Hello! I saw the event and can i request for the 'i love you texts' one with aceyie trappola.
Have a good day!~
February 12th - I Love You Texts
Authors Note: The unbelievable amount of effort I put into this to get the images to load again after they stopped working. They better not get removed again. Anyways I had this and I hadn’t posted in a while since I’ve been sick. So I decided to post it, enjoy :)
Characters: Ace Trappola
Warnings: Ace being drunk in one of the texts. I think I used the wrong ‘to’ idk grammars stupid
a/n: i don’t go to the gym, so sorry if this isn’t accurate. also if you haven’t seen ace’s muscles,,,,,ur missing out
The gym had, surprisingly, become your happy place in college.
You had never really been into any kind of sporty activities prior to your higher education, but there was something cathartic about just going and running off all your pent up frustrations. You’d found pretty early on in your college career that running around campus just didn’t cut it; you couldn’t get in the zone enough, because all the things you wanted to get out of your head were right in front of you. That paper you couldn’t seem to think up a convincing thesis for? The class it was for was in that building just to your left. That annoying guy in your philosophy class? On his skateboard and not looking where he was going, which was right in front of you.
So, you found yourself at the gym.
It was never necessarily empty when you went, but it wasn’t overly crowded either. You usually got to use the same treadmill in the far corner for as long as you wanted, or whatever equipment you felt like trying out, and sometimes you saw a familiar face milling around. You’d become so accustomed to using the gym that by your second semester you had purposely blocked out time in your schedule just to go work out every day.
And second semester was when you met Ace.
You never really took note of the people around you in the gym. You tended to be pretty quiet, and you liked to get out of your head when you were working out, the volume up on your music and your eyes trained dead ahead outside the window. Most other people seemed to be the same, occasionally waving or saying hello, but not much more. You liked it that way.
Ace was different. He worked at the gym, usually at one of the desks, so it was his job to be welcoming and inviting. You hadn’t actually seen him working out until second semester, however —and you were a little shocked to find him just as enthusiastic in greeting you even while lifting weights. You were even more surprised at how you mirrored his enthusiasm as the semester progressed.
Two weeks into the new semester, you forgot your earbuds. It wasn’t anything you hadn’t done before in your time at college, but it made you dread your workout a bit, nonetheless; it was much harder to zone out when you could hear all the clanking and chatter around you.
Ironically, the frustration at yourself made you want to run it off even more, and so you felt you had no choice but to grin and bear it, just for the day.
The gym is emptier than usual when you arrive, which is a relief. You glance around and find Ace doing sit-ups — he pauses when he sees you, sitting up with his elbows on his knees, a big grin on his face.
“Hey, Y/N.”
“Hey,” you reply, walking towards the water fountain to refill your bottle. “How’s the workout going?” It shocks you, sometimes, that you’re comfortable enough to be playful with Ace despite barely knowing him. You imagine it must just be in his nature to be sociable.
“Better, now that my gym buddy’s here,” he responds cheekily. You snort and turn to find Ace leaning on the wall beside you, his black hair falling messily into his eyes, a far cry from his usually neat style.
“Your hair’s getting all in your face,” you chide, suddenly feeling a bit like your mother as you snap one of the elastics off your wrist and hand it to him. Ace chuckles as he accepts it, his dimples on full display.
“Thanks,” he says, “I’ll get it back to you tomorrow. I know I have some… somewhere.” You can’t help but laugh as he says this, and when he ties his bangs up into a tiny ponytail above his forehead. It’s cute; makes him look like a pineapple, or one of those dogs you sometimes see with fashionable women in movies. You suddenly feel flustered, so you shrug and start walking towards your treadmill.
“No worries, I have plenty of those,” you respond, mostly just to get out of the situation. Ace calls out another thank you before going back to his routine, and you do your best to outrun the thought of you finding Ace cute.
It doesn’t work.
Ace does return your elastic the next day. Or, he sort of does, just not as a full loop. You’ve never seen him more bashful than he is as he places the limp elastic string in your palm, all the while explaining that his friend was playing with it the night before and broke it on accident. It’s all so cute that you can’t help but laugh in the middle of his apology, which leaves Ace extremely confused.
“Like I said, I have plenty,” you tell him, shrugging it off. You shove the broken elastic into your pocket to throw away later before slipping another one off your wrist to give to him.
“Here. It’s no fun working out with your hair all in your face.” Ace takes the elastic from you gently, as if it’s some great gift, and when he looks back into your eyes and smiles you almost swear he’s glowing from the inside out. Suddenly, it’s your turn to feel bashful, and you wish you had your own hair down simply to hide your burning ears from his sharp gaze.
