#Marco from one piece is so cool

[rose-riot-johnson]

Hi Tumblr Peeps😁For those who have read the Head Cannon(?) fanfic with Shanks, Sanji, and Ace from One Piece and/or read the Head Cannon fanfic with almost the same name except it mentioned Luffy's name (and involving him), I have decided to finally write something similar about Marco as I did in the head cannon fanfic pertaining Shanks, Sanji, and Ace, and the head cannon fanfic about Luffy😃 I think I might have rebloged posts about Marco before, if I remember correctly, however this my 1st time I will be posting (as the original poster) a fanfic about Marco🐦‍🔥🩵

*This fanfic contains 1 or more long paragraphs and 1 or more paragraphs will contain pronouns😅

🏴‍☠️ Marco's Reaction To His Female S/O Captain, (Female Reader) Being Betrayed By Someone Who Was One Of Her Crewmates🏴‍☠️ (Marco x Female Reader)

Genres: Angst To Comfort and Head Cannon(?) (Warning⚠️: Trigger Warning (Mentions Of Murder) and Language(?))

*When Marco answered his door (considering he's a doctor in Whitebeard's home village in Sphinx he would be shocked (and worried) after seeing the injuries inflicted on you and your surviving crewmates, as he asked what happened to you and your surviving crewmates, before asking what happened with the rest of your crew. When you told Marco the news about the fact you never realized there was traitor on your crew until the day(traitor name) finally decided to make (his/her/their) move to complete (his/her/their) agenda, then kill most of your crew (which the traitor must have not known there are survivors in your crew and seemed to think that your who crew was killed), Marco was very devastated, because he knew full well what's it like to have a traitor (Marshall D Teach, aka Black Beard) in his crew, and to make matters worse most of his crew died, including Portagas D Ace and his Captain, Whitebeard (aka, Edward Newgate) was finished off by Teach himself and Marco even told you and the rest of your crew that he empathizes with the traitor situation and the situation with losing most of his crew, even if he was never the captain of the Whitebeard pirates himself. You would give him strict orders to take care of your surviving crewmates before taking care of you, because you're stubborn about accepting help unless your crew receives help first (plus the rest of your crew were more badly injured than you were).

* While Marco was healing your surviving crewmates, they letted him know that you're taking being betrayed by (traitor name) harder than the rest of your crew members who are still alive, because of (traitor name) was the very first member of your crew and you thought as your very first friend you had ever had. Your crew members also explained that you have been blaming yourself over for not seeing the betrayal coming in the first place, which they explained your well-being has been worse than it used to be and the fact your self worth has been really low to the point where you felt less capable of a captain than you once were, as they would ask Marco, if he would be able to comfort you and help you with your well-being and your self worth. Marco answered, "Ofcourse I would help your captain, guys... After all, (Female Reader Name) is such a precious canary and I will take wonderful care of her... She's also a precious treasure who seems to be resisting help, so I am very optimistic with helping your captain...", as he's very confident in himself (and also confident in you, if he's being honest about it).

*Once Marco started healing you, you have opened up about traitor name, how you felt like this whole thing is your fault, because you never saw the betrayal coming, and even the traitor's last words (you're the only one who heard the traitor insult you) that added huge insult(s) to injury (or the injuries) before (traitor name) left you and your surviving crewmates to die, which really shocked him about everything you've told him, which shows that the rest of your crew were right that your self worth and well being has went down hill, however this was worse than all of your surviving crew members even knew. Marco would comfort you by assuring you, "Don't let this traitor define you, like that babe... From what I'm understanding (s)he/they used you for personal gain... I've been in a very similar situation, as you were... Just because you never saw what was coming from the traitor, that doesn't mean it's your fault in any way possible... (traitor name) was the one who caused this chaos not you... I bet nobody warned you about this and even if anyone did, it's very hard to see coming... As someone who lost most of my crew, especially my captain, I know you haven't had things easy, since you were betrayed, sweetie... You're very much more than what people say about you or to you... You're more worth having around than you believe...". After he would get done physically healing you, he would put both hand on both of your shoulders before he would continue, "You're more of a capable woman, captain, and every cool thing that you are (Female Reader Name)... Don't let traitorous jerks like (him/her/them), tell you differently... My honest opinion is you're still a precious canary on the outside and on the inside, no matter what people criticize about you, as a captain", which the next thing Marco did was kiss your lips, as you would proceed to blush. Marco does seem like someone who's affectionate with you in private, however he figured since he's comforting you, he would atleast find something to help you get the traitor off your

*After Marco healed you up, he offered you and the rest of your crew to live in the village of Sphinx, which is obvious you would be living with Marco, which you and the rest of your crewmates accepted his offer to live in Sphinx. Marco also vowed, if he finds (traitor name) or if traitor name was to hunt for you and your crew and lays anything on you, or your surviving crew members, or any of the villagers (or attack the village) then he will make the traitor wish ((s)he/they) never even thought of betraying you nor the rest of your crew to begin with. And Marco has meant every word of what he said about (traitor name), too. Your crew is precious to him and you're actually the most precious treasure that he could ever ask for, as no one is allowed to harm you in anyway, and there would be hell to pay when it comes what (traitor name) did to you and your surviving crewmates.

🩵🐦‍🔥The👓End🐦‍🔥🩵

I hope this Marco fanfic comforted you, my Tumblr Peeps😁👍Marco is the 1st One Piece character I worked on pertaining this type of head cannon(?) fanfic that is non requested and came up with the whole idea on, honestly🐦‍🔥🩵I have been really wanted to work on something involving Marco and I've been fond of him, before I discovered anything about Tumblr😅🐦‍🔥🩵Anyways I have always thought he was cool since I first noticed him with anything One Piece related😁👍My opinions about him are good opinions I will say🩵🐦‍🔥I will be honest about something particular... It took me a while to even complete this fanfic, so since I completed this, I'm hoping this fanfic about Marco really help you, wheather it's your having a rough day (and/or night), or something tragic happened, or if you're going through something, or etc... I mean, if you're reading the fanfic atleast for the fun of it and things are going well then, I am hoping you are also enjoying your day and/or night, as well🌞☀️🌕🌝🐦‍🔥🩵

[radioscientist]

Me: *delusional* Maybe when I watch Marineford this time Ace will be rescued and hang out with Luffy and Whitebeard

[hauntingblue]

Why only kiku against kanjuro??? They should gang up against him I don't believe in fair fights

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Husband!Steve Harrington x Reader | Inspired by this request

Road trip! You, Steve, and your two boys (with Eddie along for the ride) have made it to the lake you’ll be camping at for the next couple of days. Steve is having some major baby fever. He manages to work out a plan with Eddie that secures time alone for just the two of you, to work on making baby #3…

Includes breeding kink, oral (f receiving) squirting, soft dom!steve, fingering, cum play

For the first time since leaving Hawkins, you hear nothing. No arguing, no complaining, no children’s voices spouting ‘Jimmy just called me a mean name!’- or - ‘Mom! Dad! Dusty’s copying me!’ - or the classic ‘Are we there yet???’ - (which, to be fair, the last one was also asked by Eddie more than a few times…)

Regardless, your and Steve’s two delightfully mischievous boys were talking up a storm the whole way to Kentucky. Somehow, miraculously, Steve had managed to drive the five of you over the Kentucky border and to the lake (your destination) without losing his mind.

Once the boys were set loose from the confines of the cramped backseat, they were able to run around and burn off some energy while you, Eddie and Steve set up camp. Thankfully, the process went smoothly and quickly. You all changed into your swimsuits and had a refreshing dip in the lake to cool off after.

In spite of the challenges parenting entailed, Steve couldn’t help but admire the lives the two of you had created together. The ones that made you a family, so much more than just a couple. Being Jimmy and Dusty’s dad was the greatest honor Steve had ever had, along with being your husband. He hoped, just as you did, to one day expand your family even further. As he watched you playing in the water, yelling ‘Marco!’ as your boys called back ‘Polo!,’ Steve realized he didn’t want to wait another day to start expanding…

Convincing Eddie to take the boys into a nearby town for a movie and ice cream was easy enough. Movies and ice cream were two of Eddie’s favorite things already, and the wad of cash Steve stuffed into his hand was even more incentive to get the kids out of your hair for a few hours.

Now that you’re alone, the silence feels strange. Steve makes up for it by taking your hand and walking with you out to the edge of the lake, helping you relax. He’s got this dreamy, far-away look in his eyes as he gazes out over the water.

“Hey,” you nuzzle his shoulder. “Is everything okay?”

“I was just thinking,” Steve replies, his hands settling at the small of your back. “About how pretty you look every time I get you pregnant…” His comment catches you off guard, but not in a bad way. You’re…curious. Steve tugs his bottom lip between his teeth, a suggestive glint in his hazel eyes. “…This beautiful belly all swollen and round…”

Steve’s hands glide around your waist and over your stomach, traveling upward to linger on your breasts. “…These gorgeous tits, full and heavy with milk for our baby-.” He abruptly lowers his lips to your breast and tugs your nipple through your shirt. “-And me,” Steve grins up at you, a devilish smirk that has your clit throbbing. “I think I’d like to see you that way again,” he adds, and suddenly, the pieces begin to fall into place.

“You dirty boy,” you tease, a big smile on your face. “Is that why you asked Eddie to take the boys to a movie? So you could fuck me?”

Steve holds you by the wrist, pulling your hand to his crotch. Your fingers instinctively curve around the thick outline of his erection. “I’m not just going to fuck you, honey,” Steve murmurs, his other hand clutching the back of your hair. “I’m gonna get you pregnant tonight...”

Minutes later, you’re both stripped naked and on the floor of your tent. Steve’s hands are all over you, pawing at your body like he’s fucking you for the first time. Guiding a hand between your legs, Steve gropes your cunt roughly till it’s weeping against his palm. He pads his thumb against the puffy button between your slick thighs, making you tremble. Sinking his lips over your earlobe, Steve tugs gently at the soft, sensitive skin. His fingers glide between your swollen, slippery folds, your pussy throbbing under his skillful touch.

“Steve,” you breathe against his cheek, as his thumb rubs circles over your clit. “I’m gonna…I’m gonna come-.” He suddenly removes his hand; and as you’re reeling from the loss of stimulation, Steve’s crawling down your body and burying his face between your thighs, latching his lips over your clit and sucking the plump bud till you’re moaning his name at the top of your lungs. With a guttural shout, you come undone in Steve’s mouth, gushing between his lips, creating a slippery puddle on the floor of the tent.

Steve lifts his head from between your legs, his face glistening with your cum. He moves quickly up your body, eyes locked with yours as he enters you. A dull groan leaves Steve’s lips, his eyes now glazed with a rabid look of hunger. He pounds your cunt in sharp, determined thrusts, knowing he won’t be able to last long with the way you’re gripping his cock. Steve lurches his hips into yours at a pace that has you light-headed and stupid, reducing you to little more than a bitch to be bred.

Steve’s arms are locked around your upper body, clutching you to his chest. Growling like an animal into your shoulder, Steve pumps your cunt full of his seed, filling and overfilling you till he’s punching his own semen out of you with every thrust. He pulls out of you gently, looking between your bodies at your pussy, sloshing with his cum as you wriggle your hips. “Stay still, honey,” Steve sweetly scolds you. “Little pussy’s so tight, gonna push my cum right out if y’keep moving like that…”

You still your hips, grinning up at Steve’s face, and how serious he’s being. Your smile evaporates into a gasp as Steve’s fingers press inside you, working slick squelching sounds out of your cunt as he scoops and stuffs his oozing cum deeper inside you. “Mmm,” he coos down at you, rubbing his thumb along your inner thigh. “You look so good on your back like this, stuffed full of my cum…” He leans over your body and presses his lips to yours. “…Now keep those hips elevated, baby,” he instructs, glancing at his watch, the only article of clothing he has on. “Stay like this for the next twenty minutes or so, yeah? While I go chop some wood for the fire tonight.”

You nod obediently, deliriously in love with your husband, parting your lips to invite his tongue between them. You watch Steve pull his jeans back on and exit the tent, leaving you bred and contented inside. Your eyelids grow heavy, and you fall asleep to the sound of Steve chopping wood outside the tent. While you dream, your womb accepts Steve’s seed as it has twice before…and you dream of him holding his first daughter in his arms…

[froggiewrites]

saw you had requests open! would you be willing to do Ace + a reader with back pain that can keep them from doing things they usually enjoy? totally cool if not! love ur stuff ^-^

Thank you for the request!! I hope you enjoy this one anon, I tried to make it sweet and comforting for you. 💙

Pain Relief

Pairing: Ace x Reader

SFW

Summary: Your pain stops you from enjoying today's festivities, and Ace tries to comfort you. Warnings: Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Chronic Pain Word Count: 1.2k

You’re having one of your bad days.

Sometimes you can push through just fine, the pain nothing more than a minor hindrance eating away at your edges while you work. Other days it’s a bit harder, holding you back from more difficult tasks, forcing you to stop and leave some things halfway done. And some days are like today, where you spend most of it laying face first on your bed, holding back tears. At this point you can’t tell if they’re from the pain or the disappointment of missing out on yet another feast, yet another party, yet another thing you cannot do.

It almost hurts more how kind everyone is about it. You’ve never asked for any kind of accommodation, but you still find your crewmates trying to help where they can. Yesterday Marco assured you he has a stash of painkillers just for you the moment you need them. You thanked him, even though they don’t seem to help much on days like this. Today, you’re greeted by thundering footsteps and the delicious smell of the feast from above growing closer and closer; Thatch has personally come to bring you a plate.

