💫WoW💫

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑!𝐀𝐂𝐄…

pairing. portgas d. ace x f!reader

warnings/tags. explicit content, alcohol consumption, substance consumption, mentions of past cocaine consumption, sex under the influence, mentions of groupies, dubious snap of reader’s facial, ace has tattoos and a tongue piercing, and reader has nipple and belly piercings.

kazu’s note. i’ve been on guitartok for months now. sorry but i’m definitely projecting here 👁️‍🗨️

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑!𝐀𝐂𝐄…

who’s been trying for months to get you to come to at least one of his gigs. he sees you around quite often since you’re good friends with his younger brother, and figures it’s a good enough excuse to get you to see him in his element. but whenever he tries to corner you in the kitchen and shoot you an invitation, you always turn him down with a gentle shove as you make your way around him, claiming rock music simply isn’t your style.

who’s determined to make rock music your style. on days where he isn’t seen performing in front of crowds, he’s back home with his brothers, where he knows you’ll eventually be. with his electric guitar set in place and firm in his grasp, his fingers drum at the strings as the chords flow into a riffing melody. he works and practices really hard into his music, so the thin layer of sweat coating his inked chiseled body is nothing unexpected. though, what does seem to catch him a little off guard is seeing your figure leaning back against his bedroom door, closing the wooden piece behind you, arms crossed over your chest with your cup of coffee resting at your lips. your eyes tell a tale; you’re interested, and he’s all in for it.

who after a series of brutal and long months, finally manages to get you to see him perform. he’s more pumped than usually, his band mates notice, as he pregames with lots of tequila shots. he ignores the looks he gets from his stylist, focusing on the way he’s going to need his wavy hair tied back into a bun if he’s going to end this night with what he’s wanted with you for the longest. he can only smirk, the bitter taste of booze lingering on his tastebuds, setting his body ablaze in major contrast to the cool feel of the ball of steel pierced through his tongue.

who gives it his all the second he shows up on that stage. the adrenaline running mixed with the shots he took earlier has him feeling on edge, calloused fingers expertly drumming at chords as he sings through the mic, his voice roaring into the stadium. through the immense crowd, he spots you in the middle of his younger brother and friends. dressed in a skimpy black outfit, a smirk is pulled onto your lips as you bob your head to the rhythm. it’s a tune you’ve heard him practice before, so surely it stuck to you, but seeing you in person right before him made his blood run a mile a second, and god he wanted to take you backstage and make a mess out of you.

though the performance is over and he’s greeting fans and groupies, he’s now got his wife beater on with some grey sweats. he’s usually thrilled to meet his supporters, but his mind is entirely consummated by you. he wants you wrapping your arms around his neck, snuggling your soft breast into his chest, arms wrapped around his waist as you giggle and congratulate him on his show. he could care less about the groupies that always come to see him, and he’s far less interested in getting their pussies in favour of yours. he even decides to refuse the mini plastic cocaine bag he’s usually quick to snatch, since he had absolutely no business entertaining them, when he only wanted you.

rolling up papers into blunts after his gigs, slightly drained from hours of performing despite the buzz mowing at his brain. he’s finally backstage, bringing the blunt up to his mouth to lick at the paper when you show up amongst your friends, congratulating him for his outstanding performance. he knows this all, though he still thanks their support, but most of all he wants to hear it from you, wants to know what you have to say since this was your very first experience after all.

watches as you walk up to him, breast spilling in your tight top, leaning forward to snatch the rolled up spliff and placing it between your lips. you grab a lighter from your cleavage, spark it up and blow the smoke in his stunned face. “not bad.” you chuckle with low lidded eyes, before placing the blunt back into his parted mouth. your friends are long distracted, busy bothering his other bandmates, but ace couldn’t be bothered enough to care about them. not when he feels the sudden urge to pull you onto his lap, to feel the heat of the warmth of your legs straddling over him, and grab a strong hold onto your ass beneath your taunting miniskirt. the sloppy kiss he receives in consequence to his actions aren’t unexpected.

who feels his pants tightening painfully hard at the sounds you make when his jewelled fingers come to wrap around your throat, drool pooling at the corner of your mouth from the ball of steel in his tongue clashing with the roof of your mouth. he can taste the casamigos in the warm cavern, figured he shouldn’t be too surprised since he himself is quite buzzed, but wishes everyone would fuck the hell off somewhere and let him get what he’s wanted forever.

who puts you in every fucking position. from your sweaty bodies grinding into one another on the couch, to having you pressed up against the wall and pounding into your tight cunt, to have you bent over his vanity and watching from the reflection of the mirror as he pounds into you, teeth nipping at your neck. you fuck like wild animals, the bottle of tequila uncapped by his fangs and poured into your open mouth as you moan at the alcoholic taste. once he’s assured you’ve got a good fill, he’ll poor the rest of the contents on your sinful ass, watching the liquid lubricate your ass cheeks, the recoil from the forced point of contact between both your bodies only amplifying as tequila splashed between you both. the whine you let out when a rough hand comes to slap your slippery ass cheeks is incomparable to any tune he’s ever heard.

