Y’all say this but don’t support fluff nor angsty fics if it doesn’t have smut attached to it. You can’t have both. And then y’all don’t reblog or comment on your favs works so they go back to the smut. In the words of Kendrick Lamar, it’s not enough.
on top of this, the month/year just started, let ppl breath
ive said this and i agree with it wholeheartedly. this, along with the constant complaints flooding the x reader tags. "i hate the ___ pet name. i hate the ____ kink. i hate this, i hate that." it is sooooo discouraging and not only does it overshadow actual works that are posted under the tag its incredibly rude and annoying to have the entire hashtag flooded with hate and complaints.
in conclusion engage with the fics you like so you encourage writers to put out more of that. like and reblog and comment on the fluff fics you want so bad instead of clogging the tags.
the library always felt too quiet when you studied. your pink laptop case stuck out against the old wooden tables and your rhinestone nails kept tapping against the keys no matter how much you tried to stop. you liked how neat and pretty everything looked, even if you weren’t getting much work done.
“you’re typing that loud on purpose,” your best friend, marie, muttered. she had her hood up and notebook in front of her but you could see she’d been drawing instead of writing notes.
“it helps me concentrate,” you whispered, flipping your hair off your shoulder.
before she could tease you, geto leaned down against the table. tattoos peeked from under his hoodie sleeve and he smelled faintly like cologne and cigarettes. his dark hair was loose around his face, messy like he hadn’t bothered to fix it.
“what’s up, pretty,” he said in a low voice.
you rolled your eyes but smiled anyway. “aren’t you supposed to be in class?”
“skipped.” his gaze dropped to your skirt and the corner of his mouth twitched. “you wear that for me?”
“stop,” you hissed while nudging his arm. “we’re studying.”
your best friend groaned. “can you two not? please.”
before you could answer, every phone in the library buzzed. you checked yours and felt your stomach twist.
CAMPUS ALERT: Homicide reported near West dorms. Suspect still at large. Avoid area. Stay indoors if possible.
people started whispering and packing up. a few left in a rush. you stared at the screen while chewing your lip.
“what if they come here,” you asked quietly.
geto didn’t look fazed at all. “they won’t pretty girl” he said while pulling out his phone like it was nothing.
choso showed up a moment later, hair tied back and hands in his pockets. “getos car’s outside,” he said. “we’ll drive you two back.” you glanced at your friend then nodded as relief washed over you. if anyone could protect you, it was them.
the four of you walked out together, the night air hitting colder than you expected. the parking lot was half empty, lit only by a few flickering lamps. you hugged your bag close and tried not to look at the shadows stretching along the ground.
geto slipped an arm around your shoulders. “you’re shaking,” he murmured.
“no i’m not,” you lied but sill leaning into him anyway.
choso and marie walked a little ahead, talking quietly. he glanced back at geto once but his face was unreadable in the dim light.
the black mustang waited at the far end of the lot. it looked even sharper under the yellow lights, glossy and mysterious. geto opened the passenger door for you like always while his hand lingered against your lower back as you slid inside.
the engine rumbled as it pulled out of the lot. geto’s hand rested easily on your thigh while the other steered. his rings felt cool against your skin. he didn’t move it, not even when he caught choso’s smirk from the back seat.
“don’t listen to the rumors,” geto said. “people like making it sound worse than it is.”
“people are dead,” you whispered while still staring at your phone.
he glanced over and his eyes softened. “and i’m right here, making sure nothing touches you.” his thumb brushed your skin once in a steady and reassuring way.
you leaned back into the seat, still nervous but calmer than before while in the back, your best friend whispered to choso. his low voice carried promises that everything would be fine. both boys sounded so sure of themselves it was hard not to believe them.
eventually, the mustang rolled into your dorm lot, headlights washing over the side of the building. the night felt heavy and the clouds stretched thick and low across the sky. they covered the moon almost completely and everything looked muted in the glow of the streetlamps.
the car idled in front of your dorm entrance and you didn’t get out right away. your fingers played with the charm on your bag zipper as geto leaned against the steering wheel, eyes flicking over to you every so often.
“you good?” he asked finally. his voice was quieter than usual.
“yeah,” you said, though your chest was still tight. “it’s just scary… knowing someone’s out there doing that while we’re just… here.”
geto hummed and gazed forward again. smoke from the spliff he light while driving curled out the window and drifted upward while mixing with the damp air. “people like that don’t last long. trust me.”
you turned your head to study him, trying to figure out how he always sounded so sure. his hand shifted from the wheel to rest against your thigh again firmly.
choso let out a low laugh from the back seat. “don’t overthink it,” he said. “the world’s always had monsters.”
“don’t say it like that,” marie shot back from the back seat, voice sharp. “you’re making it worse.”
he twisted in his seat to grin at her. “i’m just being honest.”
“you’re being an ass,” she muttered while rolling her eyes.
you felt geto squeeze your leg gently, dragging your attention back to him. “go inside, pretty,” he said softly. “i’ll text you later.”
you nodded while finally unbuckling your seatbelt. when you stepped out, the cool air hit harder than you expected. the sky was darker now and the clouds swallowed the light as the hum of the mustang’s engine filled the empty lot.
geto came around to your side of the car. he leaned down and kissed you, his hand pressing against the small of your back. it was the kind of kiss that made you forget for a second about murder alerts and campus fear.
“sleep,” he murmured against your lips. “don’t stay up stressing.”
“easier said than done,” you whispered but smiling anyway.
your best friend was already climbing out of the backseat, waving a quick goodnight to choso before heading toward the doors. she called your name but you lingered a moment longer while your fingers still laced with geto’s.
he finally let go, stepping back. “go,” he said, voice low but warm.
you turned and walked toward the building, heels clicking against the pavement. you felt their eyes on you the whole way, the mustang’s headlights throwing your shadow long across the lot until you reached the doors.
inside, you gave one last look before disappearing.
outside, the two men stood by the car for a beat, clouds shifting above them like they might break
“she’s sweet,” choso muttered, flicking ash onto the ground. geto smirked, sliding back into the driver’s seat. “yeah. she is.”
the mustang’s taillights flared red as it pulled away, leaving the lot empty again, clouds heavy and low above the dorms.
the air out by the edge of town always felt different—it was colder and quieter. geto parked the mustang behind an old warehouse, engine ticking as it cooled. inside the car, music still played low but neither of the boys were really listening. choso leaned back, hood up, hands resting over his knees. “you really like to keep her close,” he said finally while watching geto light another cigarette.
“safer that way,” geto answered while smoke drifted out the open window. “she doesn’t ask questions if she feels protected.”
there was something detached in his tone like he could shift from boyfriend to something else without effort.
they stepped out of the car and gravel crunched under their boots. the warehouse loomed ahead, its metal siding streaked with rust. a single light flickered above the door.
inside, it smelled like dust and oil. a table sat in the middle of the room covered with half melted candles, old maps with a few blood splatters, and a couple of black duffel bags. choso started sorting through them, checking contents and zipping things closed again. geto wiped down a knife with a rag, slow and methodical, like he was cleaning paint from a brush.
halfway through, his phone buzzed on the table. the screen lit up pink from your contact name.
did you make it home yet?
it’s kinda hard to sleep after all that…
he stared at it for a second before answering, thumb smudging a bit of soot off the glass.
yeah, home now. you okay?
just tired. miss you already.
miss you too. get some sleep, pretty.
he locked the screen and set the phone back down, the light fading into the shadows. choso gave him a look but didn’t say anything.
when they finished, choso tossed the rag into one of the bags. “you gonna see her tomorrow?” he asked, voice quiet in the echoing space.
geto nodded once as his eyes fixed on the candle flame. “yeah. breakfast before her first class.”
choso smirked. “you play both sides a little too well.”
geto’s mouth twitched. “that’s the point.”
they left without looking back. the warehouse door shut behind them with a metallic clang, cutting off the last bit of light.
the mustang’s engine growled back to life. smoke curled out the window as they drove toward the city, the night sky heavy with clouds again like nothing had happened at all.
the next morning the air felt heavy again. you’d barely slept, half dozing while doing the last touches of your makeup until geto’s name lit the screen.
i’m outside. come on. breakfast before class.
you didn’t think twice before grabbing your bag and heading down. the mustang waited by the curb, its black paint gleaming even under the cloudy sky. geto sat behind the wheel while one arm hung loose out the window and smoke curled from his daily cigarette between his fingers.
he smiled when he saw you. “you look half awake.”
“i am,” you said while sliding into the seat. “barely.”
the car smelled like his signature cologne and faint smoke. the music was low—some deftones track humming in the background. you tried to relax but your phone buzzed before you could even fasten your seatbelt. another campus alert.
CAMPUS ALERT: Second victim discovered near west dorms early this morning. Suspect remains at large. Stay alert and lock your dorms before leaving.
your breath caught. “oh my god,” you whispered while reading it twice to make sure you weren’t imagining it.
geto leaned over to glance at the screen and his expression didn’t change. “same area as last time?”
you nodded. “yeah.” your hands were cold even though the heater was on. “what if it’s someone we know? it says found early this morning—what if it happened while we were leaving last night?”
he reached over while gently taking your phone and setting it in the cup holder. “hey. look at me,” he said, voice calm. “you’re fine. nothing’s gonna happen to you, alright?”
you looked at him, confused by how steady he was. “you’re not even… worried?”
