Kina⋆˚࿔

your anatomy exam is coming up, and you’ve been studying like your career depends on it (spoiler alert: it does), but you’ve been going batshit crazy just staring at your notes. so what better way to get off the books than to hang out with your boyfriend? 

“yes,” you reply, placing ‘pectoralis major’ on his chest. “it wouldn’t work the same if you had a shirt on. active recall, visual learning, and such.” “right,” he mutters, brow furrowed as he watches you. “so…?” “so, flex your deltoid,” you demand. “c’mon, haji. this is important.” he flexes his shoulder obediently, looking away as you stick another label on his body. 

you’re kind of surprised hajime agreed to this in the first place; though honestly, you really didn’t give him much of an explanation, simply texting him, “come to my dorm @ 10pm,” with no further instructions. you laughed when he called at 9:42 saying he was at the building, having to hold it in as you led your bright-eyed boyfriend into your room.

“you will be to blame if i don’t pass this,” you tell him, revelling in the slight twitch of his body as you slide a finger over his skin to pat down the adhesive. “right. can’t have that,” he says under his breath. you snicker. despite his reluctance, he’s not angry. maybe just disappointed. you’re not worried, though. he’d get what he came for soon enough.

sneaking a glance at him, you quickly scribble ‘teres minor’ on another scrap of tape. hajime’s ears are bright red, but his bottom lip is pursed up and his jaw is tight. tell-tale signs of his enjoyment. 

“i know you’re a little embarrassed, but i need you to lift your arm up for me,” you tell him sweetly, tape hanging from your fingertips. hajime lets out a flustered grumble in reply, dim light highlighting hard planes of muscle as he accedes. 

“it’s kind of itchy,” he says, after a moment. “well, it’s tape,” you answer matter-of-factly, pasting ‘frontalis’ on his forehead, then look at him doubtfully. “also, you need to stop scowling. you look cute when you’re not scowling.” “‘m not scowling,” hajime says under his breath, but his eyebrows relax immediately. you bite the inside of your cheek. cute.

another couple minutes pass by as you continue to stick labels on him, humming a tune while you treat your poor boyfriend like a whiteboard. 

“...how long will this take?” hajime asks, stiffly, two pieces of tape hanging off the hollows of his cheekbones. you stretch out, making a big show of checking the clock on the wall. it’s almost midnight. “i’m basically done,” you reply. “i’m not going over the accessory muscles.” 

hajime tilts his head, narrowing his eyes knowingly at you. “yeah, just wanna know, so i’m not peeling gemellus inferior out of my butt tomorrow,” he remarks wryly. you mirror his expression, enthused. “hah. i forgot you know this already.” 

hajime pinches your inner thigh playfully. it doesn’t hurt—he could never hurt you—but you yelp anyway, more tickled than anything. “hey, i’m pretty smart, you know,” he reminds you, smoothing over the subtle sting with a callused thumb. 

you scoot over towards him, running your hand down the label reading ‘rectus femoris.’ “i know you’re pretty smart,” you say, gaze locked on his, “otherwise i wouldn’t allow you to be sitting shirtless on my floor.” you pull, and the screech of tape being taken off skin is the only sound in the room for a second.

the sudden dilation of his pupils makes you laugh through your nose. “oh, that’s all,” hajime says lightly, body hot under your touch. “because i’m smart.” “and muscular,” you add, leaning over him as he sits back on his forearms, watching you intently. “mm, that’s part of it?” he asks, voice just breathless enough to make your stomach tighten.

“yeah,” you murmur, hooking a fingernail under ‘external oblique.’ your eyes drop to his bare chest, then drag back up to his face as you smile. “do you take a makeout session as gratuity for your model work?” 

hajime swallows, his jaw fluttering. a blush blooms over his cheeks and he rolls his eyes. “that’s what i thought you called me here for,”  he mumbles, warm hand coming up to rest on the curve of your lower back as you giggle. “c’mere.”

he peppers your face with soft kisses, leaving wet marks. your laughter fills the small room when you feel something sticky on your cheek. 

“haji, i can’t take you serious with that stuff on your face!” “take it off, then!”

when satoru told you he was going to get haircut. you didn’t think he meant he’d be doing it himself.

he had locked himself in the bedroom for hours beforehand. so now . . after finally getting him to come out and show you, he ran past you instead. and now, you find yourself begging him to simply turn around.

“toru… it cannot be that bad, just let me see. please..?”

“no.”

the pout in his voice was evident, muffled slightly as he curled deeper into the bed, squishing pillows to either side of his head like a makeshift helmet.

if there was one thing satoru prided himself on that had nothing to do with his absurd strength or physique, it was his hair. soft porcelain white strands that framed his face just right.

the polar tang is always unusually quiet at night. the crew have mostly settled into their respective bunks and the only sign of life left is the constant reassuring hum that seems to be vibrating through the ship's walls at all times.

except there is one last other thing left or rather one person, and that person is you.

you have always had trouble sleeping. it started back when you were a teenager, and now that you're older with new struggles and more worries, it only keeps getting worse. it's not that you don't want to sleep, you crave it desperately, maybe more than anything else, but lying in bed wide awake every night is probably the most infuriating experience you have ever had. (even more infuriating than playing cards with shachi who keeps cheating very badly every single time.)

now, you know that leaving the comfort of your bed might not help you fall asleep any faster but you've never done well with time that feels wasted and so you've gotten into the habit of busying yourself until you feel like it's worth another try to enter dream land.

the crew sometimes jokes about the helpful ghost that seems to be haunting their ship because they keep waking up to things they swear were broken when they went to bed last night suddenly fixed.

no one really mentions it, apart from the occasional jokes, because even after five months of sailing with them, no one's really sure how to approach you about it. but it's an unspoken agreement that whenever someone finds you passed out on the floor next to a boiler that was causing trouble the day before, a wrench still in your hand, they let you sleep. it doesn't happen every night, but usually you manage to catch up on at least a few hours like this. sometimes someone even drapes a blanket over you. (you've tried to figure out who it is, who cares enough to go get a blanket from somewhere and come back to carefully place it on top of your sleeping form, but whenever you mention it to anyone they act like they have no idea what you're talking about.)

you're not sure how your captain feels about you missing early morning meetings from time to time, when you've finally managed to fall asleep and no one had the heart to wake you up - the ever present shadows under your eyes telling them that you desperately need the rest - but the crew insists they can brief you about everything at lunch anyways.

it's a delicate balance you and the others have settled into and it's what keeps you sane through those countless sleepless nights.

the only issue is that lately there hasn't been much left to fix anymore.

at first, you think that maybe there can't be something broken all the time, maybe you've finally caught up on all the little emergencies that are always going on.

but you live on a submarine with like 20 other people. two of those people being penguin and shachi. there's always something that needs fixing.

and you could've sworn that the coffee maker wasn't working just this morning, but when you enter the kitchen at 2am sharp, toolbox in hand, you notice that the little yellow light signaling the machine is doing it's thing is glowing again, and someone has put a jug into the compartment that is already filling with steaming hot black coffee.

before you can even begin to wonder who on this ship has decided to make coffee in the middle of the night, you hear someone clear their throat behind you.

a little startled you glance back to find law standing behind the door. he's leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, casual as ever.

(was he.. waiting for you?)

"i've been wondering how my crew manages to get so many tasks done lately but i'm starting to think that it's not the crew."

he pushes himself off the wall.

"it's just you, right?"

he looks at you with what you interpret as a contemplating gaze, but if you're being honest you have no idea what's going through his head. it's always hard to read him.

a silent moment forms between you while you consider what to say. your brain isn't working right at this time of night. you inhale to say something, anything, to not make this situation any weirder than it already is but he beats you to it. you let out your breath, relieved that you don't have to come up with an excuse right away.