“Have a good workout,” you chirp, before dodging around him to head to the stationary bikes along the wall. If Ace finds the exchange awkward, he doesn’t say anything about it, and you hate that your heart skips a beat when you see that this time, he’s tied his hair up into a tiny little bun.
The next day, Ace regretfully informs you that he lost your hairband somewhere in his dorm last night. It’s not a big deal, you still have a huge pack of them in your room, and he looks so apologetic you can’t even imagine not forgiving him.
“Don’t worry about it,” you say, and, without thinking, reach out to rest a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He stiffens slightly (which gives you a preview of his biceps and holy shit) and you quickly draw your hand away to pull another elastic off your wrist.
“Anyways, here,” you say, more or less shoving it into his line of sight. “Try not to lose this one, yeah?” Unlike you, Ace rebounds quickly from any awkwardness he may have felt, flashing you a winning smile that causes butterflies to swarm in your stomach.
“I’ll do my best,” he says, giving you a mock salute that makes you chuckle. You offer him one in return with a smile you’re sure isn’t half as charming as his own before excusing yourself to your treadmill. You wish you could just run yourself right out the window when he winks at you through the mirrors on the wall.
“Why don’t you ever lift weights?” He asks as you’re leaving. It catches you off guard, since the two of you usually don’t talk at the end of a workout; Ace is usually still in the middle of his own routine or down the hall working his desk shift. Today, however, Ace falls into step beside you as you leave the gym. You shift your bag on your shoulder and try to think of a reply that doesn’t make you sound like a total wimp.
“I guess I’m just scared of, like, hurting myself? I’m pretty clumsy.” Ace laughs at that, holding the door open for you.
“You just need to know your limits,” he says, and you shrug, wondering if he’ll just drop the subject; after all, the point at which the two of you should be branching off in different directions is coming up. Instead of just bidding you goodbye, Ace comes to a halt where he should be taking a turn, and turns to you.
“How about I spot you tomorrow? Think of it as payback for the hair-ties.” He says, and you want to tell him it’s really no big deal — and yet, you’re kind of curious. And it might be nice, you think, to learn how to lift weights and tone your arms a little. You bite the inside of you cheek, only looking up from your shoes when you notice Ace’s shadow coming closer. His eyes are dark but soft, a gentle smile playing on his lips.
“I promise you won’t get hurt.” You press your lips together in a thin line before letting out a soft laugh,
“Okay, sure. Why not?” Ace beams.
“Great!” He says, “I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Have a good night, Y/N!” With that, he turns around and goes down the corridor, disappearing around the corner. Once he’s out of sight, you slap your palm against your forehead, sighing. What is it about him that makes you so stupid? At this rate you’re going to drop a weight on your foot and won’t be able to go to the gym at all.
The next day Ace bounds up to you the second you walk through the gym doors, a huge grin lighting up his face. It makes you more than a little nervous, because you’re already pretty sure you’re gonna have sweaty palms and drop the weights, or end up staring at his arms or something. Maybe both.
“Hey! Ready for today?” He chirps, and you chuckle at his enthusiasm.
“As I’ll ever be.” Ace follows you as you go to fill your water bottle up, nudging you with his elbow gently.
“It’ll be fine. And if something does happen — which it won’t! — I’ll take full responsibility.” You simply roll your eyes as you twist the cap back onto your bottle.
“Whatever you say, Ace. Just lead the way, let’s get this over with.” Ace laughs and slings an arm across your shoulders, and you swear you can’t feel your knees as you’re walking. You watch as he begins setting things up got you, humming to himself, and wipe your palms against your thighs. Suddenly you realize he still has the elastic you gave him the day before around his wrist, and a smile breaks across your face.
“Hey, you didn’t lose it,” you say, nodding towards it. Ace glances at you through the mirror along the wall and laughs, but you can’t help but feel that it sounds forced. Before you can ask if everything is alright, he’s looked away again,
“Ah, yeah. Told you I’d keep it safe.” He stands up and turns to face you, a grin plastered to his face. “I figured we’d start with some stretches, then just go with the lowest weights in the room. Just in case.” You nod, feeling nervous all over again, but you nod and move to stand beside him.
You follow all his instructions as far as stretching goes, doing your best to mimic his posture and listening to his tips as far as weightlifting goes. Once stretching is done, he passes you a set of hand weights. Ace stands beside you, lifting his own (much larger) weights to demonstrate what you should be doing, and you do your best to mimic him; you can’t help but laugh when you glimpse yourself in the reflection. He looks back at you, confused, and you meet his gaze.
“I feel like an old woman following a workout DVD.” You’re glad when Ace laughs, because it disperses what little tension seemed to be lingering between the two of you.