“worrying doesn’t fix anything,” he said simply. “we just stay smart and keep our eyes open.” he gave your knee a small squeeze, eyes flicking back to the road.
you tried to believe him. really, you did but the casual way he said it made something twist in your chest. he didn’t sound like someone scared of a killer—he sounded like someone who knew exactly how close danger really was.
the drive to the diner was quiet after that. the sky hung low and gray, clouds still thick and unmoving. geto tapped the wheel in time with the music, eyes half lidded, as if the world wasn’t unraveling outside the car windows.
when you reached the parking lot, he parked smoothly and turned to you with that same easy grin. “told you, see? we made it.”
you exhaled slowly while forcing a small smile back. “yeah… we did.”
he leaned over and kissed your cheek then got out to open your door. his hand was warm when you took it, his thumb brushing your knuckles in that effortless way that always made your heart skip.
and as you followed him toward the diner, you tried not to look at the news alert still glowing faintly on your phone screen—another body found, the same streets you drove past only hours ago.
the diner smelled like maple syrup and fresh coffee. there weren’t many people inside. just the usual morning crowd, old men by the window, and a couple of students half asleep over pancakes. geto slid into a booth by the corner and motioned for you to sit across from him.
you ordered coffee and something small to eat, though your stomach felt too tight for food. geto didn’t seem tense at all; he leaned back against the booth, one arm draped casually over the backrest as if nothing in the world was wrong.
“so,” he said when the waitress left. “big day of classes?”
you looked up from your cup. “you’re seriously acting like someone didn’t just die again.”
his smirk faltered. only slightly but you caught it—the small twitch in his expression before he forced it back into something lighter. “you’re right,” he said, voice softer now. “sorry. bad habit.”
you tilted your head. “bad habit?”
“yeah. acting like everything’s fine when it’s not.” he rested his chin on his hand, eyes dragging over your face with a faint smile. “guess i thought if i kept it calm, you’d feel calm too.”
“that’s not how fear works,” you muttered.
“no?” he asked, leaning in a little. “then how does it work?”
you didn’t answer but stared down at your coffee instead. you felt his gaze still on you, heavy and patient. after a beat, he said quietly, “hey. look at me.”
you did.
his tone softened even more, almost teasing. “you’re safe right now. you’re with me and i promise, if anyone so much as looked at you the wrong way, i’d handle it.”
the way he said handle it sent a chill up your spine—not fear exactly but more like a strange rush of heat you didn’t know how to place.
he noticed. of course he did. his grin turned just a little crooked. “better?”
“not really,” you lied.
“mm.” he leaned back again, pretending to think. “then maybe i should distract you.”
“how?” you asked with narrowed eyes.
he shrugged. “i could tell you how good you look when you’re mad at me.”
you rolled your eyes but he just chuckled, that low sound that always made you want to smile even when you shouldn’t.
“there it is,” he murmured. “see? works every time.”
the food came and the moment broke but something about the way he watched you lingered. his charm was still there but underneath it something else hummed.
and even when you managed to laugh at one of his stupid jokes, you couldn’t stop wondering if his calm wasn’t comfort at all. maybe it was control or maybe it was confidence that came from knowing more than you ever would.
after breakfast, the mustang rolled up slow in front of choso and geto’s dorm building. the morning sky was pale and cloudy, soft light filtering through like a thin layer of smoke. you leaned your head against the window, still half distracted by the news alert from earlier. another body. another person.
marie came out with choso trailing behind her, hoodie up and cigarette tucked behind his ear. she grinned when she saw you while climbing into the backseat beside you while choso took the front.
“morning, baby,” she said, tossing her bag to the floor. “you look cute as hell for someone who has an eight a.m.”
“had to,” you said. “we stopped at the diner before.”
“figures,” marie said while stretching. “geto’s addicted to their pancakes.”
geto only smirked while pulling into traffic. “guilty.”
you tried to let the small talk fill the car but the silence underneath kept tugging at you. the clouds looked heavier now and more darker at the edges. marie’s phone buzzed and she opened it mid laugh then froze.
“no way,” she whispered.
you didn’t have to ask and your stomach already sank.
“they found another body,” marie said quietly, eyes scanning her screen. “same area as the last one. and—wait, this girl went to our school.”
“who?” you asked, voice soft.
“emma something. she was in my psych class last semester.” marie’s face dropped a little. “she always wore those huge pink headphones, remember?”
you nodded, heart thudding. “yeah. i remember her.”
the car went still. the low hum of the engine was the only sound. you glanced up at the rearview mirror and geto’s eyes flicked toward you for a second before he looked back at the road, expression unreadable.
“that’s… crazy,” you said finally, trying to fill the quiet. “i can’t believe it’s someone from campus.”
“me neither,” marie said. “it’s just… it doesn’t feel real. like we walk the same streets as these people.”
choso leaned back as one hand rested on the open window. “you never really think it’s close until it is,” he said with an even voice.
“yeah,” geto added softly. “you guys should probably stick together for a bit. until they figure it out.”
“you think it’s random?” marie asked.
he shrugged. “could be. could not. either way, don’t give it more space than it deserves. fear feeds off attention.”
that sounded like something he’d said before.
you exchanged a quick look with marie but didn’t say anything. the rest of the ride was quiet except for the soft buzz of the radio and the occasional flick of choso’s lighter.
when they pulled up outside your class building, geto reached over and brushed his thumb against the back of your hand, just a grounding touch.
“text me when you’re inside, yeah?”
you nodded while trying to smile. “yeah.”
“good.”
you and marie climbed out, the air cool and heavy with the promise of rain. she looped her arm through yours as you walked toward the building.
“they didn’t seem that freaked out,” marie said quietly.
“no,” you murmured. “they didn’t.”
the mustang stayed parked across the street from campus, engine low and steady. geto leaned against the headrest while watching through the windshield as you and marie walked toward the main hall. the two of you laughed about something small, your bags bouncing against your hips, your hair catching bits of sunlight breaking through the gray clouds.
“they’re in,” choso said, flicking ash out the cracked window.
geto hummed in response but still watching. “you saw him, right?”
choso looked over. “the guy near the bike rack?”
“yeah.” geto’s tone dropped a little. “the one who couldn’t stop staring.”
choso followed his gaze. the man was still there—older, maybe mid thirties, pretending to scroll his phone while his eyes tracked the girls as they disappeared into the building.
“you think he’s just some creep or—”
“doesn’t matter,” geto cut in softly. “he looked too long.”
they sat in silence for a moment, the kind that sat heavy but calm. students passed by in clusters, voices echoing faintly and sneakers scuffing the pavement. the man finally walked off, blending into the flow of people heading toward the parking lot.
geto flicked his lighter open and shut a few times before tucking it back into his pocket. “you got class?”
“yeah. ten thirty.” choso threw out the cigarette from getos window. “you?”
“same,” geto said while stepping out of the car. the air was cool and a little damp.
they crossed the lot together, backpacks slung low, blending easily with the crowd of students. no one looked twice—just two guys heading to class.
“you really think about handling him?” choso asked quietly but his eyes still forward.
“if he circles back,” geto said. “otherwise he’s just another piece of trash i don’t have to touch.”
“and if he does?”
geto’s mouth curved slightly, the kind of smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “then i’ll take out the trash.”
they reached the steps of the main building. choso held the door open with his shoulder, glancing over once more toward where the man had been standing.
“you ever get tired of it?” he asked.
geto paused, hands sliding into his pockets. “no,” he said simply. “i get tired of pretending.”
he pushed past the door and the hallway swallowed them both—just two students walking into another ordinary day, while outside, the gray clouds thickened like the sky already knew what was coming.
your lecture hall felt colder than usual. the fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead and the professor’s voice blurred into background noise halfway through the hour. you’d been half listening and half scrolling through your phone while trying not to let your mind circle back to that news alert again.
your phone buzzed.
you in class?
you smiled a little, typing back under the desk.
yeah. trying not to fall asleep.
good luck with that.
a pause, then another message popped up.
meet me after. empty room on the third floor. 3b.
you blinked at the screen.
why
because i said please.
you rolled your eyes, biting back a smile.
that’s not what you said
then please.
the corners of your mouth tugged up. you typed back,
fine. ten mins after class.
he didn’t reply but you saw the typing dots appear once then stop. it left a small thrill in your chest like waiting for something you weren’t supposed to want this much.
the lecture dragged on as you tapped your pen against your notebook, half aware of the rain starting to tap against the windows. outside, the sky had turned dull gray again. everything felt muffled.
when class finally ended, you packed up slow, pretending not to rush even though your heart was already picking up speed.
the halls were mostly empty by the time you reached the third floor. it smelled faintly of old paper and floor cleaner. you pushed open the door to room 3b.
geto was already there, leaning against the teacher’s desk, sleeves rolled up, tattoos peeking from under his shirt. he looked too relaxed for someone who’d just had a full morning of classes—like he’d been waiting a while.
“you listen when i text you,” he said with a small grin.
“you said please,” you teased while dropping your bag on a desk.
he smirked. “guess i did.”
you started to ask why he wanted to meet here but the look in his eyes made the words fade before they left your mouth. his voice lowered.