who has you pushed up against the wall, legs wrapped around his neck and rested onto his shoulders, as he eats you out like his life depended on it. you tasted so fucking good, more intoxicating than any booze he’s had in his life, and the way your acrylics run deep into his scalp tugging so harshly onto his hair as you moan and whine for more, messing up his bun and watching as the locks fall out of place. his tongue drags up and down your lips, mouth salivating as his spit drools past his lips and past your pussy onto the floor, sloppily getting his worth of fill, grinding his erection into the wall as he awaits on his sweet reward that’s bound to splurt on his face if he nibbles at your clit— “just like that.” spraying him in the face with your essence.

who pulls out his phone with a deep groan and snaps a picture with the flash on of your cum covered face, sat on your knees with his dick tapped against your pink tongue, the wet muscle wrapped all over his tip as you milk him of his worth. the pearly white droplets may have ruined your makeup entirely, but ace isn’t sure he’s seen a prettier sight than this. you, allowing him to finish his load onto your skin, in which he can’t help but stretch an arm and smear his nut on your face with his thumb, to which you so gracefully slip in the digit in your mouth and moan, which definitely hardens his dick back into place.

who’s seated on the couch, blunt pressed at his lips as he watches you bounce up and down his cock, riding and milking him for what he’s worth. he’s already on edge, can barely stand the sight of your pierced nipples bouncing in sync at your hips’ movements, so he distracts himself by bringing his mout around a bud and his large hand cups the other mound. he moans against the jewel, his own tongue piercing clashing against the pretty heart shaped diamond and his silver ring brushing against your other hardened nipple. the blunt now in your mouth, you grind back and forth as you let the ecstasy ripple through your body, smoke filling in your lungs and clouding your mind, your clit bumping against his pelvis when you lean down at a specific angle.

definitely places a drumstick into your mouth, to gag you up as he fucks into you. he doesn’t want to muffle your beautiful sounds, he honestly doesn’t care if the whole audience hears the way you crumble on his dick. he just can’t help the way he feels waves of arousal ripple through his limbs all liquidy hot, when he seems the dazed look in your eyes, jerking up from each intense snap of his hips rutting into you. your knees touch your ears, your anklet chiming right at his own ear, as he presses a kiss into your ankle. in consequence, he decides with a jewelled hand wrapped around your neck, a new angle in his rough thrusts, that he’s going to record your fucking moans one day and put it as adlibs in a track.

who pulls out and watches as his cum trickles down your fucked out pussy, staining his couch white of evidence. with two fingers, he grabs the sticky substance and shoves it back into you, eyes nearly rolling back at the broken cry you let out, body all sensitive from back to back orgasms. still, he has a mind of his own and very selfish desires, and simply cannot let you go after tonight. you’ve given him a teasing taste, and he knows he’ll be back for more.

who reaches to grab your phone and unlocks it with your face id, before punching his own number in it and ringing himself. he needs you to come back after this, he’s not sure how he’s managed to survive without you here with him this entire time, but it’s never too late to try. he wants you seated in vip, supporting him and filming him up on stage as he finally has the heart to sing the songs he’s dedicated for you, and to be able to carry you into his backstage room and fuck you yet again endlessly. yeah, sounds like a dream but as for now, he’s good with resting his head onto your chest and listening to your steady heartbeat as it lulls you both into sleep.

bonus point++ definitely gives you an personally signed autograph of his name in black permanent sharpie right above your pussy and below your pierced navel, marking your gaping cunt as his forever and always.

ignore how i barely talk abt him being a rockstar and i mainly just wanted to write smut for ace <3

absolute mushiest of the mushies🤜💗

Louder than Words - Portgas D. Ace

Portgas D. Ace x Reader

This is like the mushiest piece I have written. I was kinda embarrassed...but here it is. Let's give him the hugs and space he needed huh? This could also be a message to you lovelies out there too. MasterList linked at the bottom too!

Ace didn’t know what came over you, but whatever it was, he wasn’t complaining. Per se. 

You’d cupped his face gently, rubbing your thumbs along his cheeks tenderly, while he just looked back at you, curious. He smiled, in hopes of easing or appeasing whatever drudge was swirling in his chest and tainting this moment, “everything alright?”

You hummed and nodded at him, not a line on your expression but the bliss that pulled at your lips, revealing your peaceful serenity to him. His breath hitched slightly as you pressed your lips to his forehead, lingering for a moment. Then a shorter peck to his nose, before nuddling it back and forth with your own. He reopened his eyes when you tilted his head, still cradled in your palms, and pressed kisses to either of his cheeks.

