When Your Character...

do your ever get excited to see certain mutuals in your notes like yes i pleased the Friend

CRYING.

I HAVE 12 FREAKING DRAFTS THAT ARE ALL MY DIFFERENT WRITING PERSONALITIES AND HALF-DONES

WHAT DO I DOOOOOOO

I’m living through the 5 stages of grief rn.

LIFE GIVE ME MOTIVATIONNN

As The Day Slips By

|Master-list|

Ace x Reader, angst, mentions of depression, suicidal thoughts, soley for comforting purposes, platonic love with the White-beard Pirates.

Summary: Things get rough, and hit by hit you’re just tired of it all.

A/N: To anyone who needs this, I hope it helps. You’re a lot stronger than you think >:) @uramakimochi

•-•-•—•-•-••-•-•—•-•—•-•

It started small.

From a simple mistake, to the tragedies of your life to the very questioning of your future. You were scared. Of living, no, correction—surviving, to just existing to fail.

The lingering question consumed you:

Would it even be worth it?

With all the trouble you’ve gone through now?

The expectations, the asks, the responsibilities—would you ever meet them?

Would you ever accomplish them?

The wind replied, brushing past as you stood on the Moby Dick, stationed near the stern. The sun was setting, and the decks were quiet. The aftermath of dinner flew by, and the crew headed to bed, while others slipped to night-watch.

Crying, you lowered yourself to the rail. resting your head against your arms. An unbearable feeling took over, and it made your chest tight. Numbing, and lost, you now experienced while in the inevitable of your depression.

You knew it wouldn’t be long till someone found you, but you needed to let it out, to breathe. Especially after hours of avoiding a hot-headed pirate.

Ace’s and your relationship had been on a rocky stand-hold. You weren’t opening up, and you were avoiding the topic of obvious like the plague, even if offered help. Anxiety prevented you from speaking out, while the simmering stubbornness left you lost.

You hadn’t realized it, but he’d been watching from afar; lingering as you made yourself small and hidden, left achingly worried.

Ace took a step, but hesitated. He was scared if he made the wrong move, he might just break you.

You’d already drifted so far, to the point Ace, the crew—everyone saw it. The heaviness that surrounded you, a silent weight that held you back, and a mindless stare the left them nervous.

It wasn’t impossible to reach you, the crew understood that, and Ace knew it better than anyone; he just needed to find the right words.

He needed to find the right time, and that was now.

Ace’s steps were quiet, just like the way you cried. He didn’t want to startle you—that was the last thing he wanted, and it was the last thing you needed.

Carefully, he came to your side, just barely brushing your shoulder. Inviting, but not pressuring.

Watching the waves, a moment passed before he spoke.

“You weren’t at dinner.”

You sniffled, wiping your tears to turn away. “I was busy…with something.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, “I figured.”

Silence shrouded, and you couldn’t find the courage to speak. You felt weak, vulnerable—incompetent.

Though, Ace never pushed.

Not really, anyway.

“Have you. . .” Another painful moment.

“. . . been thinking about it again?” he asked, leaning against the rail. His tone was soft, not accusing, just questioning… and sad.

Ace wasn’t judging, he’d never, but his comment laced your throat. You were left speechless, drowning in your own shame and his truth, by his blunt words.

You managed a shaky breath, subtly squeezing the rail. You felt frozen.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said, placing his hand by yours. “I get it, I really do.”

His pinky inched forward, wrapping around your own. To anyone, it’d feel small, but to you—in a moment like this?

It meant a lot.

“You don’t even need to give me a reason.”

Wind rustled by, combing your hair and smearing your tears.

“I’m just tired, Ace,” you whispered, turning to him. “I’m so tired of this.” your voice cracked, and he held your gaze.

His expression turned, and he tensed.

Ace’s eyes glossed with tears, and he stepped forward—almost fiercely. But not pushing.

His arms extended, and softly, he whispered your name. “Come here.”

You took a weak step forward, and in an instant he hugged you. “It’s okay,” he muttered, grabbing the back of your head. “It’s gonna be okay. You hear me?”

You collapsed against him, clutching his shirt— as if it was the only thing keeping you there.

Because truthfully, it was.