“you looked tense this morning.”
“kinda hard not to be,” you said. “people keep dying.”
“and yet,” he murmured, taking a slow step closer, “you still came when i asked.”
“maybe i just wanted to see you.”
“or maybe you trust me too much.”
his tone wasn’t cruel but it carried that quiet edge that always made your chest tighten. still, his fingers brushed your wrist and his expression softened.
“relax,” he said. “it’s just me.”
you nodded, though you weren’t sure if it made you feel better or worse.
“hey,” he murmured, tilting your chin up gently with his fingers. “look at me.”
“i…” you started but the words faltered. the tightness in your chest didn’t ease.
he leaned in while brushing his lips against yours just lightly at first, testing. your heart jumped and he smiled against your mouth. “breathe, pretty girl.”
his hands slid down to rest on your hips and pulled you closer. the kiss deepened, pressing just enough to make your knees feel weak. every part of him was calming yet demanding at the same time.
“you’re doing so good,” he whispered against your lips and his breath warm. “so strong, even when you feel scared.”
“i don’t feel strong,” you admitted, fingers clutching his shirt.
“you are,” he said, tilting your head back slightly. “every time you stay calm, every time you let me help, you are.”
the kiss broke for a second, just long enough for him to trail his fingers along your jaw, thumbs brushing your cheek. “i’ve got you,” he murmured, lips ghosting over yours again.
he kissed you slower this time, lips soft but firm, pressing praise between every motion. “that’s it… that’s my girl. always taking care of herself, even when the world’s spinning.”
you melted into him, your hands in his hair, and heart hammering. his hands roamed your back while pulling you flush against him. every brush of his lips and every whispered word grounded you. for a moment, the alerts, the bodies, and the tension of the morning—they were gone.
“you’re safe,” he said between kisses. “just with me. okay?”
“okay,” you breathed while leaning further into him.
he pressed one last kiss to your forehead, then your lips again, softer now, like he was anchoring you. “everything will be okay,” he whispered.
“you’re okay. all of it’s okay.” he soothed, his voice a warm hum. his fingers tangled in your hair while tilting your head back again. "let me help you forget."
his mouth crashed down on you again, not gentle this time but needy, a greedy kiss that stole the fear from your lungs and replaced it with an aching want. your back met the cold edge of the forgotten professor's desk causing papers to scatter.
his hands were everywhere while yanking your jeans and thong down your thighs. "i need to feel you, fuck, need to be inside you now," he growled and his own belt buckle clinked urgently. the head of his cock was hot and thick as it pressed against your already soaked entrance.
he didn't wait, driving into you with one hard thrust that made you cry out and nails digging into his shoulders. "geto!"
"that's it, take me," he grunted while his hips set a perfect rhythm against your ass. every snap of his pelvis punched a moan from your throat. you could feel every inch of him, stretching and filling you.
he leaned over you, his breath hot on your neck. "you feel so fucking good wrapped around my dick. this is all you need to think about. my dick. me inside of you. nothing else." he shifted while hitting a spot deep inside you that made your vision whiten.
"you're gonna come for me aren't you? come on my fucking dick and prove you're mine pretty."
a broken sob escaped your lips that was part plea and part surrender. the coil in your stomach was wound impossibly tight like a spring ready to snap.
he was everywhere—his mouth on your neck, teeth scraping against your lips, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks, and his thick cock pistoning in and out of your dripping hole.
the classroom, the world, it all faded away until there was only geto and the unbelievable feel of him fucking you.
"geto, i—" you tried to speak, to warn him but the words were just a shattered breath.
"i know, baby. i know," he murmured against your ear as his tone shifted to something almost tender for a fraction of a second before the dominance slammed back into place. "now. come for me. right fucking now."
it wasn't a request. it was an order your body had no choice but to obey.
the orgasm didn't crest; it detonated. a white hot shockwave ripped through you that was so consuming that your vision speckled with black and white dots. a raw cry was torn from your throat as your entire body seized around him and your pussy muscles clamping down on his dick in a series of rhythmic pulses.
it was an endless wave of pleasure that just kept crashing and each one intensified by the relentless force of his hips that never stopped.
"fuck yes," he moaned out, his own control fracturing. "that's it. squeeze my dick just like that. milk me dry pretty."
he was fucking you through the convulsions, his thrusts becoming sharper and more erratic. he was pushing you right into a second orgasm that left you whimpering and mindless. just as the first waves began to gently recede, you felt him swell even thicker inside you.
a guttural moan rumbled from his chest as he buried himself to the hilt and his body shuddering against yours.
the sudden flood of his cum filled you, jet after jet of it, painting your insides with him. he held himself there while grinding his hips in a tight and circular motion as he pumped every last drop into you. the feeling of him pulsing and of being so completely claimed and filled, dragged a weak and oversensitive moan from your lips.
for a long moment, the only sounds in the empty classroom were both of your ragged breaths and the faint wet sound of your bodies still joined. he stayed over you with his forehead resting against yours and his dark eyes holding a possessive glint that made your spent body throb again.
he slowly and carefully pulled out and you whimpered at the sudden emptiness while feeling the evidence of what he’d done begin to trickle out of you. he looked down between your bodies watching while a satisfied smirk played on his lips.
"look at that," he said, his voice hoarse. "my cum dripping out of your perfect little pussy." he leaned down and captured your mouth in a claiming kiss. "no one else gets this. no one else touches you. the only thing you ever need to be afraid of is me not being inside you." he pressed two fingers against your sensitive clit, making you jolt. "now, let’s get you dressed pretty.”
a couple minutes later, you stumbled slightly as you pushed the classroom door open with your cheeks hot and fingers brushing nervously over your hair. your bag felt heavier than usual, shoulders tense, and you couldn’t stop your pulse from racing.
geto fell into step beside you, his presence grounding yet impossible to ignore. his smirk was teasing but there was something in his eyes that made your stomach flutter.
“hey,” he murmured, voice low. “slow down, yeah? don’t trip over yourself.”
“i’m fine,” you said trying to sound casual though the warmth still lingered in between your legs.
“yeah, you’re cute when you’re flustered,” he teased while brushing a hand along your back, steadying you as you walked. you rolled your eyes but didn’t pull away.
the hallway stretched empty around you and the faint echo of your shoes on tile was the only sound besides the distant buzz of fluorescent lights. outside, the clouds were still gray, thick, and low. puddles forming along the campus walkways from the morning rain.
when you finally reached the steps, geto nodded toward his black mustang parked nearby. “we’re meeting choso and marie,” he said while opening the door open for you. “let’s go.”
you climbed in still flushed and adjusting your bag while trying to smooth your hair. geto took the driver’s seat, his gaze briefly flicking to you, lips quirking in that half smile that made your heart skip.
the ride across campus was quiet, filled only with the soft hum of the engine and the occasional tap of tires over wet pavement. choso and marie were already waiting near the other quad with their bags slung over their shoulders and waving as the car approached.
you stepped out while smoothing your clothes, cheeks still warm, while geto and choso watched, their presence calm and unassuming.
then geto’s eyes flicked toward the edge of the plaza. the man from this morning. leaning against a bike rack, pretending to check his phone but watching intently was still there.
geto’s hand brushed yours briefly, grounding you before he leaned slightly looked at choso. the silent glance was unmistakable. choso’s head tilted, understanding immediately.
you and marie approached, laughing lightly to mask your lingering unease. geto stayed close, shadowing you, eyes flicking between the group and the man at the edge of the plaza. nothing was said but the message was clear: he saw the problem and choso saw it too.
the four of you moved toward the campus café, the morning chatter of other students filling the air, but beneath it, the tension from that single glance lingered. whatever was about to unfold, geto and choso were ready.
the four of you stepped out of the campus café, laughing lightly to cover the lingering unease. the clouds hung low and puddles dotted the walkway from the earlier rain. you and marie slid into the backseat of the mustang while geto adjusted his mirrors, eyes scanning the plaza.
“ready?” he asked softly, voice just low enough for you to hear. you nodded still flushed from the morning’s classroom session. the engine purred as geto pulled away, the campus streets quiet now, nearly empty.
a few minutes later, he eased the car to the curb in front of your dorm. “here we are,” he said gently. turning to the backseat and brushing your hair behind your ear while he pressed a soft kiss to your temple.
“i’ll see you later,” he murmured while his eyes were dark and steady. “don’t worry about a thing.”
you swallowed the flutter in your chest, nodding, still flushed. “okay.”
you and marie climbed out with your bags slung over your shoulders, heading inside, the warm glow of the building hiding the tension lingering from the morning. geto waited until you were safely through the door then slid back into the driver’s seat. choso was already beside him, quiet and alert.
once you were out of sight, geto steered the mustang toward a quieter stretch of campus, scanning for the man from earlier. choso reached into his bag, pulling out the ghostface mask and hood, sliding them on with practiced ease. geto’s jaw flexed once—a silent acknowledgment—as the car rolled toward the man.
choso slipped from the car while moving quickly and efficiently. the man by the service road barely had time to react. the stabbing was swift. geto stayed at the wheel, engine low, eyes flicking between streetlamps, ready to move at the first hint of trouble.
a security guard’s flashlight swung nearby, cutting across the pavement. choso froze then bolted back toward the mustang, mask and hood still on. he climbed in while throwing both into the backseat haphazardly, the sound of clothing or straps hitting the leather echoing in the small space. the man lay on the ground, bleeding and fading but still alive, a chaotic reminder of the night’s reality.
geto’s hands tightened briefly on the wheel then relaxed as the engine hummed. he pulled smoothly from the curb and choso sank back, hair messy and breath steady, pretending it was just another night on campus.