"why are you doing this?"

and for god's sake, that's an even worse question to answer.

you try to collect yourself and start stammering something, random words quietly bubbling out of you. you think you hear yourself mumble something along the lines of "just- uh, doing my job", but before you can form a coherent explanation, law stops you again.

"you know that you don't have to prove yourself, right? you have already earned your place on this ship."

you look up in quiet surprise.

he spoke in the same voice as always - sharp, controlled and direct, not leaving anything up for interpretation. but in his eyes, and along the sharp structure of his face, lies a softness you're not used to seeing on your captain.

something about it makes you incredibly nervous. but it also drains the tension out of your shoulders and you notice yourself relax a little.

does he think you stay awake every night to impress him? and what's even more important: is he concerned about you?

"i can't sleep", you blurt.

you don't want him to worry about you - about this.

"it's really not that deep, i've always had issues falling asleep and i just like to use the time i'd spend lying awake in my bed anyways for something useful instead."

law gives you a half-smile.

no, really.

he smiles.

just a little.

a smile just tiny enough to be gone the second you see it.

(what is happening?)

"i see", he says.

then he moves over to the table and sits down before patting the space next to him.

"tell me more. i'm a doctor. maybe i can help."

he looks up at you expectantly.

you realize you're still just standing there, by the coffee maker, with your stupid toolbox and you hesitate for a moment before you rush to put it down and almost stumble over it as you go to sit down next to law at the table.

"i don't mean to question your abilities as a doctor, but honestly i think i've tried everything", you sigh and rest your hands on the table before resting your forehead on top of them.

"it's quite frustrating, really", you turn your head so you can look up at him, putting your cheek on top of your stacked hands. "nothing seems to help."

"fixing the coffee maker at four in the morning will not help you fall asleep any faster either", he hums quietly.

"yeah, what's up with that by the way? i swear it was still broken at breakfast."

"i fixed it", he admits casually. "in hopes of finally making you go to bed on time."

you raise your brows in surprise.

has law been aware of your bad sleeping habits all this time?

he just seems to keep doing it tonight. surprising you. catching you off guard in the dimly lit kitchen at 2am, like some kind of weirdly concerned ghost.

you start wondering if your captain also was the one to fix the lights in the storage room two nights ago.

"but i see now how my strategy might be flawed", law says and has the audacity to sound slightly amused.

you chuckle.

"thank you anyways", you mutter. "for trying." and then: "i didn't realize you cared so much."

now he seems to be the one surprised. which, in terms of law's range of publicly displayed emotions, is barely noticable, but you still do. you notice. you always do.

there's a short moment.

he swallows.

"what kind of captain would i be if i didn't care about the wellbeing of my crew?", he says in a tone you can't quite place. but then again you don't think you can place anything about him ever.

and yeah, you're guessing that it makes sense for him to care about the members of his crew getting enough sleep every night. and it's not like it stops there. he always makes sure you're all eating right and then there's the regular medical check ups. he makes sure you're all well taken care of in any way he can. and you're beginning to wonder if maybe you've just been imagining the way law always seems to soften around the edges when it comes to you.

"probably not a very good one", you try to joke but it comes out a little strained.

you watch him stare at something that isn't actually there, before his shoulders drop a little and he looks back down at you, with eyes that seem to be struggling with something unknown to you.

"i care about you", he says. "because you're part of the crew, of course, but also because you're-"

he pauses.

"because you're you."

and it seems like he deflates a little as the words leave his mouth.

a few seconds pass.

your brain starts working towards realizing what law just said in slow, agonizing steps.

you lift your head off the table, then lift yourself to sit up straighter. you tilt your head up slightly to be able to catch his eyes with yours properly. you open your mouth. then close it. you take a shallow breath, because your heart might burst at any moment now and your ribcage won't open properly to let in more air for a reason your brain is too slow to name.

you think you feel yourself smile but you can't be sure.

is this-? did he..?

he didn't really say much. but it's law. law, who doesn't waste his breath for anything untrue ever. law, who chooses his words so carefully that every syllable he speaks is worth more than entire libraries ever could be. law, who only speaks when he deems it absolutely necessary. law, who, unbeknownst to you, hasn't told anyone that he cares in such a long time, that he almost can't believe he could still pronounce the words right.

something shifts. the air feels different. and law stands up.

is he leaving? he can't be leaving! you haven't even had the chance to say anything, he can't just leave you sitting here with all of these weird feelings and emotions coursing through you, it's like your entire body is screaming and you can't move, hell, you're pretty sure you've forgotten how to breathe at some point.

"let's go", he says warmly.

you look up to where he's standing by the door.

"what?", you hear yourself say. "where?"

"come on", he says and before you can say anything else he's already left the room.

of course you get up and follow him out of the kitchen, down the hallway.

you feel a little like a lost puppy, just trailing behind your captain like this. you could obviously just catch up to him, but the hallways are narrow on the polar tang and you don't trust yourself to be in such close proximity of him right now.

his words keep replaying in your head until they start sounding like a scratched record that your brain produced, and you get so lost between your whirling thoughts and rewinding the moment over and over again that you don't notice where you're going until you're there.

law suddenly stops and opens a door, before gesturing for you to go inside the room.

you do just that, only half managing to make your damn brain shut up, and then you look up and you stop in your tracks because you're standing in the only place you've never been to on the entire ship.

it's laws room. captain's quarters. the only door that's always closed.

and you can see his desk. and shelves filled with books. and his bed backed against the wall. it's honestly smaller than you expected. (the room. not the bed. the bed is fine. why are you thinking about the bed.)

you feel a hand on your lower back as law pushes you a little further into the room so he can come inside as well.

and in any other situation you probably would have freaked out about that little gesture alone, but you're too busy freaking out about literally everything else, this entire strange caricature of a night, that you don't even get to notice how his hand lingers before he carefully takes it away again.

"the sheets are fresh", law says from behind you, quietly. "i will let the others know you're sleeping in tomorrow morning."

you hear the door creak and you turn around so fast you get whiplash.

law's hand is on the doorknob, clearly meaning to go and leave you here. in his quarters. to sleep. in his room. on his bed.

what.

"what?", you say eloquently.

"you. bed. now. captain's orders."

"i- but you.. where will you go?"

"i'll be fine." he walks over to you and gestures towards the bed (his bed!) again. "now go get some rest."

and you have the impulse to argue with him, you want to say something, you want to talk about that moment you just shared in the galley, and maybe also about how it really doesn't feel right that he's just leaving you here in his room all by yourself, but the only thing that comes out of your mouth is:

"uh, i mean- yeah, sure", and then a quiet "thank you."

law nods and then turns around again to leave the room.

no.

wait.

this isn't right.

you have to get a grip on yourself.

he's walking away.

say something.

now!

"law", you say and it's so quiet that you're surprised when he actually stops walking.

"hm?", he turns his head and looks at you.

you search his face for something, anything, any sign of whatever it is that you're looking for, because you don't even know what you're expecting to see, but there's nothing there, nothing at all for you to hold onto.

but it doesn't matter. law was honest with you and now you're going to show him the same kind of honesty in return. he deserves to know how you feel, too. you brace yourself before you let out the words.

"i don't want you to go."

you watch as your words hit him, and it's almost comical, because for a split second he actually looks like he got hit. there's the tiniest hint of motion, only a slight tear in his stoic demeanour, but it goes through his entire body, shakes him to his core, and you're pretty sure you hear his breath hitch.

he stares at you.

you stare at him.

for a long moment you just watch each other in your awkward and unsure, but all the while shared misery.