“Its just so hard.” you choked.

“I know.” he held you, holding you to the point you couldn’t breath. But you couldn’t care, you needed this more than anything.

“I know it is.”

The sky welled blue, stirring in with darker colors and gray clouds. Seagulls flew over-head, nesting in the ship brackets and windows to hide for a storm.

Just like you were in Ace’s arms, sheltered from your mind. Safe.

“I got you,” Ace’s voice wavered, but it was grounding. With pouring emotion he kissed your temple. “I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not letting go, you’re stuck with me.”

“You got that?”

You managed a nod, and he held you closer.

“You don’t have to be strong for me,” he whispered, “you never do, not even for the crew. You just have to stay. That’s it, just stay.”

You cried, tilting your head and he cupped the back of it. “What am I gonna do?” You voiced, looking up to him. “I-I dont, I don’t know anymore.”

“You’ll figure it out.” Ace said firmly, brushing your tears. “You always do, it just takes time. Just a little more time, just me and you, it’ll be okay.”

“What if it isn’t—what if I screw everything up?”

“You won’t ____. You never do. Nothing is perfect, you can’t always expect that of yourself.”

Ace’s finger poked your forehead, making you wince. “Don’t listen to that, whatever it’s telling you—ignore it. It’s just being a pain in the ass, and you don’t deserve it.”

A softer moment passed, border-lining vulnerable. “You hear me?”

“Yeah…” you whispered, wiping your tears.

“Good. You got it, maybe not now, but you will. I know you will.” Ace kissed the corner of your eye, bringing his head forehead to yours. His nose grazed the tip of yours, and his voice sounded below a whisper.

“I love you,” he murmured. “No matter what happens, that’ll never change, okay?”

“Okay.”

For the first time in weeks, maybe even months— you could breathe. Finally breathe. Under the light drizzle of rain, his reassurance, and love, broke through the numb that swallowed you whole.

The wind brisked cold, and you shivered stepping closer.

“Shh,” he hushed, heating his body to warm you. “It’s okay, I got you.”

Like a blanket out of the dryer, the fire of his body heat surrounded you, following to your heart. Completed in his presence, Ace was by your side, and he made it clear he wasn’t letting you go.

Not for a long time.

Sketchbook page of our fav sharpshooter hehe 🎯

He just really loves his crew ♥️

When violent characters are gentle and tender & when gentle characters are violent and unhinged

writing is so fun

Ripley: Oh that’s the mural from the void century

Franky: The wha-

(Accidental) PDA

characters: zoro, sanji, law, ace, kid

words count: around 300-500 each

masterlist

Roronoa Zoro:

The crew is gathered at a lively tavern, drinks flowing, laughter echoing off the wooden walls. You’re seated next to Zoro, who, as usual, seems more focused on his drink than the conversation. His arm is draped casually along the back of the bench, and at some point, probably without realizing it, his fingers start lightly tracing circles on your shoulder.

It’s absentminded, subconscious, but you notice.

And so does everyone else.

You don’t say anything at first, just letting yourself enjoy the rare show of affection. Zoro isn’t exactly the touchy type, so the feeling of his rough, calloused fingers against your skin is something to savor. You lean into him just a little, and his grip unconsciously tightens.

Then, Sanji snickers “Didn’t take you for the clingy type, Marimo.”

Zoro’s fingers stops instantly.

You can practically hear the gears turning in his head as he replays the last few minutes, piecing together what just happened. His arm stiffens, and when you glance up, you find his face frozen in mild horror, like his own body has just betrayed him.

“What the hell are you talking about?” His voice comes out a little too sharp, too defensive, which only makes Sanji smirk wider.

“Oh, nothing” The cook takes a drag of his cigarette “It’s just cute, that's all. Didn’t think you’d be the type to get all touchy in public.”

Zoro yanks his arm back so fast you almost fall sideways “I wasn’t!” He groans, rubbing his face like he can physically scrub the moment from existence “It wasn’t on purpose.”

You stifle a laugh, reaching up to pat his arm “Relax, Zoro. It’s fine.”

He glares at you, but there’s a bit of redness creeping up his neck “I don’t do that stuff in public.”