“Doing any better?” His voice is soft, hesitant to break the silence that surrounds you.

You left out a groan of pain when you attempt to sit up to face him.

“I see.” You can hear the sympathy pouring from him, as well as the gentle touch of a hand on your shoulder urging you not to move. The plate appears on the nightstand right next to your head, filled to the brim with all of your favorites. Some spicy, some sweet, some savory, all of it combining into a smell so mouthwatering you’re able to bring yourself to move, if only to shift closer to your feast. “I tried to make sure I got all of your favorites. If you want anything else, I can bring it down later.” He sets a glass of water down as well.

“Thanks, Thatch. I really appreciate it.” Your voice is a little wobbly, strained from the pain, and while you can’t see him wince you can almost feel it.

“No problem. I’ll…leave you to it, if you don’t need anything else.”

You would kill for some company right now, some distraction from the pain. But you hate the idea of being a bother, of tearing anyone else away from the action you so desperately wish to be a part of, so instead of voicing your needs you simply give a pained smile. “I’m alright. Thanks, though.”

He hesitates a moment, and you wonder if he’ll stay, but he sighs quietly. “Alright. Someone else’ll be down soon to check on you.”

He makes his way back upstairs, and you manage to reach out for your plate to grab a small piece of bread, which you immediately shove in your mouth. Normally you would try to savor it, but your stomach is grumbling, and your pain is demanding your attention, and there’s tears stinging your eyes. At least with this you can pretend just for a moment that you’re on deck, feeling fine, surrounded by your friends and their warmth.

“Enjoying that?” Ace’s voice is familiar and jovial, and a shiver runs up your spine the moment you hear him. The door closes softly behind him, and in an instant you can feel his weight on the bed. His hand rests lightly on your leg, bringing you more peace than you’ve felt all day.

“Yeah.” The word struggles to get out around the bread, but you manage, and he quietly laughs at the sound and sight of your cheeks stuffed full.

“Good. You deserve it.” He picks up another piece of bread, holding it in front of your face, pushing it close to your mouth. “Come on, enjoy another.”

You swallow, then open your mouth. He delicately places the piece on your tongue, fingers brushing your lips, before he pulls back. “Do you mind some company for a while?”

“Wha?” Your mouth is still stuffed full, and he chuckles again, laying down next to you.

“Do you mind if I stay down here with you? I’ve missed you.” He’s looking at you not with the pity you expected, or any sort of sympathy. His eyes are filled with nothing but pure and honest affection as he regards you.

You nod.

“Perfect!” He leans in, snuggling closer to you. One of his hands brushes against your back, and you wince, before he presses more firmly, making you cry out and squirm. “No, just one moment. I promise it’ll help.”

You don’t understand what he means, too lost in your own discomfort, before you feel a warmth spreading from his palm and into your skin. It doesn’t make the pain disappear, but for a moment, when you close your eyes, you can pretend it isn’t there. You can focus instead on the feeling of Ace laying beside you, his large hands on your back, his quiet pleased humming as he realizes he’s been successful in helping you.

You expect him to say something about how you can’t go upstairs, how he’s sorry you’re stuck down here while everyone else has fun. Instead, he whispers, “Thank you for letting me stay.” Like you’re doing him a favor. Like his presence here is just because he wants to be.

“Thank you for staying.” Your voice wobbles with emotion, though you try to hold it back. You grab the hand that isn’t on your back, holding it close, clinging to him like a lifeline.

He chuckles. “You don’t have to thank me for that, sunshine. I’d give anything to be here with you. No one else on this ship compares. No one else in the world.” He presses closer, his nose pressing into your neck. “You’re worth a thousand of these feasts.”

You hold his hand tighter. “I still wish I could go. I was really looking forward to this one.”

“There will be other parties.”

You can’t keep the sorrow from your voice. “But they won’t be this one.”

He doesn’t deny that. “But there will be parties. And for this one?” His hand gets a little warmer, relaxing your muscles and making your eyes droop. “For this one I’ll be right here with you. And we won’t have to worry about anything anyone else is doing. You’ll be too busy enjoying my company.” He almost giggles at that last one, and you can feel his nose crinkle as he says it, smile wide and uninhibited as it presses against your skin.

"So true,” you murmur, fighting a smile. “How could I ever want anything else?” It’s almost embarrassing how much you mean it, but he can’t see the blush on your face, so you don’t bother holding back your dorky, toothy grin. You’re melting into his touch, starting to forget the loneliness, the grief at what you’ve lost tonight, however small in the grand scheme of things. The only thing that matters right now is Ace, his warmth, his touch, his voice as he happily tells you whatever silly story he thinks will catch your attention at the time. By the end of the night, curled into his side, his warm hand rubbing soothing circles onto your lower back, you almost forget about the party above deck, or any of the world outside of this room.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece

[riza-jes]

Luffy’s Parental figure — ACE!

Who raised Luffy and co-parented him with Sabo.

He's the guy who actually did the teenage boom and baby Luffy. Who was really the only one to be an adult to his brother for seven years. Who raised this little bugger and was there for him through hard training and after hard illnesses as well.

Ace who's an explosive head in his own right, but still cool-headed in the most precise moments of danger.

Who knows how to make chicken soup and other kinds of soups from nutritious foods because Luffy couldn't chew and swallow like normal when he was sick.

Who in the field knows how to pick out what's edible, what's poison and what's medicine, because you learn that quickly in the jungle.

Who really with bare hands will be able to build a place for a night's lodging, to make food or water and to make a trap for safety or for fresh game.

He's a man who smiles at his little bro when he's in sight and who really shows a lot of affection and attitude through touch, because Luffy always needed physical affirmation of love and gosh that kid was very touchy-feely baby.

His life centered around his little brother, who needed to be raised, preserved, and made strong.

Teenage angst and mood swings had passed him by(so nothing unusual), because Ace was already an emotional wreck, but having Luffy around was actually a good catalyzer.

Also life amidst the trash and scum had taught him very well what to avoid, i.e. roughhousing, rapes, murders, overdose deaths, the horrors that slums can hold, especially the nooks and crannies where Ace and Sabo used to sneak around.

According to one particular scene that Luffy had somehow stumbled upon (and he had witnessed the brutality and the corpses privately, but he had never seen the bodies of dead children and girls before )

Luffy had hysteria so intense that he passed out.

After that accident Ace and Sabo decided only to walk in the more lighted and more open area if necessity would lead them to the slums.

In general, Ace isn't used to violence and direct threats, although in some cases Ace remains painfully innocent and naive, especially when it comes to himself. ( unless it involves Roger, the Pirate King )

Because of the fact that Thatch almost cut to pieces a lost in life and specifically in that bar amigo who ran into Portgas and began, in Thatch's opinion, to spread his hands.

And if Ace at first reacted friendly enough on approaching of the future corpse by thinking that maybe it was one of his brothers or inhabitants of the protected area, but when the man had crossed the line with a couple of words, he was carefully folded in unconsciousness by the bar wall.

Honestly, I just want more and more of Ace's side as the man who raised a hyperactive ball of joy. And specifically the aspect of home life, which most often of course manifested itself during meals.

For example, some dishes that for example made pirates complain due to scarcity or flavor (e.g. tomato soup/onion soup, any other specific fruit/vegetable) or the beverage (compote/juice/tea of unfamiliar pickings, etc.) of specific fruits or vegetables to be consumed based on shipboard life.

So imagine the surprise of the Marco when most of the pirates booed about the nastiness of the same grated drink with greens (or search for what foods should be consumed when living on the sea and when living in the jungle) and Ace was the most calm and even nostalgic.

Because he'd made a similar thing for his little brother himself.

Part 1

Part 2

[badgerbl00d]

one piece boys falling in love at first sight

☆ characters: ace, rayleigh, marco

☆ up next: one piece characters with a jealous gf

☆ a/n: my last post generated a lot of new followers and requests! i'm so happy and am excited to start working on all the requests. i also will be posting a master list soon so thank u for being patient with me on that front haha. enjoy! <3

ace

1k words

“Welcome aboard!!”

Cheers erupted from the crew, as they all swarmed the deck.

Joining the Whitebeard Pirates was always celebrated with an enormous party. 

The sun had started to set but it still beat down relentlessly on the ship and Ace craned his neck to try and get a better view.

You were all the crew had been talking about for weeks. 

Some thief who had managed to steal from the Whitebeard Pirates and get away with it. 

He remembers how Whitebeard laughed when Izo and Thatch came moping back from inventory, nearly pissing themselves when they were forced to admit they’d been got by an amateur. 

Whitebeard had ordered that you be tracked down immediately because anyone who stole from him with that much skill and audacity deserved a spot on his crew. 

After a few weeks of searching, Izo came back with you. 

From what he’d heard you weren’t easy to convince. 

There was alcohol being passed around and the spray of champagne bottles being opened left and right misted his neck. 

He pushed through everyone and began making his way toward the front.

He eventually bumped into Marco who’d secured a front-row seat, downing beer as your fellow pirates all came to get a look at you. 

“What’s the big fuss? Can’t get any damn sleep around here,” he groaned. 

Marco laughed, “Jealous that you’re not the shiny new toy anymore?”

“Barely.”

Both men had given up on trying to get a look at you and decided they’d wait for everything to die down.

“Want a beer?” 

Ace nodded and readily accepted the cool can, chugging it within seconds.

“It’s hot as hell out here.”

Marco took another sip of his drink, “If you feel hot how do you think I feel.”

“Well you’re kind of fire too, you know, like- the whole phoenix thing is-”

“Yeah, yeah, but it’s different though.”

“I mean, you could argue that the blue fire is hotter than the red part.”

“Yeah, dumbass, but the point of my devil fruit isn’t fire.”

“Okay well, they’re close enough.”

The heat got the better of the both of them and they gave up their argument, both fairly moody at the heat and the noise. 

“When’s the food part starting.”

“Soon probably, apparently Thatch has the hots for the kid.”

Ace choked a bit on his drink.

“What do you mean? Like he thinks he’s hot?”

“She.”

This caught Ace even more off-guard. 

“She!?”

Now he really wanted to get a look at you.

After another few minutes, the crowd relented, and people started making their way back to the rest of the ship. 

As the group of cheering pirates around you thinned, you felt relief flooding your senses. 

You took a deep breath and walked on board the Moby Dick.

It was massive. Now that you could actually see it, you realized just how intimidating of a ship this really was. Of course, you’d had a general idea since you did rob it blind, but still. It was different when you were a welcome guest. 

Ace took his chance now, and as the last of your welcoming party dissipated he made his way over to you.

As if on cue, you turned to look at him. 

The sun was positioned perfectly behind your head and framed you in a sort of angelic light, it poured up and over your frame from behind you, casting golden hues through your h/c hair. 

He stopped in his tracks, one foot still caught mid-step, trailing behind the other.

You were… pretty.

The slight breeze that had been brought with sunset, swept through your hair, leaving your face completely out in the open.

Your lips were slightly parted, had you been saying something?

He didn’t know, he was too enraptured with everything else. 

You stood tall, it was clear you had pride to spare.

Your tan skin glimmered with the same regal hue as your hair, and never in his life had Ace felt that something- someone had commanded his attention so thoroughly with just their presence. 

You walked toward him, Oh my god she’s walking toward me.

He was proud and he had abundant confidence in his worth but if he’d ever doubted that, it was now that he did. 

You extended a hand towards Ace, and as if moving through honey your movement was gentle and smooth, but certain. 

“Hi! I’m Y/n, I think I’ve seen your wanted posters before. You-”

Whatever else you said wasn’t registered by the freckled boy in front of you. 

His cheeks were red and his eyes set.

He was breathing deeply, hanging onto everything you did, drinking in the magnificent sight of you.

He instinctively reached his hand up toward his head to take off his hat and hold it against his chest.

Your voice was silky and hung in the air like cigarette smoke. 

The way you looked at him, your eyes intensely focused and direct, had his knees feeling shaky. 

Any ounce of ego left in his body from the first sight of you, drained out of him as you spoke.

His brain was flushed with sudden anxieties.

Had he come across as a creep? What if you took to the other guys? He was young and maybe you wanted something else? Maybe you didn’t even want a guy at all and your ambitions involving piracy had nothing to do with men! 

You looked at him with a puzzled look, your nose wrinkled slightly.

“Are you okay?”

Fuck, she’s so cute.

If he had been less out of it, he would have heard Marco’s cackling in the background.

“Real smooth, Ace!” Thatch yelled from the balcony outside the kitchen.

You laughed, She laughed!

Ace blinked back the muddled thoughts and premature anxieties that had started fuzzing his thoughts. 

You were giggling to yourself and seemed nearly ready to try and introduce yourself to the next person. 

Ace had a million things he wanted to say to you, but he had time. You both had all the time in the world. 

So he instead opted to tip his hat and flash you a smile. 

“Hi.”

rayleigh

1k words

A quick stop, Roger had promised.

No more than two days, he’d said.

Everyone knew he was lying, and that they’d be landbound for at least a week, but no one was going to complain.

Almost no one.

“Roger, we should get going,” Rayleigh urged, but the Captain was three beers and ฿3,000 into a game of poker. They wouldn’t be leaving until morning.

Roger laughed loudly, earning stares from the bar's patrons. 