"can you say that again?", law then asks, he pleads, and you don't think you've ever seen him like this, never seen him so soft and open, never seen this side of him that is making you wonder what else this man is hiding.

and isn't that a cliché if you've ever seen one? the cold and mean 'surgeon of death', hiding his softest parts behind a mask that he never takes off. who would've guessed.

"stay, please. i want you to stay", you say in all your honesty, because it doesn't matter anymore, you've already decided to be brave about this and there's no way back now.

he draws in a soft breath.

"okay."

and he steps away from the door, quietly closing it behind him, and then he carefully crosses through the room, all the way over to you.

you see the exact moment he swallows down his hesitation, because then he's climbing into his bed and holding up the covers for you, waiting for you to lie down next to him.

and you take a second to be very really glad about the fact that he spared you the awkward moment of debating wether it was too much to actually share the bed.

and so you take the place next to him and there seems to be an unspoken agreement of some sort between you, that apparently both of you are too tired to make a fuss about anything anymore, and that this is a moment of much needed comfort for the both of you and so you barely hesitate when you scoot closer and he doesn't wait even a second before he wraps his arms around you.

you pass out within the same minute.

- ✧ -

the next morning you wake up to law's even breathing and the weight of his arm that is still holding you close to his chest. you breathe in and almost choke because it's like you just inhaled an overdose of law. you're not just wrapped up in his arms, you're wrapped up in him, in his very essence, in trafalgar law in his entirety.

and then he wakes up and he starts moving and blinking and he looks down at you and your eyes lock and it's a moment that feels larger than life itself.

nothing happens. for a minute or two. you just stare. the air around you is so charged, you can almost see the electricity flicker in the corner of your eye.

law is the first to break the stillness, when he moves his hand that is still resting on your back, just a little. his fingers slowly, very slowly, trail down your spine and then back up, before the process repeats itself all over again. it's a small movement, but it's enough.

your breath catches.

you don't know who leans in first, but the next thing you know are his lips on yours and your hands in his hair, and his arms pulling you into him, so tight around your waist you feel like you're melting and - oh god - now he's swiping his tongue against your bottom lip and you open your mouth, and suddenly the small room feels very hot, and you press your hand against the back of his neck to pull him impossibly closer, and there's a lip bite and a groan and it's all so beautiful and chaotic that you start wondering if you're still dreaming.

dreaming.

right.

you had a dream.

you were asleep.

you slept.

you immediately pull away.

"oh my god", you gasp. "oh my god, i'm not tired."

suddenly you feel giddy.

"for the first time in months i am not tired", you realize. "i slept through the entire night, i slept for hours on end!"

you look at law and shake his shoulders a little, as you beam at him.

"law, i fell asleep!"

he chuckles, actually chuckles, and nuzzles your head softly.

"i know", he hums.

"oh my god, i'm so happy i could just-"

you stop, as a small realization hits you.

"could just what?", he asks, one eyebrow playfully raised as he looks down at you.

"i'm so happy i could kiss you."

"then do."

and you do.

- ✧ -

| WARDING AWAY EVIL | MONKEY D. LUFFY

summary: when your adopted brother, black leg sanji, decided to leave baratie for the straw hat pirates, you followed because he made you. the only downside is, the strawhats only need one cook - so when you're not fighting, sanji thinks its funny to leave you in charge of fridge duty. pairing: strawhat! reader / luffy wc: 1.2k tags: f! reader, fluff, luffy is frickin fat, luffy sleepwalks to the fridge, luffy wants the food, sanji genuinely puts you to work

When Sanji decided to leave Baratie for the Going Merry, and then the Thousand Sunny later, you warned him that you shouldn't go with him. The Strawhats already had plenty of competent fighters - Sanji and Zoro at the time, but even Nami, now equipped with the Clima Takt, Usopp, Robin, Franky, Chopper, Brook - a whole crew of strong people. They didn't need a second kicker on the team.

Sanji couldn't give less of a damn. As his younger sister since he was taken in by Zeff, you were going where he went, whether you liked it or not. You would never admit to him that you were relieved he'd dragged you with him, but home was on the Thousand Sunny now.

Except you did have one qualm. The only thing you did on the team was fight - this was not the issue. The issue was that Sanji claimed you weren't doing enough, despite Nami and Robin's objections that you did plenty.

His solution was to put you on fridge duty. You wanted to read a book with Robin? Well, you can read it while you sit by the fridge. You wanted to draw the sea? You can draw it, by the fridge. You wanted to watch Zoro train? No, you're going to be by the fridge.

The reason for this was that you had a particularly greedy captain who would inhale food the moment he saw it. You would never forget the moment you visited Luffy in the infirmary after Alabasta and watched him inhale an entire cart of fruit in one bite and claim he was still hungry. You understood your brothers' qualms, and you wanted to appear useful, so you reluctantly agreed.

Not that you were really good at being in charge of the fridge. The issue - one that Sanji was entirely aware of - was that you had a huge, huge soft spot for Luffy. He'd wander into the kitchen, whining about being hungry right before Sanji was going to serve a meal, and promptly be kicked out by Sanji.

Despite that, you'd always sneak away from the fridge with a snack, and promptly bring it to Luffy, making sure to tide him over (for literally five minutes) until the meal was served. He'd grin in the same way he always did, laugh and ruffle your hair, and stuff his face right in front of you.

"Thank you, thank you! Wow, you're always so nice to me, mini-Sanji! Wow, this is so good. Your brother's a really good cook. Gee, thanks for bringing me this!" He'd always laugh at you, smile as bright as the sun, before complaining just seconds later that he was still hungry. You'd sneak off to bring him more food, but then he'd stop you. "No, wait, it's fine! I'll do my best to wait until Sanji calls us. Just sit by us, let's watch the ocean!"

You spent more time next to Luffy than anyone around, and that's why Sanji should've known better than to put you in charge of watching the fridge. Even though he knew you were absolutely not cut out for it, he kept telling you to do it for one sole reason.

He swore to god that the two of you were daft idiots in love with each other. Maybe he was crazy, but when Nami and Robin made the same observation, he knew there had to be some weight behind the thought.

There were many incidents where Sanji would wake up early to prepare breakfast, only to find the two of you tightly interlinked in front of the fridge. Both of you were always snoring soundly, not a care in the world, as Luffy sprawled his body over you and drooled on your shoulder. Your hand would rest on his back as if he was your blanket, holding him until your brother finally poked you awake and forced you to get up and haul Luffy back to his quarters. Sanji would check the fridge for ingredients - but of course, it was empty, and he could only blame himself.

Your captain would wake up a few hours later, and immediately go to stare at you in front of the fridge. "Hey. Why'd you move me?!" He'd ask, pointing at you.

You shook your head, pointing at your brother by the counter. "Blame him! He woke me up and made me lug you back."

"Sanji, food! I'm hungry!" Luffy would complain, and you'd sigh. He'd entirely forgotten what he was complaining about to begin with.

At a certain point, even Zoro of all people started noticing how close you were to the captain. He'd only sit next to you during mealtimes, and if Nami was already by you he'd wiggle in between your two bodies like that was something entirely normal to do, and steal off your plate.

Sanji knew everything was over the night that you were all eating dinner and you said you were still hungry. Instead of getting up and getting you another plate like usual, Luffy slid you a quarter of his plate.

The table fell silent, staring at the two of you.

"Hey, are you serious?" Zoro broke the silence, pointing at your plate. "His food. He gave you his food. Our captain gave you HIS food."

Nami dropped her fork, staring at the two of you, stammering out incomprehensible words.