Sanji hums, clearly enjoying this way too much “Mhm. Sure. Just keep telling yourself that.”

Zoro grumbles something under his breath, clearly ready to die on this hill. But even as he crosses his arms and scowls at his drink, his knee remains pressed against yours under the table.

Accidental or not, you’ll take what you can get.

Vinsmoke Sanji:

The sun is setting over the Sunny, casting golden hues across the deck. Dinner is long over, but most of the crew lingers, full and satisfied. You sit beside Sanji near the railing, listening to the breeze and the distant laughter of the others. He’s in a good mood, smiling as he talks to you about a new dessert he’s planning, something with caramel and sea salt, he says, because “a contrast of flavors makes things more exciting, mon amour.”

You roll your eyes at the nickname but don’t bother fighting it. Sanji flirts like he breathes, and by now, you’ve just learned to go along with it.

Then, it happens.

You’re mid-sip of your drink when Sanji, without thinking, reaches out and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

It’s so natural, so smooth, that it takes you a second to process what just happened. The conversation around you continues, but you feel frozen, heat creeping up your neck.

Sanji, of course, remains utterly unaware. He keeps talking like nothing’s happened, his fingers lingering near your ear for just a moment before pulling away. It wasn’t even a grand gesture, just an absentminded, casual thing. But the way it makes your heart stutter? Absolutely unfair.

Unfortunately, someone does notice.

“Oi, Sanji,” Usopp teases, leaning over the table with a shit-eating grin “Didn’t know you were already at the ‘tucking their hair back like a romance novel protagonist’ stage.”

Sanji blinks “Hah?”

Nami chuckles “That was smooth, even for you.”

Sanji frowns, clearly replaying the last few seconds in his head. His hand twitches, as if only now realizing what it just did. He looks at you, at your slightly wide eyes, at the way you’re still holding your drink midair like an idiot, and then… it hits him.

“Oh—!” His face erupts into red “I—I wasn’t—! That was—!”

He immediately buries his face in his hands, groaning “Shit… I didn’t even notice I—!”

“You touched their hair, Sanji,” Usopp deadpans, grinning. “That’s practically a confession.”

Sanji sputters, waving his arms dramatically “It’s not like that! I— I just—” He stops, then sighs, rubbing his temples. “Mon dieu…”

You watch him, amused. The smooth-talking, ever-flirty Sanji, reduced to a blushing mess over one small gesture.

You smile. Maybe you didn’t mind it so much after all.

Trafalgar D. Water Law:

Trafalgar Law doesn't do public displays of affection. The man acts like love is a classified disease, and he’s the only doctor qualified to handle it.

Which is why the Heart Pirates are absolutely living for this moment.

It starts small, Bepo makes an offhand comment about how you and Law seem weirdly close today. And by that, he means Law has casually draped an arm around your waist while reading his book.

Then it escalates.

Law, your usually grumpy, no-nonsense captain, absentmindedly feeds you a bite of his food at dinner. Like it’s nothing. Like this is normal.

The crew goes silent.

Then whispers.

Then snickering.

Shachi elbows Penguin “Did you see that?”

“I felt that” Penguin whispers back, eyes wide.

“Are we being punked?” Ikkaku mutters “Is this a medical experiment or what?”

Meanwhile, Law, completely oblivious, keeps eating... until he notices just how unnaturally quiet everyone has gotten. He glances up, fork mid-air, only to be met with a table full of smug grins and barely contained laughter.

“…What?” he asks, narrowing his eyes.

Bepo smiles innocently “Nothing, Captain. Please, continue being adorable.”

Law blinks. Then slowly turns to you, as if just now realizing what he’s done.

You, being the absolute menace that you are, grin and open your mouth again, waiting for another bite.

A muscle in his jaw twitches.

“You’re enjoying this” he mutters.

“Oh, immensely.”

Law exhales through his nose, looking between the crew and you. For a second, it seems like he’ll retreat, go full grumpy captain mode,

but instead, he smirks, leans in, and presses a quick kiss to your cheek.

The chaos that erupts is instant.

Shachi falls out of his chair. Penguin screams. Bepo claps. Ikkaku nearly chokes on her drink.

Law, of course, acts like nothing happened and goes right back to eating.