You pulled away enough to look him in the eyes, and he felt his heart chase after you, beating with a tenacity meant to jump ship from his chest to yours. Your eyes dropped to the last target on his face, and he felt his entire physiology twist in anticipation.

You guided his face to yours gently, holding him as though he was the most prized treasure of all the seas. If he ever said that aloud, you would agree. 

Your own personal One Piece. 

You guided him, and he followed eagerly, gravitating towards you naturally, and you met him somewhere in the middle, colliding in an explosion of euphoria, igniting the wiring of his entire being.

His every sense sharpened, yet by attuning himself to your every move he melded into you. He-his edges-seemed to all but disappear as he chased after you unwilling to disconnect for a moment longer than necessary. Your pull, irresistible-inevitable as he continued to dive deeper into it.

Deeper and deeper. 

Closer and closer. 

Chest to chest. 

Heart to heart.

Until you gently guided him away, again cradling his face and rubbing sweet, sweet, tender circles into his skin, massaging your warmth into him. Your eyes again held his, and gosh you’re just so beautiful. He’s pulled out of his daze when he felt your chest struggling under his. You’re panting slightly, your breathing a little strained, and he realized that his weight on you definitely isn’t helping. 

He lifted himself up just slightly-unwilling to completely part but-no longer crushing you. He couldn’t help but wonder: when had he ended up on top of you like this?

You’re gently moving his head about in your palms again, pressing another kiss to his forehead. Then another to the crown of his head and for a moment he’s so glad he showered and washed his hair yesterday.

“I’m so thankful to have you in my life,” you breathed into his skin, lips inscribing the words into his forehead, and tugging on his heart strings.

Again his head is guided by your hands and again his eyes are treated to the sight of yours. Like a rope with a knot catching onto a splinter of wood, the air caught inside his chest. Your own eyes trailed over his features, slowly, carefully, as though committing every part of him, every detail, to memory. You studied him with a sort of reverence, your awe manifesting in a choked gasp and subtle widening of the eyes.

Your hands slowly slipped from his face, and he found himself missing your touch immediately. Thankfully, he didn’t have to part with it for long. 

“I am so grateful,” your fingers ghosted along his cheek moving to his lips, “that you exist,” your words tugged at that stuck knot.

“That you were born,” a warmth spread through his chest - yet he couldn’t breathe. 

“That you exist in this world - and that I,” your expression became impossibly soft, “that I get to know you.” 

He opened his mouth desperate to return the sentiment, but you continued gently tracing his lips as you did, “that you’re allowing me to love you like this.”

He couldn’t-

You let out a little squeak at the speed and force with which he sat the two of you up and held you. His fingers interwoven with your hair, his nose buried in your neck, his other hand pressing you into him, melding you into his body. Soon enough, even his legs came to wrap around your own, completely preventing any chance of escape.

Though to be honest, you escape to him, not from him. 

Oh the things you did to him. 

He might be made of fire, but his devil fruit couldn’t protect him from the way your affections effectively set fire to his very brain-his heart. His chest heaved, pressing against yours, his eyes water and his grip tightened. Tremors overtook him as he fought the urge to crush you completely into his body. 

How could joy resemble a knife tearing through his chest? How could the tearing pain feel so delightful? The contradictions were enough to make his head spin and his thoughts knot up.

A gentle hand - your gentle hand slowly worked its way through his hair, patiently undoing any tangles your fingers came about, consequently undoing the intricate knotting of the net entangling his mind. The delicate trails your fingertips drew along his scalp soothed his thoughts such that each raging beastly emotion was conquered in turn. It wasn’t too long before he’d vanquished the confusion, your tender care steering him to clarity.

You were steering him towards dreamland too if he’s honest, as his consciousness began to ebb under the rhythmic flow of your fingers through the waves of his hair. It wasn’t long before it plunged completely into the ocean of unconsciousness. 

// ——

When he regained consciousness you were seated beside him, reading something or another. You were really engrossed in whatever it was you were reading, so much so that you startled a little when his hand lethargically claimed your own, pulling it closer to him.

He brushed his lips on the back of it, grinning up at you with eyes that drooped with the sleep still in them. He delighted in the flustered expression you wore in response to his own affections, blinking at you slowly. You marked your page with your free hand, before closing the book to give him your undivided attention.

“How was your nap, love?” Love you called him. Love.

His eyelids closed, succumbing to the weight they seemed to carry, basking in the bliss washing over him like a gentle summer shower. 

Love. 

He could hear you moving about, his hold on your hand tightening as you shifted. A little groan left him as he struggled to open his eyes and mouth to speak to you. You were not helping with how your other hand came to comb his hair again, but he managed, “mmm you’re…gon’ make me fall ‘sleep ‘gain.”

“Then that means you need more sleep m’love,” m’love, not just any love, your love. Yours. 

He was your love. 

Yours.