"What?" Luffy shrugged, shoveling food into his mouth. "I can always steal from Zoro's plate."

"You can not!" The swordsman shouted, shoving his food in his mouth. "Get seconds from the love cook!"

"Well, yeah, I can do that too." Luffy smiled, slinging an arm over you. "She's my girlfriend! So it's normal for me to give her some food."

"Huh???" Sanji yelled, whipping around from the counter. "What the actual hell are you talking about?"

"Ace said that people become boyfriend girlfriend when they drool on each other." Luffy blinked. "I've been drooling on your sister since you started putting her on fridge duty."

"Luffy, literally none of what you just said is true." You butted in, eating the food he put on your plate. "That's not how people start dating. And you drool on me because you sleep like a pig, not because you like me!"

"Yes, I do." He refuted, swiping Usopp's food and ignoring his complaints. "I sleep on top of you and I drool on you because it's romantic."

"What kind of romanticism is that?!" Nami yelled, breaking her plate over Luffy's head.

"So you don't want to go out with me?" Luffy frowned at you, nursing the bump on his head.

Your ears flushed pink, and you averted his gaze. "Well, I didn't say that, I'm just saying the drooling thing isn't how it works."

Luffy stole Sanji's plate of food, ignoring the foot coming flying at his head, and stacked it on top of yours. "Here. More food. Do you want to be my girlfriend?"

You gaped at him, baffled, but accepting the plate anyways and picking your fork back up. "...Yes. I would."

"This is a very in-character way to ask for our captain." Robin nodded, politely dabbing at her mouth with a napkin.

"You guys are disgusting." Zoro frowned, Sanji nodding in the back. "You're both just going to steal our food now."

"That's your issue with this?" Usopp sighed. "I can't believe I'm still single when that's how Luffy asks people to go out with him."

Ahh this is so cute and so them! Keeping these and quick snippet/headcanons. This is all typed on my phone so excuse any spelling mistakes ❤️

Ace

🔥The first time it happens it’s not long into your relationship becoming a romantic one. He’s standing talking to Marco when you suddenly flop against him, expecting him to keep standing tall and support you slumped form.

🔥 He wasn’t expecting it and tumbled sideways, knocking into Marco who was the only reason the two of you didn’t fall face first onto the deck.

🔥You were too tired to notice and remained pressed up and leaning against Ace, lightly nuzzling your head against his shoulder while he tried to recover from the unexpected shock and stay nonchalant about the whole thing. He’s an affectionate person naturally but the fact you’re both a couple makes the casual embrace seem more intimate than just a simple hug.

🔥 After that first occurrence it becomes your and Ace’s ‘thing’, randomly throughout the day when you both need a little moment to recharge you will seek each other out, regardless of what the other is doing and slump against the other and affectionately bump your head against them.

He groans, pulling you even closer, which in turn makes you snuggle into him even more.

“I’m so hungry,” he mumbles. You hum to confirm you heard him but make no further attempt at doing anything about it. “So hungry that… I could eat… You.”

Chomp!

That's the only warning you get before you feel Osamu’s teeth clutch onto the thicker part of your arm, munching loosely and making fake gnawing noises.

“Samuuu!!” you squeal, twisting to try and escape but finding his arms much too strong.

‘My boyfriend ate me out this morning,’ your friend would share later over a glass of wine, definitely bragging.

‘My boyfriend just ate me altogether,’ you would sigh in response.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

satoru is getting old !

s.g x reader. fluff

Ace x Fem!reader | Drunk in love

WORD COUNT . . . 5K

SUMMARY . . . In which ace got drunk, again, and ask for a kiss you absolutely can't say no too, what will be the consequence tomorrow when he will ask you if this kiss did happen ?

WARNING . . . Fluff, Alcohol consumption, Emotional vulnerability, Intense romantic tension, Physical intimacy ( suggestive but no SMUT ), Making out, moaning and whining ace ??, Angst, Fear of feeling, Strong language, Flirty Ace ig, Lot of kissing and touching... hurt/comfort,

Another party was being held by the Whitebeard Pirates. It wasn’t anything new, really, but it was still fun. You never drank too much. The most you’ve ever gotten during a party is a little tipsy since you weren’t about getting blackout drunk every chance you got. Some of the other people on the crew? You weren’t so sure.

Like Ace, who threw back another beer, a drunken flush clear on his face. You sipped on your own drink as you watched him party. Unexpectedly, he staggered over to you, trapping you against the wall with a hiccup leaving him. His eyes bored into yours and he stared you down, his gaze flickering to your lips.

“We should kiss,” Ace slurred out as he leaned in closer, his breath tickling your face as he pressed himself against you. It was becoming increasingly obvious how drunk he was based on his lack of coordination and the way he kept stumbling into you.

He brought a hand up, thumb lightly brushing against your bottom lip, a lopsided grin on his face.

“You didn’t heard me? Kiss me, dumbass.” He whispered.

”Your drunk…” You frown slightly, eyes flicking to his unfocused gaze, your voice softer than your words suggest. “You can barely stand straight, Ace. Look at you.”

Ace chuckled, his arm snaking around your waist in an intimate hold, pulling you closer. You could practically feel the heat radiating off of him as he leaned in again, the scent of booze on his breath.

“Yeah, I am. What about it?” He smirked, his fingers tracing a slow, teasing path along your jaw to your chin, lifting it up to look at him. “Doesn’t mean I don’t know what I want. And right now, that thing I want is a kiss from you, smartass.”

Your hands press lightly against his chest, more hesitant than forceful. “Tomorrow you’ll wake up with a headache and zero memory of this.”

Ace stumbled back, clearly a little stunned by the push. His expression was a mix of annoyance and disappointment, but he recovered quickly. He tried to take a step forward to get closer to you again, but stumbled, one hand going out to catch himself on the wall by your head. He looked just about ready to pout.

“I will too remember it. I’m not that drunk. Just… give me a kiss. Pretty please..?” His voice took on a more pleading tone as he batted his eyelashes at you, trying his best puppy-dog eyes despite his flushed face.

”Ace… it’s not good to play with someone’s feelings..” Your voice drops, serious now, brows knitting together. “I certainly don’t want this to be something you laugh about later.”

Ace groaned in response, dropping the puppy-dog eyes, which were failing anyways from his level of intoxication. He swayed on his feet, grabbing your shoulder for support, the hand on the wall by your head coming up to grip your hip instead.

“Come on… I’m not playing with anything. I… I care about you, y’know… Why won’t you just kiss me goddamnit..?” He huffed out, sounding almost frustrated that you weren’t giving into his drunken advances.

you sigh before taking his face in your hands that is shaking.Your thumbs brush his cheeks, grounding him, your touch gentle despite your hesitation.

Ace looked slightly surprised by your action, but he leaned into your touch almost instinctively, his gaze glued to you like he couldn’t look anywhere else. The usual cocky and confident air around him had lessened slightly, his expression instead softened as you held his face in your hands.

He didn’t speak as he waited for what you were going to do next. It was almost as though you had him under your spell. He wasn’t usually this quiet and pliant after all.

Ace froze in place, his eyes widening momentarily before slowly fluttering shut as your lips pressed against his. A barely suppressed shiver ran down his spine, his grip on your hip tightening almost possessively as he leaned into the kiss more, returning it without hesitation.

He kissed you with an almost desperate passion, his other hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck and tilt your head for a better angle. He let out a soft moan against your mouth, his drunken mind now hyper-fixated on the feeling of your lips on his.

Ace whined as you pushed him away, the sound almost needy. His eyes opened once more, and he gave you a pleading look, his cheeks flushed and his hair slightly disheveled.