“i’ll drop you off,” geto said quietly once they were clear. choso gave a small nod, understanding the routine and goto navigated toward their dorm, lights reflecting off wet streets. the tension in the car remained quiet but the knowledge of what they had left behind lingered in the air like a shadow.
after dropping off choso, geto’s black mustang glided through the quiet streets, tires hissing softly over wet asphalt. the sky was bruised purple, clouds heavy with the evening rain. his phone flashed against the console and with a flick of his thumb, he typed a short message.
i’m outside.
you saw the message and pulled your jacket tighter around you, stomach fluttering. your dorm hallway was empty, quiet, the faint hum of fluorescent lights overhead. you stepped outside and spotted the mustang parked where he said it would be. geto leaned casually against the driver’s side, one hand in his pocket, the other tapping lightly on the roof.
“hey,” he called softly as you approached, voice warm and teasing.
“hey,” you murmured. he pulled you close and you let yourself hug him, pressing against his chest. as you did, your eyes flicked down to the backseat—just a corner of the crumpled ghostface mask, tucked beneath a hoodie. your stomach tightened but you didn’t say anything.
he leaned down and brushed a soft kiss across your temple then your lips. it was tender, a contrast to the flutter of unease the mask had stirred in your chest.
pulling back slightly, you smiled faintly, letting your hand linger in his. “want to come upstairs?” you asked, voice teasing.
“yeah,” he murmured, smirk tugging at his lips, thumb brushing over your knuckles. “lead the way.”
you walked ahead while letting him close the small distance behind you. his hand found yours again, fingers threading together and the tension between warmth and the sharp flutter from that brief glimpse of the mask settled into a quiet electricity.
“you’ve been quiet,” he murmured as you reached the dorm steps.
“just thinking,” you said softly while smiling faintly and letting the moment stretch.
he leaned closer once more, thumb brushing over your hand. “i’m here. nothing else matters right now.”
you let yourself melt into his presence for a heartbeat, then stepped inside. together, you walked up the stairs, side by side, the night heavy and still outside, the tension of the day lingering just beneath the surface.
inside the dorm was warm compared to the damp night outside. you closed the door behind you and leaned against it for a moment, letting out a quiet breath, your pulse still picking up from the mask. geto followed, shrugging off his jacket, hands brushing casually against yours as he stepped closer.
“you always make it look easy,” you teased softly, letting your fingers graze his arm. “just… stroll in like nothing’s wrong.”
he smirked lazyily, leaning just enough that his presence pressed against yours. “easy is boring,” he murmured. his thumb brushed over your knuckles again and for a split second your gaze flicked down, imagining the backseat of the car—just the faint corner of that white mask tucked beneath the hoodie. your stomach tightened but you didn’t breathe a word.
“hm, boring’s fine for me sometimes,” you whispered while letting your hand slip into his. the tension was quiet but electric and every brush of skin and low murmur building it higher.
he leaned down while brushing a kiss along your temple then over the curve of your jaw teasingly. “you like this,” he murmured, almost teasing, almost a statement. your lips curved into a small flustered smile.
“maybe,” you admitted softly while letting your fingers trail along his chest. the warmth there contrasted sharply with the uneasy flutter still lingering in your stomach from the thought of the mask in the car, just out of reach, unnoticed.
geto caught your hand and tugged you lightly toward the couch. “come sit,” he said, voice low.
you sat, letting him close the space between you, his knee brushing yours and his fingers resting lightly over yours. every subtle touch and every low murmur held tension and promise.
“you’ve got that look,” he murmured while leaning closer, lips barely brushing yours, “like you’re thinking about something you shouldn’t be.”
“maybe i am,” you whispered, letting your gaze flick toward him. the thought of the mask in the backseat lingered, almost a secret between you and the night.
“good,” he breathed, tilting his head, “better be thinking about me.”
the rest of the night stretched quietly. every laugh, every brush of skin, and every teasing glance threading tension through the warmth of the dorm room. outside, the clouds pressed down heavy and still, a reminder of the night’s shadows and the secrets waiting quietly in the car.
your room was quite except for the soft sound of geto breathing beside you. his chest rose and fell steady while one arm draped over your waist and his warmth pressed against your back. you should’ve felt safe but you couldn’t sleep.
your phone screen glowed against the dark. you scrolled without thinking until the alert stopped you cold.
CAMPUS ALERT — Campus police confirm last night’s attack. Witness photo shows the suspect wearing a ghostface mask.
the picture was grainy but clear enough. white mask, black hoodie, the shape of it wrong in all the ways that made your chest tighten. your mind flashed to earlier—the backseat of the mustang, the edge of that same white mask half hidden under a hoodie.
your throat went dry.
you turned slightly while looking at geto. lips parted just enough to soften the sharpness he usually carried. he looked like someone untouched by anything dark, like the world outside had no hold on him.
you sat there for a long minute, staring at the photo again, trying to reason with yourself. it couldn’t be him. it couldn’t. maybe it was just a coincidence. maybe someone else had a mask like that.
but what if it wasn’t?
a nervous tremor ran through your hands. you glanced back at him still sleeping peacefully and something in you shifted. fear tangled with the quiet need to protect him.
you slipped from the bed, pulling his hoodie over your head and crept out of the dorm. the night air bit at your skin and the mustang sat in its usual spot under the streetlight.
you used his keys to unlock the car and opened the back door and there they were—the crumpled hoodie and the corner of the mask glinting faintly in the dim light. your breath caught as your heart raced. you grabbed them both quickly and shoved them into a tote bag as you shut the door and locked his car.
when you got back inside, geto hadn’t moved. still asleep, still comfy, and still soft. you set the bag quietly in your closet, closed the door, and sat at the edge of the bed staring at him.
you wanted to believe he was just the man you knew—the one who kissed your forehead and made you feel steady when everything else spun out. but the photo, the mask, and the hoodie—they said a different truth.
you slid back under the covers and his arm found your waist again even in sleep. his touch was warm but your eyes stayed open. the city outside buzzed faintly with panic but in here it was only silence and the steady rhythm of his breathing, calm against the chaos he might’ve caused.
the room was still dark when geto stirred beside you, a lazy hand searching across the sheets until it found your thigh. you hadn’t slept much. the glow of your phone had faded hours ago but the image burned behind your eyes—the mask, the hoodie, and the news alert.
he blinked slow, voice rough from sleep. “you’re up early.”
you hummed something soft, fingers picking at the edge of the blanket as the silence stretched. he caught it immediately.
“what’s wrong?” he asked, his tone calm but sharp underneath.
you swallowed. “nothing,” you said too quick.
he sat up as his eyes traced your face. “you’re lying,” he said gently. “talk to me.”
you looked at him for a long time before finally whispering, “why do you have that mask in your car?”
his expression barely moved but you felt the shift in him like his heartbeat slowed down instead of sped up. “what?”
“i saw it,” you said. “last night when i hugged you. it was just sitting in the backseat.”
he was quiet for a moment then sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “you weren’t supposed to see that.”
your throat tightened. “so it’s yours?”
“yeah,” he said simply.
you turned away, voice trembling. “they said there’s someone out there wearing one like it. people are dying, sugu. you act like it’s nothing.”
his hand reached for your wrist. “it’s not what you think.”
“then tell me what it is.”
he hesitated just long enough to make your heart trip over itself. “sometimes,” he said slowly, “there are people who don’t deserve to breathe the same air as you. me and choso… we handle it.”
the words hit hard and cold. “handle it?”
his eyes held yours steady and unblinking. “make sure they can’t hurt anyone especially you and marie.”
you stared at him while the room skinned somewhere between fear and disbelief. “so you kill people.”
his thumb brushed under your chin and lifted your face back toward him. “we stop monsters,” he said quietly. “so they don’t find girls like you two.”
you wanted to flinch, to pull away, to scream that it wasn’t okay but when his hand slid behind your neck, his voice low against your skin, it didn’t feel like danger. it felt like a secret you weren’t supposed to know.
“you think i’d ever hurt you?” he murmured.
you shook your head before you even meant to.
“good,” he said while kissing the top of your head slowly. “because i’d kill before i let anyone touch you.”
you let him hold you while his breath was warm against your temple. your fingers clutched his shirt like the truth might slip away if you didn’t hold tight enough.
the mask sat hidden in your closet, shoved deep under a pile of clothes. you’d taken it from his backseat before sunrise to keep anyone else from seeing it. maybe to keep him safe. maybe to keep yourself from having to face what it meant.
he pulled you closer while whispering, “everything’s okay, baby. i’ve got you.”
and even though your heart was pounding too fast, even though your hands shook, you almost believed him.
the sun was barely up when geto pulled on his hoodie, hair still damp from the shower he took after the tense conversation. the air in your dorm felt heavier than usual, it was too still. you sat on the edge of the bed while half wrapped in a blanket while watching him move around the room like nothing was different.