“What’re you in such a rush for?! There’re women and booze all over the island, go find some to your liking and quit complainin’!” He laughed again and Rayleigh gave up and decided he’d just head back to the ship for now. He’d send someone to pick up the captain in the morning. 

He didn’t mind the island itself. It was a spring island, and the clime sat at a gentle temperature, with easy-going winds. Tall grass covered the majority of the island and flowers were in bloom all over. 

Yellow daffodils and pink tulips littered the island, dotting the hills and fields with spots of color. 

He made his way slowly back toward the ship, taking more time than usual to enjoy the scenery. If he was going to be stuck here he may as well enjoy it. 

The sun was just about the set, and vibrant hues of orange colored the sky and with his hands in his pockets, he wandered through the hills back to sea. 

The island had no real port, there was just a bay where ships parked. There weren’t any walkways or built-in passages from which to disembark from the ship, you simply had to drop the anchor and paddle or swim to the rocky shore. The grass grew right up to the edge of the ocean, and he sat down in it, deciding he’d wait until it got dark. 

A soft rustling to his left caught his attention.

Tucked in the grass, was a girl sleeping, a book in her hands. 

She was wearing a white dress, and it moved together with the grass, back and forth, pushed by the wind.

A cool breeze ran through your body and with a slight shiver, you slowly blinked your eyes open, pushing yourself up onto your elbows, rolling onto your stomach. 

You flipped through the pages of your book, going back and forth a few times before deciding to close it altogether. 

You sat up, stretching your arms out over your head, letting your hair fall over your shoulders. 

Rayleigh was, for lack of a better term, entranced. 

He was completely hypnotized by the sight of you. 

He felt as though you’d materialized before him, a beautiful fairy or something similar.

He’d heard stories of sailors coming across women whose beauty stopped them in their tracks. Women that they thought about every night after those initial encounters, held a complete hold on their minds.

He thought that now he felt something similar. 

He felt awkward just sitting and watching you, and thought he might say something. 

A tug in his chest urged him to stand up and try and present himself, but he felt an irritating nervousness spread throughout his body.

C’mon, Rayleigh.

He was usually so… good at this. 

If he saw a pretty girl at a bar or a port or an island he would just talk to her. 

Everything after that came naturally. 

He was a Roger pirate for god’s sake, people around the globe feared him and revered him, and yet… and yet with every breath, he took to try and start a sentence he came up blank. 

The thirty seconds he’d spent trying to speak to you felt like an hour and he thought his heart might stop when you’d turned around to look at him. 

“Oh! Hello!”

He drew in a breath. 

The colored sunset light fell on your face and illuminated your features in soft hues.

Your eyes widened slightly at the man standing before you and you gave him an awkward smile. 

“Have you been standing there a long time?”

An accusatory look settled on your face, and your lips settled into a frustrated pout.

“I, um, yes,” he admitted, a blush creeping onto his face, “I wasn’t- I mean- I had just sat here to enjoy the, um-”

“Yeah, yeah, you creep, I get it.”

You laughed as you said this, and he relaxed a little.

“You’re not from around here are you?” you asked.

“What gave it away?”

“You seem surprised that someone was sleeping outside. It’s normal here, I swear I’m not some weirdo or anything. Our grass is known for being soft.”

He sat back down, slightly closer to you this time.

“What’s that?”

You sat closer to him, pointing to the log pose on his wrist. 

“It’s a compass. Pirates use it on the Grand Line, it works by using the magnetism from each island to route the way toward the next one.”

“You’re a pirate! You don’t look like one! Or act like one.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

You giggled, and he felt completely swept up by your presence. How quickly you started trusting him, the curiosity in your voice that only grew with each question he answered. 

You continued asking him questions, what being a pirate was like, why he was a pirate, and who else did he know that was a pirate. Had he killed anybody?

The more you talked, the more he started feeling like himself. His wittiness and sarcasm started slowly coming back to him, he was able to put aside his awe for your beauty in exchange for his usual flirtiness.

The dynamic between you seemed to shift back and forth between who felt bold and who felt shy. 

“Do you drink?”

“Do I look like I drink?”

Rayleigh laughed, and you joined him. 

Night had set hours ago, yet you kept talking as though you had all the time in the world.

You inched even closer to him, he sat with his legs crossed, and you sat on your knees, feet tucked underneath you. 

You were facing each other and you leaned forward, bringing your lips closer to his.

“When do you leave?”

He tucked some stray pieces of hair behind your ear, trailing a hand down your face.

You rested your head against his palm, looking up at him. 

“Soon.”

“That’s too bad. I like you a lot. You’re more than a pretty face.”

Rayleigh smiled at that, “I haven’t heard that one before!”

In a burst of energy and eagerness you pressed your lips to his, and just as quickly retracted. 

He smiled again, bigger this time, and brought his arms around your waist, holding you in place. 

You pressed another kiss to his lips, still too quickly for him to reciprocate. 

He laughed and you felt proud at the blush you saw coloring his cheeks. 

“Tell me, pirate, are you busy tonight?”

“Not at all, pretty.”

“Would you like to be?”

“Very much.

marco 

1.2k words

“Why can’t you send Ace to do it?”

“‘Cause I sent ‘im to go get fish from the market,” Thatch explained, “And before you ask, I can’t go either ‘cause I’ll be here. Cooking.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll be back soon.”

Marco threw on a sweater and made his way into the town they were staying in. Thatch was all worked up and excited since they’re known for their produce and food quality.

Naturally, everyone had been sent out to get different ingredients for him.

Marco looked down at the short list he was given, ‘Apples’. 

‘Very concise,’ he thought to himself. 

It was midday and the sun was shining. It was fairly warm on the island, and it was covered in trees. 

There were several signs that pointed him towards the location of the apple farm your family owned. 

He found it with ease and walked around for a bit when he didn’t see anyone out front. 

Every tree was teaming with ripe apples of all kinds. Overripe ones littered the floor and there were some chickens walking around. 

He had been walking for no more than five minutes before he saw you.  

You were reaching up to try and grab the apples that were up on the higher branches of the tree.

You strained your arms upward, using the trunk of the tree as support, your long legs balancing on the tips of your toes. 

Your short dress slid up against your thighs, revealing a soft tan line. 

A few beads of sweat formed on your forehead and after your third reach with no success, you gave up. 

He could feel the pace of his heartbeat start to pick up slightly. 

You looked so calm and at ease. The line of your body as you stretched upward was tantalizing and he couldn’t look away. 

He didn’t want to scare you so he gently cleared his throat.

You turned around in a panic, knocking over a few of the apples in the full baskets that were on the floor next to you.

“Oh! Welcome! Sorry! Sorry- I’m the only one in today and I was trying to get a few more baskets full,” you explained to him. 

“No worries,” Marco said. His voice was deep and he sounded so laid back. 

You were still a bit too far to converse at a normal volume so you walked to him, caught off-guard by how handsome he was. 

He wasn’t wearing anything surprising, nor was he doing anything that was out of the ordinary but you could tell that he wasn’t from around here. 

His hands were calloused and he had a few visible scars spread across the visible parts of his skin.

“What can I get for you today,” you smiled at him. 

“I was sent out for apples! I suppose I’ll take two baskets pleas-”

Marco’s voice trailed off and he cut off his own sentence as he looked and actually made eye contact with you. 

Oh, god. 

He knew you’d probably be hot based on what he’d seen earlier but you were… unspeakably beautiful. 

Your cheeks were full and bright.

Your lips were a lively pink and your eyes caught the shifting glimmers of sunlight in them.

Your hair was pulled back into two messy braids and your loose strands of hair swept back and forth over your face. 

You were unbelievably flattered. 

Naive as you were to love and its complications, you knew what a tempted man looked like. 

An unfamiliar sensation tugged at your chest. You felt like the tendons and muscles around your heart were opening and contracting wildly. 

Your breath hitched in your throat and settled itself right on your vocal cords, you couldn’t say anything. 

You both held a hilariously awkward form of eye contact for several moments. 

Marco swallowed and cleared his mind, regaining his composure to the best of his ability.

“Two of these,” he said again, blinking his gaze down toward the floor as he gestured down toward the basket. 

You took a deep breath and nodded, grabbing another basket for him. 

They were heavier than they looked and after watching your two failed tries at lifting the baskets, Marco offered some help. “Oh, y-yes, please! Thanks,” you said, stepping back as he walked over and picked up the baskets with ease.

“How much do I owe ya?”

“Um.. j-just ฿15.”

“Fifteen?! That’s it?”

“We have, um, a discount going on right now... For handsome travelers.”

Why would I say that? Oh my god, why would I say that!? your cheeks started to rapidly heat up and you shuffled your feet nervously.

Your heart started beating faster against your chest when Marco responded, “How sweet. Take this as a tip then.”

He had a devilishly handsome smile on his face, and you looked at the money he was handing you. “Oh fifty is way too much- I can’t accept that, that’s more than the two baskets would normally be anyway.”

“Well, this is what I always tip beautiful girls.”

You laughed, trying to ignore the rising temperature of your face. 

How embarrassing to be this easily flustered. 

He smiled at you, clearly enjoying himself. 

“C’mon, I insist,” he closed your hand around the money and gently guided your hand back toward your chest. 

You pouted, feeling guilty that he gave you so much money.

“You’re sure?”

“Sweetheart, I’m a pirate,” he said, “There’s a lot more where this came from.”

His voice was full of confidence but he was so relaxed. 

It made your stomach twist.

The way he carried himself- you could tell he was dangerous, but he was so laid back. 

“A pirate?”

He nodded.

You put the money away, and played with the ends of your braids, unsure of what to say to him. 

He bent down, one arm on each side of you.

Your breath caught in your throat and you stood frozen still.

He picked up the baskets, one in each hand, from your sides.

“As much as I’d love to spend the rest of my day here, I’m afraid I have to report back soon.”

You nodded, sheepishly looking down at the floor. 

He smiled at you again, winking this time. 

He turned and started walking back toward the entrance.

You knew you’d probably never see him again and a kind of unknown anxiety made its way to your chest. 

“Wait!” you called out, running after him.

He turned around.

“Will... Will I see you again?”

This time a less nonchalant smile spread across the Commander’s face. 

“Oh, absolutely,” he teased, “I’ve got wanted posters in every town from here to North Blue.”

You pouted again.

So cute! Marco thought to himself.

“You know what I mean.”

“I can work something out.”

“What’s your name?” you asked.

“Marco,” he answered, “What’s yours?”

“Y/n.”

“Pretty name for a pretty face.”

You smiled. 

He couldn’t help but stare. 

It suddenly dawned on Marco the Phoenix, First Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates, that he was positively, undoubtedly fucked. 

You stood in front of him, waiting for him to say something else. 

“You’ll see me again,” he said, this time with unwavering certainty,

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 6. Don’t make plans for the next morning.”

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Hi! Can I Request a One Piece Whitebeard Pirates x Ace's Twin Sister!Reader? Like her and Ace are the exact same. They both have Narcolepsy and Eat a lot. And are Hot Heads. It's just that the Reader could have a different Devil Fruit or Something.

And for like a Love Interest I would say Izou, he's so under-rated. He's an under-rated Whitebeard Divison Commander.

Also I love your work! You inspire me!

-You and Ace were a lot alike, both of you were hot heads, had narcolepsy, could eat your weight in food (but nothing like Luffy), and you were both high ranking members in Whitebeard’s crew. Funny thing was, you both thought you were nothing alike!

-Ace was the first to join Whitebeard’s crew, and you came a while later, after figuring out where Ace was, after the two of you parted ways to explore on your own.

-Unlike Ace however, you were more polite, rather than just demanding Whitebeard to fight you to join, you asked him nicely and he instantly agreed, welcoming you aboard as his daughter. Ace wasn’t happy, finding it unfair, claiming that he liked you more!

-This caused lots of laughter to fill the ship as you were easily welcomed in, grinning so warmly and brightly as you got to meet with everyone and join the crew.

-As you and Ace sat side-by-side, eating in unison, Marco couldn’t help but grin, “You two are a lot alike, aren’t you?” you both looked at him like he had two heads as you spoke in unison, waving a hand in front of you both, once again, in unison, “No- not at all.”

-It was actually hilarious, as you both fell asleep in your food shortly after, snoring in unison, before waking up, looking a bit confused on how your food got all over the both of you.

-Everyone else quickly found out that the two of you really didn’t realize it, that you were so identical in your mannerisms and quirks- you both thought you were nothing like the other!

-You proved yourself an asset to the crew, using your own Devil Fruit ability, being able to control water, which you used to control waves around enemy ships, or pushing the Moby Dick to go faster, or using the water to cool off everyone on hot days- or when Ace pissed you off.

-Ace loved having you on the crew and he loved that you fit in so well, despite the occasional twin spat here and there, but you always made up by the end of the day.

-The only thing Ace had a real problem with was that he couldn’t stand to see you and Izo flirting with each other. You liked Izo, he was a nice person and he always made you smile and made you feel like a princess, even after you got done with a fierce battle.

-Izo adored you as well, you were so open, warm, and bubbly- you didn’t care about how others thought about you, and you only cared about being happy and having fun! It wasn’t hard to fall for you at all.

-Ace had always been like that with you, even when you were kids, if you claimed you liked another boy, that wasn’t Sabo or Luffy, Ace would go and beat them up, telling them to stay away from you, which unfortunately made all the boys your age scared of you.

-You had been wandering around, looking for Izo as the two of you were going on a date now that the ship was docked- he had just asked if you wanted to get lunch, but you were elated!