“Why’d you pull away..?” He mumbled, using his grip on your hip to try and yank you closer again.

You press a hand to his chest again, steady but firm. “That’s it, Ace. One kiss. You’re done.”

Ace whined again. He seemed to be getting more and more clingy in his drunkenness. He pouted at you, trying his best to give you those puppy-dog eyes again, despite them failing miserably.

“But I’m not done. I want more from you. Not just one kiss. More.. please. I need it..” He slurred out, his grip on you refusing to loosen as he nuzzled his face against the crook of your neck, his breathing hot against your skin.

You hesitate, then sigh, already knowing you’ve lost. “One more. That’s it. Promise.”

Ace let out a quiet, triumphant hum at your words like he’d just won a battle. He didn’t wait long before surging forward, capturing your lips again in a messier, hungrier kiss this time. His hands gripped you tighter, like he was trying to memorize every inch of you.

When he finally pulled back breathless and grinning he rested his forehead against yours, his voice rough and low.

“Last one… yeah right. I’m holdin’ you to that promise tomorrow too.” Then his eyes started drooping…”

“Mmm… warm…”

Suddenly his body went slack.

He fell asleep standing up—and faceplants straight into your shoulder with a soft snore.

Marco then pass by, you shift Ace’s weight awkwardly, panic creeping into your voice. “Marco—please….he’s dead weight.”

“Tch. Again?” Marco sighed, raising an eyebrow as he strolled over, arms crossed. He took one look at Ace, dead weight against you, snoring like a furnace and shook his head with a small smirk.

“This is the third time this week, yoi. You’d think he’d learn not to drink on an empty stomach.”

He easily slung Ace’s arm over his shoulder, lifting him up with little effort. Ace mumbled something incoherent, something that sounded suspiciously like “…kiss me again…” before nuzzling into Marco’s shoulder like a sleepy kid.

“C’mon,” Marco said softly, “Let’s get this idiot to bed before he sets the ship on fire… literally.”

With both you and Marco assisting, the task isn’t too difficult. Ace is practically limp and useless as you support his weight. Together, you manage to maneuver him to his bed, carefully setting him down on the sheets.

He immediately curls up, burying his face into the pillow. He lets out a soft, sleepy snort, already looking like he’s going to be out for the night. Marco watches Ace fondly for a moment before speaking up.

”… You’re too soft on him, yoi. Spoil him too much.”

You glance at Ace, already fast asleep, his brows relaxed, his grip still faintly clinging to the blanket like a child. You don’t answer Marco, your silence says enough.

Together, you and Marco make your way through the ship, helping out other members of the crew who are in various states of drunkenness. Some are stumbling, some are singing loudly, and a few are even dancing - clearly enjoying themselves with the night’s festivities.

The next morning brought a rare silence across the Whitebeard ship, no shouting, no music, just groans and muffled curses. Sunlight sliced through the windows like punishment. Most of the crew were either nursing headaches or passed out in awkward places.

You were helping hand out water and medicine when Ace finally emerged, shirt untucked, hair wilder than usual, eyes half-lidded with pain. He held a hand to his head as if it might explode at any second.

He spotted you.

“…Ugh. Hey.” His voice was rough, guilty even.

Then he paused.

“…Did I… kiss you last night?”

Your hands freeze mid-motion, medicine bottle rattling slightly as you turn toward him. “W-why would you even think that?”

Ace grimaces, clearly feeling the full effects of his hangover. He sits down heavily on a nearby chair, running a hand through his tousled hair. He glances up at you, looking almost sheepish.

“I… don’t really remember much of last night. My head feels like it’s being split open, y’know? But… some things are coming back to me…”

He hesitates for a moment, then looks at you directly, his eyes filled with a mixture of guilt and confusion.

“…I remember kissing you.”

You busy your hands on purpose, placing cups and bottles down with more force than necessary.

“Yeah. Just… a stupid dream. That’s all.”

“Tch. Don’t give me that.”

Ace pushes himself up from the chair, ignoring the wave of dizziness that hits him. He takes a shaky step forward, his voice rough but firm.

“I know what I felt. And I know I wasn’t dreaming.”

He reaches out, just barely catching your sleeve, not pulling, just holding on like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. “Even if my head’s wrecked… my heart remembers.”

You gently but firmly guide him back into the chair giving him medicine, avoiding his eyes.

“Please, Ace. Just… take it. You’re not thinking straight.” 

“No. Don’t.” Ace slams the medicine back onto the table, hands trembling. He stares at you, eyes blazing with something fierce, not anger, but raw stubbornness. The same fire that keeps him standing after getting punched through walls.

“You think I don’t know what happened? You think I’d make up something like that in a drunken haze?” He grabs your wrist gently but firmly and pulls it to his chest. You can feel his heartbeat pounding against your palm.

“Even if my damn brain won’t show me… my body does. My heart does.” His voice drops, rough and quiet”

“…Why are you pretending it didn’t happen? Were you drunk too? Or are you just scared?”

 I put my hand infront of his mouth my palm presses lightly against his lips, eyes darting toward the rest of the crew. “Lower your voice. Please. This isn’t the time.”

Ace goes silent, eyes narrowing as you place your hand over his mouth. He looks like he wants to argue, to yell, to prove his point… but your words make him pause.

He glances over to the other crew members, all of them nursing hangovers in various painful ways, and his shoulders slump a bit.

“Fine,” he mutters against your hand, his breath tickling your skin. He lets go of your wrist, leaning back against the chair.

“But we’re continuing this later, y’hear?”

Ace watches you walk away, irritation clear on his face. He slouches lower in his chair, arms crossing over his chest.

‘Damn it.’ He thinks to himself, his eyes glued to you as you tend to the crew. ‘She’s avoiding me.’

He continues to brood silently, but never once takes his gaze off you.

As hours pass, Ace remains in his chair, watching you work. He looks like he wants to speak every time you pass by, but something keeps him quiet. Perhaps a mixture of his hungover state and your stubborn avoidance.

The afternoon sun eventually starts to dip lower, casting shadows on the deck. The once lively ship is now quiet, everyone starting to recover from the previous night’s festivities.

Ace is still sitting there. Still waiting. Still watching you with that intense, almost desperate gaze.

You finally let yourself rest, shoulders slumping as the tension catches up to you. Your feet ache, your head hurts, and you can feel Ace’s stare even without looking.

Marco approaches you as you finally sit down, offering a sympathetic frown. He leans against the wall, eyeing you with a mixture of concern and curiosity.

“You’ve been avoiding that idiot all day,” he observes, nodding towards Ace, who is still sitting in the same spot. “You know he’s not gonna let this go, yoi.”

“You’re exhausting yourself too..” Marco pushes off the wall and crouches beside you, voice dropping. “He’s hurting —did you see how he’s been staring at you? Like a kicked puppy who burned his own house down trying to stay warm?”

He glances at Ace, then back at you.

“Just get up and talk to him. Even if it’s hard. Especially if it’s hard.”

Suddenly—Ace stands up, swaying slightly but determined. He takes one step toward you… then another.

Marco sighs. ”…Or wait here and let the stubborn idiot come to you.”

Before you can respond, Ace appears in front of you, looking more determined than ever. His headache seems forgotten for the moment, replaced with something more singular in mind.

“We need to talk,” he says gruffly, not giving you a chance to protest as he takes your wrist and begins pulling you away to somewhere private.

Your feet plant themselves firmly against the deck, panic flashing through your eyes as you look at Marco. “Marco—please—.”

Marco catches your gaze and nods silently in understanding. He can clearly see how tense you are as Ace grips your wrist with a subtle smirk, he steps forward, placing a firm hand on Ace’s shoulder.