He was yours. Happily so. Forever would be too. If you’d have him. 

He hummed, lips weakly pushing through sleep to show you his satisfaction. 

Your voice was much closer to him now, speaking from right above his head, and he fought an uphill battle trying to open his eyes to look at you. His whole body felt heavy, completely sapped of strength. Heck even his grip on your hand was as limp as ever. He couldn’t help but wonder if he was in contact with sea stone or something. 

He felt you press your lips to his forehead again, gently fueling him enough to pull his lips into a drowsy, wobbly, smile. 

“Get some rest love,” you spoke softly, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Stay wit mmmmm,” talking was proving to be a challenge, “c’mere.”

He threw a heavy arm over what he hoped was your waist. It probably was? Gosh he couldn’t care with the way you were giggling next to him. 

“Sure thing love,” you had to be doing some kind of magic with how he felt like he was levitating despite the weight that seeped into his bones, “just let me brush my teeth first.”

He couldn’t hold you down if he wanted to with how tired he was, “mmm back soo,” he mumbled.

“Sure thing,” his lips wobbled themselves into a smile as you pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead again. 

He was out instantaneously. You kept your promise though; through his daze he felt you slip in and embrace him. Seems like his body knew what to do too, despite its earlier lack of cooperation, and he wrapped an arm around your waist to hold you in return before he was out again.

He woke up in your arms. 

His head rested against your chest, with your arm languidly around his shoulders. Taking in a deep breath filled him with the nostalgia of the scent of home. A home that did not exist in his memories. Which meant it probably existed in his imagination then. A home that could be. A home with you.

It was the scent of home nonetheless. 

He tightened his hold on your waist nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

I’m so grateful you exist.

His arms instinctively tightened.

That you were born. 

His inhale was a stuttery one, his own lips and vision stuttering as well. He buried his face further into your neck, taking in your scent again. Yet all that did was push the tears out faster. 

That was the opposite of what he’d expected! 

Urgh. One of those hot, salty blobs ended up on your skin.

To his relief, and dismay - oddly enough - you remained unconscious. Your eyes closed and breathing consistent. Though that didn’t last long, as you shifted slightly, the arm around his shoulder worked to pull him into you, as your other one came up to play with his hair-you really liked doing that huh?

“Get it aaall,” your voice was thick with sleep, “get it all…out,” you hummed a bit, “let all that poison out.”

“Darlin’, did I wake you?” It was pathetic how his voice cracked - he hated this weakness that was welling up...again.

Just like that, your hold on him tightened, your lips pressing a soft kiss to the crown of his head. 

“I’d be upset if you didn’t,” you sounded much more awake now, “you’re one of the people I want to be there for the most.”

Unfortunately, a choked sob left him. Gosh he was so pathetic. He was a full grown man! He wasn’t supposed to be some weak crybaby! To think he used to get mad at Luffy for crying too!

Yet…

He. couldn’t. stop.

His shoulders shook, the tremors traveled his body, and a violent shiver wracked it. Yet you laid and held him and ran your fingers through his hair, kissing your favorite spot on his forehead consistently. Every kiss, every gentle brush of your loving fingers tenderly working through his hair, every tender trace of your fingertips on his scalp, brought a fresh wave of tears to follow the next. At some point he’d started clutching on to you, like you were the life-ring preventing him from drowning.

He wasn’t sure how long you two stayed like that. All he knew that in between his sniffles and his sobbing there was your voice. 

“Get it all out love,” you lightly encouraged - as though he wasn’t lesser for crying like a baby. 

“I’m so proud of you,” you said a few times too - as though this pathetic display wasn’t shameful.

“I love you so much,” you reaffirmed time and time again stroking his hair - as though his weakness didn’t make him less desirable.

For whatever reason he didn’t doubt a word. Despite the mental cesspool working overtime to drown him in darkness, the light of your honesty shone through. No matter how far he fell, it followed.

He wasn’t sure how long you two lay there, holding each other, and he wasn’t sure when he’d lost consciousness again. His eyes were so incredibly heavy when he woke up again though. They must be swollen from all his crying. You weren’t next to him this time, however as his senses came back to him, he could hear the sounds of a pen scratching and paper flipping.

When he sat up, he noticed a pitcher of water and a tall glass with an opaque yellow-tinted liquid and some mint leaves in it-lemonade probably-on the bedside table. He had a moment to locate you at his desk before you turned to face him, “hey there.”

“Hey,” he croaked, voice still thick from lack of use.

You put the pen down, got up, and walked towards him with a kind smile, “I made you some lemonade, and got some water,” you sat down near his legs, “gotta replace all those fluids you lost.”

That got a chuckle out of him, “your lessons with Marco are going well, huh?”

“I also have a lot of personal experience with these things,” you grinned at him.

“With crying like a baby?” 

You just hummed and nodded.