-You asked Pops who just grinned, “They’re by the figurehead.” You were confused, as you were just there, but you thanked him and ran off.

-Your eyes went wide, seeing Ace trying to attack Izo, “You’re not allowed to date my sister!” while Izo was shouting back, trying to defend you, “She can date if she wants to!” while your other brothers were all laughing, watching the fight.

-Your cheeks immediately puffed up, furious as you made a wave come up and put Ace’s fire out, halting everything. As everyone turned to you, you were pouting, your cheeks puffed up, a glare and tears in your eyes as you looked furious, “You…stupid big brother!!”

-You lunged at him, hitting and yelling at him, “You always do this- this is why nobody wants to date me! You stupid big brother!” while he was yelling back, but not hitting you, just trying to get you off, “You’re not allowed to date ever!” “How am I supposed to get married then?!” “You’re not getting married!!”

-It was Juzo who pulled the two of you apart, holding you both apart at arm’s length, Ace trying to get out to get to Izo and you trying to get back to Ace to protect your boyfriend!

-Marco just grinned, giving a small nod to Juzo, who tossed you at Izo, a happy squeal leaving your lips as he caught you easily before running off with you in his arms while Ace yelled, “Oi Marco! Don’t let him take Y/N!!”

-When you and Izo returned a few hours later, Ace was on the ground, gloominess surrounding him as he looked so dejected and sad, whining out your name.

-You came over and kneeled in front of him and he looked up, a huge smile lifting to his lips, “You came back!” you just laughed, grinning down at him, “Of course I came back! I’ll always come back to you Ace!” he melted under your words, smiling up at you warmly.

-He then noticed your lips were a bit red and he quickly sat up, “Why are your lips red?” you just grinned brightly, “Izo was wearing a pretty color today, so I wanted to try it too!”

-Ace quickly was surrounded by flames as he started chasing Izo around the ship again, yelling at him, as he misunderstood, thinking that Izo had kissed you to share his lipstick.

-Marco was the one to realize this as you pulled out the tube, a bit confused, before you turned to Marco, “What do you think Marco- isn’t this color cute?”

-Marco just grinned, ruffling your hair lightly before he sighed softly, taking flight to go after Ace, before he killed Izo while you went to see Pops, to tell him about the date.

[moonbaby26]

So, I could no longer resist after seeing everyone posting all the cool One Piece TCG cards all the time 😭. I recently did a significant purge of my fashion dolls on ebay (mostly Monster High and Disney). I have a collection budget. But when there’s stuff I’m not in love with anymore, or it’s just taking up too much real estate, it gets sold. And then I get something else with that money. Funnily, trading cards can be every bit as expensive as dolls. But so much smaller! That is the win for me (and our household) here 🤣.

I have no one to play the game with. But I want the warlord and marine art. I bought the Doflamingo starter deck of course. But also some other packs to get going.

Here are my five favorite character cards from the starter deck. And my three favorite other pulls I’ve gotten so far, Kuzan, Smoker, and Marco 💖.

[jeankirsteinsgrlfrnd]

the attack on titan characters and vaping

modern au

a/n: most of this is according to my fanfic :)

eren jaeger is sooo clutching a cool mint disposable vape. it’s always in his pocket. he’s the accusatory type when he loses it, always claiming someone has it but in reality he’s just sitting on it. swears he’s not addicted but runs to get another one when it dies.

armin arlert is too cool to vape or smoke cigarettes. he does use a dab pen because of the convenience and how it doesn’t leave a smell. he occasionally lectures eren on his use but knows it’s a useless battle.

mikasa ackerman goes through different phases. she’ll vape for a long time, and then quit, and then start again. her flavor of choice is anything cherry flavored. she knows it’s bad for her so she tries to stop but since eren does it, she always falls back into the habit.

connie springer wishes he could vape. he just can’t get into it. it’s too harsh for his throat and it leaves him a coughing mess. if anything, he’ll have a shitty box mod with very low levels of nicotine. he just likes to call himself a vape god when he does very mediocre tricks.

jean kirstein thinks vaping is incredibly stupid. he tried it once and was immediately put off by it. he smokes cigarettes like a ‘real man.’ i wouldn’t call him a smoker smoker, but maybe he smokes one or two a day. he plans to quit.

sasha braus neither vapes nor smokes habitually. she tried to hit eren’s vape once and it burned her throat so bad her eyes watered and she couldn’t stop coughing. however, when she gets really, really drunk, she’ll be found having a drunk cigarette.

marco bodt has never touched a vape or a cigarette. he sees how easily his friends became addicted and honestly, he doesn’t want that for himself. he hates when jean smokes.

reiner braun doesn’t vape. he doesn’t smoke, either. he’s a big gym bro and takes his health pretty seriously. his body is a temple and he treats it as such. he also makes a big deal when someone smokes near him.

bertholdt hoover hits the occasional vape if he’s with his friends but he’s never bought one for himself. he’s not addicted either so he only hits it if he’s offered. he enjoys the head buzz but knows starting a serious habit wouldn’t be good for him.

annie leonhardt smoked cigarettes first and then tried to get into vaping. she decided it wasn’t for her and switched back to cigarettes. she thinks if you’re going to vape, you might as well just smoke. it’s more romantic, she thinks. she’s tried to calm it down since dating armin, though.

hange zoe insists that she vapes but she never has one of her own. she also coughs up a storm when she hits anyone else’s.

levi ackerman wouldn’t be caught dead vaping. he thinks it’s stupid and it’s for kids who are too much of a coward to smoke a real cigarette. he doesn’t smoke cigarettes either but he’s tried them before in the past. he might have one if he’s really, really stressed but he tries not to indulge.

erwin smith doesn’t like smoking. he doesn’t like when it’s done around him, either. he’s kind of uptight about it and no one’s really sure why.

zeke jaeger vapes. he totally would be the type to have a necklace to attach to it so he’d never lose it. he spends an unreasonable amount of time in the vape shop looking at all the flavors. i feel like he’d also have a fancy vape, like something with a weird fancy mouth piece.

ymir’s been sneaking cigs for years. obviously,she’s old enough now and the habit of smoking has stuck. she has a pack on her all the time. she’ll vape here and there if it’s presented but she’s a classic girl and prefers her cigarettes.

historia reiss doesn’t vape. she says she doesn’t smoke either but she partakes in it from time to time. usually when she starts ranting on about something, ymir will hand her a cigarette and hit it without really realizing it. it makes ymir laugh everytime.

porco galliard is a vaper. he loves his lil vape. he ‘accidentally’ got addicted after pieck made him try it. he also swears he doesn’t have a problem but he does!!

pieck finger has a fruity little girl vape. it’s definitely pink lemonade flavored. i feel like she’s always got in her hand and she’s also always offering it to people. she’s like a god damn chimney when she drinks, always puffing it.

my jean fanfic

[cinnbar-bun]

One Piece Characters w/ an S/O who celebrates Ramadan pt. 2

Characters: Zoro, Ace, Mihawk (all requested, thank you <3)

Rating: SFW

Notes: Muslim!GN!Reader. So yeah, obvy talking about religious beliefs and practices- if those make you uncomfortable please feel free to skip <3

A/n: cultural notes at the bottom in case you didn't know/just curious about some of the terms here.

Part 1 here

Zoro 

At first, he’s confused why you would do such a thing, but when you explain the significance of the month, he’s pretty impressed. 

It’s a test of resolve, discipline, and reflection- and, well, Zoro’s always looking for a new way to test himself and get better. 

No eating and drinking water? Well, he can do that, no problem. It also makes him want to see how far he can push himself in his exercise regiment without having to drink. 

His drinking though, well, it definitely hits him a bit harder than he would like to admit. He does have the urge to just guzzle three barrels of rum but he’s tryna be good, so he’ll do something to manage. 

Honestly the type to sleep all day or be working out when fasting. I don’t think he’d bother to get up for suhur either, he just sleeps through it and says he’ll deal with it later. 

This month will be where he is very reflective and open about his feelings or emotions with you. He’s pretty good about clearing his mind and meditating usually, but especially now he will be even more conscious about his reflections. It actually surprised you how much he was holding in. 

Takes this very seriously, 10000%, doesn’t let anyone or anything break his concentration or yours. 

Ace

Similar to his younger brother, Ace doesn’t know much about Ramadan, and the idea baffles him. 

But, he’s way more open to learning and trying to understand it better. 

He’s still failing immediately, poor guy. 

If he’s not shoveling down food in the afternoon or falling asleep right in the middle of eating, he’s probably gonna be casually drinking and going ‘oops, I forgot’ all day. 

All day. Almost every thirty minutes. Marco is thinking of checking if Ace is suffering from early onset dementia. 

OKAY LISTEN, IT’S THE ATTEMPT. THE ATTEMPT WAS THERE!!!

And even if his ‘fasting’ is uh, pretty shoddy, he does do his best to take care of you and support you (even if he’s about to offer you food or water every few minutes). 

He’s very intrigued by the reasoning for it, so he often asks you questions. Sure, he truthfully doesn’t have the fortitude to resist eating until sunset, but your devotion does make him proud of you. He feels so lucky and grateful he’s got such a cool partner. 

Likes watching you pray or read. He often smiles when he watches you and thinks he’s starting to get into it when he realizes he actually is reflecting alongside you. Definitely makes him appreciate your relationship more and your strength. 

Mihawk 

Much like his protege, Mihawk is captivated by the concept of Ramadan. Sure, he’s heard of it or read about it in his books, but he never understood it. Having you there to explain it and give more insight and rules makes him appreciate it. 

As the greatest swordsman, Mihawk is always looking for ways to appease his boredom as well as continue his discipline. He’s incredibly strict on himself, so he will immediately go all in during Ramadan with you. 

The house husband in him truly shines this month, he’s extra careful about how he prepares your meals and makes sure you are getting more hydration and nutrition than before. Likes to cook you fulfilling meals that won’t make you sick after fasting all day. 

Yes, he is still farming while fasting. No, he will not admit he is about to die of thirst. But also, that makes him desire to overcome that weakness and work harder to not need water while working outside. So, uh… good for him? 

Mihawk is also a man who enjoys reading, so he takes the month of Ramadan seriously as a chance to read the Quran with you. (Omg, reading the nightly juz with him <3)

Mihawk will learn how to pray, nothing will stop him from doing so, like I said, he’s all in, you’re doing it, he’s doing it. I think he will end up becoming more strict and knowledgeable than you in a few days. 

Again like his protege, giving up alcohol was probably a bit of a challenge (but again, Mihawk loves one), but he tends to substitute his cravings for wine with either a simple glass of water, tea, or even regular grape juice. 

He won’t admit his reflections out loud majority of the time, but it’ll be subtle glances at you or his lips turning up into a smile while he mentally thinks how grateful he is to have you and to share this with you <3. 

Cultural Notes: 

Ramadan is the 9th month of the Islamic calendar, which is based on the lunar cycle- hence why you’ll often see debates on when Ramadan starts/ends or why it begins about a week or two earlier than before, since the lunar calendar is shorter than the solar calendar (or Gregorian, the one we normally use). 

Muslims fast for a month from dawn until sunset (there are restrictions of course) so no water or food from that time. 

Sahur/Suhur/Suhoor: the meal you eat before the dawn comes. 

Iftar: the meal you eat to break your fast at sunset. 

Juz: There are other words for it but basically, the Quran can be divided into 30 sections to be read in a month or so. Generally this how some people section it off, and during Ramadan, it's seen as a very good thing to read 1 juz a day. By the time Ramadan is done, you probably have read the full Quran.

[stareiiez]

𝑳𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝑴𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆 --- three.

simon ( ghost ) riley x female reader.

content : dark?? ghost. fingering. orgasming. voyeurism. modern settings. mentions of stalking. obsession. drinking. sex. female genitals. unhealthy attachments. violence. blood. implied death. blood. smut in later chapters. dark topics. this is just my version of haunting adeline but for ghost. adult cis female reader. MDNI. 3.9k words.

note: FINALLY we get to the beginning of the juicy bits. Rip Graves. I never liked him anyways :o. reblogs and notes are always loved and appreciated!

The number of times you were right, was very slim to none. You were right about hot tea being nothing but assaulting to your tastebuds the few times you tried to give the drink a chance. You were right about how stupid politics, and the government were just how they chanted about making your country amazing and equal again. You were right about how hot cocoa and hot chocolate were two different drinks. One was hot milk and cocoa powder, while the latter involved actual chocolate being involved in the process of making the delicious beverage. You were lastly right about seeing Graves again. Manifestation and crossing your fingers had nothing on your ability to predict that you'd manage to get the man into your home and sitting across from you.

A cooling mug of bitter coffee sat in the curve of his palm while he laughed over the details again about the night he first saw you at the club. Thanks to the help of a flirty intoxicated Izzy, she left yours as well as her and Veronica's numbers written on a liquor-damp piece of receipt paper for Graves' boys to fight over who could have whom for late-night hookups if they so wanted. Graves had called you during your lunch break at work, somehow he had known in the universe that you were thinking about him to take the time to call. You never answered unknown numbers, but this time you had. Your cheeks flushed when you heard his drawl over the phone's speaker. His tone sends your heart to flutter in its trapped cage of your ribs. Your coworkers must have thought you were weird for smiling and giggling like a schoolgirl who was talking to their quarterback crush over the phone for the first time.