“Let her go, yoi,” he says coolly, his grip on Ace’s shoulder like a vice. “She’s busy.”

Ace bristles at the words, his eyes flickering between you and Marco with barely-restrained frustration.

“Bullshit.” he huffs, trying to push Marco’s hand off his shoulder, but the other man doesn’t budge an inch. Ace glares at you. “Like hell you are. You’re just running away again.”

Marco tightens his grip, his expression hardening.

“You’re acting like a child, yoi. She’s busy. Go sleep off your hangover so you can think straight.”

Ace grits his teeth, his jaw clenching tightly. He knows Marco’s right…he feels like hell, and his head is still killing him. But that stubborn, bullheaded attitude of his just won’t let him back down so easily.

“I don’t give a damn,” he snaps, struggling against Marco’s grip once more. “I want to talk to HER, not you!”

Your voice comes out sharper than you intend as you step between them. “Enough. Both of you.”

Your fingers wrap around Ace’s wrist, steady but not rough.

Ace’s eyes widen as you take his wrist away from Marco’s shoulder, his gaze snapping to you.

“Don’t tell me to calm down,” he growls, but there’s a hint of vulnerability underneath the gruffness like a wounded animal trying to act tough even as it bleeds.

Marco watches this moment with interest, crossing his arms over his chest as he silently observes the interaction between the two of you.

Marco sees the desperation in your eyes—and sighs, finally stepping back with raised hands.

“Fine. But if things go up in flames, yoi… don’t come crying to me.”

He gives Ace one last warning look before turning away, leaving the two of you alone on the deck. The air suddenly feels heavier, charged with everything left unsaid.

Ace stares at you, his chest rising and falling fast. His voice drops raw, quiet. “…Why are you running from me?”

Your voice cracks just slightly as you watch Marco disappear below deck. “Great. Just great.”

Marco is long gone, disappearing below deck, leaving you alone with the very determined, very hungover, very emotional idiot.

Ace turns to you, his eyes blazing. There’s frustration there, and confusion, and a hint of… hurt? “Answer me,” he says. “Why are you avoiding me?”

You cross your arms defensively, exhaustion bleeding into your tone. “I’ve been on my feet all day. People needed help. That’s all this is.”

Ace scoffs, stepping closer until he’s right in front of you. His voice drops low, rough with something deeper than anger, almost like pain.

“Busy? Really?” He glances around the deck—quiet now, crew all settled. No chaos. No emergencies. “You weren’t busy helping anyone else when I walked up. But the second I come near you? Suddenly you’ve got places to be?”

He shakes his head, eyes boring into yours.

“Don’t lie to me… especially not about this.”

Ace leans in, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him—his voice dropping to a low, raw whisper. “I want to know why you kissed me back.”

He searches your face, jaw tight.

“If it meant nothing… you wouldn’t have done it. And I sure as hell wouldn’t still feel it right here.”

He grabs your hand and slams it over his chest right where his heart is pounding hard against his ribs. “So don’t tell me ‘nothing happened,’ when my whole damn body’s screaming that it did.” 

You looked away shyly.

Ace’s smirk widens a fraction at the sight of you looking away, his eyes never leaving your face. He takes another step forward, closing the distance completely between the two of you.

”I’ve spent the past day going mad trying to figure out what the hell happened between us… and now you won’t even look me in the eye.”

He cups your chin gently, tilting your face up to meet his gaze.

“Look at me.”

Your voice comes out sharper than you mean, breath hitching as your fingers curl against his chest. “Please—don’t do this. Not like this.”

Ace huffs out a frustrated noise, grip on your chin tightening gently. He’s not gonna let you shut him out now. Not after he’s finally found the right levers to pull.

“No,” he says simply, his voice firm. “Not till you stop pretending it didn’t happen. Not till you admit you felt what I did.”

His other hand slides around your waist, pulling you flush against him, making sure you can’t look away.

“Look at me, damn it.” He murmurs. “Let me see your eyes.”

The moment your eyes meet his, the air between you stills.

Ace’s breath hitches—just slightly. His grip on you softens, like he suddenly remembers how fragile people can be. He searches your eyes, not with fire this time, but something quieter. Something raw.

…He sees it all…your fear, your longing, the way your heart’s betraying you in real time.

“There you are,” he whispers.

His thumb brushes your cheekbone gently.

“You don’t have to say anything. I already know.”

And then the stupid idiot smiles. Not a smirk or a cocky grin… but something warm. Real.

Like he finally won a battle worth fighting for.

Ace gently pulls you into his chest, arms wrapping loosely around you, chin atop your head. He holds you close, one hand rubbing soothing circles on your back as his heart still pounds against your cheek. His other hand comes up, threading through your hair.

“Your heart’s still beating fast,” he mutters, voice rough-like he can’t believe you’re actually letting him hold you like this. He presses a soft kiss on the top of your head. “Still think it was nothing…?”

Your voice is barely there, muffled against his chest. “I can feel it. You’re not exactly calm either.”

Ace lets out a low, rumbling chuckle, warm and surprised against your hair.

“Yeah… well.” He tightens his hold just a little, voice dropping to something almost shy. “Guess you always did have that effect on me. Even when I’m trying not to feel it.”

He pulls back just enough to look down at you, eyes soft but intense all at once.

“So stop running, y’hear? ‘Cause I ain’t lettin’ go again. Not this time.”

A small grin tugs at his lips—one of those rare, genuine ones that makes your stomach flip.

“And next time… I’ll make sure I’m sober enough to remember every damn second.”

As you sit together in the quiet of the deck, Ace finally just… breathes. The tension seeps out of him as he holds you, his shoulders relaxed for the first time in days. He tucks his head against the crook of your neck, breathing in the scent of you.

”…You’re shaking,” he observes after a few moments. He sounds concerned now, the teasing gone from his voice. His fingers skim along the small of your back in a soothing gesture.

“You… okay?” he asks quietly.

Your voice trembles despite yourself, fingers clutching lightly at his shirt. “Why me, Ace…why kissing me..?”

Ace pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, his expression softening. He studies your face for a moment before speaking.

“Because I wanted to,” he says simply, voice quiet but sure. “Because every time you’re near me… my chest gets tight. Like I’m standing too close to a flame—but I don’t wanna move away.”

He brushes a thumb across your cheek, his freckled nose twitching in that way it does when he’s trying not to smile too big.

“And because… I kept thinking about how you always take care of me. Even when I’m being an idiot. Even when I pass out drunk and wake up with my head splitting open.”

His voice drops lower, almost shy.

“…I guess… I just wanted you to know it means something. That you mean something.”

“Do…Do you love me ?” The question slips out before you can stop it, quiet and fragile, like you’re afraid the answer might break you.

Ace freezes.

His eyes widen just slightly and for a moment, he looks like he’s been punched in the gut. The bravado, the fire, the cocky grin… all of it fades. What’s left is raw. Honest.

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he pulls you closer so close your breaths almost sync and rests his forehead against yours.

“You really gotta ask that?” His voice is rough, trembling just a little.

“I carry your name in my chest like a flame I can’t put out. I look for you first when I wake up… and last thing at night.”

He swallows hard.

“If that ain’t love… then I don’t know what the hell fire is.”

A pause.

Then, he whispers:

“…So Yeah. Always have.”

Ace’s eyes flutter close as your palms gently cradle his face, his breath hitching in his chest. His lips part in a soft exhale, his body going still as he soaks in the intimacy of the gesture. Without the alcohol, he’s completely present and every part of his body reacts to your touch, like it’s something he’s craved for a long, long time.