“This might sound bad,” you weren’t looking at him as you confessed, “but I’m kind of…” you trailed off, shooting him a quick glance, “happy,” you shrunk, your shoulders reaching your ears, “you felt safe enough to be that vulnerable with me.”

“So, you liked seeing me cry?” He poked at you. “Should I cry more for you, doll?”

“Ace,” you groaned, your smile only growing fonder as you looked at him.

“Didn’t peg you for a sadist,” he kept teasing, “I’m not sure how I feel about this kink of yours.”

He loved the way you rolled your eyes, but revealed your teeth with how big your smile was getting. “I don’t like seeing you cry,” you corrected, “I like that you feel safe with me.”

You paused, then appended, “well safe enough to not hide your pain.”

“Hide my pain?” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Crying is one way to get pain out of your body,” you twisted your body to face him more fully, voice soft as you shared your opinion, “emotional pain especially.”

“Isn’t crying just weakness?” He frowned at you. 

“No?”

“It’s not?” 

“Do you think I’m weak when I cry?”

“No.”

“Then?”

“But you’re a woman.”

A tired look flashed over your features momentarily, “so men aren’t allowed to cry?” You challenged, tone still as patient as ever.

“Only weak men cry,” for some reason the words sounded less convincing in your presence.

“Who says?” His gaze snapped up to meet yours and you repeated yourself, “who said?”

“Isn’t it just something that everyone knows?” His brow furrowed, scowl taking his features. 

“No,” you paused as you said that, “well I guess in a sense,” you squinted at nothing, “yes… it is something that many people assume.”

“You just saw me cry like a baby,” he countered, “you don’t think I’m weak?”

“On the contrary,” he felt his eyes widen despite the weight embedded into them, “you’ve been carrying all that pain.” 

An ache tormented your gentle expression, “and you choose kindness and warmth and bring joy to those you care about despite it,” you looked him in the eye again, “that isn’t something a weak person could do.”

A shiver traveled down his spine at the way your eyes studied him, softening as you opened your mouth to speak again, “kindness is the mark of the strong, Ace,” you placed your hand on top of his notably larger one, pride dripping from your voice, “and you’re so incredibly kind.”

What was with you and stealing the air from his lungs? He felt his chest constrict like he’d been punched too.

“We’re so lucky to have you in our lives,” your thumb traced circles onto the back of his hand, “we’re even luckier to be loved by you.”

He could feel that prickling in the back of his eyes he was becoming way too familiar with for his liking. “We really have to do something about that crying kink of yours,” he joked.

You scoffed, shaking your head, but you weren’t mad. “I think I’m just going to have to tell you more often how lucky I am to have you in my life.”

His heart lurched in his chest, “I think I’m the lucky one.”

“We can both be lucky.”

“Then I’m luckier.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Yea huh.”

“Agree to disagree?”

“No,” he has a huge grin on his face at your scowl. 

“Fine,” you rolled your eyes, rising from the bed with a dramatic sigh, “I’ll let you believe whatever you want to believe.”

“Oi!” He couldn’t help the chuckle that left him.

“Drink some water and your lemonade, love,” you gave him a little peck on his forehead again, “then let’s get you showered and fed.”

He caught your wrist as you moved away, “where are you going?”

“To the desk,” you blinked at him.

“What’re you up to there?”

“I’m just going through some paperwork,” he really was the luckier one of the two of you.

“Marry me,” the words flew out of his mouth before his mind could even register them in his thoughts.

You laughed, raising your left hand for him to view, “already did.”

Shoot.

“Now,” mirth still colored your expression, “you drink your lemonade while I get these papers done.”

“Yes ma’am,” he saluted you and allowed you to slip out of his grasp.

It was when he’d finally moved to lean back against the wall and grabbed the drink you’d prepared that he heard you giggle a little. Strange, given what you were working on, “see something funny?”

“No,” you singsonged, cheerfully wiggling in your seat, “it’s just my husband asked me to marry him, again, and I’m feeling very happy.”

His head clunked against the wall he rested against, heat rushing to his cheeks as a disgruntled groan left him, despite the way he was grinning, “I swear I didn’t forget.”

“I didn’t think you did, love,” you giggle some more, turning slightly to look at him, “I’m just so happy you would want to marry me, again.”

“I’d marry you again every day if I could,” he took a swig of his lemonade enjoying the way you fought and failed to keep your smile contained as it threatened to split what he could see of your face.

You turned back around and he could see that you were fighting to focus on the papers in front of you. 

“How about we have another wedding on the Moby Dick?” He found himself scooching his way down the bed, his excitement uncontained. “We can get you a proper dress this time! Your own!”

He looked up thinking some more, “and I’ll wear a proper suit with a vest and a tie and everything!”

“I’m surprised you know about vests and ties,” you shot him a teasing grin.

“Hey! I took some etiquette classes as a kid!” 

“You did?”