You two had chatted about the hour break you had during lunch. Your three-day-old takeout leftovers were left untouched in favor of flirting with the man and trying to work out a day and time to have him come over for a cup of coffee as an excuse to catch up on the missing details of the rest of the night. The sound of idle laughter filled your home's warm living room/kitchen area. You covered your giggles with your coffee mug while Graves went into detail about how he found his friends' clothes missing after Izzy and Veronica had convinced them to skinny dip in the pool of the Air B&B the boys were staying in for however long. Their clothes were hidden among the crooks and crannies of the house while the boys played drunk Marco Polo in the pool temp water.

Veronica and Izzy had soon left them after that, miraculously striding out of the home just as Graves had been dropped off by his Uber. He graciously bought them both a ride home, none the wiser to the panicked voices of his friends outside in their rented pool. "I've never seen anything quite as pale as the White Sands in New Mexico than Ox's bare ass streaking through the place trying to find his clothes. " Graves laughed over your small giggles the image had brought both of you.

Comfortable silence lingered between you two as you both sipped from differing tastes of coffee. His eyes never left you, nor did they hide the way they watched your throat move as you swallowed a mouth full of overly sweet coffee and cream.

"Oh, I almost forgot. I never asked my guest." Graves' eyebrows rose when you set your mug down, a change in your expression caught his attention. You were now standing. Coffee mug drained to bitter grounds and sugar granules. The stain of your lipstick imprinting on deep green ceramic. "If he wanted a tour of my home, you've been here for an hour but your story was so funny I didn't want to interrupt. "

Pretty blues swept over your small place. A lofted house isn't much to get lost in, but there was more to just a chic-looking home in the middle of nowhere. What's he got to lose? A pretty woman taking him on adventures that would give him excuses to have his hands on you so you don't stray away. Count him in. "Alright, darlin'. " The harsh push of his velvet-lined barstool squeaked against the floorboards when he stood to rise as well. An arm extended in such a gentleman-like way, offering it out to you. As if he wasn't charming enough for someone you've known for a night and one day.

His muscles were strong against your smooth skin when you wrapped your arm around him. Ignoring the flush threatening to surface on your cheeks from the smell of his cologne teasing your nose, you guided him to the backdoors of your home. French doors opened to greet you with the interior of your large greenhouse. Your aunt sure had a green thumb in her youth, and nothing was more convenient than having nature practically share doors with her. In honor and overwhelming gratitude you had for her giving this house to you, you decided to take up the art of gardening and plant caring. You weren't the best at it. Then again you just moved in and you only started with little seedlings of seasonal flowers and already potted house plants. Veggies and fruits were another challenge you'll learn after you can manage to not overwater or uproot your aloe vera plants for the third time in a month.

Outdoor paper lanterns cascaded in swoops over both of your heads. It cast a warm, soothing glow that contrasted your evening's dark, rainy gloom. Rain splashed down on the thick glass of the greenhouse; only achieving a cozier feel to your little slice of nurtured nature. Plush loveseats of dark and white colors decorated the corners of the space and openly invited you two to sit down and chat more with one another. Thankfully, Graves had better ideas and had plopped himself down into the dark green loveseat. He practically sunk into rich velvet, as he dragged you by the arm you linked with his, downwards. You didn't have the chance to protest or even outright gasp when your back collided with the strong contours of his chest.

"It's lovely. " Graves' hummed into the curve of your ear. His blue eyes fell from the stoic gold lanterns above you, to now the curve of your neck. He couldn't help the temptation of leaning in to place his lips against sweet-smelling skin. "But. I have something lovelier." His voice husks out, words muffling into whispers against the back of your neck.

Ample kisses, slow and steady cause rows of pinks and reds to bloom along the thin skin. His large hands settle on their rightful place on your hips. Just like those nights ago, they decide to squeeze and paint beautiful bruises under the fabric of your short skirt. He's a multi-tasking pro for letting his mouth ravage the curves and bends of your neck with his hot tongue and lips; while his hands decide to paw and knead the more tender flesh of your inner thighs. His large palms cover your thighs so nicely enough, that they ward away the chill of the falling rain outside solid glass windows.

Your head falls back onto the curve of his right shoulder. The angle is a little uncomfortable and hard to get used to, but it's so worth it when he licks a wet stripe down the slope of your exposed throat. Your breath hitches. Cheeks flush a cherry red when you feel his lips curve against your wet skin from your reaction. Sure, thinking about picking up where you last left off wasn't in your mind when you decided to invite him over. You couldn't even begin to predict how a simple chat over coffee, would lead to those rough hands pushing your skirt up enough to let the smooth planes of your panty-covered mound. Both the forest's and Graves' hungry eyes soaked in the black satin underwear you wore. Thank god for doing laundry before he came over, or else he would have seen the crustiest pieces of fabric that were held together with two pieces of thread and a wish. The storm outside had taken the chance to have thunder drown out the deep bellow of a groan from Graves' throat at the sight. All for him. Only for him in this moment, and by God was he glad he didn't decide to go fuck some other chick than follow through with your plans today. He was so lucky.

So lucky in fact that his luck happened to attract another lucky individual to this show you and him were putting on together. You really should consider where you were and who could be potentially watching you getting your panties ripped off of your thighs and tossed in some random direction.

The fold of Simon's hood shrouded his face in black shadows, but it didn't obscure the sight of those thighs parting at the large palm that encompassed your clothed cunt. Hidden lips curved into an amused smirk when he watched you start to hump the stranger's hand. His fingers tingled at how your pretty spine curved upwards, lips parted in silent moans that he would burn down cities just to hear on repeat. Such a pretty thing you are, letting yourself be touched in ways that only looked like soft-core porn compared to what images were running through his fucked mind right now.

The grass squished under his boots, imprints of his soles pressing the greenery into perfect evidence that he was watching. It wasn't hard to find you if you were to find these footsteps later when you're doing your yoga outside in the afternoons on sunnier days. It's not hard to run through every single female owner of your type of branded red car. He found the name and credit card information that you used to buy your vehicle too pleasantly quickly. Child's play as Alejandro liked to say with bright white teeth and brown eyes winking in mischief. He knew your age, your blood type, your eye color, home address, date of birth, fuck even what size of bras you like to wear. It's especially easier to have someone hack streetlight cameras, and every building that owns security cameras, to watch your car drive through empty city streets to get home. Fewer cameras, and less technology surrounding your dusty roads home. He's a man with connections, thank the stars for the 141 and Alejandro's buddies. He'd kiss the man on the mouth with ruddy tongue and all if it meant getting to watch you get off for his eyes every single night.

The humidity in your greenhouse seemed to kick up a notch when your cunt made the filthiest noises against the grooves of Graves' palm. Your breaths were storm clouds of lust and babble of pleas that rained down over your heads. Your moans were thunderous claps of straight energy that made your ears ring and muscles string taut with arousal that pooled warmly in your stomach. Graves' touch was the strike of lightning hitting dry trees in your barren forest. His fingers were electricity that curled through sopping folds to press against your G-spot and alight you with hot flames that crackled and popped under your skin. It was everything that led to a disastrous wildfire that overtook your body and made your legs snap wider when you burned hotter and hotter in his hands. Your body danced and wriggled under his strong grip. Graves was the idiotic man that made this wildfire of yours worse, he was the one to pour gasoline on your inferno when his thumb rubbed hurried circles to your clit and watch you fall apart in crackling embers of charred wood and soot when your body couldn't handle its heat any longer.

The evidence of Graves' arousal rubbed against the swell of your bare ass. Rough denim chaffing silky skin a blushed pink. He wasn't giving you much of a break to let your thoughts become coherent. The sight of his slick-covered index and middle finger scooping up your sweet essence and shoving them in his mouth only encouraged the aching thrum in your belly to begin all over again. You could taste yourself on his tongue when greedy hands wrapped around the back of his neck, and you forced his head to bend down to sloppily kiss you over your shoulder. Tongues swapped spit and remaining salty tangy slick that stained Graves' tastebuds happily. It wasn't even qualified as what your kisses were at this point. It was heavy petting of flicking tongues and hungry moans into the hot caverns of your mouths'.

Between the heavy petting and Graves' shameless rutting against your ass. One of your hands crept behind and between your writhing bodies to fumble blindly with his zipper. His moving hips aided in his zipper pulling down. The release of pressure made Graves groan out in relief, his head falling back with a sigh; allowing your spit-covered lips to press wet kisses along the column of his throat as best as you could at this angle.

Just as your hips had lifted to allow yourself to finally spin around and pull Graves' jeans off his legs; a loud bang echoed over your lustful activities and the thunderstorm outside. It sounded like someone or something had made an impact with the curved glass of your greenhouse. Whatever it was, it was heavy and had enough force to send both of your gazes to the direction of where the noise came from. Graves stood up from his loveseat, eyes still shiny with desire. Jeans threatening to fall around his ankles comically. "Probably a stupid deer. Things run into your damn headlights if you drive fast enough." His voice drawled out to the back of your head. Too nonchalant compared to you. You would jump at any loud noise or shadow if it was too scary-looking.

Blame it on the realistic horror movies that get put out nowadays for your fear and paranoia. "You sure? It doesn't sound like it was a deer. We'd hear it scream or cry in pain." Your head whipped around to look up at him. Shoulders taut once more like they had been when you were alone in your car and found that flower in your passenger seat.

A snort left the man. A shit-eating grin threatening to overtake kiss bruised lips. He found this hilarious. Much to your annoyance, he was going to patronize you like you were some kid afraid that there were monsters in your closet and under your bed. You could tell the next words he'd utter would turn your mood sour in an instant.

"Awh, lil darlin' afraid of a big bad buck?" You were right. "You want me to check it out, sweetheart?" Yes. No. Yes. Maybe? You've got to be overreacting, right?

Your round eyes and shallow breathing were much of an answer to him than if your pretty mouth had opened and half begged half whispered for him to go see if some brain-dead animal had rammed its thick cranium into your glass window and killed itself willingly. A shake of his head and a small breathy chuckle left his lungs. He fixed his pants with an amused sigh. "Suit yourself, darlin'. Wait right here. Won't be long."

His steps thudded out of your greenhouse, and back into your home. You could hear your front door opening and closing. You could hear the muffled stamping of his boots walking down the couple steps of your front porch. It was so quiet if you had the will and ability to, you could hear the crunch of dirt and gravel crunching under Graves' soles. Instead, you were deafened by the trickling of rain and the occasional clap of soft thunder that rumbled in the distance. You stood there, waiting and listening. Two minutes went by. Then another minute passed. Then another; and another; and another. Five minutes, you stood there. Skirtless, with your slick cool in your goosebump-flecked skin. Graves wouldn't take that long to walk around your property, right? He's not an idiot to go wandering into your forest at night and lose himself in the thick canopy of branches and pine needles. He was just going to go around the side of your home and check out the perimeter of your greenhouse. It doesn't take five minutes to do that. You would know, you've done that a couple of times in the past to embrace the outdoors on your yoga mat.

Hastily you bent over to collect your discarded panties and skirt. Heart skipping a beat here and there while you got dressed. The uncomfortable stick of your panties to your lower lips made you shiver in more than just fear for your sanity. You were becoming too aware of how alone you were and how long Graves had been gone. You swallowed, fists clenching at your sides. Damp palms being creased in half-moons from your fingernails while you turned your head to gaze outside to the dreary moonlight night. Your mouth opened, nerves steeling for your voice to call out to Graves.

What didn't come out of your parted lips wasn't Graves' name in a questioning manner, however; but a scream that was ripped from your shaking lungs when lightning ripped seams through the sky and illuminated the very large handprint spotted with watery crimson that stained your glass wall temporarily. The quick flash of bright light had you screaming for something far different than what you wanted to be screaming for that night. Awash tiny rivers of red and the imprint of a stranger's bare hand had been more than a sign to ditch waiting around for Graves to show up. Your heart had leaped into your constricted throat as you bolted into your living room. The door separating your home and the greenhouse was slammed behind your body. It was hard enough to rattle the frame and the wall of your house.

Sweaty fingers fumbled blindly in the dark of your home to turn the lock on the door. Your breaths were harsh and coming out faster and faster. In some fucked sense, you wanted to scream out in the open that you were right once again. You were always right. You were scared out of your god damned mind, on the verge of having a panic attack but you were right. Graves was out there. Maybe that was his handprint on your glass and some animal had decided to hurt him for making fun of it. Maybe it wasn't an animal.

Your mind screamed logic and facts. It couldn't have been an animal. Animals that were killed were noisy to some degree. They would snarl or cry out before attacking their prey. It would have made Graves scream in pain if he got bit or ripped apart in the jaws of some bobcat or wolf if they even have those where you live. If the forest surrounding your home was even home to such dangerous creatures that stalked around your home every night. It had to be something human. Someone was out there. A homeless man crazed on drugs and was able to hurt some innocent person for the money in their wallet just to score a new high. Maybe a serial killer who got off on killing vulnerable people who were out in the dredges between night and evening; just waiting to bury their blade into their victim's throat and hack away till they were lifeless and bloody on the ground.

You spun around on your heel, pressing your spine against the sturdy wood of the door. Something to help you ground your senses and coax the terrified screams that were clogged in your esophagus. The back of your head thunked back, your eyes squeezed shut. Just breathe. You can focus on trying to breathe even if there was some knife-wielding maniac perusing around your estate just waiting for you to be dumb enough to go after Graves in hopes of finding him. You weren't stupid, sure a little dumb at times, but not stupid enough to die like every annoying side character in a slasher movie.