“Well, I can assure you you don’t look like an old lady.” You roll your eyes, but you can feel a blush creeping along your cheeks and do your best to ignore it, focusing on the rhythm of lifting the weights. You just can’t tell if Ace is flirting with you on purpose or not, because part of it seems so natural for him it’s just hard to say.
You really do your best to just let yourself fall back into the routine, but you can’t help but get distracted by the sight of Ace’s biceps in your peripheral vision (did he have to wear a sleeveless shirt? Really?). At best, you just hope you aren’t being too obvious when it happens. In an effort to get yourself back on track, you spare a glance at the clock, only to realize it’s close to the time you have to leave; it’s group project season, after all, and you’re group-mates could only meet in the middle of your gym session, apparently. As much as you want to stay, you know you need to go now if you want to shower and eat dinner before meeting with them, and so you turn to Ace and clear your throat.
“I should get going soon, I have a meeting.” You think you might imagine the look of disappointment that flashes across his face, since it’s soon replaced by his usual carefree smile.
“Oh, sure. Let me show you where the weights go.”
To your surprise, Ace leaves the gym with you again, even though you’re pretty sure he wasn't even done with his own reps yet. The two of you reach the same branching off point as the day before, and he comes to a halt once again. You turn to face him, smiling,
“Thanks for teaching me to lift weights. I’ll be buff in no time.” Ace manages a little laugh, and you notice as he’s looking down at his feet that he tied his hair up at some point.
“No problem,” he says, eyes flitting up to meet yours for a moment. You clear your throat lightly and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.
“Alright, well, I’ll see you tomorrow—” Before you can leave, however, Ace pulls at your wrist, holding you in place. You turn back around, your hand slipping into his, but he refuses to look in your eyes. You feel the sudden, overwhelming need to lighten the mood, so you force a smile on your face.
“Do you need another hairtie? You could rock some pigtails.”
“No,” he says, very quickly. You almost worry that you’ve offended him with how sharp his tone is, and you attempt to lean down and look in his eyes.
“Ace,” you start, and he stiffens a bit. “Is something wrong?”
“No, I… I just have something I need to tell you.” He looks up just long enough to see you nod, then takes a deep breath, giving your hand a gentle squeeze as if he’s trying to steel his nerves. You can’t help but get nervous at his behavior — you’ve literally never seen him look so upset.
“I didn’t actually lose your other hair-tie.” You furrow your brows, wondering why on earth something as simple as that would make him act so nervous.
“Okay?” You laugh, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze of your own just so he’ll look up at you again. “I’m not made or anything, it’s just a hair-tie.” Ace lets out a soft laugh and shakes his head,
“Ahh, I know, it’s not that, it’s… it’s just that I’ve had my own hair-ties this whole time, I just never used them.” You wonder how that’s supposed to clear any of this up, because you just feel more confused, but before you can ask Ace is hurriedly continuing his explanation.
“I only used yours because I wanted an excuse to talk to you. You’re always wearing your headphones, so that one day you didn’t I just decided to go for it. I know it was kind of stupid, but I feel bad about lying to you and taking your stuff just because I was being a chicken.” He’s too busy avoiding your gaze to notice the smile on your face, and maybe it’s for the best because you’re both flustered by and insanely endeared to him at that moment.
“Well,” you say, drawing the word out. Ace looks up at you, brows furrowed, and you can’t help the cheeky grin on your face. “I guess you’ll just have to make it up to me.” You almost feel bad about how genuinely startled he seems, and you can’t help but laugh when he suddenly starts stuttering about buying you more hair-ties to replace the ones he took. You let him babble on for a little bit, finding him extremely cute in that moment, but you soon decide you should put an end to his nerves.
“Ace,” you interrupt, and he startles like a deer in headlights. You squeeze his hand again and lean in closer, watching as he starts to turn red, “This is the part where you ask me on a date.” Ace lets out a laugh, a huge, heart-stopping smile on his face despite the blush on his cheeks.
“In that case, how does chicken sound? This Saturday?”
“That sounds perfect,” you reply, then slip your hand out of his only to hold it out in front of him. Even when he looks disappointed it’s attractive, you note, and you can’t help but giggle at the sight.
“Give me your phone,” you explain, and he turns a little red again as he fishes it out of his pocket and navigates to the new contact screen before passing it off to you. You put your number in for him before passing it back.
“See you tomorrow?” You ask, playfully. When Ace meets your gaze there’s a twinkle in his eyes, a soft smile on his face. His hair is still up in the pineapple ponytail, and you feel your heart flutter.
“Yeah,” he replies, breathlessly. “See you tomorrow.”
With that, the two of you head your separate ways, but you aren’t even out of the building before you feel your phone buzz in your pocket with an incoming text. You bite down on your lip, unable to keep the smile off of your face.
You really do love the gym, and now you have an extra-cute reason to love it even more.
