Well, why not?
ONE PIECE FIC-FOR-ALL
Or, free-for-all-fic, or fic free-for-all, whatever phrasing floats your boat, if you will.
PAGE ONE | PAGE TWO
OKAY and one more thing, guys, if your story is going over five comments or something to that effect and you still have more to post, please start a thread in here, with a link to the prompt or where the first ( Read more... )
Smoker gives him a sour look. “No one asked you to come with in the first place.”
“Course you didn’t. Were too scared.”
Smoker’s laugh is a harsh bark of sound. “Brat. I’m too old for that kind of ego-prodding crap to work. Full points for effort, though. Now go find someone your own age to play with.”
Ace grabs a handful of Smoker’s jacket and hangs on, jerking them both to a full stop. His eyes smoulder, the expression in them a banked blaze. “Don’t want ‘em,” he growls. “I sure as hell haven’t been spending my nights in that dive for my health.”
“Not my problem, kid,” Smoker shrugs Portgas’ hand off and reaches for his cigarettes. “Why don’t you-”
“Shut the fuck up,” Portgas snarls. Then he pulls the cigarette out of Smoker’s hand and slams their mouths together.
The kid is living fire under Smoker’s hands and mouth, a brand burnt into him wherever they touch. Portgas kisses like he means it; like he has to make it count or else, and Smoker likes it. Likes, hell, he fucking loves it, wants all of Portgas’s focussed determination centred on him, no-one and nowhere else.
And damn it, he’s not going to get it. Not in this life, anyway. Not from this flare of molten trouble wrapped up in fiery temptation. Curling a hand around Portgas’ neck, Smoker digs the other into Portgas’ hip. He pushes Portgas backwards, still stopping up his mouth, killing off possible protest.
Portgas’ back hits the wrought-iron fence of the nearest apartment building. Smoker lets go of Portgas’ neck and reaches for the fingers digging into his own shoulder.
Portgas pulls his mouth free of Smoker’s, his sense of self-preservation kicking in. “Wha-?”
In one smooth motion, Smoker pins Portgas’ wrist to the fence and cuffs him to it.
“What the fuck, old man?!”
Smoker steps regretfully out of Portgas’ furious reach and pulls out a new cigarette. He lights up, takes a deep drag, and watches Portgas rattle the cuffs’ chain and swear a blue streak. When the stream of profanity has slowed to a trickle, Smoker takes the cuffs’ key from his pocket and holds it up.
The moonlight glints off the key. Portgas glares at first it, then Smoker.
“I’m going to put this down here,” Smoker says, pointing his cigarette at a spot on the pavement just beyond what the reach of Portgas’ foot should be. “You’ll get to it… eventually.”
Smoker drops the key. “You bastard,” says Portgas quietly.
“Only on Fridays,” Smoker says, and walks away.
He only gets only a few feet before, “Hey old man,” Portgas calls.
Smoker doesn’t stop. “What?” he says, not turning.
“Just thought you should know-I always get what I want.”
Smoker smiles grimly at the arrogant truth in Portgas’ voice. “So do I, kid,” he says under his breath. “So do I.”
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I'm sorry, I can't contain my glee at reading this. AUs ftw, and Smoker/Ace ones especially.
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Definitely not OP thanks you for the fic :)
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