“you’re leaving already?” you asked with a small voice.
“yeah,” he said while tugging on his rings. “choso wants to hit the gym before class.”
you nodded but your chest felt tight. you couldn’t stop watching his hands—the same ones that held you last night and probably the same ones that might’ve killed someone.
he noticed your stare and paused while leaning against the dresser. “you’re quiet again.”
you forced a soft smile. “just tired.”
he didn’t believe you. he walked over while standing between your knees. his fingers brushed your chin up, thumb gliding over your bottom lip. “you’re thinking too much,” he murmured.
“hard not to,” you whispered.
“about what?” he asked, tilting his head, eyes dark and searching.
you opened your mouth but nothing came out. the silence stretched too long.
his smile shifted and it was small but unreadable. “baby,” he said finally, voice low, “you know you can trust me, right?”
you nodded. “yeah.”
“and you know i can trust you too,” he said, more of a statement than a question.
the words landed heavy. he said them softly like a promise but something in the air made your stomach twist.
you nodded again, even slower this time. “of course.”
he bent down, kissing you once like he was sealing the answer between your lips. “good girl,” he murmured against your mouth.
you didn’t breathe until he pulled back, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “try to relax today, yeah? i’ll text you later.”
he grabbed his keys and slipped out with the same easy calm he always had and the door clicking softly behind him.
you sat there for a long minute after, blanket pooled around your waist while your heart still pounded.
through the window, you caught a glimpse of his car pulling out of the lot—black paint gleaming under the morning light like nothing bad had ever touched it.
you exhaled slowly while whispering to yourself, “yeah. later.” but your eyes flicked to the closet and your chest ached with a truth you weren’t ready to say out loud.
#thinking of writing a fic where y/n is a new high ranking concubine in the rear palace with her own lore and mysteries that Maomao & Jinshi help solve.
LIKE SPECKS OF SUNLIGHT IN THE EARLY MORN. ( p. a.)
portgas d. ace & marine!fem!reader.
cw ━━ ! minors, ageless and blank blogs DO NOT INTERACT. reader is written / portrayed as a black woman but you do not have to imagine it as such! everyone is welcome to read <3 reader wears glasses, and is a marine stationed on an unnamed island at a base along the grand line. ‘lazy morning’ / ‘morning after’ kind of vibes so, a bit of pillow talk (?) . references to smut & making love (it already happened). contains some angst & angsty themes throughout (i.e., ace dealing with his self esteem issues, low self worth, etc..) otherwise it’s supposed to be fluffy ( the quiet, somber kind i think ) ! descriptions of kissing & borderline making out. ace is kind of lovesick and clingy but it’s subtle-ish. lots of introspection and reflection on both him and the reader’s part. kind of based on mitski's "my love, mine all mine", definitely had that song on repeat as i wrote this. romantic and deeply poetic rhetoric but y’all already know that’s just how i write lol. told from omniscient point of view (third person). proofread this as i was feeling sleepy, so please excuse any mistakes or things that don’t make sense!
word count ━━ ! 3.9k
notes ━━ ! guess who's baaaaack.....! i know it's been a while since i have published any original work and i want to apologize for that. lately it's been difficult finding the energy to write something for more than five minutes and honestly, i think i just need to rediscover what drives me so i can tap into the zone more often. i missed it though, and hope i get to write more this year <3 anyway, first fic of 2025 and it feels right to make it about second commander of the whitebeard pirates, portgas d. ace. this fic is my late birthday 'gift' to him and something of a love letter because ohhhhh i miss my pookie bear so much :(( this entire idea started as just me thinking about kissing each of his freckles because i have the personal hc that he doesn't really like them, the reason for it is inherently tied to his distaste for his father and by extension himself :/ and then it just turned into this lmao. i hope ace doesn't behave too out of character here, as this is also my first time writing for him in any context, so pls be gentle with me. REBLOBS + COMMENTARY ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED.
IT WAS NOT THE LIGHT chirping of small birds that awoke you, nor was it the ringing of your biological clock telling you that the dawn was near. Instead it was a familiar tugging sensation within the pit of your stomach— the need to relieve yourself— that caused your eyes to peel themselves back slowly and with struggle, slumber from the previous night hasn’t been completely washed away yet.
It took your brain several more moments to dust off enough of its sleepy exhaustion before you attempted to sit up from your comfortable position in bed, but were immediately met with some light resistance.
The resistance in question was a long, muscled arm thrown around your soft torso, blackened ink of a tattoo staining the skin on its bicep. It was still too dark and you were still too tired to make out the sharp angles of the marking, but you knew what they were; your eyes have gazed upon it more times than you could count, and it has made a home in your memory.
That’s when your ears registered the rhythmic and almost nasal snores that flowed from the mouth of the man who held you so securely against his chest, and you almost smiled at how completely at ease and relaxed he seemed.
At times like this, when things were still or you had a moment to yourself, you still could not wrap your head around the fact that you had gotten yourself involved with Portgas D. Ace— willingly at that.
The first time was a fluke at best. That’s the excuse you were going to go with. You didn’t realize he was a pirate— an infamous pirate with hundreds of millions of Beri to his name— until your clothes were already halfway off and you were feverishly grinding down onto his lap like some touch-starved whore who’s been aching to feel something. That ‘fluke’ was one spurred on by alcohol, a particularly rough week at sea, and a sizable lapse in judgment, but you hadn’t felt that…… alive in a long time. But now, two years have passed since you have been seeing Ace in secret like this, and you have long since given up blaming it on a fragile emotional constitution further weakened by alcohol. You knew good and well what you were doing, and you could no longer deny the way your heart was constantly set aflutter whenever you spent any amount of time with him.
You did try your hardest to not let yourself enjoy how … domestic it all seemed: waking up next to him in the morning and falling asleep entangled with each other at night, having him hide out at your cozy apartment for days at a time, cooking him meals when you were relieved of your duties for the day. You wouldn’t— shouldn’t let yourself enjoy such content thoughts too much, because you also knew it could all be over in the blink of an eye. The world could be cruel that way if it wanted to.
But still, that didn’t mean you couldn’t be grateful for these moments. From what you could tell, Ace seemed to enjoy this arrangement as much as you did. And for now, that was enough.
Lightly wrapping your fingers around his wrist, you carefully lifted his arm from around you, moving slow so you wouldn’t wake him up. Once you’ve successfully loosened his hold, you sat upright, a muted ache shooting through your lower body as you shifted around to stand. The ache mostly resided in between your legs, and a flood of memories from just hours ago rushed over you at once, causing a tingling warmth to bloom underneath your skin. Ace had poured so much into you, it never failed to leave you equal parts stunned and breathless when you witnessed his passion overflow from the brim of his being. His hands, calloused palms that always ran hot, had been everywhere— your body could still feel the heat of where they had laid, caressed, groped, smacked, and squeezed. And you involuntarily jolted as you recalled where his fingers and lips had been, how it felt to be pressed so closely against him as he simultaneously took you apart.
After another moment of being lost in your own reverie, you pulled yourself out of it and filed those memories away in a separate corner of your mind, so that you may more fully indulge in them later. As you carefully removed the blankets and climbed over the sleeping pirate, one bare foot had hardly hit the cool wooden floor before a hand wrapped itself around your wrist.
A quiet grumbling noise vibrated from behind Ace’s lips, his eyes remained closed as he spoke, indicative that he was barely awake. “Wh…where y’goin’....?” His words were slurred and thick with sleep, his deep voice reaching the depths of your being to spark something to life in the pit of your belly. But you promptly ignored it for now.
“To the bathroom, I gotta pee.”
He replied with another mumbling sort of noise, presumably one of acknowledgment or begrudging acquiescence— you couldn’t be sure. “M’kay, just . . . hurry back t’bed, will ya? M’cold.”
You found amusement in the inherent irony of his claim that he was ‘cold’ when he always ran a little warmer than most— not to mention his devil fruit powers— but also in the fact that despite his urging you to take care of your business swiftly, he hasn't released his hold on your wrist yet. In fact, he tugged you a little closer to him, as if he was trying to pull you back into bed.
A small smile began to curl at the corners of your lips as you moved to manually pry his fingers from your arm so you can make your way out of the bedroom and down the hall.
For the next several minutes, Ace was left alone.
He stirred in his partially-awake state as he made himself comfortable again in bed, but one eye managed to pry itself open by a few millimeters. It was unfortunate he was roused from his deep sleep, but he was sure he’d doze off again soon enough.
From what he could see, the room was still dark for the most part, his surroundings washed in a rich, navy blue color, a telltale sign that the sun would rise within the next hour or so. Aside from the faint rustling coming from the bathroom, the air was occupied by a serene silence, meaning his innermost thoughts became that much more perceptible to his mind’s ear.
Sometimes, a part of Ace felt like fate had shined upon him— just a little, just this once— when his mind mulled over his…unique relationship with you, and all the events that led up to this exact moment. He too understood the implications of seeing you like this, but he couldn’t find it within himself to let go and move on. There was just…something about you, something special.
Even now, he still couldn’t quite understand why you were taking such a big risk and basically throwing your life away by getting comfortable with a pirate like him. The both of you came from two different worlds, the morals embedded within those worlds constantly pitted you against each other.