“I didn’t tell you?” He’d have to tell you more about his life before he set sail then. “Yeah back when I was in the East Blue,” it’s been a while since he left huh? “Makino-a barmaid from the village nearby-taught me manners.”

“So she’s the one that taught you about vests and ties?”

“Yeah,” oh wait a second, “we can have Thatch make us a huge cake and a feast!” Now that he was back on the original topic he had so many ideas! “Pops can officiate! Marco can be the one to bring you down the aisle! And-and-”

“You really want to have another wedding then?” You were now turned to face him completely.

“Yeah! How about it?” He scooched even closer to you. “Our first one was nice too, but we were in a hurry and I remember we had to go with whatever we had.”

“Is it bad that I liked our small, humble wedding?”

“Huh? No of course not! It was great!” Where did that come from? “I’m just saying we can have another so I can ‘marry you again.’”

“Hmm the idea of seeing you all dressed up in a three piece suit is tempting,” you hummed.

He guffawed a bit at that. “I’d probably mistake you for an angel if I saw you in a white dress.”

“Aww you wouldn’t recognize me?”

“Nah because,” he smirked, “I’d be blinded by how beautiful you’d look.”

When you hunched your shoulders to your ears and looked away a bit, his chest swirled with pride. He was getting better at this flirting with you thing!

“Maybe we shouldn’t then,” sounds of protest were leaving him before he knew it, “I don’t want to blind you.”

That had the two of you laughing.

When you calmed down, you turned back towards the work waiting for you, “there isn’t much left to do commander, so stop distracting me.”

Your distraction quickly chugged the rest of that refreshing glass of juice, and moved back to pour himself a glass of water. Something seemed to click within his head as he pondered your order: “I’m distracting now, am I?”

“Very.”

He burst out laughing. “Well we’re even then,” he proceeded to take a loud slurp of water.

He almost choked on it laughing when he saw you startle a bit, his flirt landing well with you again. 

Cradling his glass, he opted to just watch you work. He’d make your second wedding happen. You deserved to be celebrated again and again. Besides, it’s not like pirates didn’t party regularly. So it’s not like they’d be going out of their way really-if that’s what you were worried about. Well, knowing you, that was something you were worried about. He found an amused little huff leaving him at that thought. 

“See something funny, love?” Seems you’d heard him.

“Nope,” he grinned your way, “just thinking.”

“Should I be concerned?”

“Hey!”

“You come up with some pretty crazy schemes,” he noticed the little smirk on your lips - oh you cheeky - “they’re usually fun, even if they’re dangerous.”

“Like you’re one to talk!” He grinned. “You always add on more crazy things!”

“My crazy things are to make your crazy things less dangerous,” you hummed, “I very much prefer you alive, well, and healthy you see.”

“You just like me,” he beamed at you with a laugh.

“I love you, actually,” you responded without missing a beat nor looking up from your paperwork.

Yeah.

He was definitely giving you that second wedding here on the Moby Dick. Maybe even at one of the prettier spring or autumn islands on Pops’ turf. Whatever you’d like the most! Heck he’ll give you two second weddings - er - a second and a third. Wedding. Yeah.

Oh!

Maybe he could even surprise you with it! 

He ought to get started on it - today! Right now!

He threw back the rest of his glass of water and rushed to the door.

“Ah! Ace! Wait a second!” He paused right before opening it up. “I’m just about done with this! Let me finish and I can help you with your hair and back!”

“Huh?” He raised a brow at you.

“Huh?” You returned equally confused. “Weren’t you going to shower to feel better?”

“No?” He tilted his head.

“Then you’re going straight for the kitchen?” You continued, still confused. “Didn’t you want to eat together?”

Oh that was tempting. He couldn’t say no to that. Wait, even the shower help was tempting. You’d been the one to teach him how to properly scrub his scalp after all. But he didn’t want to delay his surprise a second longer!

“Then, I’m gonna get some fresh air,” not really a lie, he’d get fresh air on his way to see Marco, “then we can eat together.”

“So no shower?”

“Wouldn’t we get caught?”

“What do you mean? I’m just washi-Ace!” You let out a garbled sound making him laugh.

“Alright, alright darlin’,” he gave you a lopsided grin, “I’m just teasing. Yeah we’ll do both.”

“Okay,” you seemed pleased with that outcome, despite it being more work for you.

He let go of the door handle to come press a kiss to your forehead, “love you.”

“Love you too,” you returned immediately.

He walked out the door feeling lighter than he had in a while.

Yeah he was definitely giving you the grandest wedding he could, and he was a Whitebeard pirate, and they really knew how to party.

Extra:

Later during an “Official Division Commander Meeting”:

Izou: she must be the one to pick out her dress

Ace: then I’ll take her out to get one picked

Izou: absolutely not! I will

Ace: hey she’s my wife

Izou: exactly! You’re not allowed to see her in the dress until the ceremony you fool!