Inhale. Exhale. Tick tick tick goes the clock hanging above your head.

Inhale. Exhale. Ba-dump Ba-dump Ba-dump goes your heartbeat that slows microscopically. Good, progress.

Inhale. Exhale. Open your eyes and look around to find the cellphone you left on the counter next to your coffee cup so the cops can come and save you.

Inhale. Exhale. Feel your entire face go white and mouth open in silent screams when you find a lone red peony placed right on top of your phone screen. Your stomach twisted in knots over and over again till everything in your gut curdled. Next thing you knew, you were vomiting in your kitchen sink from adrenaline and fear. A slurry of coffee and lunch and breakfast painted the sterling silver tub.

This isn't happening. There's no way that this could be happening to you. Some sick freak that not only broke into your car but now your house and could have hurt Graves just to leave behind flowers for you isn't possible. Yet the chill of the now-becoming night air only confirms your delusions into a sick reality. Your head turns over your shoulder, not bothering to rinse your mouth out. The whites of your eyes threaten to pop out of your skull when you see the front door is wide open. Blooming constellations and the expanse of your dirt road greet your bulging eyes. Again, does your heart race ever faster, the color and feeling in your entire body threatening to drain at a rapid state that leaves you uncoordinated.

With legs equivalent to jelly, you cross the expanse of your small home. Eyes trained on the young night sky that taunts you with its ever-calm presence. Even if your world is starting to crumble and fall into ruin, the sky and gentle breeze in the air remain ever the same as always. You told yourself you wouldn't be the dumb blonde that wanders out and gets killed by the crazy slasher in movies, but yet you find yourself standing in the open doorway. Your eyes can't focus on staring in one place for long. Always flicking in every direction at the smallest of noises that nature makes. Your ears strain for the crunch of footsteps that are somewhat human. Your fluctuating pupils fought to try and find the silhouette of a man out in the growing shadows between the thick bark of the trees. Still, you could find nothing of the sort, no crazy killer. No dead body of Graves strung up in a taunting manner there to haunt your dreams for the rest of your life.

However, what you did find when your head had tilted down just enough, was a crudely carved ' S ' in the painted black steps of your front porch. The ragged edges and points of the single letter tarnished your quickly dissolving sanity, your home, and your plans for the rest of the night. The single letter stared up at you for just a second later. That was until you turned tail and retreated into your home, the front door slamming shut behind you, so you could finally call the cops.

[deputyrook]

Impressions- 6/?

PART 1. PART 2. PART 3. PART 4. PART 5.

You're a psychic. He's a detective. And a serial killer.

(Enter: FBI)

Mark Hoffman x psychic!Reader (trouble in paradise?), with a teensy tinge of Strahm x reader. Sue me.

Word count: 5002

WARNINGS: Corruption, abusive dynamics, general Saw-levels of horror & violence. Mentions of child abuse. Not much romance in this chapter, sorry! Reader is still drinking the Jigsaw Kool-Aid.

---

How many derelict warehouses can one single man own?

The meat processing plant that you're making your way through isn't exactly easy to navigate. Much to your chagrin, Mark has left you to make your way through it yourself, apparently having "work" to do. You're not sure whether he means detective work or Jigsaw work, but you don't ask for details.

The place smells like metal and blood, two scents which are becoming more and more familiar to you with each passing day. You tap your cane along as you go, the vibrations travelling up your arm. It's taking time, but you're slowly getting used to the tool.

The responding echoes of the different sounds reveal to you the type of surface you're stepping on- concrete floors, metal grating, scattered pieces of glass. This abandoned plant is cool and quiet, your footsteps by-far the loudest sound you can hear.

The cane also keeps you from running into walls. Still, it's slow going. Not having any idea where John Kramer is doesn't help. If the echoes are anything to go by, this place is huge.

Strangely, you suddenly wish that Kerry could help you out with this sort of thing- not that this was the universe she belonged in, or the side she fought on, but you could almost hear the dry, sardonic comment she would make about the state of this place.

After fifteen minutes of wandering in mounting annoyance, you think to yourself- could this be another test? Marco-polo? With John, everything had the potential to be one.

You do have another tool that you can use to get information about your surroundings. With a sigh, you flex your fingers on the cane and reach out with your awareness instead, scanning.

There. High above you, forward and slightly to the right. No one else flutters against your awareness, confirming for you that it's just you and Kramer, alone in the plant.

Now where the fuck are the stairs...?

Slowly making your way around the warehouse, you go from room to room, feeling your way around. Every so often, you'll hit the edges of some strange, metal contraption that's impossible for you to get a clear mental picture of. You just feel jutting edges, sharp points, and thick bolts, and back away.

Eventually, you find a railing, which lets you know you've hit the bottom of a set of stairs. Climbing very carefully, you keep your senses trained on John Kramer's signature like a hunting dog on a scent.

It leads you to a closed metal door. You rap on it with your knuckles, waiting. When you don't receive an answer, you shove it open anyway.

"I know you're in here," You say as you enter, "You couldn't have met me on the ground level?"

You freeze in place, though, when you hear a shuddering breath and the hiss of an oxygen tank.

The cancer has spread like a rot, making even simple tasks difficult for him. It wrings the time from him like blood from a soaked cloth. He has a hard time even holding a pencil, anymore. It used to be his sword.

He would have met you on the ground level if he could. But he can't.

"I had faith you'd find your way," John says, after taking a deep breath.

"And so I did. You can't say I'm not resourceful," You lean your cane against the wall and walk over slowly, feeling your way over to the area where John is seated. You hit the back of an armchair, and ghosting your fingers over it, manoeuvre yourself to sit down across from him.

"And gifted," John adds. He seems to have caught his breath now, as his voice, though shaky, grows stronger, "You've experienced firsthand the kind of growth that being tested allows. What do you think of it, now?"

He's already gearing up to his thesis point, the reason why he asked that you come here today. He doesn't have the time to waste on small talk. You entertain his question.

"There's no doubt it's changed my life," you say magnanimously, "Being in a traumatic, life or death situation has a way of isolating what's important to you. Of cutting the fat from the bone."

Back when you could see, you never would have thought that one of the hardest things about losing your sight would be the social aspect of it. Not being able to gauge how people are reacting to your words- without delving into the nebulous depths of their souls, anyway- was socially stifling.

Particularly when the reaction you're trying to gauge is that of a hair-trigger serial killer. Ah, if Kerry could see you now- trading philosophical quips with Jigsaw himself.

"Detective Hoffman doesn't see the purpose of all of this, not the way he should. He's sharp, but shortsighted," John says, sounding almost wistful about it. "You've taken a liking to him, and he, you. That much is obvious. Overall, I've come to believe it's for the best. He'll need you, if he wants to continue my work... uninterrupted."

You can feel John's concern. The way he dwells on the future, knowing he won't be here to see it. Will the embers of his creation smoulder and burn out into ash after he's gone? Will it have all been for nothing?

"Amanda... she understands the lessons she's supposed to teach, but she's too emotional- unstable, at times. She will need to be tested again. Should she pass, she'll need an anchor. Someone to keep her... grounded."

Yeah, okay. That seems like a stretch. Amanda hadn't seemed to like you all that much the one time that you met her, but you don't bring that up. Instead, you ask, "So what, you want me to keep the peace between them? Make sure they play nice? Bit hard for me to keep my eyes on them now, don't you think?"

There's a pause, and you hear John move in his seat, before he takes a deep, rattling breath with the oxygen mask. Then, he continues.

"The ability to accurately predict human behaviour is my greatest asset in my work. It is an ability that, of my apprentices, you singularly possess. The others may be able to create the instruments, but only you can design the tests. Only you can choose who needs to be tested, and predict the outcomes, in the same way that I can."

You hum to yourself, mentally noting that he just referred to you as one of his apprentices. He has a point, though. Similar to the one that Mark had been impressing on you. There's a feeling of doom that lingers on the periphery of John's empire. Without you there to notice it, to be the stalwart defence and augur of his work, it would swallow everything he held dearly whole.

Gripping the arm of your chair, the words come before you know what you're saying.

"It's kind of a funny coincidence. My mom tried to drown me as a kid, you know," You're not sure why you tell John this. Surely it's a mistake to be so open with him. "She said the world was too sick. That it was easier to die."

"I know. It was in the paper. They printed your name, and everything," John replies, and it's a bit of a slap in the face. You wonder if he learned about it before or after he strung you up in the acid trap. You wonder if Mark knows about it, too. He's a detective, so it isn't too much of a leap to think he'd searched for information on you. It feels like a betrayal, just a little. "What did that teach you?"

You purse your lips, and choose not to answer his question directly. It seems the two of you keep doing that- replying to questions that the other hadn't asked. Maybe you're more like him than you thought.

"Mark thinks that your actions are justified, and that you're doing the world a service. I'm not sure how Amanda justifies it- maybe she just wants to be close to you, I don't know." You pause, considering.

"To be honest, I think what you do is monstrous," You confess, "It's brutal. Absolutely inhumane," You can't see John's reaction, and you get absolutely no read on him. He's silent, before you continue.

"But. I think this world needs monsters, sometimes. And that I'm one of them. That's what my mom taught me. That's what you and Mark taught me, too." You smile to yourself. "Probably not the answer you were looking for, right?"

Would Kerry think you were a monster for this? Maybe not initially, but after hearing what you'd been up to the last few months, you had to think that she probably would agree with you. That she'd be disgusted-

You freeze. Why do I keep thinking of Kerry like this? Out of the blue?

"Kerry. What're you doing with Kerry?" You ask John quietly. He takes another slow, shallow breath, before he responds.

"I was wondering if you would notice," He murmurs in reply, and you think you detect a note of amusement in his tone. "Like you, she is being tested. Right now."

"She has the will to live. Stronger than anyone I've met," You say steadfast. But there's a creeping feeling, hiding somewhere behind your lungs, that says wrong, wrong, something is wrong.

"We'll see, won't we? Like so many of her colleagues, she neglects life to focus on death. You know better than anyone." Despite how shaky he sounds, John somehow manages to sound smug.

Suddenly, it all seems like bullshit to you. Or at the very least, a resource issue.

"There are a lot of people out there who overwork themselves," You snipe, "But it's the lead detective on the Jigsaw case you happen to grab. Funny. You know, there are other ways to get good people off of your case."

"You're angry with me," John remarks, "Our work needs to continue. If she survives..."

Something occurs to you, then. John keeps talking, but his words are drown out by a whooshing in your ears- the thundering sound of blood coursing. You can't hear what he's saying, but one thought dominates your mind.

You could kill him. Right now.

You wonder how he'd do in one of his own games. One he couldn't anticipate or control. To be thrust into a situation where fear overtakes him, where his brain needs to desperately try to find a way out of the situation. If you had the time, you'd be interested to see how his philosophy fared under a bit of pressure.

But you don't have that kind of time. Instead, you could lean across the gap between you, wrap your hands around his throat, and squeeze the rest of the life out of him. You were blind, yes, but he was already dying, halfway to the grave. You would win a physical struggle.

Even if you weren't able to watch him die, you'd know- he would die afraid, angry that this wasn't like he planned. Terrified that it was all for nothing.

His reign needs to end. More... capable hands need to take over.

The only thing that stops you is a consideration of the consequences. If you were able to confirm that you could fully trust Mark... maybe you'd be able to make it out alive. But Amanda was out there, and she would want your blood for it. The accomplice, Dr. Gordon, was a wildcard. You had no idea how he'd react.

Patience. Be patient.

Your fingers twitch on the armrest. Abruptly, you stand.

"Goodbye, John. I don't think I'll see you again," You tell him, voice cold.

"You will. In one way, or another," He answers cryptically. Unlike your own, his voice almost seems to have a warmth to it now, "And you'll understand me, in time," He pauses, before he finally claims the last word- the last thing you ever hear him say.

"Goodbye, Oracle. I'm glad we met."

--

Kerry is dead.

Kerry is dead, and you don't know how, or why. And nothing makes sense.

You need answers. You need to speak to Mark- you'll find the answers in his soul and yank them out, if you have to.

Kerry didn't need to die like that. She shouldn't have died like that. You should have seen it coming, you should have warned her, you should have-

The door to the interview room opens. A man strides in, a presence you've felt before, though distantly. A woman trails into the room behind him, quiet as though deliberately trying not to make a sound. You sit in an uncomfortable plastic chair, your hands on the table in front of you.

"Comfortable?" The FBI agent asks, "I've got a few questions for you. Hope you don't mind."

The man's tone of voice conveys that he really doesn't care if you mind or not. It's immediately obvious that this is the man that Kerry was in contact with- he's brash, demanding, and you catch a hint of something a little feral, just beneath the surface.

"Of course. Happy to help, if I can," You pause. "You're FBI, right?"

You hear a shuffling of clothing, and deduce that he's pulled out his badge. As if realizing you can't see it, the man quickly adds, "That's right. Special Agent Peter Strahm"

Strahm. The one who knows the water as well as you do. He pulls out the chair from across from you, and sits. The woman's presence remains hovering like a spectre toward the back of the room.

"I'd say it's nice to meet you, but..." you grimace, "Allison was my oldest friend. It's only been a few hours since I heard that they'd... found her. Sorry if I'm not all together."

"You didn't hear it from Detective Hoffman first?" Strahm asks. Every word he speaks seems tinged with irritation, as though everything is moving too slowly for him and he's waiting for it to catch up wit where he's at. Ah, so he knows.