But you willingly ignored them, and so did he.
Perhaps that was the ‘special’ quality about you and this relationship that he still struggled to articulate, how pure and genuine it all felt— how you were. Either way, he was grateful that he wasn’t the only one being a little selfish. And every now and again, Ace might silently thank the universe for allowing him this one thing, even though he hasn’t, and probably never will do anything, to deserve it.
The increasing volume of footsteps pulled Ace from his thoughts, and soon enough you reappeared in the doorway, making your way back to bed– back home in Ace’s arms.
Your lips parted in a yawn, putting your hand over your mouth to muffle the sound, before carefully climbing over the taller man to reclaim your spot next to him. Ace wasted no time encasing you against him once more, one arm laid lazily across your stomach and the other resting under your neck, acting somewhat as a pillow of sorts.
“...took too long,” the pirate muttered under his breath, the low, vibrating sound of his voice so close to your ear did nothing for your fiercely pulsating heart. It was the only organ in your entire body that seemed to be fully awake right now.
“I wasn’t even gone for that long, ya big baby. Prob’ly less than five minutes.” A soft sigh punctuated your reply, snuggling more into the toned front of Ace’s chest and abdomen as he adjusted the thick blankets over both of your bodies. The covers, as well as the gentle warmth radiating from his exposed skin, provided a steady stream of heat that battled against the crisp morning air, both sensations nearly enough to lull you back to sleep. You enthusiastically pushed aside the fact that you had to get up again in two and a half hours for your shift to patrol around the city.
“Shuddup, let’s go to sleep.” Ace grumbled, pulling you even closer to him so that very little space existed between both of you, and nearly nuzzling his face in the bonnet you wore on your head. A soundless chuckle rumbled within your chest, finding his sleepy and almost pouty tone both amusing and adorable.
However, despite his own request, and the fact that his own eyes were barely open, Ace was finding it difficult to once more quiet his thoughts enough to drift back to sleep. They were still a bit too loud and knocked against his skull too much.
Such thoughts only seemed to intensify when both of his eyes managed to peel themselves open this time in order to observe your form next to him. From what he could see based on where he laid, Ace silently took note of how tranquil your expression was as your breathing began to even out, how long your eyelashes actually were without your glasses obscuring them, and the small birthmark on your cheek that he developed a habit of kissing. His dark eyes roamed across every inch of your face, and he relished in the soft flesh of your stomach underneath his fingertips, giving it a feather-light squeeze every now and again.
You were here with him— in this bed, hardly wearing anything at all, and practically clinging to the arm wrapped around your abdomen— bound together with a kiss on that fateful night two years ago. You wanted to be here, he knew that. So why was it he still had to wrestle with the phantoms of doubt in the darker sectors of his mind? Why did they haunt him so, and prevent him from just plainly accepting this for what it is? Accept that it was okay to indulge, okay to claim this one thing as his and his alone? He didn’t even claim his own father, but this— you? Oh, how he wanted to be greedy, he yearned for it. But something in him, some dark, caustic, unforgiving thing, made him feel like he shouldn’t.
But didn’t he deserve something nice too? Something that wasn’t, or could no longer be tainted by the wicked and unloving world they were born into?
Ace knew that you cared for him— quite a lot, more than you should. There was a four letter word he might have used to label the way in which you cared about him, and he about you, but he dare not say it. He dared not say it in fear that the universe would snatch it away the moment it left his lips, and reveal that it was only playing a heartless joke on him.
“Hey. Are you… okay? Okay with this, I mean.” The words left his lips without putting a real thought behind them, for his mind was preoccupied with trying to keep itself afloat above the sea of negative ones that tried to carry him off to a place he did not want to visit.
Your left eye opened, then your right, as if opening them would help you better process his sudden question. Your brows furrowed next, digging deeper into your forehead in order to figure out the hidden meaning behind his words— or if there was one to begin with. “I…this position is fine, and I’m comfortable. Unless you want to be closer to the window?” You replied with your own question, uncertainty of what he was asking about thick in your tone. And judging by the way his arm tightened around you by a fraction and the nearly inaudible sigh that left his lips, it became clear that’s not what he was truly asking.
“No, I meant…are you okay with us?” Ace’s already husky voice quieted even more, nearly tapering off into a whisper. But he was pressed close enough to you that you were still able to hear him loud and clear. Something about the way he phrased his question rang a silent alarm in your head, indicating that the forthcoming conversation was going to take a more solemn turn.
With that in mind you shifted in his arms, turning around so that you were now facing Ace directly, still so close that the tips of your noses nearly touched each other. His hold on you readjusted as a result, the tattooed arm once more staking its claim on your waist and effectively trapping you against his front. His sable tresses fell unceremoniously across his face, a few strands nearly covering one of his eyes. Your fingers didn’t miss the opportunity to brush them away.
“Yes.” Your reply was simple, and you thought it important to make that clear first because something, an emotion you were unable to categorize, flickered in his still-hooded eyes. And something about it worried you. “I am more than okay with us. There isn’t another person I’d rather be with right now.” The fingers lingering on his skin suddenly became your entire palm, as you were now cupping the side of his face.
Ace burned even warmer here compared to the rest of his body, and you found physical comfort in the sensation. His skin seemed to ignite under your touch despite his sleepiness, and the dark-haired pirate was internally grateful that it was still quite dark in your room, so you were unable to see the light flush that was beginning to form underneath his freckled cheeks.
“Why are you asking?” Your inquiry was as tender as your touch, and it made his chest ache.
It took Ace several seconds to search for his next words and arrange them in a sentence, for your straightforward reply admittedly caught him off-guard. Now he was unsure if there was a need to continue at all.
But the specters of doubt were ever persistent.
“I just…” The words faded away on his tongue before he could say them and instead, your response rang loud in his head.
‘There isn’t another person I’d rather be with right now’.
Did you mean that? Have you always felt that way? Did you just happen to say that because he asked a question, because somehow you knew that’s what something in his soul wanted to hear?
And then, Ace found his words again. “You can do better, you know.” His voice turned more gruff, rough around the edges, as if he had to forcefully tug those words from the back of his throat. As if it hurt to say that. “You could, if you wanted. You’re gorgeous. Intelligent, resourceful. You have a respectable career, and you can cook damn good.”
You released a soft chuckle at that last part, finding it comical how he always found a way to talk about how good your food was. But whatever uptick on your lips faded as soon as it came once Ace parted his lips to speak again.
“You don’t have to spend your time, money, or energy on someone like me. You didn’t have to spread those pretty legs of yours for me, either. Didn’t have to let me stay here whenever I come to town. You didn’t even have to let me sleep in this bed so close to you.”
He paused, the muscles laying against and wrapped around you tensed briefly, his eyelashes met the apples of his cheeks when he allowed his eyes to close for a moment. When he opened them again, he found it harder to look at you— if he did, he might crumble away. “You could do better than a pirate like me, who has nothing going for himself except for instability, anger and…and hate. So, why?”
The next words reverberated in the air without Ace even having to say them. Why choose me? Why risk all of that for me?
Similarly, something throbbed uncomfortably within your chest as you listened to him speak, even after he finished and silence descended upon the both of you.
You could only wonder where this line of questioning originated from. It was uncharacteristic of Ace to voice thoughts of this nature, even more so when there was no prior word or action to lure them forward. You continued to observe him in the quiet, not even realizing that you had been softly caressing his cheek all this while until your hand came to a halt.
Why? Why were you with Ace, entangled in every sense of the word and jeopardizing the life you’ve built for yourself for his sake? The answer seemed so simple, but not as much now that you had to consciously think about it; you somehow struggled to put it into words.
Ace was like the rays of sunlight that peeked through heavy drapes in the early morning— much like they would soon be in a few hours— or like the flickering flames of a small fire that offered you solace on an unkind wintery night. He was warm and intense, but mellow and tender at the same time, in his own way. He offered you comfort when you needed it, stirred up something in you when you wanted it, brightened your life when you didn’t even realize how dull and monochrome it was. Ace was…
“Allow me to offer a question of my own. Why are you taking an equally significant, if not greater risk, just to curl up in my bed with me? Why come back so often to this town, risking capture, if only to hold me close, eat the food I make, and to make love to me?”
Your inquiries seemed to tug you forward, motivating you to scoot a little closer to Ace so that there was hardly even an iota of space existing in between your faces. His breath hitched quietly in his chest at that, more so when you leaned forward and simply placed your lips on his cheek, right on top of the dozens of prominent and faded freckles that resided there. Something about the gesture felt intentional— like you did not kiss his face, but the light specks on top of it. And thinking about it like that made his taut chest twinge again in a manner he could not describe right now.
Your breaths against his flesh were soft and leveled, and successfully fanned the flames of an even pinker flush to blossom across his visage.
He struggled to give you a coherent answer to your questions because his inner thoughts seemed to reset every time your plush lips came in contact with his face— all gentle like he would break if you applied too much pressure. He never associated that word with himself before, nor had anyone else in his entire life.
So why did he do it? Why did he do any of it? Why was he so attached to you, to your existence, your presence, and everything that reminded him of you?
Ace knew the answer.
He fears he’s known it for some time now.