But the red tips of his ears? Oh yeah. That’s a win.

Portgas D. Ace:

The bonfire crackles, casting a golden glow over the Whitebeard Pirates as laughter and conversation fill the night air. You’re sitting next to Ace, comfortably close, the warmth of the fire mingling with the heat radiating off his skin.

He’s relaxed, grinning as he chats with Marco, one arm casually slung over the back of the log where you're sitting. It's nothing unusual... Ace has always been a little touchy without thinking much of it. But at some point, his fingers start absentmindedly playing with the ends of your hair, twirling and tugging in slow, lazy motions.

You blink.

The conversation continues like nothing’s happening, and Ace doesn’t seem to notice what he’s doing. It’s almost endearing, the way he’s so comfortable, so unaware, until Thatch smirks over his tankard and loudly clears his throat.

“Well, well” Thatch drawls, tapping his mug against Marco’s “Didn’t realize we were in the middle of a romantic drama. Should we leave you two alone?”

Ace freezes mid-twist of your hair.

His fingers tighten ever so slightly before he slowly lets the strand slip from his grip. The realization crashes down on him in real-time, his freckles disappearing under the deepening red of his face.

“Huh?” His voice cracks slightly “I...That’s not...”

Marco chuckles, sipping his drink “You’re adorable when you’re oblivious, yoi.”

Ace immediately throws a handful of sand in his direction, scowling. “Shut up!” His voice is a little too high-pitched to be threatening “I wasn’t—! It wasn’t on purpose!”

“Sure” Thatch grins, wiggling his eyebrows “Accidental flirting. A classic.”

Ace groans into his hands, looking very much like he wants the ground to swallow him whole. You, on the other hand, are biting back a laugh as you lean in slightly.

“Didn’t know you liked playing with my hair” you tease, just loud enough for him to hear.

His head snaps to you, wide-eyed, before he grumbles something incoherent under his breath. You’re pretty sure you catch the words never living this down.

Still, despite his embarrassment, he doesn’t move away, his warmth lingers beside you, a silent contradiction to his flustered protests.

Eustass Kid:

The atmosphere in the tavern is loud and chaotic, just the way the Kid Pirates like it. The crew is drinking, shouting, and causing their usual brand of mayhem while you sit beside Kid, with your drink. He’s in a rare good mood tonight, smirking as he argues with Killer over some pointless bet.

You’re just relaxing, letting the warmth of the room settle into your bones, when you feel it... Kid’s hand resting on your thigh.

Not just resting. His fingers drum absently against your skin, his grip solid, like it belongs there.

Your brain short-circuits for a second. He’s not the type for public affection. Hell, he barely acknowledges feelings exist, so the fact that he’s touching you like this, so casually, is… unexpected.

And the worst part? He doesn’t seem to realize he’s doing it.

You glance down, then back up at him. He’s still engaged in his conversation with Killer, completely unaware of the way his thumb is now slowly tracing circles against your leg.

It’s fine. It’s totally fine. You can just pretend like this isn’t affecting you...

"Oi, Kid" Heat suddenly snickers from across the table, eyes gleaming with mischief "y/n is so red that it like they're about to explode. Didn’t know you were the handsy type."

Kid pauses mid-sentence "Huh?"

He follows Heat’s gaze, straight to where his hand is resting on you. His fingers twitch. You feel the exact moment his brain catches up with his body, the slow realization creeping onto his face.

The entire table is watching now, grinning like they’ve just witnessed something hilarious.

"Shit," Kid mutters, yanking his hand away like he’s been burned. His face twists into a scowl, and his cheeks—just barely—tinge red "I wasn’t—!" His voice raises, defensive. "It was just—!"

Killer snorts "Yeah, sure. Just absentmindedly groping them in the middle of a crowded tavern. Totally normal."

The crew erupts into laughter. Kid growls, kicking Heat’s chair out from under him, sending the man crashing to the floor "Shut the hell up!"

You bite your lip, fighting back a grin.

Even as he huffs and glares at his drink, grumbling about stupid bastards and their stupid comments, his knee remains firmly pressed against yours under the table.

Accidental or not, he’s not moving away.

And neither are you.

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