied.

"Try again."

You exhale, reposition, adjust your stance the way he taught you. His instructions replay in your head, and you obey, thumbs high, pressure even, breathing.

You fire. And it's improved, smoother, more controlled, exactly like he said.

"That's it. Better."

You smoother the feeling those two words give you, shove in into the pit of your stomach where it can't cause problems. Where it can't mean anything. You're pathetic.

"Watch."

He steps in, you step back.

You try to focus on the technical aspects, really, you do. On how he grips the gun, on how his fingers rest perfectly in place, on how his stance is exactly what he just told you to correct. But your brain is completely uncooperative.

Your brain apparently has priorities, and right now, those priorities are his arms, the way his muscles shift beneath tight sleeves, the flex of his shoulders as he raises said gun.

And then lower, corruptfully lower, to the curve of his waist, where the fabric of his shirt strains, the way his belt rests just above the curve of his —

Absolutely not.

You blink hard, inhaling sharp, mentally shoving that thought into a vault labeled inappropriate. Do not open. The worst part, however, is that you can't tell if you're more mortified by the fact that your brain went there, or by the fact that, now that is has, you're not sure how to get it to stop.

"Focus."

Your mouth opens, then closes. "I — I am."

He doesn't look at you. Not once. But the way he reloads, it's like he's giving you time to wallow in the moment. And there's something, something, in the slight pull of his mouth, in the tiniest shift of his expression that's almost, but not quite, a smirk.

"Not on the right things."

His fires. One clean shot. Straight to the heart.

The paper doesn't resist, it just takes it, the force ripping clean through the center, leaning nothing but a perfect, gaping wound. It was precise in a way that shouldn't be surprising but still is.

It's a clean shot through something inside of you, too.

And you have no idea how to patch it up.

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