But would it be right— would it be okay to label it with the word that was sitting on his tongue? Did he truly have the capacity to bear the weight of it? Would this blissful reality he found himself nestled in start to unravel the moment he said it? Would the universe truly let him have this one thing to himself, forever?
A feathery, open-mouthed kiss from you onto his nose cut off his thoughts, but confirmed his answer.
A bleary sort of smile, edges softened by his affection for you, tugged the corners of Ace’s mouth upwards. The hand that encased your waist traveled further downwards to take the meat of your thigh in its grasp, and toss it over his own hips. He had slung your leg over himself in an attempt to hold your bodies inexplicably closer, the feeling of his fingers gliding lazily across your exposed skin caused your pulse to quicken.
“I understand. Thank you.”
Within another second or two, his mouth eventually met with yours. His lips and yours seamlessly molded together, like they were two carved parts of the same whole. It was a slow, saccharine thing, ultimately leading your fingertips to slide back and thread themselves through his dark locks, and the calloused, hot palm on your thigh to grip the area ever tighter— as if you’d evaporate if he didn’t do so.
Ace loved you— was in love with you. His heart thrummed against his chest when he tossed that fact around in his head, gradually accepting it to be true as he steadily deepened the kiss.
He murmured those three words into your mouth after languidly coaxing it open with his tongue so the wet muscle could slither inside and make a home there. It was barely intelligible, but somehow you knew what he’d said. Such a declaration was only reserved for you, so of course you recognized it. Ace didn’t even want the words to linger in the air, lest the universe heard what he had said. He still thanked it though, grateful to whatever deities thrusted you into his path that night so that he could have this moment with you, and build similar ones like this hereafter.
You reciprocated it, quietly sighing the words back into him and he eagerly swallowed them up, giving your thigh an affectionate squeeze in response.
Briefly, you pulled back, but only by a millimeter— not wanting the cold air of the early morning to catch you yet— and your palm ended up on Ace’s jaw. The pad of your thumb brushed over the sheet of freckles with no particular pattern or rhythm, and you absently thought about how they might be your favorite feature on his entire body. As if to emphasize this point, you pressed a lingering kiss onto its surface again, and for a moment, Ace thought he might shut down. He simply could not comprehend the loving nature behind such a simple act, or why it affected him so; all he could do was offer a small, fond grin.
Time still marched forward, but it graciously allowed the pair of lovers to bask in each other for a little while longer. The sky’s hue would slowly shift from a deep navy blue to a slightly brighter one, causing the dimness of the room to inch back into its corners for the day. The sunlight would soon come.
nanami kento is known to have a habit of crossing his legs when he sits. when he's reading, or just idly thinking. it's just something he does unconsciously, often time he doesn't even realize it himself.
yet this quickly changes after he got together with you.
now, everytime you come into the same room as him, the man quickly shifted his legs back to a regular position; you know, just in case you want to sit on lap.
fine, he wants you to sit atop of it.
this is all because he had the mistake─one he'll gladly do over and over, of experiencing it once.
the feeling of your body pressed so close against him while you ramble on about absolutely nothing, which he listens to intently with a smile on his face; his hand running along your hair ever so softly while he hums once or twice as response to your animated chatter.
and then you rested your head on his shoulder after getting a bit tired, your strands tickling his neck in the best way possible. his hands moved smoothly to your sides, rubbing up and down. all soothed and relaxed, nanami loves the sight of you being so comfortable near him.
you probably couldn't get closer to him more than this could you? he thought, as he held you tighter nonetheless. he felt content, whole.
so yeah, in short, nanami wants you to sit on his laps.
and with how fast he does it too there's no way you don't notice the subtle change of how he sits lately. yet you don't have the heart to point how obvious he was being, so most of the times you just indulged him, no questions asked. although it's not like it wasn't enjoyable for you, it was the opposite.
not to mention the smile he wears everytime you do it... it's enough to make your knees go weak. a smile you'd go to war for, a smile that's worth doing anything he's asking for.
it seems like nanami isn't the only one who has a new habit, then.
b.katsuki x reader (fem) | prohero!bakugou x ex!reader (civilian)
a.n; HEAVY ANGST. PREPARE YOUSELVES TO CRY LIKE BABIES (like i did while writing this😭). Also, heavily inspired by this scene of a k-drama (LINK), but it doesn't follow the story of it or anything. I only used a little bit of the dialogue cuz 💔💔💔💔
02:01 a.m.
It's very late at night and Katsuki knows he shouldn’t be here. The moon is up in the night sky, shining bright, and the cold, winter wind would chill any other person’s bones. Yet he runs hot, so his level of cold is minimal; still, he wears his puff jacket, zipped up, and hands inside his pockets. The hoody over his head conceals his person a bit, yet it’s not necessary considering how cold it is no soul is wandering the streets. No sane person would willingly take a night walk in this weather.
Thanks to the old hag and dad for the quirk they give him, he literally is a walking human heater.
That’s what you used to call him.
Katsuki sighs, the air he breathes out creating a mist that evaporates quickly due to the weather. He knows for sure you’d be cold right now. He would never admit it out loud, but even though the cold made it a tiny bit hard for him to use his quirk to its full potential, he liked the cold thanks to you. Or well, he liked the fact that you would stick to his side and be all over him thanks to how warm he was.
Your own personal human heater, it’s what you mockingly called him, smiling as you hide your face in his neck, arms hugging his torso inside his opened jacket –the same one he’s currently wearing, that you gifted him for one of his birthdays. Your body would stick so close to his, like trying to become one with him. Bakugou Katsuki would never admit it out loud, but he loved that you did that. He loved that you were so small compared to him that you would practically disappear from view whenever his body shielded yours. He loved that your cold nose over the skin of his neck made him want to purr like some stupid cat, spreading tingles all over his body.
He loved that you used him for warmth when you were cold.
He loved you. He still fucking does. He loves you so fucking much it hurts.
And he knows you’re probably cold now.
And he’s not your human heater anymore. That hurts even more.
Katsuki sighs again, the vapor of his breath colliding with his face once again, as he stops in his tracks looking down at his shoes. He doesn’t need to look to know where he is. He has been taking this route on purpose for the last month.
He doesn’t know why he is doing this to himself. Maybe he is a fucking masochist who loves getting his heart beaten bloody and in pain. Yeah, maybe that’s it. Or maybe is because he still loves you and he couldn’t get you out of his head since Izuku shot him with the news.
You’re back. You're back in Japan. You even made your dream come true and opened a cozy coffee shop in the center of Tokyo, like you always wanted.
Katsuki had stayed. He stayed in Japan. He even made his own dream come true and became a successful pro hero, ranking number 2 –right behind Deku, but always competing with him for the first spot that goes up and down between the two. Like he always wanted.
You both got what you wanted. Except not all.
He doesn’t understand why he is here, in front of your little coffee shop crossing the street. Maybe he just wants a peek at you, a short glance at who you’ve become. Yet he knows. He knows you’re the freaking best. He knows you’re successful, you have always been fucking number one at everything you did. And your little business isn’t the exception. It is the talk of the city. He even saw a publicity of it on the TV yesterday. He had smiled proudly, thinking, “That’s my girl”. He had slapped his face in correction. You weren’t his anymore. He was not yours anymore. You two weren't together any-fucking-more.
Yet, here he is, yearning for a little glimpse of you like the air he needs to live.
It’s very late at night, it shouldn’t be even possible for you to be at the little shop at this hour. But if he knows you better, which he fucking does, he knows you’re there. Staying after hours to clean and let everything be prepped for the next day, like the overachiever little thing you are and always have been.
When Katsuki finally raises his head and looks, his eyes find you with ease. Your shop has glass walls, so it isn’t very difficult to distinguish where you are inside and what you’re doing. Your little form comes and goes around the empty shop, putting the last little Christmas decorations around. He chuckles, he was right, you’re still there. Figures.
He watches from a distance like he has been doing for the last month. He hadn’t run into you yet, considering his apartment is on the other side of the city –and fuck, yes, he has been avoiding patrols on this side where your coffee shop is. Call him a coward, he doesn’t fucking care. However, Izuku had bumped into you. He said you hugged him tightly, almost cried even, saying how much you have missed everyone. It made Katsuki wonder if he was included.
He snorts. Wouldn’t his wretched heart love that. Fucking masochist.
Katsuki watches you struggle a bit with an old ladder that you set right at the open door of the shop, clearly intending to climb it, decorations on your hands to put right over the frame. He frowns when you climb two steps and the ladder trembles. Fuck, you're fucking serious?? It’s pretty clear the thing is old enough to already be made barbecue fire. Why the hell do you have that thing?? After you’ve climbed almost half of it and still don’t reach the frame, the stupid ladder shaking like is about to fucking break under you, his worry said enough. His legs move fast, almost without will, but fully knowing you’re about to kiss the fucking floor thanks to that old ladder if he doesn’t move quickly.
When he gets closer, he hears the distinctive crack of wood and your small worried gasp as you fall. You never get to touch the floor, because Bakugou Katsuki is already there, catching you on time.
Your eyes find his, opened wide in surprise. The warmth you used to hold in them is still there, capturing him like a moth stuck in honey, and he feels like he can breathe again.