Marco: (placing a comforting hand on Ace’s shoulder) well, there’s no one better for this task than Izou yoi

Izou: hmph! but of course

Thatch: you all have the easy part, I have to make all the food, and the cake

Ace: it’ll be worth it!

Thatch: for you maybe, you’re not the one cooking to feed a fleet. I swear I have the most difficult job

Marco: we have feasts all the time, no need to do anything extra yoi. 

Ace: except the cake! The cake is really important!

Thatch: yeah yeah I heard you. groans

Marco: Besides your division has a bunch of cooks to help you out doesn’t it?

//------------------------

If you liked it: please toss a comment to the lonely oh people a'plenty

For More Ace Content: Tumblr MasterList and Asks are Open -> rules here

The edge is him, like his epithet/alias is the "surgeon of death," prob only drinks black coffee 🫖♨️☕️

I was going through my music and remembered how much I love Black Rock Shooter and then well-

🧿Imu, a confusing critter thingy🧿

*steals your anime villain and turns them into a little critter*

Ehhh,pretty much 😭

Rereading Marineford kind of takes the emotional impact out of it for me for the dumbest reason. Like that lower panel in the second page shows Akainu is legit surprised that Ace took such low-effort bait and just went "I know some of my loved ones have died so I can escape but this man talked shit about my dad"

Like I'm imagining Akainu having an after-work drink during the timeskip and he's just chuckling about it with some of his colleagues. "So then, get this, the fucker actually turned around, KNOWING he couldn't defeat me, all because of some shit-talking and banter. I still can't believe it, fisting that kid's chest was the easiest promotion I've ever gotten"

That 'loveable dummy' calls to me so~ 🩵v🩵

Hi! Hope you have a nice day. If it's okay with you, may i request something for the charming firefly, ace?

Something like ace is vv oblivious to the reader's flirting, just thinking everything just a coincidence, like their seat on the dining table are next to each other, or when he's thirsty or hungry, the reader will always have a drink or snack/food ready. While actually it's happening because of the reader and their observations.

Sorry if it's too long, thanks for your time for reading this! (Completely okay if you're not ok with writing this, i just wanna say thank you)

a/n: wahh! thiss is soo cutee! hope u like thiss ><

Clueless Hearts and Full Plates

Ace doesn’t realize the reader’s affection is behind every perfect coincidence—until one finally clicks.

Ace X gn! reader

tags: fluff, sfw, flirting, ooc, ace being oblivious

a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ffs a bit cringe

word count: 1.1k

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

It was always a coincidence.

At least, that’s what Ace thought.

Every meal, every shared moment, every little “accident” that placed you beside him was chalked up to fate, luck, or the universe just being weirdly nice to him that day.

Like this morning.

The Moby Dick rocked gently with the waves, and the crew had begun their daily scramble to the galley. Ace, still half-asleep with bedhead and one sandal barely on, made his way to the table. As usual, the crew’s chatter filled the room with the kind of loud, familial chaos only the Whitebeard Pirates could manage.

And, also as usual, the seat beside you was the only one open.

“Hey,” Ace greeted, plopping down with a yawn and no suspicion.

“Morning,” you replied, already pushing a glass of orange juice in his direction without a second thought.

He blinked. “Whoa, you read my mind. I was just thinking I was thirsty.”

You smiled. “Coincidence, I guess.”

Ace grinned, utterly unaware of how long you’d been keeping track of the way he always reached for juice in the morning, never coffee, never water. Just juice. Always.

After a minute, he added, “Also kinda hungry… I forgot to grab a roll or somethin’.”

You wordlessly slid a small plate of warm bread and butter closer to him.

He gasped, delighted. “Seriously, you’re magic! You always have just what I need!”

You bit your lip to hide the fond curve of your smile. “Lucky timing, huh?”

Lucky timing.

That’s what he called it the other day when he tripped coming down the deck stairs and nearly face-planted—only to find your hand catching him in time. It’s what he called it when he accidentally left his hat on the upper deck and you “just so happened” to come by with it a few minutes later.

You didn’t mind. Not really.

It was kind of… endearing. In an Ace-way. He wasn't cold or careless—he just genuinely didn’t see it. The thought that you might be observing him, remembering the things he liked, and subtly trying to show him how much you cared? It never even crossed his mind.

You watched as he messily buttered a piece of bread, crumbs falling on the table. He looked content, humming a tune and swinging his feet like a child in a giant’s chair. And when he caught you watching, he gave you a bright smile—one so open and warm it made your stomach flutter.

“Y’know,” he mumbled around a bite, “you’re always around. It’s kinda nice.”

“Kinda?” you teased.

He nodded, mouth still full. “Mm-hmm. Like, comfy.”

The word hit somewhere soft in your chest. He didn’t even realize he was flirting back.