He leans into one of your palms, nuzzling gently, almost like he’s lost in a daze.

A small, shaky sound leaves Ace’s throat as you trace the line of his jaw, something between a whine and a sigh, like the contact is both blissful and torturous at the same time. He’s trying to keep his breathing steady, but the sharp inhale he takes betrays how desperate he is for your touch.

He doesn’t dare open his eyes. He just leans into you, pliant and trembling as the heat beneath his skin builds.

Ace makes a low, surprised sound when your lips meet but he melts instantly into the kiss. His arms snake around your waist like they’re meant to be there, pulling you close until there’s not an inch of space between you. He returns the kiss like it’s the easiest thing on earth and you swear the world just stops, everything fading away in this moment but the feel of his mouth against yours.

His kiss is… different now. Without the haze of alcohol in his veins, he’s present. Every touch, every sound, every part of him aches with a need.

Ace lets out a low, guttural noise that’s half a moan and half a growl against your mouth—the sound sending a shiver down your spine as he suddenly pulls you closer, his arms tightening around your waist in an almost possessive grip.

He is nipping at your upper lip as his tongue brushes yours hungrily. He kisses you like you’re the air he needs to breathe—like it’s taking all of his restraint not to devour you whole.

Ace lets out a shuddering exhale against your mouth, his chest tight as you kiss him back every time you parted away. He deepens the kiss again, one hand tangling in your hair as the other drops to your hip, holding you close like he might just lose you if he lets go.

He presses himself flush against you, his body taut with restraint like he’s fighting the urge to let himself go completely.

He finally breaks the kiss, only to bury his face against the crook of your neck, lips brushing your skin as he speaks.

”…I missed you.”

Your voice is soft, honest, fingers still resting against his jaw. “It feels different. Like you actually mean it… like you’re here with me.”

Ace lets out a low chuckle against your skin, breathless and amused. His lips skim along your neck, pressing soft, lazy kisses to every inch he can reach.

“You prefer sober me, huh?”

He nips softly at the pulse in your neck, a hand sliding from your hip to brush across your abdomen, like he’s mapping out your body with nothing but touch.

You finally say it without hesitation, lifting your head just enough to look at him. “Drunk or sober. Loud or quiet. Stupid or serious.”

A small smile tugs at your lips.

“I just… prefer you.”

Ace stay stills. Then slowly he exhales, forehead dropping to yours again like the weight of your words finally hit him. His grip softens, but somehow holds you even closer.

”…Damn,” he murmurs, voice thick, almost overwhelmed.

“You really don’t know what you do to me, do you? You say that now. I might just keep you up all night give you plenty of opportunity to change your mind.”

Your voice is breathless but steady, fingers gripping his shirt as you look up at him. “Fuck.. give me any opportunity and I will still stay..”

Ace’s breath hitches in his chest at that a guttural, almost hungry sound rumbling deep in his throat. He leans back just enough to search your face, eyes dark and intense as he processes your words.

”…You really mean that?” he asks softly, voice gravelly, like he’s fighting his own instincts to just pull you off somewhere private and make this promise come true right this instant.

You nod without hesitation, forehead resting briefly against his. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

Ace lets out a low, hungry noise as you kiss him again right after and climb onto his lap, hands automatically bracing at your hips. He kisses you back hard, tongue brushing yours with an urgent need that speaks louder than words.

One hand tangles in your hair and the other slides up your thigh, squeezing gently as he deepens the kiss, like he can’t decide if he wants to pull you closer or hold you still.

Your words slip out quietly, honest and vulnerable. “I need you there.. and now….”

A low, guttural sound rumbles in Ace’s chest. His hands grip your waist like he’s about to lose control and maybe he is.

He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes his own dark with hunger, but also something deeper… reverence.

“Not here,” he murmurs, voice trembling with restraint. “Not where anyone can walk in.”

With one smooth motion, he stands up lifting you effortlessly into his arms as you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. He carries you toward the crew quarters without breaking eye contact.

“My room,” he growls softly. “Where I can take my time… and make sure every inch of you knows it’s me.”

And then. he kisses you again as he walks, like a man finally claiming what’s always been his.

Ace lowers you to the sheets carefully, settling on top of you with an easy grace his big frame caging you against the bed. He kisses you hungrily, the taste and heat of him searing on your lips as he starts to run his hands along your body like he can't get enough of you. 

One hand brushes your hip, the other sliding up to cradle your face like he just needs to touch you anywhere he can while his mouth devours yours.

Ace lets out a low, ragged moan against your lips as you rock against him the sound so low and primal it sends shivers down your spine. He breaks away for the briefest moment, panting, before he starts kissing down your neck lips hot and impatient against your skin.

His hand slides down to the outside of your thigh, gripping almost possessively as he shifts just enough for you to feel the effect you're having on him.

"You really want that?" he murmurs after breaking the kiss, voice rough and dangerous. "You sure you can handle me… if I stop holding back?"

He leans down, teeth grazing your earlobe as his hands slide up under your clothes, heat blooming beneath his touch.

"I might burn you." He whisper…

”Burn me then..” you said...

The moment the words leave your lips, Ace makes a sound half groan, half vow as if he’s been waiting his whole life to hear you say that.

His control snaps.

In one swift motion, he pins your wrists above your head with one hand while his other trails down your body, hot and possessive. His lips crash against yours with a hunger that borders on desperate, tongue claiming your mouth like he’s branding you from the inside out.

"You asked for it," he growls between kisses, "So don’t you dare pull away when I turn this ship into an inferno."

And then he starts to burn… slow and relentless… just for you.

Ace x Fem!reader

WORDS. . .1,4k

SUMMARY. . . Ace isn’t clingy… until he can’t cuddle you. When you get sick and Marco bans him from your room, he struggles for three days before finally sneaking in for desperate, heart-melting cuddles.

WARNING. . . Fluff, Clingy Ace, comfort, cuddles, kisses, sickness, Threats (whitebeard..), Desperate Ace

Ace wasn’t clingy.

He was… strategically affectionate.

Which is what he told everyone whenever they pointed out that he physically could not sleep unless you were pressed against him like a human life raft. Arm over your waist. Face buried in your neck. Leg thrown over yours like he was afraid you’d vanish if he let go for more than three seconds.

Every. Single. Night.

If he missed it?

Oh, he’d survive. Technically.

But he’d be insufferable.

Ace without nightly cuddles was like the Moby Dick without sails but still floating, just absolutely not functioning. He got moody. Dramatic. He stared into the ocean like it personally betrayed him. Snapped at Thatch once for breathing too loud. Sulked through meals. Whined like a kicked puppy.

Marco called it “cuddle withdrawal.”

Ace called it “emotional devastation.”

You called it adorable.

Until the day you got sick.

It hit fast. Fever, dizziness, chills that rattled your bones. One minute you were laughing on deck, the next Marco was pressing a cool hand to your forehead and immediately switching into no-nonsense doctor mode.

“Nope,” he said, tone sharp. “Bed. Now.”

Ace hovered behind him, already panicking. “It’s not that bad, right? She just needs to rest, yeah? I can stay with her—”

“No.”

Ace blinked. “…What do you mean, no.”

“I mean,” Marco said calmly, “you’re banned.”

The word echoed.

Banned.

Ace stared at him like he’d just been sentenced to death.

“For three days,atleast” Marco added, already regretting everything. ”Your girlfriend his contagious. No visitors. Absolute rest.”

Ace laughed once, nervously. “Haha. Good one.”

Marco didn’t smile.

“…You’re serious.”

“Yes.”

Ace turned slowly toward you. “Baby?”