"No. I expect he was busy with the fallout from the discovery. She was his friend, too," Forcing the words through your teeth is a bit harder than expected, "The station radioed me and asked me to come in. They told me... the basics."

"How much did they tell you? What do you know, exactly?" Strahm's words are like daggers, pointed and direct. The man is quick, and gives no quarter in his pursuit. Clearly, he'll be a dangerous adversary for you and Mark.

But maybe it's the water thing- you find that you kind of like him, right off the bat. Short-temper and barely-concealed-rage and all.

"Just that she was found... uhm, in a Jigsaw trap. I didn't even know... she was missing. We haven't spoken in a few days, but she was pretty busy, so it wasn't that uncommon. And then suddenly I get a call-"

You'd met with John several days prior, and when you'd gone home, you'd tried to reassure yourself- Kerry is a survivor. She would be fine. You'd texted Mark, anxiously looking to talk. He hadn't replied.

Days had turned into nights with no news. Your dread had grown, until you got the call.

Guilt is choking you. If you'd just done something... been a good friend, a good person. Maybe all of this had been a mistake. It's too hard to think logically, rationally.

Kerry is dead.

"Sorry," You mumble, wiping the tears from under your sunglasses, "it's been a lot to take in."

"Take your time," Strahm says, the subtext in his tone demanding that you don't. Then, after barely a moment has passed, he moves on and adds, "Open the door and you will find me."

"Excuse me?" The phrase is so strange it snaps you out of your misery spiral.

"Mean anything to you? Did Kerry ever say anything like that?"

"No?" For once, you're drawing up a complete blank at the phrase. It means absolutely nothing to you. "Was it... was that something she told you guys?"

There is a long, pregnant pause. The air in the room, already stuffy, grows thicker.

"What did you just say? Can you repeat that?" Strahm asks, an edge to his voice that is equally quiet and dangerous. You wonder if you've slipped up somehow, in a way you haven't caught yet.

"Did she tell you that?" You repeat, still confused.

"Who were you referring to when you said 'you guys?'" Strahm asks. Your sightless gaze slides over to where you know the woman is standing, and you realize your mistake.

Clever. You'll have to watch yourself around this one.

"You and your partner" You say, gesturing her way. No point in pretending you don't know she's there, "Who I guess you haven't introduced yet."

"What I'm wondering," Strahm says as he stands and walks over to your side of the table, "Is how you knew she was here, if I didn't introduce her. It was Jigsaw who abducted you and blinded you, isn't that right?" He leans down, bracketing his arms on either side of you.

A man used to using his physicality to intimidate. He reminds you of Mark.

You smile up at him. Gloves off.

"I guess I've always been perceptive, Agent Strahm. It doesn't mean I'm not really blind," you reply.

You're not sure what you're expecting him to do, but it comes as a surprise when he grabs your sunglasses and takes them off of your face. He's close enough to you that you can hear his sharp intake of breath when he sees your eyes- or what remains of them.

"Sorry to disappoint. I assure you, the police department here isn't that incompetent. You can check the hospital records too, if you want. They ran a bunch of tests which boiled down to acid will do that." You look up at him, still smiling a little sheepishly, in a way you really hope creeps him the fuck out.

"That won't be necessary," He hisses out, pissed. It's hard to tell if he's angry with himself, you, or the world at large.

You pluck your sunglasses from his outstretched hand, without bothering to pretend that you don't know where he's holding them, and slide them back onto your face.

"Special Agent Lindsey Perez. Good afternoon," The woman finally introduces herself, and you nod in her direction, "As I understand it, you're dating the lead detective on the Jigsaw case- Mark Hoffman. How did you meet?"

Strahm leans away from you, retreating from your side of the table. You get the distinct impression he wants to flip it.

"Well, I knew him a little through Allison," You say, "But then when I was kidnapped- he was the one to find me. I got to know him better, after that."

"How charming," Strahm sneers, "How well do you know Detective Rigg?"

"Uh, not particularly well?" The questions are coming quickly, non-sequitur. Probably to keep you on your toes, "Don't tell me something's happened to him too?"

"No, don't worry. We just want to get a sense of how involved you are in all of this. Jigsaw frequently targets the police, and those associated with them," Perez makes a good good-cop to Strahm's bad-cop. Her voice is soothing, a stark contrast with Strahm's demeanour. You can see why they were partnered.

"And you're right in the heart of this. Tested yourself, and you lived to tell the tale. Your best friend is murdered. And your boyfriend's the lead investigator," Strahm makes no effort to hide his suspicion, "I'm going to take a wild leap here and say you know more about this case than the average civilian."

"That's true," And because you can't help it, you add, "Allison did tell me the FBI agent she was in touch with was a real pain in the ass to deal with."

Perez coughs, in a noise that sounds suspiciously like a laugh. Strahm doesn't. He slams his palms down on the table, in a move that makes you jump.

"And now she's dead," he nearly shouts, killing the levity as he moves back over to tower over you, "And you've got nothing to add whatsoever. You didn't see anything when you were taken, you don't know anything now, is that right?"

"It is," You answer evenly, "But I can tell you this. She never gave up on Matthews. She was sure he was alive out there. And... you're right, about me being tangled up in this. It's obvious Jigsaw goes after people who are getting close to him. I've been tortured already, so I'd turn my gaze toward the other people at the forefront, if you're worried about finding his next target."

"So how were you?" Strahm all but murmurs in your ear, hovering close to your face once again, "Getting close?"

Shit. You really have to mind your words. He's good. A truth here was better than another lie.

"I take it Allison didn't tell you she brought me in as an advisor to the case, at one point? Before I was tested." You reply quietly, "I didn't want to say- to make her look bad. We were all a bit embarrassed by it. Me, her, Rigg, Mark-"

"Why the fuck has no one told me this before now?" You hear Strahm ask in annoyance, his head turning toward Perez, "Kerry brought a civilian into the investigation, and the whole goddamn precinct knew? And no one mentioned it?"

"Because I was brought in as psychic," You reply, still unable to keep yourself from cringing.

There is another long pause of silence.

"Run that by me again," Strahm says, voice tight.

"I told you I'm perceptive. Allison believed-"

"No, no, no-" You feel like you can hear Strahm pushing his palms into his eyes, "You've got to be kidding. Is everyone at this division a complete moron?"

"This is why no one told you. It didn't go anywhere, we didn't get any leads from it. It was a last ditch attempt. But maybe Jigsaw is superstitious. He must have found out somehow. I don't know." Skirting around the truth seemed to be working better than evading his questions outright.

As Kerry had often said, you weren't a good liar. But maybe you were improving.

"Is that how you could tell I was here?" Perez asks, sounding genuinely curious. Strahm lets out a noise of complaint and protest at her question. You nod in response.

"Yeah. I guess," You shrug.

"Great, great. A complete circus, all of this. Christ. I think we're done here." Strahm walks back around to the entrance of the room, his steps tinged with a frustration that echoes off of him in waves. Before he leaves, he turns to you.

"Oh, any predictions you want to tell me before I leave? Like who the killer is?" He asks, like he still can't believe what he's heard.

You say the first thing that comes to your mind.

"Just one bit of advice. Keep a ballpoint pen on you," You say. With another scoff, he leaves, slamming the door to the room behind him with so much force that the room shakes.

---

[4:53PM - Outgoing] We need to talk.

[5:12PM - Incoming] little busy right now

[5:13PM - Outgoing] I spoke to the FBI today. I swear to God, Mark. If you don't talk to me I'll ask for a follow-up interview.

[5:17PM - Incoming] you do that you burn yourself

[5:19PM - Outgoing] My best friend is dead. Fucking try me.

---

Mark calls you. He can't even spare a visit.

"Do I need to be actually worried? Or are you just blowing off steam?" Is the first thing that he says to you when you answer your phone. You immediately get the impression that he's not concerned in the slightest that you might actually report him.

"Did you rig Kerry's test to fail?" You demand to know.

"Answer my question first. Did you mean it when you threatened me?" Mark huffs out a laugh, "Because if you're going to threaten me, you should mean it."

Just like that, all of the fight in you, the anger and the fury and the guilt, is snuffed from you like a candle light. God, you're tired. You've missed his voice.

"What am I supposed to do, Mark? How else can I get your attention?" You hate how much it sounds like you're pleading with him. "You haven't spoken to me in days. You leave me in the dark. My best friend turns up dead. What am I supposed to do?"

He sighs. "I wanted to keep you out of it. Knew you wouldn't like Kerry being tested, and I didn't want you more involved-"

You laugh, strained and almost delirious as you cut him off. "Involved? Mark, up until now you have gleefully drawn me further and further into this chasm. Don't tell me you regret it now."

"Things... are going to get bad over the next few days," He tells you, voice low, "I needed you separate, so that if things go south-"

"Did you rig Kerry's test to fail?" You repeat, voice like stone, "No more secrets, Mark. You want us to be partners. I need to be able to trust you. So this is it. Tell me the truth."

"No," He answers, and you can tell he's holding something back. At your silence, he relents and continues, "But I suspected Amanda would. She's been killing all of her targets."

You let out a shaky exhale. You don't feel angry. You feel empty. Mark continues.

"Kerry was getting closer to the truth. And with those FBI Agents on our trail too... listen. John's going to be dead by the end of the week. Amanda too. I figured these FBI Agents, they'd be able to pin it all on her. Then after she's dead, it's a nice and neat end to the story," You can hear him frown. He sounds tired by it all, too, "But they know about me. They know there's an accomplice. They realized Amanda and John couldn't have strung Kerry up like that alone. I'll need to kill them both, too."

John Kramer had certainly been right about one thing. Without your influence, his empire would crumble under Mark's leadership alone.

In your mind's eye, you see a pile of limbs. Bodies piled high, twisted and broken, jagged pieces of metal jutting from their sides. The pile seems to move, breathing like a beating heart. An amalgam lump of desperate moves. One of the corpses looks at you with empty eyes. It looks like Mark.

"You can't kill every single person that catches your scent, Mark," You tell him incredulously, "You think this will end well for you if you just murder anyone who gets in your way?" You feel exasperated, but its mixed with a kind of relief: that you're talking again, that he's being honest with you. That maybe, you can move forward and get through this. That you can help.

"I can until they stop coming," Mark mutters darkly. A chill runs through you as you realize he's not kidding. He really would kill his way through hoards of people, until the walls closed in around him. Corpse pile, indeed.

"And then what? Mark, come on, think about this. You can't slaughter the entire FBI," He growls in frustration, and you continue, "Run me through the current plan. Let's talk. Two heads are better than one."

And he does. Mark tells you everything about his plan for the next game- John Kramer's final one, it seems. The testing of Jeff Denlon, his wife Lynn, and Rigg, with the two games played simultaneously. Jigsaw's magnum opus, with the dramatic return of Eric Matthews. Mark would be indisposed, cast as an apparent victim through the trial. To swoop in at the last moment, a hero.

"And if Amanda doesn't fail- well, I'll make sure she does. Amanda and John will die. You leave that to me," Mark tells you. You nod, working through the plan again in your mind.

"Okay. Listen, I really think you should hold off on trying to kill the FBI agents. They are not going to die easy, Mark. Fuck, if we just had more time, we could stage this better, to really get them off your trail..."

"You think I can't handle a couple of FBI agents?" He remarks, and you can feel the excitement at the challenge of a rivalry in his tone. You can't exactly fault him for that. Part of you had been a little thrilled during the interrogation earlier, too.

"Fine, give it a shot, then. Have it your way. Don't say I didn't warn you," You sulk. What is the point of being psychic if no one listens to you?

Mark's problem, you think to yourself, is that he doesn't realize how close this all is to the precipice of complete ruin. That he is proud enough to believe he would be able to take up the mantle of Jigsaw alone, once this last game with John Kramer and Amanda is through.

You wonder if he sees you truly as a partner, or as one of his accomplices. Despite his honesty with you, you file that thought away for later- what is it? Just paranoia? Or a problem that will need to be dealt with?

Speaking of problems: Strahm and Perez know that there's an accomplice. Likely a male accomplice, one who could do the heavy lifting.

Until they find one, they won't give up- not the agents, nor the FBI itself, which would undoubtedly send more agents in their stead to pick up where they left off.

Hm. An accomplice of Jigsaw's. You smile to yourself.

Good thing you know about a spare one of those. Who needs to sacrifice a rook, when you could play a knight?

---

A/N- Sorry this took (checks clock) four months to write. I figured it would be better to just stop agonizing about the writing/rewriting and put it out there. Do you guys mind that we're drawing away from the romance, and more toward the MC's journey? Is anyone still reading this? If not, then I'll just do what I want, anyway 😌

TAG LIST: @icarusinstatic @honimello @haven-is-happy @karmaswitch @the-jester-calamity @teamhawkeye @thebrideofcaliban @mjrkime @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @mrs-hotforhoffman @aliengutzstuff @lostbetweenvampiresandmusic

[ygreczed]

Can you draw Nishikage in gymwear ?

(also kinda creep coded but i follow since your french ffnet days, it's so nice to see you're still into inazuma)

Good luck with the requests !

Hey there!

Lmao no, it's not creep-coded at all, I'm always so, so happy to meet readers from back then on ffnet. I am always so nostalgic, and knowing you and I are still loving IE even though we grew up and became adults (boohoo), feels really comforting. Thank you for sticking around and reaching out ! I'm really grateful hihi

I regrouped your asks in one piece since I originally asked for several characters! It was my first time drawing Nishikage and Marco, it was really cool hehe. Exactly the reason why I asked for anon requests!