Later that day, a few of the crew were setting up for poker in the corner, but you were more interested in the commotion coming from the training area. You leaned against the railing, watching Ace spar with Marco. He was shirtless, flames licking at his fingertips as he dodged and laughed, clearly having fun.

Your gaze lingered on him. How could it not? He was strong, fast, alive with every movement.

And when he collapsed on the deck in dramatic defeat—Marco having pinned him with a blue-flamed armbar—he wheezed out, “Water… I need water…”

By the time Marco released him, you were already at his side, bottle in hand.

“Holy crap,” Ace said between breaths. “You’re, like… everywhere.”

“I told you,” you said casually, helping him sit up. “Lucky timing.”

He chuckled, leaning back on his palms and chugging half the bottle. “At this point, I’m starting to think you’re my guardian angel or something.”

You raised a brow. “You think your guardian angel would watch you get elbowed into the deck before offering water?”

Ace grinned. “Gotta build character, right?”

You rolled your eyes, but your chest was warm with something fond and frustrating. How could he be so oblivious?

The truth was, you noticed everything about him. The way he only got grumpy when he was too hot or too tired. How he always tried to hide his hiccups when he laughed too hard. How he made sure the youngest crewmates never felt left out during meals, even if it meant giving them the last piece of meat on his plate.

You didn’t just like him. You admired him.

So yeah, maybe you rearranged your seat every meal to end up next to him. Maybe you kept his favorite snacks in your jacket pockets during long shifts. Maybe you started carrying an extra bottle of water—just in case a certain fire fist decided to exhaust himself in a sparring match.

He never asked. You just… wanted to.

And he just… didn’t notice.

It wasn’t until one particular night, under the stars, that things finally shifted.

You were both sitting on the edge of the deck, feet dangling above the sea. Most of the crew was asleep or out of sight. Ace had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and you handed him a second one without saying a word.

“Man, it’s like you read my mind,” he said for the hundredth time.

You sighed softly. “Maybe your mind is just easy to read.”

He looked at you, puzzled. “Huh?”

You gave a small, nervous smile. “I mean… I always seem to know what you need, right? I guess I just pay attention.”

There was a pause. The kind of pause where your heart beats a little faster, wondering if maybe, finally, he might catch on.

Ace blinked. “Oh. So you’ve got like, observation haki or something?”

You stared at him.

Deadpan.

“…Yeah. Sure. Let’s call it that.”

He beamed. “That’s so cool!”

You dropped your face into your hands.

But then—something changed in his tone.

“…Wait.”

You peeked up through your fingers.

Ace’s smile was still there, but it was… slower. Thoughtful. You could practically see the gears turning in his head. Every juice, every meal, every seat, every snack.

And then, like someone lit a match under his brain, realization bloomed across his face.

“…Wait.”

You watched the faintest red spread over his cheeks. He sat straighter. “Are you—? Have you been—? This whole time—?”

You tilted your head, lips twitching. “You’re cute when you put the puzzle together.”

He gawked. “So it wasn’t just coincidences?!”

You snorted. “Ace, I’ve been flirting with you for weeks.”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

And then he laughed. It was loud, a little embarrassed, but full of warmth.

“I’m such an idiot.”

“A lovable idiot,” you corrected, nudging his shoulder.

“…So does this mean,” he said slowly, “you like me? Like, like like?”

You raised a brow. “Only if you like me back.”

He leaned in, pressing his forehead gently to yours with a shy, crooked grin. “Well, now that I know… I’m definitely gonna start paying attention.”

You chuckled, nudging the bottle of water into his hand again. “Start with drinking water. Then we’ll work our way up to romance.”

Ace laughed, and this time, he didn’t call it luck.

A challenge I'd be ready to take on 😈💙😈

Posting bc I feel like it

🎉🎂CORA🍰🎉

Happy birthday Cora boy🥺❤️

GIFS describing my first reaction:

GIFS after reading this and how I view him now:

Figarland Shamrock is an Otter, an analysis.

With the release (on most major pirating sites) of the newest One Piece chapter, a new character known as Figarland Shamrock was introduced. As One Piece fans are acutely aware, this mans importance to the story is quite vital, being seemingly a twin to Red Haired Shanks, one of the series' most mysterious and popular figures.

However, as I was discussing the latest chapter with a friend, he remarked that this new character had a certain "feminine" quality to him, a sentiment which I shared. However, the details of how he came to this conclusion fascinated me, so I decided to analyze his design and see exactly why exactly it is that this man looks like he belongs in a queer Halloween party.

(Also: YES I am aware that the image says twink and not otter, the people who I discuss one piece with are straight as fuck and do NOT know what an otter is. also i can't rlly add an img id cuz i'm supposed to be doing hw rn. srry >n<)

I'm aware that some of these comments might not be completely accurate, but these are just the things that stood out to me the most.

If you see anything you saw that wasn't listed feel free to add! :D