You were already half-delirious, wrapped in blankets like a burrito, eyes glassy. “Ace… don’t fight him…”

Ace’s soul visibly left his body.

“You can’t do this,” he said, voice cracking just a little. “She needs me.”

“She needs sleep,” Marco replied. “And not your face breathing directly on hers, yoi.”

Ace tried everything.

Begging. Bargaining. Dramatic speeches about emotional bonds and “shared body heat.” He even tried the puppy eyes—which usually worked on literally everyone.

Marco stood firm.

And so began the worst three days of Ace’s life.

Day one: Ace paced the ship like a trapped animal.

He complained to anyone who would listen.

“Did you know she likes when I rub her back before bed?”

“Her feet get cold without me.”

“She needs cuddles for recovery.”

“I think I’m getting sick too. From missing her.”

Thatch tried to sympathize. “Buddy, it’s just a few nights.”

Ace gasped. “Just a few nights?? That’s like… a lifetime!”

Day two: Ace was officially unbearable.

He slumped over the railing, staring toward your door like it was on another planet.

“I miss her,” he muttered to Vista for the twelfth time.

“You said that ten minutes ago.”

“I miss her again.”

Marco was on edge. Every time he turned around, Ace was somehow closer to your room.

Caught sneaking down the hall? “I was just… checking the floor.”

Caught reaching for the door handle? “I thought I heard her sneeze.”

Caught literally crawling along the wall? “Tactical maneuver.”

Marco threatened to knock him out.

Ace cried about it.

Day three: Ace snapped.

He waited until late, until the ship was quiet, then quietly—very quietly—slipped down the hall. He pressed his ear to your door, listening.

Nothing.

Good. You were resting.

Satisfied, he slid down the wall and curled up right there, arms crossed, back against the door like a guard dog.

“If I can’t cuddle her,” he muttered, “I’ll at least be close.”

And there he stayed.

The next morning, Marco shuffled down the hall with coffee in hand, exhaustion carved into his face. He stopped.

Looked down.

And sighed the most tired, ancient, so done sigh in the history of the world.

Ace was sprawled on the floor, half-tangled in his coat, neck bent at an angle that absolutely would not be comfortable. One arm was slung protectively across the base of your door. His face was relaxed, peaceful for the first time in days.

Marco pinched the bridge of his nose.

“…You absolute idiot.”

Ace stirred. “She okay?”

Marco stared at him.

“She’s fine,” he said. “Thanks to not having you breathing fire breath germs on her.”

Ace smiled weakly. “Worth it.”

Marco considered kicking him.

Instead, later that day, once your fever finally broke, Marco cracked.

“You get ten minutes,” he warned Ace. “No touching. No cuddling. No lying down.”

Ace nodded so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash.

He slipped into your room like it was sacred ground. You looked better—still tired, but awake. When you saw him, your eyes lit up.

“Ace…”

He melted.

He sat beside your bed, hands clenched in his lap like a man resisting his deepest instincts.

“I slept outside,” he admitted quietly. “Didn’t wanna be far.”

You smiled, weak but warm. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” he said softly. “But you’re my favorite place to sleep.”

Marco watched from the doorway, arms crossed.

The moment your hand twitched toward Ace, he cleared his throat loudly.

Ace froze.

“…Five minutes,” Marco corrected.

Ace nodded obediently.

Too obediently.

You should’ve known.

Ace suddenly straightened, eyes widening dramatically. “Oh—Marco, look behind you.”

Marco blinked. “…What?”

“There,” Ace insisted, pointing over Marco’s shoulder. “Thought I saw—uh…Thatch? On…fire?”

Marco turned on pure instinct.

There was nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

And in that single, fatal second—

Ace shoved him.

Not hard. Just enough.

Marco stumbled forward with a very undignified, “HEY—”

SLAM.

The door shut.

CLICK.

Locked.

Silence.

Then…

“PORTGAS D. ACE.”

Ace ignored him.

Because the second the door clicked, he turned back to you like a man possessed. Three days of forced separation snapped all at once.

He practically dove onto the bed, arms wrapping around you, face burying into your neck with a shaky breath.

“I MISSED YOU,” he blurted, voice cracking. “Three days. Three whole days. Do you know what that does to a guy??”

“Ace—” you laughed weakly, startled as he clung to you like you were a life vest in a storm. “You’re not supposed to—”

“I don’t care,” he said immediately.

And he meant it.

He kissed your forehead. Your cheek. Your temple. Soft at first, then desperate, like he needed to re-anchor himself to reality. His arms tightened around you, careful of your strength but absolutely not letting go.

“I don’t care if I get sick,” he mumbled against your skin. “Worth it. Totally worth it. I just needed you close. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t think. I slept on the FLOOR.”

Outside the door, Marco lost his mind.

“ACE OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW”

Ace flinched… then tightened his hold.

“No,” he said simply, like a toddler refusing bedtime.

Marco pounded. “YOU ARE CONTAGIONALLY COMPROMISING THE PATIENT—”

Ace covered your ears with one hand, glaring at the door like it personally offended him.

“She’s fine,” he shot back. “I’m warming her up. Emotional support.”

“You are NOT emotional support, you’re a walking biohazard!”

Ace dropped his forehead to yours, breathing you in like oxygen. “Hear that?” he whispered. “He’s just jealous.”

You laughed, coughy and soft, and Ace’s entire world healed by 40%.

He kissed you again, slower this time, nose brushing yours. “Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he murmured. “I hate not being able to touch you.”

Marco slammed the door again. “I SWEAR TO GOD I’M CALLING POPS.”

Ace froze.

Slowly, dramatically, he lifted his head.

“…You wouldn’t.”

“I ABSOLUTELY WOULD.”

Ace gasped. “You snitch.”

“OPEN THE DOOR OR I GET WHITEBEARD.”

Ace looked at you.

You looked at Ace.

He huffed, sulking, arms still locked around you. “This is unfair. He can’t separate soulmates. That’s, like, illegal.”

Another bang. “TEN SECONDS.”

Ace buried his face in your shoulder, whining. “I don’t wanna gooooo”

“You’re such a baby,” you teased softly, brushing fingers through his hair.

He melted instantly. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “Your baby.”

Marco counted down outside like a threat incarnate.

Ace stole one last kiss a soft, lingering, promise-heavy one, then reluctantly loosened his grip by exactly one inch.

“…I’m coming back tonight,” he whispered. “I don’t care what he says.”

Outside, Marco cracked the door open the second Ace unlocked it, absolutely feral.

Ace shot him a glare. “You didn’t see anything.”

Marco pointed at him, shaking with rage. “If you get sick—”

“Worth it.”

“If she relapses—”

“Still worth it.”

Marco inhaled deeply.

Somewhere on the ship, Whitebear sneezed.

And Ace paled.

“…Okay maybe I’ll behave.”

For now…

Clingy out of nowhere pt2 (drabbles)

- ❝you don’t usually initiate touch and intimacy, and you certainly aren’t the clingy type. until today that is. And he’s caught off guard.❞

⤷ Pt 1 જ⁀➴Pt 3 જ⁀➴

˚₊‧꒰ა Tags ໒꒱ ‧₊˚: fluff, sweet like a cupcake, suggestive themes; SFW. Reader is she/her 𓂃۶ৎ wc: 400 per seperate fic (roughly)

₊˚ʚ Characters/status: Vinsmoke Sanji, Smoker, Dracule Mihawk, Portgas D. Ace Red-hair Shanks, (established relationship ˖ ໒꒱)

❝ ᝰ.ᐟ note: this is a request from a reader followed into a part 2! I'm in the worst writers block since the dawn of time & this really helped me to get my brain flowing again; thank you dear reader (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ❞