Paper Vectors by Vecteezy

[reallyromealone]

Another possible part “Security Guard Himbo”

Let’s say M/n’s flower shop gets broken into and wrecked. Levi of course figured out what happened and helps the reader out. Possible angst and fluff ✨

(Also love your fics! Hope your having a good day/night depending on when you read this <3)

Yesyesyes

Fuck yes

God I loved this mini series

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

(Name) let Levi buy him a flower, the model wanting his boyfriend to have the absolute best he can provide and seeing (name) in his true element... Was hot to Levi.

(Name) was completely different than when he did security, smiling and helpful to customers and helping elderly people get their flowers to their cars and small children pick out a good plant to start with.

Then there were the people Levi wanted to strangle, the Model having come in with lunch and his new security guard when he saw his puppy boyfriend oblivious to the young woman flirting with him as he dutifully put an arrangement together for her "and your total is 62.95" (name) said politely, actively looking away when the girl bent over a bit to show off her chest and perked up when he saw Levi "baby!" (Name) chirped out and went from behind the counter to greet him with a gentle kiss.

The girl looked floored at the interaction, Levi glancing to give her a warning glare as (name) chatted about the shop "so many people came today! I think my sign really worked!" (Name) said but Levi knew it was because it was run by a buff hottie that was his boyfriend.

"It is a good sign" Levi commented passively and watched as (name) completed the transaction and the girl scurried off "let me make you some tea, would you like some?" (Name) asked the new security guard who looked startled at the florist, slightly entranced by the buff man but looked away when he felt Levi's stare on him.

"A-ah no thank you" he said shyly and (name) nodded before going to the back to get his boyfriend some tea "so what's your name?" (Name) asked the new security curiously "Marco, sir" the brunet was kind of in awe at the man before him, the person who had his position.

The lunch was spent relatively relaxed though Marco could tell (name) was hesitant about him and he couldn't blame him as Levi was not only one of the top models globally but the florists boyfriend.

"I have a shoot to go to but I'll see you after, yeah?" Levi said to his boyfriend who nodded obediently before kissing him gently.

"I'll miss you" (name) said softly as they parted,(name) nodding to Marco to silently tell him to keep his boyfriend safe.

(Name) was at ease as he closed down shop, Levi sent him pictures of the shoot and (name) was swooning at how cool he looked.

Though he did avoid any news articles because Levi didn't want (name) to have to think about that.

(Name) snuggled Levi, the black haired man resting against his chest without a care, the room dark from the night sky when his phone blasted.

"Shit--" (name) quickly checked his phone to see it's an alert for the shop, a break in.

(Name) and Levi rushed to the shop, the police already there as they took in the damage, completely vandalized and torn apart as glass and dirt was thrown everywhere.

Levi hated how heartbroken (name) looked, talking to the police and getting a statement and the likes before checking the footage and his heart sank at the carnage the perpetrators raised.

The shop was closed off as it was now a crime scene and (name) was silent as they drove home "I'm sorry baby" Levi was soft with his boyfriend, unused to seeing him so distressed as night streets had minimal traffic "I just... Why?"

"People are pieces of shit... I'm sorry" Levi said taking his boyfriends hand and kissing it "I'll call a guy I know to fix the damages and we will get the best security we can get" Levi said earnestly to (name) as they parked in the garage, the buff man melting a bit under the others soft touch "let's go to bed yeah?" Levi led the other to their room and snuggled him on the bed, letting the buff man be little spoon as his face was hidden in Levi's chest.

When the police did their investigation, Levi already had people on to fix the shop and everything as he forced his boyfriend to look pretty for him and accompany him to a shoot, letting him hang out in the dressing room and work on a few promotions.

(Name) was still on edge but Levi made sure to kiss those fears away and when the people who vandalized the shop were found, Levi wasn't surprised that they were... Fans of his.

Less than 24 hours later Levi's official twitter issued a statement about how appalled he was at this and how real fans should be happy for him and not attack his partner or his business.

Six months later the shop was thriving better than ever, the buff man always bringing home beautiful bouquets for Levi who usually didn't care for flowers but... They were from his boyfriend so he was swooning a bit.

But (name) didn't need to know that.

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

summer blush

pairing: steve harrington x gn!reader

wc: 1.9K

warnings: nothing, can't remember if there's cursing.

summary: pool days and future dates

A/N: WE DESERVED LIFEGUARD STEVE WHY DID BILLY GET THAT ROLE!!!!!!! but I know we got scoops steve, but still!!!!

masterlist / steve harrington

everyone was at hawkins community pool if they didn’t have one sitting in their backyard. the weather was in the high nineties with a slight breeze to cool you off if you were laying out tanning. the dozens of kids were splashing and squealing in glee, screaming as they played marco polo or sharks and minnows. many parents trusted the lifeguards to do their job so they indulged in their books or gossiping with friends.

the lounger reclined at an angle, one leg bent and the other straight. loose shirt and swim shorts as your attire accessorized with sunglasses and a baseball cap to shade your face from the harsh sunlight as you read your book.

a high-pitched yell of your name drew your attention. tilting the book towards your chest you saw your neighbor lucas rushing your way. his running was put to a stop when a lifeguard blew their whistle and yelled no running. you saw a few other kids a little behind, three boys and two girls. 

“going for a swim, sinclair?” eyes squinting behind your glasses.

he rolled his eyes and pointed towards his swim trunks, “duh. gonna spend the next few hours getting pruney. oh, also my mom wanted me to ask if you were free on the twelfth.”

one of the boys called his name and lucas told him he was coming before turning back to you. “uh, as of right now i’m an open book. does she need a babysitter?”

“yeah. my parents have a date planned so they need someone to watch us.”

you nodded your head, “well i’ll be happy to babysit. just have her call me when you get home. now go have some summer fun, your friends are getting antsy.” the tweens being all dramatic from their spots close by.

lucas waved goodbye before talking with his friends and then they all threw themselves into the chlorine-heavy pool. the two girls were a step behind with shrieks that carried until they were submerged.

you watched their playful fighting for a bit with a gentle smile on your lips. how lucas would dunk his friend with sopping curly hair underwater or the redhead would slap water at the byers kid. the other girl with shoulder-length hair was just walking around the shallow end with an enormous smile.

deciding to turn back to your book, your eyes took a sweep of the crowded pool and they managed to catch a lifeguard chair change. a girl in the uniform-issued red one-piece was climbing down from the high chair as a boy leaned a hand against the legs. the two chatted for a moment before the girl waved goodbye and the boy climbed the steps and settled into the seat.

and when he was in perfect view you were able to make out the person you were ogling. steve harrington. steve harrington, who was dressed in only red swim trunks as he watched over the community pool. now your book doesn't seem so interesting.

you held the book at a normal height and used the book and sunglasses as your undercover ruse as you observed (stared) at steve. how he seemed comfortable in the uncomfortable high chair, one hand fiddling with the whistle that was sitting on his chest as his head moved around to get a full view. his hair looked naturally fluffy and curled, oh man.

you and steve were in the same graduating class but only had a handful of classes together in the four years of high school, and in only two was there conversation. he was more outgoing and friendly with most of the school population, while you had one friend, robin buckley, who stuck to the shadows and books. and even though you hid in the shadows, that harrington charm always shined brightly no matter what. so yeah, you weren’t unaffected by him, you just made sure not to act like an idiot when he was around.

wishing you had the balls to walk up confidently and start an effortless conversation, you just groaned as you leaned your head back and laid the book on your sunscreen thighs. you don’t even know what he likes, not like you could chat about the weather for twenty minutes before it dies out. “so… this weather….” “yeah, pretty warm. brings everyone out of their houses.” that’s so stupid!

you know what, forget about it. push steve from your mind. push lovely steve harrington from your mind and focus back on your fantasy novel. you did set a goal of reading through the stacks of books you’ve bought over the months. you look through your bag and grab your wallet before pushing off the flimsy lounge chair and heading to the vending machine for a snack.

you look at the different selections of chips and press in c7, your second favorite chips dropping down. you pushed the flap open and managed to grab the goods without twisting your wrist. you looked to the concessions booth and debated if you wanted to pay three fifty for a slushy.

“hey.” you heard someone call but you didn’t think they were calling for you since it didn’t sound like any of the younger kids. head tilting side to side in a silent debate before it came again this time followed by your last name.

you felt like an idiot when you looked over your shoulders to find the source but couldn’t so you turned forward again, which caused the mystery person to say your name once again followed by, “it’s steve, dummy.”

that made you turn around real quick with your brows raised and hands sat on your hips, chip bag crinkling. “what’s with the nickname, mr. lifeguard? i’m a customer minding their business.” sarcasm hiding the curiosity of why steve was suddenly calling for you.

he was twisted in the high chair, one knee up and poking through the hole for the armrest with his arms folded on the top and his chin digging into his golden forearms. his sunglasses pushed to his hair showing his face off without obstruction, though his eyes were squinting against the beating sun. he had a smirk to his mouth and, oh your insides melted.

“i am so sorry to be disturbing,” the sarcasm twisted in his words, “but i was wondering if you’d be willing to buy me a cherry slushy. for a fellow mrs. fray senior english class student.”

lips parting in slight shock, “you…you remember me?” body language changing from defense to sheepish. you meant to say those words in your head only, not aloud where he could make fun of you.

his eyes unsquinted just a bit and you were able to see the smirk fall away and genuine confusion settle in. “why wouldn’t i? i sat next to you all year. and what a lovely view to get me through that boring class.” a flirtatious tone singing through the words. 

now you are standing frozen. was he…flirting? was steve flirting with you? when you felt sweaty and didn’t look put together, baggy shirt and hair pushed under a baseball cap. there was no way, right?

“well…i do remember you staring a lot. just thought i was blocking the window view.” trying to flirt, swing and a miss in your head.

steve chuckled. deep and boyish over the volume of the occupants. “nah, view outside wasn’t worth my time.” a cheeky smirk and, oh yeah. he was flirting.

“anyway. would you still be willing to buy that cherry slushy for me? kinda dying of thirst and heat over here.” his body that wasn’t shaded by the umbrella was highlighted bright with the sun. mind traversing to the knowledge he might develop more freckles over his skin and how you wished to chart them like constellations in the night sky.

you looked to the booth and back to steve, working yourself up to try a hand at flirting again. you took four steps closer to the white chair, head tilted up while steve stared down. “would i get anything back in exchange? since, you know, i’m paying with my own money.” hoping he doesn’t say something that billy hargrove wolf whistles at.

steve smiled with his teeth biting into his bottom lip. his head moved just a bit to the side and his eyes squinting a bit harder, you were glad to see his whole face, but you wished to just slide his black sunglasses over his honey-brown eyes. he looked to be debating something for a moment and then he shifted around to climb to the hot cement floor. he stopped just in front of you, right side of his body leaning into the chip painted wood. he was messing around with his red whistle and your skin produced goosebumps from the way his eyes roamed over your face and trailed down your body then back up.

“well, a slushy is only three fifty, so what i’m gonna suggest is overpriced. but if you're willing to spare some change, i would be happy to take you…” he stopped for a moment, almost seeming nervous before he got his confidence back. “…to take you on a date. movie and dinner, all on me.”

you almost dropped your chips and wallet due to the words that left his mouth. “you’re…this is a joke right? some prank?” self-conscious defense going up.

steve pushed himself into an upright position, hands shaking in front of him with urgency on his face and in his words. “what? no, no! i- i genuinely want to- i’ve wanted to ask you for a while!” words rushed and grumbled.

you were shocked for the third time today. steve harrington wanted to take you on a date. and for a while. “really?” the voice is almost meek.

steve rubbed the back of his neck and you weren’t sure if that was sunburn or blush on his cheeks. “yeah…i know i seem…good at getting dates. but when it comes to someone i like…i can get tongue-tied.” fingers messing around with the back of his hair.

you couldn’t help the teasing smile, “oh…steve harrington gets flustered by his crushes? didn’t realize we reverted to middle school.”

he rolled his eyes, but he smiled anyway. “yeah, yeah. now for the third time, can you buy me a slushy? and would you like to go on a date with me? saturday at seven?”

there was a whistle and the call for steve to get back in his chair. he didn’t turn around or anything, he stayed trained on you with pleading eyes and a nervous smile. you didn’t bother keeping the boy waiting any longer, butterflies fluttering in your belly.

“i’ll get you that slushy. and then i’ll tell you my decision. so, best you get back to your job before you get fired.” taking steps backward then turning on the balls of your feet.

you felt his eye on your back the whole time as you ordered and waited for the drinks. with the two in hand along with your chips, you walked to steve already having your mind made up. you held his cherry slushy up high and he grabbed it with a “thank you.” his fingers brushing your knuckles.

“so, yes or no? hurts to keep a guy waiting.” a fake pout to his lips. you took a sip of your icy beverage and then counted to five. “what movie?”

“the goonies. heard from a birdie you’ve been waiting to see that one.” that just solidified your answer. “food before or after? and where?”

steve took his sip and then answered, “whichever and wherever you prefer.” 

you tapped your flip-flop foot and took a few more sips. “seven works. benny’s before and then goonies. maybe milkshakes after. sounds good?”

he smiled down at you, teeth shining in the light and lips turning a bit red. “sounds perfect. can i have your address?”

you began to walk back to your lounge chair, calling over your shoulder, “use the phone book, harrington! very useful information.”

-