“Kat– Bakugou…” The almost slip of his name doesn’t go unnoticed by either of you, tinting your cheeks in a cute shade of pink. Ah, yes, the little sparks inside his being you produced every time you even looked at him are still there too. He thought he had already extinguished them. But no, they’re still there.
“H-hi,” he wanted his voice to sound more sure, more firm. Yet it sounded like his throat was dry and constricted. Like he was holding back a fucking cry –which is true.
His eyes are glued to yours, his arms hold you tight against his body as both your breathing go back to normal. He doesn’t want to be the first one to break with any contact, so he waits. He enjoys this little bubble that’s been created between you two after years of not knowing anything about each other. Of being so far away from each other that Katsuki felt for the first time the piercing cold everyone talks about in winter. It literally felt like years of winter for him. A cold and merciless winter that made his heartache burn. And now, a simple touch, a closeness of your body to his, and he feels like spring just bloomed again.
How fucking pathetic of him.
“Hi,” you finally answer back, your breath colliding with his face. He breathes it in, feeling like that is just all he needs to survive –at least for one more second. The shy smile that adorns your face makes him want to smother you in kisses all over your face like he used to do. But he can’t. He fucking can’t now.
“I… Thanks,” your beautiful smiling eyes make him want to punch his stomach so the damn butterflies stop fluttering.
“Your ladder was fucking old,” he complains, putting your feet back on the ground.
Your giggles sound like the symphony of heaven in Katsuki’s ears.
“I know, I shouldn’t have trusted it would help me at all.”
“You could have had a stupid accident, dumbass,” he squats to pick up the broken pieces of the ladder and what was left of it under your watch.
He doesn’t see the way you smile at him, but he hears you say, “Some things never change, huh?”
You’re right. His feelings for you would never change. And, fucking hell, he tried. He tried so hard not to feel anything for you all these years. Yet every mention of your name made him melt like a weak ass marshmallow in a hot chocolate drink. He even found himself daydreaming about seeing you, talking to you, touching you in any way you would let him.
Again, how fucking pathetic.
Bakugou Katsuki hasn’t stopped loving you since the day you parted ways.
It had been a mutual decision. He was very focused on his training and work to be a pro hero; lots of agencies wanted him to join. You were surrounded by options too, yet you decided to quit any hero dream you once had and chose to live a mundane, quiet life. That’s when Thirteen offered to speak of you to a colleague in the USA for a scholarship to join a cooking course. Katsuki saw your eyes shine lively, happy when you told him.
He knew then and there that you were going away from him. And he was not going to stop you. You had your dream, he had his. He was never going to make you choose between him and your dream. Because if he had to pick between you and his own, he would have picked his dream. Don’t misunderstand, he loved you, and still does, to death. But both of you were young, kids trying to find a path in the new world left after the war. Healing, failing, succeeding. Sometimes tripping down and getting back up. You were simply kids trying to understand life. Not that it has been any easier as adults, on the contrary. But now the circumstances are different. All of you have matured, gotten wise even. And it’s that same wisdom that made Katsuki not reach out to you again, despite his all-consuming feelings for you.
Bakugou Katsuki is now pro hero Dynamight, one of the most successful heroes of this generation. Which also means, he is a target most of the time. Villains hate him as much as he hates them.
Katsuki would cut his own hands himself if something ever happened to you, especially if it was because of him.
“Where do you want this trash?” He asks standing up and looking back at you. Your eyes shine, glassy and watering looking under the night lights. His chest tightens when he realizes you’re holding back tears. Fuck, he can’t look at you, or he’ll start fucking crying too.
“T-there’s… umm…” you clear your throat, trying to find your normal voice. “There’s a small closet at the back of the shop, on the left side. Just throw it there.”
Katsuki nods, entering the nice coffee shop and following your directions. This whole interaction is more than he expected, more than he hoped for. He has been watching you from afar, like a pathetic stalker. Avoiding to breathe in the same direction you did. Because of this.
The tears. The yearning. The fucking love that clouded every sense in him. All for you.
When he walks back to the front of the shop, he finds you sitting at one of the small tables for two. You’re holding a cup of something, and another waits for him in the seat in front of you.
Katsuki takes one deep breath in before walking towards where you are. He sits but you don’t look at him, you’re looking down at the cup between your small hands. He slightly smiles, he knows what you’re doing. Your hands are always cold, so you like holding the cup between your hands with anything warm in it to try to warm them. You have done this since he could remember, and that thought makes his insides sparkle. You haven’t changed at all.
Yet many things have changed.
The sweet and warm smell of hot chocolate fills his nostrils, and the smile widens on his face as he sees the contents of his cup. Katsuki isn’t the type to like sweet things, yet your hot chocolate has always been his weakness.
He hasn’t had it in years, since you moved away to another continent, so he can avoid to enjoy quite thoroughly the first sip. And yeah, it tastes just as he remembers. All you.
There’s silence. He doesn’t push a conversation and neither do you. You both just drink your hot cocoa and wait. Wait for anyone to gather some courage and say something.
There’s so much to say, so much to ask, so much to answer. Yet the bubble is nice and cozy, Katsuki really doesn’t want to be the one to pop it.
Right at the last sip of the drink, you are the one who decides to finally pop the bubble.
“I know,” it’s all you say, and Katsuki understands it perfectly.
You know he has been around. You know he has been watching from afar, carefully protecting you from the shadows. You know he has sent Izuku and Eijirou more times than he cares to admit just so he knew you were okay, safe. You know it had been Katsuki the one who dealt with that piece of trash who left the shop without paying and sent the money via mailing to you. You know he was the one who hung the big sign of your shop after it fell due to a strong windy day. You know he has been aware of every one of your moves around the shop for a month.
You know.
“I was… I didn’t want to-...” His voice breaks when he looks up and sees the tears running down your cheeks. His own eyes fill with uncontrollable tears he knows he won’t be able to hold back any longer either.
For the first time, Katsuki thinks his heart won’t survive this.
Despite this, he smiles genuinely at you and asks, “H-how have you been doing?”
You don’t break eye contact as you clean the tears from your face and murmur a simple, “Good.”
Katsuki knows himself well, and he knows he is a complete bastard. Because it pisses him off. It makes him mad that you’re good when he carries this turmoil of feelings for you that are making him go insane day by day.
He feels his insides bursting, all the emotions spilling out from his being pathetically as he cries in front of you. “Really?” One nod in answer. And he can’t stand looking at your facade of neutral features as tears keep escaping your eyes in betrayal.
Katsuki snorts, forearms leaning over the table and his head hanging low, “Why it fuckin’ annoys me that you’re doing well? Damn it.”
“You don’t actually mean that…”
“I do, I always mean everything I fuckin’ say,” he leans back against the chair, eyes going back to yours. His probably are even redder thanks to his tears, just like yours already look puffy from yours.
Katsuki decides then that this is the moment. This is the moment to finally pour out everything he has been carrying inside for you.
“Because you see, as I’m sure you’re aware now, day by fuckin’ day, I’m dying a little more inside without you. And you’re just– doing well.”
The sudden cry that leaves your being makes him want to hold you, and the little sobs only sink him more into the pit of feelings he named ‘Y/N’. Because he hasn’t been able to get out of it, nor has he actually put enough effort to, swimming there painfully pleasantly.
And yet… there you are. Doing well.
So well, that you are going to marry another guy.
Katsuki stretches his arm over the table and reaches without struggle the wrist of one of your hands that hides your crying face. You let him bring that hand toward the table, and he holds it in between his. He smiles again; he was right, your hands are always cold.
“Y-you waited…” you weep, your other hand resting over your chest, right where your heart is.
He nods, “I waited…”
You close your eyes, head going to a side and sobbing again. It hurts him so much to see you like this, just as much as the thought of another man being the carer of that precious heart of yours.
“Oh, Katsuki…”
The way you whimper his name like it physically hurts you, made him want to vomit. It brought a new deep pain to his chest that he doubts he is ever going to recover from.
There’s silence again, both of you sniffing and trying to gather your emotions back in control.
He doesn’t know why he came here. Probably he needed a confirmation of what Izuku told him after his first encounter with you.
“She’s going to marry, Kacchan,” Izuku’s words had been like an ice-cold bucket of water thrown at his back, leaving him breathless and distressed. But it didn’t compare with the next bomb, “because she’s pregnant. She wanted the ceremony to be here, in commemoration of her parents.”
He pucked right then and there; Izuku being the best fucking friend he always has been tended to Katsuki’s breakdown that day. The nerd even held him in a tight hug as he bawled his soul out.
But again, the pain doesn’t compare to the living proof right in front of his eyes now.
The hand he’s holding in between his is the one where an engagement ring adorns your beautiful finger. A ring that should have been from him, and not that other guy.
The very discreet little bump on your abdomen he got to feel when he caught you when you fell from the old ladder makes him boil with frustration. That should have been his little brat inside you, and not the other guy’s.
Bakugou Katsuki really feels like a sword has stroked right through the middle of his heart.
And it doesn’t matter anymore, he’s going to die watching from afar how the love of his life is being united to another guy. Well, you already are.
Ah.
Katsuki didn’t mind the cold. The quirk his parents gave him made him run hot most of the time.
Yet, from now on, Katsuki thinks he’s going to feel the piercing cold everyone talks about in winter forever.
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