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Literature Text
Metal reflected in the rays of the sun, shining in the barrel as it was pointed in the air. "Portgas D. Ace--" the voice panted, the aim of the gun wavering slightly in uneasiness. "You, are not, a God." it stated, emphasizing each word, with a knock of the barrel to the wind.
Staring down the bullet with dark pools, his lips twitched up into a crooked grin, his dimples standing out with the freckles on his tanned cheekbones. His lips parted, but the look etched on his face never faltered, despite the gun only feet from his face. "Why don't you pull the trigger and find out?" he asked calmly with a tilt of the head quiet like an animal.
Inhaling sharply, the padding of your finger rested in the curve of the trigger, his orbs moving from the barrel to gaze straight into what soul you had, no matter how often you had to hide it in your profession. It caused a gentle shiver to wrack down your spine, caressing each vertebrae as it traveled down, spreading out across your skin like a birds wing and leaving goose bumps on its wake.
He was a feared pirate, as word spread like a virus, and a name was made for himself--or several for that matter. No matter, you had heard them all, despite the seldom bars you had found yourself in from island-to-island,
"He's a Devil on the run,"
"A six-gun lover,"
"He's a candle in the wind,"
"Mr. Catch-him-if-you-can."
Even so, you would always know him as Ace, Fire-Fist Ace, but in your department; nothing but pirating scum. Though you could never bring those thoughts to yourself, he was to good of a person, if you knew him personally(which you did).
The soles of his boots scuffed against the rocks and ground as he moved one space forward, closer to you, further in your personal space. "They tell me that I'm wanted." he stated on an off-handed manner, his stare never leaving your form as he continued coming closer, the air swirling around your bodies being thick, but he either didn't notice or didn't care.
"Yeah," you started a bit breathless, never lowering your aim, despite the fact he wouldn't hurt you. "You're a wanted man." you finished, gaining a bit of confidence and quickly scuffling forward, pressing the chilled rim of your barrel against his heated skin.
Despite the threat--even though empty--against his person, he chuckled, one bare arm slithered and snaked it's way around your waist. He leaned over, craning his neck, his black curves tickling against the skin of your cheek as his lips did the lobe of your ear. "Will you be the one to out me out?"
You swallowed thickly and paused as though you had to think on it, but the answer was clear to both of you--no, not to your friend. Slowly the pistol fell, the barrel sliding from his skin, the gun falling from your hand with a crash to the ground as you both embraced in your star-crossed entwine. You may never be the one to put Ace out, but you knew for that that whoever did, and where ever he was,
He'd go out in a blaze of glory.
Staring down the bullet with dark pools, his lips twitched up into a crooked grin, his dimples standing out with the freckles on his tanned cheekbones. His lips parted, but the look etched on his face never faltered, despite the gun only feet from his face. "Why don't you pull the trigger and find out?" he asked calmly with a tilt of the head quiet like an animal.
Inhaling sharply, the padding of your finger rested in the curve of the trigger, his orbs moving from the barrel to gaze straight into what soul you had, no matter how often you had to hide it in your profession. It caused a gentle shiver to wrack down your spine, caressing each vertebrae as it traveled down, spreading out across your skin like a birds wing and leaving goose bumps on its wake.
He was a feared pirate, as word spread like a virus, and a name was made for himself--or several for that matter. No matter, you had heard them all, despite the seldom bars you had found yourself in from island-to-island,
"He's a Devil on the run,"
"A six-gun lover,"
"He's a candle in the wind,"
"Mr. Catch-him-if-you-can."
Even so, you would always know him as Ace, Fire-Fist Ace, but in your department; nothing but pirating scum. Though you could never bring those thoughts to yourself, he was to good of a person, if you knew him personally(which you did).
The soles of his boots scuffed against the rocks and ground as he moved one space forward, closer to you, further in your personal space. "They tell me that I'm wanted." he stated on an off-handed manner, his stare never leaving your form as he continued coming closer, the air swirling around your bodies being thick, but he either didn't notice or didn't care.
"Yeah," you started a bit breathless, never lowering your aim, despite the fact he wouldn't hurt you. "You're a wanted man." you finished, gaining a bit of confidence and quickly scuffling forward, pressing the chilled rim of your barrel against his heated skin.
Despite the threat--even though empty--against his person, he chuckled, one bare arm slithered and snaked it's way around your waist. He leaned over, craning his neck, his black curves tickling against the skin of your cheek as his lips did the lobe of your ear. "Will you be the one to out me out?"
You swallowed thickly and paused as though you had to think on it, but the answer was clear to both of you--no, not to your friend. Slowly the pistol fell, the barrel sliding from his skin, the gun falling from your hand with a crash to the ground as you both embraced in your star-crossed entwine. You may never be the one to put Ace out, but you knew for that that whoever did, and where ever he was,
He'd go out in a blaze of glory.
Literature
Don't - Ace x Reader
"I don't want to hurt you anymore, that's why I'm breaking up with you." You had told bluntly told Ace last week into the gloomy, grey atmosphere. Ace felt like he'd been slapped in the face as soon as you told him. He argued with you for two hours straight and attempted to reassure you that you wouldn't hurt him. But it didn't work.
"Y-You were just playing with my feelings, weren't you?" He smiled sadly. But you weren't playing with his feelings.
"It's because I'm a pirate right? Your parents probably wouldn't except me like the rest if they found out I was Gol D. Roger's son." He pressed on harshly. He was wrong. But words couldn't even
Literature
Portgas D. Ace x Reader |Perfection|
Gentle sobs wracked with anguish echoed through the halls of the Moby Dick, a soft voice accompanying it along with the tapping of feet against wood.
"Ace?" she called out into the dark of the night, to which there was no reply.
She continued moving through the darkness that surrounded her in pursuit of her husband, using her hands as her eyes, until she met with the familiar hard oak wood of her door. She slid her hand down the right hand side of the door until she met with the door knob, which she twisted and pushed forward. She was yet again met with a dark filled room, all apart from a small flickering flame on the bed side table. The s
Literature
Hawkward [Reader x Mihawk]
You grinned as you put on the hat. You looked in the mirror and smiled at how good you looked. You put on the shirt and twirled around. However, you failed to hear the footsteps approaching.
The door opened and you turned in surprise. Mihawk stood there and stared at you.
Yeah, that's right. You were putting on Mihawk's clothes. If he looked amazing in it, then you'd look damn fine. That is the science of Mihawk's wardrobe. You stared at him and Mihawk stared back.
After a long while, you finally spoke.
"Well this is hawkward~."
Needless to say, Mihawk sighed and walked away.
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